'Have your picture taken and put an announcement on the social page of the Gazette?'
Elizabeth-Anne smiled. 'That would be very nice.' Suddenly she leaned sideways and embraced Elender warmly. Then she drew back in alarm. 'Now what's the matter? You're crying!'
Elender sniffed, smiled through her tears, and produced a lace-edged handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes dry. 'It's only that I'm so very happy! And so terribly sad.'
'Sad? But why?'
'I didn't think I was going to lose you so soon.'
'Lose me? Auntie!' Elizabeth-Anne cried. 'Shame on you! You're not losing me! You're gaining a son- in-law. And think of all the children we'll have! You'll have gained a whole family!'
After Elizabeth-Anne had her picture taken, Elender marched happily into the office of the Quebeck Weekly Gazette. The next issue would announce the engagement. Elizabeth-Anne and Zaccheus were to be married the following Sunday.
'After the reception tomorrow,' Zaccheus said offhandedly at dinner, 'we'll immediately go home to our house.'
'You found us a house!' Elizabeth-Anne's mouth fell open. She stopped eating, put down her fork, and forgot the rest of her sliced pork roast. 'Well? Where is it?'
Zaccheus and Elender exchanged conspiratorial smiles across the table.
Elizabeth-Anne tapped her glass impatiently with the folk. 'Well?' she demanded. 'Out with it!'
'I think,' Jenny mumbled, pushing her plate aside, 'I don't feel well.'
Elender looked at her narrowly. 'Is something wrong?'
'No,' Jenny said glumly. 'It's nothing. Just a stomachache, is all. May I be excused?'
Elender nodded and Jenny scraped back her chair and quickly left the room. When she shut the parlor door behind her, she leaned against the wall, shut her eyes, and inhaled a long deep breath. She was shaking with fury. She had finally had enough! Her hatred for Elizabeth-Anne and Zaccheus had reached the boiling point. She had had to leave the room—it was either that or erupt on the spot. She was sick and tired of having to listen to their plans and having to see the way they ogled each other. It was maddening, really.
She tightened her lips angrily. She had been so certain. So absolutely certain her plan to separate them would work. But something had gone wrong. All her plan had accomplished was to throw Elizabeth-Anne and Zaccheus into each other's arms. Worse, neither of them as much as mentioned what had transpired at the bandstand—as if nothing had happened at all! But surely they were aware of what she had done. If so, why, then, hadn't they mentioned it to her? Or to Elender?
Jenny's hands were trembling so badly that she clenched them in order to steady herself. Oh! It was all so much more than she could bear! But what really enraged her, what drove her straight up the wall was that Elizabeth-Anne, who was two years younger than she (and far less pretty, she told herself), had snared herself a husband first. Despite all the emotional and physical problems she was beset with, the circus freak was hearing wedding bells—and with Jenny's own unwitting help!
It was enough to make her sick!
Through the closed door Jenny could hear the conversation inside the room continuing excitedly. Such a happy couple! she thought disgustedly. She didn't think she could bear to hear any more.
But something made her decide to stay put, press her ear against the door, and eavesdrop. And before long, she was very glad she had.
'Darling, I know it's not much of a house,' Zaccheus was saying, pushing away his unfinished plate.
'Well, isn't it time someone told me just what house it is?' Elizabeth-Anne demanded with mock petulance.
'Well, it's right here in town,' Zaccheus replied evasively. 'And from what Miss Clow . . . excuse me, Auntie told me, I think you'll be crazy about it.'
'It's not. . . not the Byrd cottage!' Elizabeth-Anne guessed delightedly.
'It is,' Zaccheus said.
Jenny pressed her ear closer. The Byrd sisters were eccentric spinsters. Identical twins, difficult to tell apart, since they dressed and sounded alike. They owned Byrd's Fabric Shop on Main Street, and worked together. Rumor had it that long ago they had both been in love with the same man, and rather than one of them hurting the other, neither had married him. Up until now, Samantha Byrd had been living in the cottage while her twin, Susannah, lived above the fabric shop.
'I know how much you've always admired it, my dear,' Elender said in a pleased voice. 'Since Samantha's arthritis has become worse, Susannah wants her to move in with her above the shop so she can take care of her. Samantha is not willing to sell that cottage, since it holds emotional ties for her—they were born in that cottage, you know—but she is willing to rent it.'
'I still can't believe it!' Elizabeth-Anne cried. 'I've always loved that cottage.'
'Best of all,' Zaccheus said excitedly, 'it comes furnished. Miss Byrd is even leaving pots and pans and bed linen behind for our use.'
'And,' Elender pointed out dryly, 'that should appeal to your well-honed sense of thrift.'
'Oh, but it does! Oh, Auntie! I'm so excited I could burst!'
Outside in the hall, Jenny contorted her face as she mimed silently: Oh, Auntie! I'm so excited I could burst! She narrowed her smoldering eyes dangerously.
'And, since you insisted you didn't want a lavish wedding,' Auntie continued, 'I used the money I'd saved up for it to increase your wedding present.' She paused dramatically. 'Your rent is prepaid for a year.'
'Auntie! You shouldn't have!'
Jenny contorted her face again. Auntie! she mimicked soundlessly. You shouldn't have!
Zaccheus cleared his throat. It was a loud, startling, significant sound, and it was not lost on Jenny.
Elender looked at him, then studied the floral pattern of the tablecloth. 'Dear?' she began tentatively, her index finger following the trail of the embroidered roses.
Elizabeth-Anne looked across the table at her.
'Yes?'
'This morning . . .' Elender's voice seemed to fail her, and she cleared her throat nervously. She raised her head and smiled sadly. 'This morning Zaccheus and I had a heart-to-heart talk. He told me some things about himself . . . well, actually he was wondering whether he should tell you something or not, and he came to me for advice. My advice was to leave well enough alone, but he . . . he decided he wanted to tell you. Since he insisted . . .'
'What is it?' Elizabeth-Anne looked from one of them to the other, her expression one of alarm. 'Is something wrong?'
'I don't believe a husband and wife should keep any secrets from each other,' Zaccheus said in a low voice. 'I want our marriage to have a foundation of honesty, even if it means calling it off.'
'Calling it off!'
'You see, there are some things I think you should know about me. Before the wedding takes place.'
Elizabeth-Anne stared at him in surprise. 'Like what?' she asked with forced flippancy. 'You snore? You don't like broccoli? You don't wash behind your ears-'
'Serious things,' he said quietly. 'Things about my past.'
Outside the closed door, Jenny's lips slowly widened in a cold smile. She could feel the beginnings of an exquisite excitement growing inside her.
'Your past?' Elizabeth-Anne repeated. 'Why, Zaccheus Hale! You're suddenly so serious. Don't make it sound so ominous. Please. Don't frighten me.' She gave a hollow, contrived laugh. 'Don't tell me you're a polygamist with wives hidden away in half the states of the Union? Well, I don't care! I love you anyway!'
'Perhaps it would be best if I left you two alone,' Elender suggested delicately.
Elizabeth-Anne nodded soberly, then changed her mind and reached across the table. She clutched Elender's hand tightly. 'No. Don't go. Since you've already heard it, what harm could it do?' Her voice suddenly cracked and she looked away. 'I. . .1 don't want to be alone if it's something that will break my heart.'
Elender sighed: it came out a thin, reedy, and painful sound. 'You won't be alone; Zaccheus is here. Anyway, all I can pray for is that what he has to tell you
won't make any difference in your relationship. It didn't make me feel any differently toward him, because of his honesty. Remember, he didn't have to tell me anything. And I think that, more than anything else, indicates that he is a man of character.' She paused and added pointedly: 'We all make mistakes in our lives that we're sorry for later. God knows, I have made more than my fair share.'
'You?' Elizabeth-Anne asked in astonishment. 'I don't believe it.'
Elender gave a short laugh. 'I have.' She paused again. 'Let me turn on some lamps.' She smiled faintly. 'It's getting dark in here.'
Jenny heard Elender moving about the room. Quickly she left her listening post, tiptoed to the adjacent door, and flattened herself in the doorway. She waited a few minutes. When Elender didn't come out into the hall, she retraced her steps and kept on listening.
'Before we get onto this serious subject,' Elender suggested after she sat back down, 'I should bring up another equally serious matter.' She faced Elizabeth-Anne squarely. 'It concerns you, dear.'
'Me?' Elizabeth-Anne looked puzzled.
'Yes, you. And now's the time to face it. Zaccheus must be made aware of it. And perhaps he is right. It is best if everything about both of you is brought out into the open. That way, your marriage won't begin with any hidden problems. You'll both start with a clean slate, so to speak.'
'Yeesss . . .' Elizabeth-Anne said slowly. Her euphoric spirits were beginning to ebb dangerously fast. She had the sinking feeling that perhaps their love was no longer picture perfect.
Elender folded her hands on the table. For a moment she seemed intent on studying her fingertips. 'I spoke to Dr. Purris this morning,' she said softly.
Elizabeth-Anne stared at her. 'There's . . . there's nothing wrong with you, is there?' she asked in a faltering voice.
Elender raised her head and shook it. 'No, no. Not with me. But since you and Zaccheus are planning to build a family, I thought it best to consult Dr. Purris and ask his medical advice.'
'But what about?' Elizabeth-Anne asked anxiously. 'I've always been healthy—'
Elender lifted her glass of water, then put it back down. 'Elizabeth-Anne, dear, you are like my own daughter,' she said. 'Naturally, I want what's best for you. I don't need to tell you that, do I?'
Elizabeth-Anne shook her head.
Elender met her gaze directly.
'After that tragic incident you witnessed when you were a child, you had trouble sleeping. Remember? You would wake up constantly in cold sweats after having the most hideous nightmares.'
Elizabeth-Anne felt an involuntary shiver spiraling through her body.
'So I gave you a little laudanum at bedtime,' Elender said, 'and I thought it was harmless enough. And after a while, we had to keep increasing the dosage. It helped you sleep and seemed to chase your terrible nightmares away.'
'It did help,' Elizabeth-Anne said softly. 'It still does.'
Elender hesitated. 'Dr. Purris tells me that after all these years, you are surely addicted to laudanum.'
'But I don't see—' Elizabeth-Anne began.
'Elizabeth-Anne. Zaccheus.' Elender reached across the table and held both their hands. 'Giving you that laudanum, Elizabeth-Anne, was probably the single worst mistake I ever made in my life. Dr. Purris says that any addiction is terribly dangerous. Doubly so when a woman carries a child. Therefore, if you want to have children, you must stop taking it, Elizabeth-Anne. Immediately.'
Elizabeth-Anne stared at her.
'I know, I know,' Elender said miserably. She held up her hand. 'It will be terribly difficult. Your body will rebel. Withdrawal can make you very ill. And . . .'
'And what?'
Elender stared intently at her. 'The nightmares may return.'
Elizabeth-Anne's face wore a fearful expression as she stared at Elender. Then slowly she turned to Zaccheus.
He smiled, reassuringly, coiled an arm around her shoulders, and hugged her warmly. 'I'll help you, darling,' he said quietly. 'Together we can conquer this. Together we can do anything we set our hearts on. As long as we're together, only the sky's the limit.'
'Yes,' Elizabeth-Anne said sincerely. 'Together we can do it. I know we can. Oh, I want us to have healthy children, Zaccheus! I . . . I think I can face my nightmares now.'
'Dr. Purris said to tell you he will be only too happy to help you in any way he can. His door is open to both of you, at any hour of the day or night,' Elender sighed. 'That is the first serious problem which will confront you both.'
'And the second one?' Elizabeth-Anne asked fearfully.
Elender nodded at Zaccheus, and slowly, in a painful voice, he told Elizabeth-Anne everything. He talked half the night long and left nothing out—not his mother's illness, nor his robbing Bensey's Jewelers. How he had escaped from jail and was on the run from the law.
As Jenny listened outside the door, her face took on a rapturous expression. Her heart pounded excitedly. Zaccheus—a thief? she thought with dizzying joy. Oh, how precious! How very, very precious! She could just see it. The moment the reverend would ask if there was any just reason why these two people should not be united as man and wife, she could blurt out: 'Because he's wanted for robbery!'
But she would not do that. That would be far too easy. For once, she would guard her valuable secret. She wasn't going to do a thing, not yet. She would bide her time and wait patiently—for years, if she had to. And then, when least expected, when Zaccheus and Elizabeth-Anne had the most to lose, just when they felt the safest—then, and only then—would she spring the trap.
After a while, only silence came from the parlor. Then Zaccheus spoke again. 'Does this mean you no longer want me, Elizabeth-Anne?' he asked hesitantly.
Elizabeth-Anne gazed at him for what seemed an eternity. 'No, it doesn't mean that at all.' She took his hand, held it tightly, and kissed it. 'I love you,' she said huskily, 'just as you told me you love me. If you hadn't told me about it and I'd found out, well, that would have been different. But I love your honesty. I love you. ' She paused and added softly, 'Your past changes nothing.'
'Then you will marry me?' he asked excitedly.
She clutched him fiercely. 'Yes, darling!' she cried. 'Yes, yes, yes!'
And outside the door, Jenny raised her head, smiled wickedly, and tiptoed off to her room.
9
It was the time they spent at the Byrd cottage that Elizabeth-Anne would remember as the happiest and most fulfilled years of her life. And what a beautiful, charming, idyllic place it was! Home, honeymoon cottage, hideaway, birthplace of her children—no matter how far she would roam to the ends of the earth, or how high up the social ladder she would soar, or with how many countless multimillions her bank accounts would eventually swell—somehow, everything that was ever truly important to her could be encapsulated, could be condensed down to its beginnings, to the Byrd cottage. It was where her life truly started and where it was lived to the fullest—where life began, where life continued and thrived. If walls could tell tales, then it was the tales these walls contained which she wanted told most, for they were stories of love gained and love lost, of happiness and sorrow, of illness and health, of triumph and defeat, of endurance and strength, and laughter, and tears.
She had always been charmed by the coziness of the cottage, but the moment that Zaccheus swooped her up off the ground and carried her giggling and squirming along the flagstone path to the cottage, past the white picket fence and through the creaking gate—that was when the magic began. And the instant he carried her over the threshold, the cottage took on a quality she had never known a house to possess. It was a haven. A sanctuary.
Above all, it was home.
'Zaccheus! I still can't believe it!' Elizabeth-Anne squealed as he carefully set her down in the small front hall. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely. 'Elizabeth-Anne Hale. How does it sound?'
'Sounds great to me.'
'I'll never let go of you!' she promised, trapping his neck in the extended s
cissorlike pose of her arms. 'Never ever! Not for as long as I live!'
'You'd better,' he suggested laughingly, his blue eyes dancing, 'or else you'll never see our new home.'
She let go of him instantly, stood still, and gazed in silence around the front hall. The breath caught in her throat. It was too beautiful for words.
I'm not going to change a thing, Elizabeth-Anne decided instantly. It would be a sacrilege to spoil this beauty.
Suddenly she tugged at Zaccheus' hand and led him around the cottage, chattering excitedly as she pulled him from room to room, studying the layout and decor, poking her nose into every last niche and cranny. 'I love it!' she said.
'I do too,' he said, smiling, loving the excited gleam in her eyes, the rosy flush brought on by her excitement. She had never, he decided, looked more beautiful.
Elizabeth-Anne took a deep breath. 'Zaccheus! Just close your eyes and smell it!' She closed her own eyes and breathed deeply. The cottage had its own particular fragrance, a fruity aroma with floral overtones and the sweet scents of nuts and honey and the spicy smells of herbs.
The small living room was paneled, and the walls were hung with Audubon bird prints. A large needlepoint rug covered the floor, and all the upholstery was cabbage-rose chintz. It was an English country look, not at all stuffy, prim Victorian, or neither spindly, nor masculine frontier: everything was eminently comfortable. A woman would be at home here, but it was no less comfortable for a man. The small mullioned windows were swagged with the same chintz that covered the chairs and couch, and lace curtains diluted the sharp, intense Texas sun. A japanned table, one tiny Queen Anne tray table, and a butler's table in rich, glowing mahogany served the conversation grouping which faced the large fireplace. Cut-crystal boxes, hand-painted Bavarian china plates, cobalt-blue glass, Chinese cachepots, and intricate needlepoint cushions, obviously crafted by Samantha Byrd herself, abounded. Everywhere, vases held assorted bouquets of giant pink peonies and fragrant roses.
'The flowers are a gift from Auntie,' Zaccheus said. 'It's her housewarming present. She told me, quote "I knew there was a good reason why I've been watering those plants around the rooming house for all these years," unquote.'
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