Reed shrugged negligently. “Stay then, but kindly keep your well-meant meddling to yourself, Mother.”
During this trying time, Isabel was Kathleen's salvation. The little brunette pulled Kathleen out of her well of self–pity and made her laugh again. Through Isabel, Kathleen managed to retain her equilibrium and gain a better view of her situation. Her natural high spirits began to revive despite the oppression of Reed’s tyranny. Once it had been Kathleen who had led Isabel into joining her in outrageous girlish pranks at their boarding school. Now it was Isabel who suggested delightfully inventive means to aggravate Sally Simpson no end. If they could make Sally uncomfortable enough, perhaps the woman would leave. Together, they set out to make Sally’s life at Chimera as miserable as possible. Readily persuaded into participating, Kathleen soon thought up innovative ideas of her own to add to the list, always making certain beforehand that Reed would not be able to place the blame at her doorstep.
Their first major triumph was when they were all invited by one of their neighbors to a foxhunt. Aware that Sally did not ride well, the two companions in deviltry decided to make sure that Miss Simpson did not enjoy her outing. While Kathleen kept a sharp lookout, Isabel loosened the cinch on the saddle of Sally’s mount.
Sally's sole reason for agreeing to ride was her wish to please Reed. She perched stiffly on the saddle, obviously unsure of herself and her horse.
“Relax, Sally,” they heard Reed say. “I have seen to it that you have the gentlest mount in the stables. Once you set your mind to it, you are going to enjoy yourself.” (Unluckily for Sally, he did not think to check the cinch a second time.)
Sally’s weak smile lacked certainty. As her horse sailed over the first jump, her saddle slipped sideways a little, but amid the chaos, her stifled cry of dismay went unnoticed. It was near the second jump that disaster occurred. Her horse, aware of the inexperienced rider on his back, decided at the last second to skirt the jump rather than take it. As he swerved, the saddle slid further, tipping Sally headlong into a puddle of muddy water.
Cantering along behind her, Isabel and Kathleen exploded in mirth. As Sally raised herself slowly out of the mire, Isabel cried, “Oh, my! She looks just like a big chocolate bon-bon!”
Kathleen, as she breezed past, saluted her rival with a rousing, “Tally ho!” She hadn’t laughed so hard in months.
Laughter was a precious commodity during these trying weeks, and Kathleen greedily grabbed at every chance for enjoying herself. Reed certainly did not strive to amuse her. At barbecues, he left Kathleen to fend for herself, aiding Sally in filling her plate and finding a shady spot to sit. When there was dancing, he twirled the pink-cheeked blonde across the floor, rarely deigning to dance with Kathleen. Kathleen, however, did not lack for dance partners of her own, which of course irritated Reed no end. Kathleen surrounded herself with her own throng of male admirers who hung avidly on her every word.
At riding events, Kathleen’s expertise always made Sally look awkward and inept. Turning the tables on Reed, Kathleen began ignoring him. At picnics, she laughed with her friends, played with her children, and bestowed her attentions on the most handsome swains Savannah had to offer. The gentlemen knew Kathleen was only enjoying their company in the most proper sense, but they basked in the glow of her smiles, entranced by her beauty and wit. Kathleen was always circumspect enough to avoid causing gossip, but she enjoyed seeing the scowl on Reed’s face when he saw her enjoying herself despite his lack of attention.
One afternoon, when a certain lucky chap was elected to pair off with Kathleen in a game of croquet, Reed became surly. Observing the young man with his arms about Kathleen, aiding her in a difficult shot, Reed promptly deserted Sally’s side. With a few sharp words to the fellow in question, Reed took his place. Over Kathleen’s shoulder, his hands clenched over hers on the wooden mallet, Reed growled, “You are making a spectacle of yourself!”
Serenely unruffled, Kathleen replied sweetly, “Just following your lead, darling. If the head of the Taylor household may make a fool of himself over a bit of fluff, how are the rest of us supposed to act?”
Kathleen and Isabel enlisted the eager aid of other family members in ousting their unwelcome guest. Upon learning that Sally was dreadfully allergic to strawberries, Mary made her famous fruit punch, making certain the unwary blonde did not divine the ingredients—which were, after all, a treasured family secret. Before the evening was over, Sally had broken out in the most brilliantly bright red hives any of them had ever witnessed. For three glorious days, they were free of her presence, as Sally huddled miserably in her suite, crying her baby-blue eyes red until they resembled twin American flags.
Even Andrea and Katlin had decided that “Miss Simpleton” was fair game. Sally would not soon forget the afternoon Andrea danced merrily into the parlor at teatime with a plate of chocolate cookies—neither would the rest of them. Her turquoise eyes shining brightly, Andrea presented the plate to Sally with her best curtsy, giving an adorable imitation of a perfect lady acting as hostess to a favored guest. “Would you care for a cookie with your tea, Miss Thimpthon?” she lisped prettily.
Delighted at the child’s first attempt at friendship, Sally accepted. At the first bite, her face became mottled, and she grabbed hastily for her napkin. Coughing and choking, she spat the entire mess into the cloth, dabbing at her tongue in the most indelicate fashion.
“What is wrong, Sally?” Reed asked concernedly. As she continued to choke and gasp, he shouted, “For heaven’s sake, what is it?”
Finally catching her breath, Sally shrieked, “That obnoxious brat! She gave me a mud pie! If she was my child, I’d slap her silly!”
Not pleased with his daughter’s behavior, Reed nevertheless did not take kindly to Sally’s harsh words. “She is not your child,” he stated stonily. Turning to Kathleen, he directed, “Kat, take Andrea to her room. I will see to her there.”
Andrea was sent to her bed early for her playful prank, but she was not spanked.
A few days later, Katlin had his turn. Ear-splitting shrieks brought Reed running from his study to the veranda, where a pale, shaken Sally sat trembling in a chair, waving her arms about like a demented windmill. Kathleen stood nearby, comforting her weeping little son, Katlin’s dark head buried in her skirts.
“Why is it that every time I think I am going to get some work done, this place erupts into havoc?” Reed complained loudly. “What happened this time?”
Sally threw herself out of her chair and into Reed’s arms. “Oh, it was awfull” she wailed.
Reed unwound Sally’s arms from about his neck and set her roughly aside. “My God, woman! Stop that yowling! You sound like a cat with its tail caught in a door!”
Sally’s weeping reduced itself to an irritating series of hiccups. Katlin still sheltered in his mother’s skirts, was quiet now, and Reed could tell by the look on Kathleen’s face that she was holding back laughter with great effort. Her emerald eyes shone like many-faceted gems in bright sunlight.
“What is wrong with Katlin?” Reed barked.
“Miss Simpson scared Harry and slapped Katlin’s face,” said Kathleen demurely.
Katlin peeked at his father. “It’s all right, though, now. Mama slapped her back, and Harry will be fine. Mama said so.”
Reed rolled his eyes toward the heavens. “We will take care of who slapped whom in a moment. Right now, though I dread to ask—who is Harry?”
“Not who—what,” Kathleen corrected. “He is Katlin’s new pet.”
Feeling much safer now, Katlin brought his hand out from behind Kathleen’s skirts. With a proud smile, he held up his pet snake, all two and a half slithering feet of him. “Do you like him, Daddy?”
Sally let out another round of deafening squeals, and Reed was tempted to slap her himself, though he now understood the problem.
Seeing the stormclouds gathering over Reed’s brow, Kathleen nudged Katlin toward the door. “Perhaps you had better take Harry
back to the garden for his lunch,” she suggested.
She would have escaped with him, but Reed stopped her with a glare. “Kathleen, start at the beginning, and don’t leave out anything,” he ordered sternly.
Dutifully, she told him how Katlin had generously decided to share his precious new pet with Miss Simpson. “The poor boy had no idea she would become so upset over a harmless garden snake!” Kathleen huffed. “Then, not satisfied that she had scared both Katlin and Harry half witless with her screaming, she had the audacity to slap Katlin across the face.” Kathleen’s eyes snapped with anger now. “I am here to tell you that no one slaps my son and gets away with it!” she declared righteously. “I slapped her back, alright, and I’ll do worse than that if she ever lays a hand on either of my children again!”
Reed watched as Kathleen marched into the house, her chin and shoulders set in that old familiar stubborn stance. In that moment he smiled, thinking he had never seen her so beautiful as now—defending her children with magnificent motherly indignation. He also smiled at the memory of the picture Katlin had made, standing there proudly with Harry held out for display.
“What are you grinning at?” Sally snapped irritably.
“Oh, shut up!” Reed directed sharply. “You are beginning to be more trouble than you are worth, Miss Simpson! Furthermore,” he added, “if you ever slap anyone here again, I will hit you myself!” With that, he stalked back to his study, leaving Sally to sulk in solitary misery.
Chapter 21
June had given way to July, and Sally was still in residence at Chimera. She had redeemed herself in Reed’s eyes by reversing her tactics, and becoming sickeningly sweet toward everyone. Her excuse for her previous behavior was a severe case of nerves brought on by her harrowing adventures, which she swore she was over now.
Though Sally had recovered from her strange malady, Kathleen was experiencing some all too familiar symptoms of her own. Each morning, soon upon waking, she made a mad dash for the slop bucket, only to lose her breakfast in like fashion an hour later. By noon, she was fine, except for her swollen, tender breasts and a tendency toward tears.
Kathleen was certain she was pregnant. What she could not be positive about was who had fathered her babe—Reed or Jean. Upon frantic reflection, her last monthly flow had been two weeks before Reed's unexpected return. She had been intimate with both men since then, and it was impossible to guess which of them was responsible for her current condition.
For a while, Kathleen kept her news to herself, telling only Isabel and Kate, the two people she knew would understand and not condemn her.
“Reed will have fits!” Isabel predicted. “And just when he seemed to be softening toward you, and seeing Sally for what she is!”
Kate, too, had dour feelings about Reed’s reaction. “I have t’ agree with Isabel, lass. Yer timin’ couldn’t be worse! If only there was some way t’ be certain who the father is!”
“What are you going to do, Kathleen?” Isabel asked.
“Before or after I hang myself?” Kathleen inquired bitterly.
“What? Would you actually go to that length to spare Reed the trouble?” Isabel teased, bringing a reluctant smile to Kathleen’s lips.
“No, I suppose not,” she admitted wryly. “I have never taken the easy way out of anything. Still, I think I had better wait to break my news to him. Miss Simpson, thank God, is planning a trip to Washington soon. I will tell him once she is gone.”
“So we’re finally t’ be rid o’ that nuisance! Good riddance!” Kate exclaimed.
“I should be so fortunate! No,” Kathleen explained, “she is not going for good. She says she will be back within a fortnight.”
“Is she going to see her uncle?” Isabel asked. “Maybe he will talk her into staying with him.”
Kathleen frowned. “If you ask me, there is no uncle. Why she is going, I can not say, but all is not as it seems with our sweet Miss Simpson. The other day, I walked into my bedroom to find her rifling through Reed’s dresser drawers. When I asked her what she was doing in our bedroom, she gave some lame excuse about looking for a clean handkerchief. Naturally, I ordered her out, thinking she was up to some jealous mischief. Then, just yesterday, I caught her going through the papers in Reed’s desk in his private study. This time, she told me Reed had sent her to get some account books for him.”
“Did ye ask Reed about it?” Kate inquired.
“Yes, and he knew nothing about it. I also mentioned finding her in our bedroom. When I suggested that something strange was going on, Reed laughed, saying she was just letting her curiosity get the better of her. He also thought my jealousy was coloring my judgment.”
“What nonsense! I wouldn’t trust the little snip any further than I could throw her!” Isabel retorted.
“There is definitely more here than meets the eye, but Reed refused to see it. I tried to warn him to keep watch and take care what he says around her, but he did not seem to take me seriously. All he agreed to do was to speak to her about her snooping.”
If Kathleen had not been so worried over telling Reed about her baby, she would have looked forward to Sally’s departure. She might even have devised some last prank to see Sally on her way and tempt the girl not to return, but Kathleen’s mind was occupied with her own problems.
Thus, it was left to Peg-Leg to provide more mischief. The parrot had been relegated to the sunporch since arriving at Chimera. As this was where the family ate breakfast on hot summer mornings and often took refreshments in the afternoon, he still had plenty of company, but Reed had refused to let Peg-Leg take up residence in their bedroom.
The morning of Sally’s departure, they were all breakfasting together in the sunlit room. As usual, everyone except Reed was ignoring the girl. Peg-Leg was more talkative than normal, and Sally was chattering away about her plans. Mary, nursing a headache, and tired of hearing both of them, suddenly suggested tartly, “Since the two of you never stop talking, why don’t you and the parrot wear each other’s ears off and give me a rest!”
Reed, after one startled look at his usually serene mother, laughed. “A good suggestion! Peg-Leg!” he called to the bird in the corner, “Say hello to Sally!”
“Sally? Sally?” the parrot squawked in reply. Then, out of the blue, he started to sing. “Whiskey Sal! Quite a gal! For a shilling, she’ll be willing!”
Stunned silence followed the bird’s little ditty. Reed was the first to react, spitting his mouthful of hot coffee in a spray across the table in an effort to keep from choking. Sally's indignant gasp was barely heard, as Isabel and Mary dissolved in helpless laughter. Try as she might, Kathleen could not hold back, and soon she was laughing as hard as the other two, tears of mirth pouring down her face.
“What a horrid, hateful bird!” Sally shrieked in outrage. Sally’s exclamation set the other three women into worse fits of uncontrollable giggles. “Reed! Do something!” Sally wailed.
What Reed did next was not what Sally had in mind at all. His mouth had begun to twitch at the corners. Now, in the face of Sally’s helpless plea, he lost control entirely. A series of deep chuckles escalated into rolling laughter that shook his entire frame. He laughed until his sides ached, and still he could not stop. It didn’t help that Peg-Leg, delighted over the success of his song, kept chanting the offending lyrics in the background.
At last, when all of them were too weak to catch their breath, they looked around to find Sally gone from the room. With order finally restored, each drew a deep breath of relief, but dared not look at one another for fear of another outbreak of hilarity.
Just as Kathleen dared a peek in Reed’s direction, Peg-Leg piped up loudly. “Bless me bones! Tweak me beak! What a mess!”
A definite snicker escaped Mary’s lips, setting off a chain reaction that almost sent them rolling off their chairs, as peals of laughter echoed through the house.
“In case it should ever present a problem again, does Katlin have any other pets like Harry?”
Reed drawled, a smile tugging at his lips. He and Kathleen were on the back veranda several days later, lingering over a sherry before dinner, and waiting for the others to come down and for Kate to arrive.
Kathleen smoothed her skirts, hiding a smile of her own. “He has a pet frog called Croaker, and until recently, a mouse named Tiny. Unfortunately, Harry ate Tiny for lunch one day.”
Reed laughed. “How did Katlin take that?”
“Oh, he was quite put out with Harry for a while.” Kathleen bit her lip on a chuckle, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “He wanted to throttle Harry, but he had trouble locating the poor snake’s neck.”
Reed’s dark head went back as he enjoyed the joke. “That would be difficult. I believe the boy takes after you in his choice of pets. That blasted parrot of yours is a terror! I’ve lost count of the times I have been tempted to wring his neck and toss him into a stew pot. His latest antics were almost too much.”
“I will admit, his vocabulary is unusual, and his timing atrocious," Kathleen agreed. “At least Harry is the silent type.”
Reed suddenly sobered. “I do hope Katlin does not go about picking up any snake he encounters. Has anyone instructed him about the more dangerous variety, and warned him to avoid them?”
Kathleen’s face tightened in agitation. “Of course we have, Reed! Obviously, your opinion of me as a mother leaves much to be desired!”
“Now, Kat, apart from your time away from them, you know I have always considered you a wonderful mother.”
“I’m glad,” she blurted, “because I am expecting another child. I’m pregnant.”
Reed looked as if she had hit him with a barn door. It took him several seconds to gather his wits. “When?” Kathleen whispered, “Sometime in February, if my calculations are correct.” Watching his frown darken as he tabulated the timing in his mind, she asked defensively, “Aren’t you going to ask whose child it is? That is your usual pattern, if I recall.”
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