Glory, Glory

by Linda Lael Miller

  Since it would take time to orchestrate everything, Glory didn’t give notice when she reported to work at the bank that morning. She just threw herself into her job and avoided every attempt anyone made at conversation. Everyone from Mr. Baker down to the lowliest file clerk, of course, was wondering exactly what had happened the day before, although most of them had probably gotten the general details by means of the grapevine.

  After work she drove to the mall in Fawn Creek, where she bought Christmas presents for Liza, Jill, Ilene, and her mother and Harold. The bright decorations and happy music that had pleased her so much before, when she’d shopped with Liza, were a mockery now. She could hardly wait for the holiday to be over.

  Later, at home, she wrapped each present with great care and placed them under the tree as she went. When the doorbell rang, her heart fluttered, but she knew better than to expect Jesse. He’d made his feelings perfectly clear the day Liza ran away.

  When Glory pulled back the door, however, there he was.

  “Delphine told me you’re planning to leave,” he said, and he might have been wearing his mirrored sunglasses, his eyes were so devoid of any emotion.

  Glory nodded, knowing she should say something but unable to think of anything. And even if she’d managed that, it would have been hard to force words past the twisted knot in her throat.

  “Could I come in?” She heard in Jesse’s voice what she hadn’t seen in his eyes; the effort he was making at self-control.

  Still unable to speak, Glory stepped back, and he crossed the threshold warily, moving without his usual confidence and purpose to stand beside the Christmas tree.

  Glory had just put a package underneath with Liza’s name written on it in big gold letters, and she waited for him to say his daughter didn’t need any presents from her. If he did, she knew she’d go at him like a wildcat, kicking and screaming and scratching.

  But he only said, “Nice tree.”

  Reluctantly, Glory closed the door. “Thanks,” she managed to croak.

  He turned to face her. “Liza’s doing okay,” he said hoarsely.

  Glory folded her arms, shielding her heart. “Good,” she replied.

  Jesse sighed. “I suppose it’s for the best. Your leaving Pearl River, I mean.”

  Glory prayed she wouldn’t cry. She had so little pride left as it was. “I suppose,” she said.

  He took a step toward her, and there was something tender in his eyes, behind the cautious expression she realized now had always been there, even when they were kids. “Glory,” he murmured, and the name was a sentence in itself. It was a plea, a reprimand, a shout of fury, a kiss.

  His hands rested on the sides of her waist, and Glory gave a despairing whimper, knowing that even now, with her world lying in pieces around her, her need for Jesse was as great as it had ever been.

  He pulled her into his kiss and she went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck. He cupped his powerful hands under her bottom and pressed her to him, while his tongue conquered hers.

  “Jesse,” she gasped, when he finally broke the kiss, but he didn’t hear her. He lifted her T-shirt off over her head, and she let him—she let him because she knew this time was going to be the last, that it would have to sustain her for the rest of her life.

  He pushed her bra down, without bothering to unsnap it, so that it rested around her waist in a gossamer pink circle, then lifted her high, so that her plump breasts were level with his face. Glory wrapped her legs around his lean hips and thrust her head back with a cry of relief and welcome when she felt his warm mouth close over a nipple.

  Jesse was greedy at her breasts—it was as though he couldn’t get enough of them. He went from one to the other, suckling, nibbling, nipping lightly with his teeth. But after a time, he carried Glory into her room and laid her on her unmade bed with her hips on the edge of the mattress.

  She tossed her head from side to side and clutched at the sheets and blankets as he lowered her jeans and panties and then tossed them away, along with her shoes and stockings. Then he parted her legs and slid his hands under her bottom to raise her to his mouth.

  When he captured her, she arched her back and clawed frantically at the bedclothes. The last bit of her pride was gone, shriveled to cinders in the heat of his passion. “Jesse—oh, yes—please—Jesse—”

  He brought her swiftly to a scorching release, stroking her quivering bottom as she flailed under his tongue, stripping off his own clothes while she lay trembling in the aftermath of her satisfaction.

  Jesse entered her in one powerful thrust, and she raised her hips to take him to her very depths. He buried his face in her neck as they moved together, now nibbling at the skin there, now raising his lips to her earlobe.

  Glory threw herself against him with all the strength she had, desperate for the sweet union that would not be complete until she and Jesse collided in that final, explosive contact, their cries mingling in the velvety darkness of the night.

  Jesse burst out with a ragged oath when passion finally overtook him, making him drive deep into Glory’s body and remain there, trembling violently as she forced him to give up his seed. Beneath him, she sobbed his name, clasped her hands behind his head and dragged him into a kiss.

  “We’ll always have that to remember,” he said a long time later, sitting up and reaching for his clothes, “if nothing else.”

  Glory pulled the covers up to her chin and stared at the darkened ceiling. It took all her remaining strength to say the words.

  “Goodbye, Jesse.”

  Ten

  Ilene Bainbridge’s usually serene eyes flashed with annoyance and frustration. “Grow up, Jesse!” she snapped, making no effort to keep her voice down because the bookstore was empty of customers and Liza was still at school. “Here’s a bulletin for you, Sheriff: you’re not the first guy who’s ever been hurt. And if you don’t change some of your attitudes, you’re going to end up a bitter, vindictive old man, just like Seth!”

  Jesse stared at his cousin in amazement. He’d never seen her so angry. “Next you’re going to tell me I should expect three ghosts to drop by tonight and point out the error of my ways,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  Ilene went back to unpacking a new shipment of books then, and her movements were still angry and abrupt. “Just go away, Jesse. I don’t want to talk to you right now, because I’m going to end up saying a lot of things I’ll regret.”

  He remained where he was, standing beside the counter with his arms folded. “What do you think I should do?” he asked quietly. Jesse wasn’t one to let others dictate his opinions, but he had a lot of respect for Ilene. Ever since Gresham and Sandy’s death, when custody of Liza had fallen to him, Ilene had been there to Ilprovide the female companionship the child needed.

  She sighed heavily. “That’s not for me to say, Jesse. But if I were you, I’d examine my feelings very closely before I let Glory leave my life again. And I’d try to understand what it is to be eighteen and intimidated by a powerful man like Seth, and I’d be a little forgiving. After all, ‘tis the season.”

  Jesse’s beeper went off just then and, frowning, he reached for the telephone behind the counter. Quickly he punched out his office number. “Bainbridge,” he said, when his secretary answered.

  A car accident had been reported, five minutes north of town, the woman told him, and the State Patrol was shorthanded because of all the holiday travelers and the uncommonly heavy snow. They wondered if Jesse’s department would take care of this one.

  “Tell them I’m on my way,” he said. “Are there ambulances on the scene?”

  “They’re en route,” the secretary answered, and Jesse thanked her and hung up.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said to Ilene in a distracted tone of voice, as he wrenched open the door of the bookshop and headed out into the cold. Once he was inside the patrol car, he switched on the lights and siren and made a wide U-turn.

  All during the drive, he braced h
imself for what he might find when he reached the scene of the accident. “Just don’t let there be any kids,” he muttered, in case some guardian angel was listening.

  Liza came slowly toward Glory, who stood by the little Christmas tree they’d decorated together a few nights before, there in one corner of Ilene’s cozy little bookshop. Glory was holding the presents she’d bought for her daughter in arms that trembled slightly.

  “Hello, Glory,” Liza said cautiously, as though speaking to a bird that might take flight at any instant. Ilene put the “closed” sign in place, locked the door, and retreated behind the counter to empty the cash register.

  Glory held out the presents, and Liza accepted them shyly, with a murmured, “Thank you. I’ve got something for you, too, but it’s upstairs.”

  Don’t let me cry, Glory prayed desperately. Please, just get me through this, and give Liza a happy life, and I won’t ever ask You for anything else. She waited, not trusting herself to speak, and the child hesitated, too, as though afraid that Glory would leave if she turned her back for a moment.

  “You’ll wait?” she asked. The slight quaver in the little girl’s voice was almost Glory’s undoing.

  “I’ll be right here,” she said softly.

  With that promise, Liza set the packages Glory had given her on the seat of the rocking chair and scampered upstairs.

  Glory swallowed and turned her gaze toward Ilene, who was watching her. “I guess Liza’s going to stay right here with you, even though she knows Jesse’s her father,” she said.

  Ilene shook her head. “Jesse’s hiring a nanny and a housekeeper,” she said. “He wants Liza to live with him.”

  “Won’t you miss her?” Glory asked, putting her hands in the pockets of her coat in an effort to keep them still.

  Ilene smiled. “Of course I will. But I’ll see her often.”

  Before Glory could say any more, Liza returned, proudly carrying a small box wrapped in red-and-white striped paper and tied with curling ribbons of both colors.

  “Would you please open it right now?” the child asked.

  Glory’s heart caught at the carefully contained eagerness she heard in her daughter’s voice. Unable to speak, for the moment at least, she began undoing the ribbon and paper. Inside a plain white box, nestled on a bed of cotton, lay a beautiful silver locket.

  Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, Glory opened the locket and found a miniature photograph of Liza inside. Several awkward moments passed before she dropped to her knees and took the little girl into her arms. “Oh, Liza, thank you. It’s the finest present I’ve ever had, and I’ll wear it always. Whenever I touch it, I’ll remember you.”

  Liza stepped back in Glory’s embrace. “Remember me?” she echoed. “Are you going away?”

  Glory felt the tears she’d sworn not to shed stinging her eyes. “Yes, baby.”

  “Why?” The word was plaintive, despairing, and it practically tore out Glory’s heart.

  Glory took the time to put the locket around her neck and clasp it, needing those moments to get a new grip on her composure. Then she laid her hands on Liza’s small shoulders. “Sweetheart, the things I’m going to say might be hard to understand, but I hope you’ll try very hard, because it’s so important.

  “I love you, and I’ve thought of you every single day of the nine years since I turned you over to the adoption people. And there will never be a day in the future when I don’t hold you in my heart and pray that you’re happy and well.

  “But I know now that it was a mistake for me to stay here in Pearl River, once I realized who you were. Sweetheart, all I’ve done is cause you trouble and pain, and I’d rather die than go on doing that. So I’ve got to go away.”

  “No!” Liza cried, twisting out of Glory’s grasp only to fling frantic little arms around her neck. “No! You’re my mommy, and you can’t go away and leave me—please don’t—”

  Glory held the child close. Walking out that door in a few minutes was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done, more difficult even than leaving Liza the first time. But she and Jesse couldn’t go on pulling their daughter back and forth between them. “Darling, I promise I’ll write, and when you’re older, if it’s all right with your dad, you can come and visit me.” She pulled back far enough to take Liza’s quivering chin in her hand and look straight into her tear-filled eyes. “And I want a promise from you, too, Liza Bainbridge. I want your word that you won’t ever, ever run away again.”

  “Glory, please—”

  She swallowed and held her chin high. “Liza.”

  “I promise.”

  Glory kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Good. I love you,” she finished. And then she got slowly to her feet and went toward the door.

  “Glory!” Liza wailed brokenly.

  “God forgive me,” Glory whispered, as she wrestled with the lock and then opened the door to go. The thought of Jesse came to her on the cold wind. “God forgive us both.”

  Without looking back, she hurried out into the dark, chilly night, half blinded by tears and grief.

  Back home, she packed her suitcases, threw away all the food in the refrigerator, and took all the lights and ornaments off the Christmas tree.

  Then, after taking a long, hot bath, she dressed and got into her car. Glory drove by Jill’s place, but didn’t stop, since she’d left an awkward farewell message on her friend’s answering machine. And then she went past the diner.

  Through the colorfully festooned windows, she saw Delphine and Harold presiding over a punch bowl full of eggnog, and the place was packed with friends. They were expecting Glory, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop and go in. She’d telephone later, from somewhere down the road, and hope Delphine and Harold would understand why she was skipping out before their wedding.

  There was just one more place she needed to go before leaving Pearl River forever. With a glance toward the little potted Christmas tree she’d bought at the supermarket earlier, Glory headed for the cemetery.

  “Drunk driver,” one of the ambulance attendants confided to Jesse when he arrived. The man paused after wrapping the patient in warm blankets and strapping him to the stretcher.

  Jesse swore and scanned the scene, seeing a large car that looked relatively unmarked and a little one that appeared hopelessly battered. “How many people were hurt?”

  “Just this guy,” the attendant answered. “He’s had a few too many, and his head’s banged up pretty good, but my guess is he’ll be out of the hospital in time to have turkey dinner with his family tomorrow.”

  “If he was driving with more than the legal limit of alcohol in his blood,” Jesse said quietly, “he’s going to spend Christmas in the county jail. Have you got a reading?”

  The attendant gave Jesse a number that made him swear again and handed him the man’s driver’s license. After checking the identification, he bent over and looked down into the party boy’s face. “Hey, buddy,” he began jovially, “I want to wish you a Merry Christmas on behalf of the Pearl River County sheriff’s department. I’m here to offer you our hospitality, since as soon as they’re done with you over at the emergency room, we’ll be coming by to pick you up. You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Callahan. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

  “You don’t understand, Sheriff,” Mr. Callahan whined, when Jesse had finished reading him his rights. “I only had a couple of eggnogs. Damn it, it’s Christmas!”

  “Ho, ho, ho,” Jesse replied. And then he turned his attention to the shaken family huddled in the small, dented car on the side of the road.

  He walked over, smiled and bent to look through the window as the driver rolled down the glass and said, “Hello, officer.”

  Jesse saw two kids with freckles and pigtails sitting in the back seat, clutching their dolls and looking scared, and silently thanked the benevolent fates for sparing them. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “Is everybody sure they’re okay?”


  The driver, a man about Jesse’s age, sighed. “We’re fine,” he said. “Just a little shaken up, that’s all.”

  “How about the car? Does it run?”

  The Christmas traveler shook his head. “The ambulance people radioed for a wrecker,” he said. “But there probably won’t be room in the cab for all four of us, and it’s getting pretty cold in here.”

  Jesse nodded and thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I’ll drive you into town,” he said. “But before we go, I need you to tell me exactly what happened here. Is somebody expecting you in Pearl River?”

  The woman leaned forward and smiled wanly, and Jesse watched her for signs of shock. “My grandmother, Alice Northrup. She’s probably been watching the road ever since noon.”

  Jesse didn’t remember the woman in the car, but he knew right where to find her grandmother. Miss Alice was a little old blue-haired lady who was always hearing prowlers in the her backyard. He grinned and opened the door so the little girls in back could get out. “I’ll radio the office and have them get in touch with her,” he said.

  The children looked up at him with serious faces. “Are we arrested?” one of them asked.

  The young parents laughed affectionately, but Jesse squatted down to look straight into the child’s eyes. “No, ma’am,” he said. “If I were to do a thing like that, Santa Claus would be real put out. And he’s one man I don’t like to cross.”

  “We’ve got presents in the trunk,” said the other little girl.

  Jesse settled the woman and the two kids and the presents in the patrol car, with the heater going full blast, then radioed the office. Deputy Johnson promised to let Mrs. Northrup know that her loved ones were safe and would be arriving soon.

  While the three females sang Christmas carols, Jesse and the husband went over the accident scene. Soon, Jesse’s report was complete, and he drove the family to Grandma’s house.