by CATHY L. CLAMP; FRANCIS RAY; BEVERLY JENKINS; MONICA JACKSON; GERI GUILLAUME
“So, you turned him down.”
“I did. Again, and again, and again.”
Lydia was puzzled. “He kept coming back?”
“And back, and back, and back.”
Lydia chuckled. “How long did this go on?”
“It’s still going on.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, it’s still going on?”
“Just what I said. We started seeing each other about six years ago, and two years ago . . . we began courting.”
Lydia’s mouth dropped open. “You did not—”
Her mother smiled. “Yes, we did. No one knows, of course.”
Lydia doubted that to be true. “Mama, this is a small town. Everyone knows.”
“Well, no one has said anything.”
Lydia grinned. “Well, now. That is news.”
“He wants to marry me.”
Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Mama. Did you say yes?”
“Tentatively, yes.”
“Why tentatively?”
“I wanted to talk with you first.”
Lydia felt her heart swell with emotion. “You don’t need my approval.”
“Yes, I do. I love you more than anything in this world. Your opinion matters.”
Lydia loved her mother more than anything in the world as well. “Then the good doctor has my blessings to make you an honest woman whenever the two of you decide.”
“He wants to get married Christmas Day.”
“So soon?”
“I know it’s only a few days away. We just want to have a simple ceremony and be done. No one’s invited but you.”
Lydia found that surprising, too. “What about your friends at the church? Won’t their feelings be hurt if they aren’t invited?”
“They’d only make a fuss over everything. Watson and I don’t want that. If the ladies decide to give us a reception later on, fine, but our wedding day will be the way we want it, and that won’t include a lot of hoopla.”
Lydia was still a bit staggered. “Well, OK, but what made you decide to say yes to him after saying no so many times?”
“He threatened to leave town and never come back.”
Lydia studied her mother’s now-serious face. “I see.”
“Told me last Sunday either I marry him or when he moves to Boston after the first of the New Year he goes without me. I thought about how much he’s come to mean to me and how much I enjoy his company, and I knew what I had to do. Lydia, I’m fifty years old. I may not have a lot of years left, but I know I don’t want to spend them alone.”
Lydia sensed the depth in her mother’s words. “There’s nothing wrong in that, Mama. Nothing at all.”
Her mother smiled. “Thank you, daughter. I tried many times to put all this in a letter, but it never said what I wanted it to say, so when you wrote and said you were coming at Christmastime, I told Watson I’d talk to you about us then.”
“I’m glad you did it this way. A letter would have probably brought me racing home to confront the masher taking advantage of my poor old mama. Instead, I can confront him in person. When is he coming to dinner, so I can put him on the rack?”
Her mother laughed. “Lydia!”
“I’m serious, Mother. Suppose he’s only after the family fortune?”
Miriam grinned and said, “You are such a silly goose. He’ll be at church and afterward plans to join us here for Sunday dinner. You can interrogate him then.”
“Good.”
Miriam chuckled.
Lydia walked over and hugged her mother fiercely, whispering, “I love you, and I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
“Thank you. Now what are you going to do about Gray?”
“There’s nothing to be done. We’ll have dinner—then, he’ll go his way, and I will go mine.”
“Is that what you really want?”
Lydia searched her mother’s face. “What do you mean?”
“You two were very much in love at one time.”
“And? Are you suggesting I forgive and forget?”
“No, only you can make that decision. I’m suggesting you two talk. Who knows where it might lead?”
“Mother, aren’t you the same one who wanted his head on a platter fifteen years ago?”
“I did, and for breaking your heart I still do in a way, but he’s paid for his sins. You can see it in his eyes. Don’t be like me, Lydia. Don’t close yourself up in the past. I tried that road and it led nowhere. Were it not for Watson, I’d be just another lonely old woman. Talk to Gray so that the two of you can move on. Apart or together, it doesn’t matter. Promise me you’ll at least listen to whatever he has to say.”
“What about what I have to say?’
“I’ve never known you to be shy, Lydia,” her mother said with a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ll get your turn. Just let him get in a word or two, OK?”
Lydia couldn’t tell her mother no, so she said, “OK.”
“Good. Wouldn’t it be something if you and Gray fell in love all over again?”
Lydia was caught completely off guard. “What?!” She laughed with amazement.
“I said—”
“I heard what you said; I just don’t believe it. That is not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Oh, that’s a very sound argument. You must be a schoolteacher.”
Lydia dropped her eyes in smiling embarrassment. “Stop it, Mama.”
Miriam then asked, “What would be so wrong with finding out you two still love each other? You’re both adults, now.”
Before Lydia could react to that, Miriam added, “Do you know what would make Christmas Day even more special?”
Lydia was almost afraid to ask. “What?”
“If you and Gray were to get married, too.”
Lydia snorted with disbelief. “Will you stop, please?! I am not marrying Gray Dane, Christmas Day or any other day. You’re really grasping, Mama. Really grasping.”
“Think about it for a moment, Lydia.”
Lydia rolled her amused eyes. “How about we pop the corn for the tree instead? You obviously need something to do.”
Miriam laughed, and her daughter did as well. They went to get the corn.
Lydia and Miriam spent the rest of the afternoon decorating the tree with strands of yarn strung with popcorn, nuts, and dried red berries, then to top it off added the traditional cookies that were shaped like angels, stars, bells. According to one of Lydia’s immigrant neighbors, Christmas trees were originally decorated with apples and little white wafers to represent the blood and body of Christ. Over time, cookies replaced the wafers and more decorations like the new lightweight glass balls she’d seen recently in the shop windows were coming into vogue. Some of the more elaborate trees Lydia had seen in Chicago were so weighted down with fruit, glass balls, and lit candles, the trees had to be staked to keep them from falling over, but she thought the simple tree she and her mother were now stepping back to admire just right.
Later Lydia went into the bedroom to get ready for her evening with Gray. After washing up and donning fresh underwear, she was standing in front of the mirror trying to decide what to do with her hair when her mother knocked on the open door and said, “I have something for you.”
Lydia saw the small tin box Miriam was holding, and the familiar sight of it froze her.
Miriam said softly, “I’ve kept it all this time.”
Entranced, Lydia put down her hairbrush, then slowly walked over to where her mother stood and took the box from her mother’s hand.
While Lydia stared at this token of her past, Miriam quietly backed out of the room, leaving Lydia alone.
Lydia sat on the bed and tried to quiet her racing heart. Gathering herself, she slowly opened the lid. Inside were small folded squares of vellum aged and faded by time. Lydia knew immediately what they were and began to shake with such emotion her hand rose to her lips. Reaching dow
n slowly, she lifted one out and unfolded it. Gray’s familiar scrawl leapt from the page. “My dearest Lydia. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach . . . I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears of all my life . . .”
Lydia set it aside and pressed her hand against her wildly beating heart. The words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet brought back such sharp memories. Their love had been so young then, tender as new shoots of grass, and Lydia had placed all the sonnets he’d penned for her in this small box, a box she’d deliberately left behind when she went off to Chicago.
Unsure about what other memories the box might hold, Lydia warily withdrew the five folded sheets of vellum and beneath them found the cameo. The sight of it moved her as well. Gray had purchased it from a shop in Boston on a visit there with his parents. He’d presented it to her upon his return, and the only time Lydia ever took it off was when she bathed; she’d even slept in it, but she’d removed it from her neck for good the day she found out Anna Mae and Gray were going to marry.
Lydia picked up the cameo and visually inspected it. She determined that the clasp still worked and, although the woman’s brown face was a bit dusty and the ivory around it a bit faded, the piece had survived the passage of time well. It was as if it had been waiting for her to return and reclaim it. Lydia had warned Gray about the dangers of opening a box he couldn’t close, and now she’d done the same. Inside the box lay proof of how deeply he’d cared for her, and that, coupled with her mother’s advice about living in the past, gave Lydia food for thought as she put everything back inside, closed the lid, and went back to the mirror.
At half past six, Lydia was dressed and ready for her dinner with Gray, but she was pacing back and forth in front of the grate, debating with herself what she wanted to do about her situation with him.
Her mother, seated in a chair while reading a newspaper, drawled, “You’re going to wear a trench in the floor with all that pacing. Please take a seat, dear. You’re making me dizzy.”
Lydia, still pacing, said, “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”
“For somebody who claims the man doesn’t move her anymore, you’re awfully jittery, Miss Lydia Cooper.”
“I never claimed that, Mother.”
Miriam lowered the paper. “So, you do still have feelings for him?”
“I do.” Lydia had never been able to lie to her mother. Ever.
Miriam nodded understandingly. “Then don’t let anything get in the way of that, especially if he still has feelings for you as well. Life is so short, Lydia. So very short. Don’t waste it on something that happened in the past. Yes, Gray’s actions affected many people, but if you hadn’t gone away, would you be this polished? Would you be headmistress of your own school? In a way, your leaving has turned out to be a blessing.”
The words made Lydia pause. She thought about it for a moment, then confessed, “I never thought about it in those terms before. I suppose you are correct, though.”
“Mothers are always right.”
Lydia chuckled. A knock sounded on the wooden door.
Miriam put down her paper. “Well, let the man in.”
Lydia took one last look down at her blue velvet gown. It was the best dress in her closet, the one she saved for very special events. Taking in a deep breath, she swallowed her nervousness, then went to the door.
Chapter 5
When she opened the door, the sight of him made her knees weaken. At seventeen, he’d been gorgeous. Now, at thirty-three, he was as handsome as a dark-skinned archangel. The sweeping black coat, the snow-white scarf about his neck—she had to keep reminding herself that he was real and that this was no dream.
Miriam’s chuckling voice broke the spell. “Lydia, are you going to invite him in or not?”
Lydia shook herself. Fighting off her embarrassment, she stepped back so he could enter.
Gray nodded a greeting to Mrs. Cooper, but his attention was immediately captured by Lydia’s loveliness. She’d drawn her hair back into a simple bun, leaving her face free for his eyes to feast upon. Jet bobs hung gracefully from her ears, and there was a touch of rouge coloring her lush mouth. The long-sleeved satin gown was a stunning midnight blue; fashionably draped and gathered up at the waist, it sported an even darker overskirt. The conservative heart-shaped décolletage offered only a glimpse of the satin tops of her breasts, but he nonetheless wondered if the skin would be as soft to the touch as it appeared. At the age of seventeen, it had never occurred to Gray that his skinny little Lydia would grow up to be such a stunning woman, but she had. Needing to calm himself a bit, he settled his attention on the fetching indigo ribbon she had tied around her throat. The small ivory cameo hanging from the ribbon made his heart stop. His startled eyes flew to hers.
Lydia acknowledged his surprise and then fingered the cameo nervously. She asked softly, “Then you remember?”
“I do.” Overwhelmed, he searched her face. “I never thought you’d still have it.” Gray was glad Miriam was in the room. Were she not, he would have already eased Lydia into his arms and kissed her the way he’d been wanting to do since first seeing her back at the boardinghouse. Unable to deal with what significance her wearing the cameo held, he asked of her, “Are you ready to depart?”
She nodded. “Just let me get my cloak.”
The voluminous wool-lined velvet cloak represented six months’ salary. The last time she’d worn the cape, she’d been on the arm of her former fiancé, Burton Shaw. Banishing the memory of him as quickly as it appeared, Lydia fastened the frogs at the neck and picked up her small beaded handbag.
Miriam’s eyes beamed over Gray and Lydia. “You two were always such a striking pair. That hasn’t changed.”
Lydia cut her mother a loving look of warning. “We’ll see you later, Mama.”
Miriam simply smiled and said, “Have a good time.”
Gray bowed politely to Miriam, then escorted Lydia out into the December night.
Accompanying Lydia to the sleigh, he damned himself for being nervous; he was shaking like an untried youth. He kept thinking about all that could go wrong, then decided to set the worrying aside and simply enjoy being with her again. If the evening blew up in his face, he would at least have the memory of his cameo hanging around her neck like a jewel.
When Lydia saw the sleigh, her eyes brightened with excitement. “Is this . . . our—I mean, the same sleigh you had when we were young?”
Gray heard the stumble. He and Lydia had taken many rides together in his father’s sleigh. “No, this is a different one. Bought it this afternoon.”
Lydia’s face took on confusion. “Today?”
“Yep. Spent most of the day searching. Finally found one over in Whittaker. Got it pretty cheap—needs a new coat of paint, but it should do well for the rest of the winter.”
Lydia ran a gloved hand over the polished top edge. She’d always loved sleighs. “How long had you been looking to buy one?”
“Since this morning.”
Lydia wondered if all of his years riding under the hot Texas sun had addled his brain. He wasn’t making a bit of sense. “This morning?”
He chuckled softly. “You’re sounding like a parrot I once saw in Houston. Damned if that bird didn’t repeat everything a man said.”
Amused, she ignored that.
Instead of baiting her further or telling her that he’d purchased the sleigh specifically with her and this evening in mind, Gray asked, “So do you want to stand here and freeze, or take a ride in my sleigh?”
Lydia swore she saw mischief in his eyes. “Ride,” she replied softly.
“Good.”
He handed her in, and while she sat down on the bench he went around to the driver’s side and took his seat. Once they were both comfortable, he picked up the reins and said, “There’s a big blanket under the seat. Make yourself comfortable and we’ll be on our way.”
Lydia reached beneath the
seat and almost fell over trying to extract the heavy covering from beneath the bench. “Good Lord,” she complained good-naturedly. “What is this thing made of, iron?”
“No, buffalo hide. Here, let me get it for you.”
Perfectly willing to let him play the gentleman, Lydia scooted over so he could retrieve it, but she was unprepared when he draped it over her so gently. He was close enough for her to see her cold breath mingling with his in the moonlight. Needing a way to distract herself from his captivating allure, she asked inanely, “Did this really come from a buffalo?” The texture was soft, and the skin was as warm as it was heavy.
“Yes,” he replied, his eyes holding hers. They were only a kiss apart, and Lord knows, Gray wanted to, but if he did kiss her, he’d never let her go and they would freeze to death, right here in front of her mother’s house. “How about we get moving?”
Lydia could feel the warmth of his nearness in spite of the cold temperature. “Where to?”
“To my house. If that’s OK? It’s about a mile and half from Mother’s.”
In response to his overwhelming presence, all she could do was nod.
The Danes and Coopers only lived a few miles apart, so the journey over the moonlit snow didn’t take very long. However, because Lydia hadn’t ridden in a sleigh in such a long time and loved traveling in this fashion so much, she admitted to being a bit disappointed when he drew the horses to a halt a short while later.
The darkness made it hard for Lydia to determine the color of Gray’s home, but it was a small two-story farmhouse, complete with glass windows and a wide sitting porch that curved around the exterior. She wondered if he’d built the place for his marriage to Anna Mae or after.
He came around to help her out of the sleigh, then led her up the walk. “Go on in. I want to put the horse back in the barn.”
Lydia started to protest; she didn’t want to be so presumptuous as to enter alone, but he’d already turned away, so there was nothing left but to go on inside.
The interior was warm. She looked around the small foyer and saw that there were three rooms evenly spaced around its circumference. One room had a door that was closed. The two remaining entrances were without doors but were framed by tied-back deep crimson draping trimmed with braided gold fringe, a common way of decorating in the Midwest.