Hallie's Destiny (The Donovans of the Delta)

by Peggy Webb

  Instead of going back home, Debbie decided to stay.

  The children loved her. She was the grandmother many of them didn’t have. Watching her with the children, Hallie realized how important family was to everybody. And some of her charges, especially the teenagers who lived in the training centers, had no family—or if they did, they seldom saw them.

  Too few people knew the true joy that comes from association with God’s special people, she thought.

  Hallie’s eyes misted over. She had a plan. It would be Something More Drastic for Josh and Hiram Butler, but most of all, it would help her special children.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Debbie met Josh at the door of the theater and walked him down to the front where Hallie was gathering her teaching materials.

  “You got here just in the nick of time. I was preparing to take Hallie back home.”

  Josh turned white as chalk. “You brought Hallie to work?”

  Hallie saw Josh’s concern. She didn’t want him to worry, but at the same time she didn’t want to hurt Debbie’s feelings. “She rescued me. Isn’t that wonderful? This morning my El Dorado drew its last breath, and Debbie offered to bring me to the theater. She even stayed all day and helped me with the children.”

  Josh had known Debbie longer than Hallie had, not so much on a personal basis as by reputation. Florence was small enough to have town characters whose reputations were known far and wide. Debbie was one of those characters. He knew she was tough-skinned and honest, and that she appreciated the same qualities in others.

  “It’s a wonder you both weren’t killed.”

  “Josh!” All day Hallie’d had her own misgivings about the return trip home, but she’d never have been so blunt.

  He put his hand gently over Hallie’s lips. “Hush, sweet.” He turned to Debbie. “I don’t suppose you told Hallie about your last few adventures with your automobile.”

  “And spoil all our fun? Absolutely not. Besides, she was going to be late for work. What else could I do?”

  “Call me.”

  “Pshaw and fiddle-dee-dee. I know Hallie rode the bulls. I figured she’d enjoy a little adventure.”

  “I did too,” Hallie said loyally.

  Josh pulled Hallie into the protective lee of his shoulder and held her as if he were afraid of letting go. “Our indomitable Debbie Cox has a reputation for running over things with her car. Mailboxes, fence posts, light poles. And the last time—”

  “It was just an old building.” Debbie grinned. “It needed tearing down anyway.”

  “It was the county jail,” Josh said. “The last time she drove a car was back in ‘55. She ran into the side of the jailhouse. The story became legend.”

  “Overturned Deputy Paulie Mitchell’s card table and knocked Sheriff Blodgett plumb off the commode. He still had his pants down when I got out of the car.” Debbie chuckled.

  “You ran over the jail?”

  “Right through the front door,” Debbie said. “I don’t know what Sheriff Tater Blodgett was madder about—the wrecked jailhouse or being caught with his pants down. Not for the first time, I’m told.”

  “She got off easy,” Josh explained. “They made her swear to give up driving.”

  “I did, too. ‘Til today.”

  “Your first and last transgression, Miss Debbie.” Josh held out his hand.

  “The car keys?” Debbie already was fishing in her purse for them.

  “Right. I’ll drive your car, and Hallie can follow in mine.”

  “Home? It seems so dull after today.”

  Josh softened. “I’ll offer you a proposition—I’ll take you on a picnic, if you promise never to give Hallie another wild ride in your car.”

  Hallie smiled. “What a lovely idea. It’s picnic weather.”

  Debbie considered it for only a second. “Done.”

  o0o

  The three of them drove across the river in Josh’s car, stopping long enough to get a supply of food and drink. They turned on River Bluff Road in Sheffield, driving until they came to the highest point. Josh parked the car, and they walked a steep, narrow trail to the small river beach beside Whippoorwill Bluff. There Josh and Debbie regaled Hallie with tales of their exploits.

  “When I was young—about thirteen or so—” Josh said, “a gang of us used to come here and dive off these bluffs. Then we’d swim ‘til we came to the caverns underneath. We had wonderful make believe battles in those caverns.”

  “We used them for something else,” Debbie chimed in. “There are plenty of rock shelves under there. Hiram brought me here once.”

  “Dad?”

  Debbie’s smile was nostalgic. “Yes. Your father. Believe it or not, he was once a charming, lively man. You remind me so of him.”

  Josh was silent, thinking back to days he barely remembered, days when his father had laughed and danced and joked and loved.

  Hallie was quiet, too, watching them, the man she loved and the woman who had become a good friend. He will be a charming, lively man again, she vowed, or my name’s not Hallie Donovan. The plan she’d been mulling over all day became full-blown. It was all she could do to keep from jumping up and shouting her joy across the river.

  Her heart filled with love as she looked at Josh. He needed her plan to work. She needed it to work. Their future hinged on it. She’d start soon. Tomorrow.

  o0o

  Late that evening, after they’d returned from the river and Josh had gone home. Hallie told Debbie her plan for the special children. She even confided that she hoped to use it as a way to involve Hiram Butler in life again. Debbie’s endorsement was enthusiastic.

  “I don’t know what the books say about these kids, but I do know how to give love. I want to help.”

  By mutual consent she became Hallie’s assistant.

  The next day, after the buses had carried the last of the children back to their schools and training centers, Hallie and Debbie set out for the Butler house, Hallie driving Debbie’s car. Her own was in the expert care of Bobby Wayne Hopkins, the man who’d kept Debbie’s old car running through the years. He’d picked it up that morning.

  Hiram himself met them at the door.

  He gave them a cursory glance. His eyes seemed to be looking inward rather than outward. They were cold blue, dulled by years of unresolved sorrow and self-inflicted misery.

  “If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.” He started to shut the door in their faces.

  “Hiram, you silly old coot. Don’t you shut that door. It’s me. Debbie Cox.”

  Something flickered briefly in his eyes, then was gone. “I don’t like strangers coming around.” He nodded toward Hallie.

  “She’s not a stranger. She’s my friend. Hallie Donovan meet Hiram Butler.”

  Looking at his shrunken body and bitter face, Hallie ached for Josh. The easy thing would be to turn and run, to keep her little theater and her little love nest intact and never again bother with the Butler family. But her future with Josh was at stake. She tossed her glossy gypsy hair and smiled, turning her high voltage personality on, hoping it would work with this withdrawn man.

  “Mr. Butler, I’ve come to tell you about the project your son is funding.”

  “Josh?” She saw a small flicker of interest. She took it as a good sign.

  “Yes. Will you please let us in so we can talk?”

  “Only for a little while.” He opened the door. “I get headaches in the afternoon.”

  The house was immaculate and beautifully furnished, but it was dark as doom, all the blinds and curtains drawn tight against the sun.

  She watched as Hiram Butler took his chair. He moved like a man twenty years older than she guessed him to be. He sat in a Victorian chair facing the fireplace. For a moment, he lifted his face in reverence to the large portrait over the mantel. It was an oil painting of a beautiful woman, wearing a red velvet gown and a coy smile. Rubies and diamonds hung around her neck, splashed against her ivory ski
n. But the eyes! Hallie thought. They were the cold hard gray of gunmetal. Hallie felt goose bumps rise on her arm.

  “I see you’re still mooning over Margaret.” Debbie spoke with such asperity and bluntness, Hallie almost chuckled.

  “She was a beautiful woman,” Hiram said. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “She’s dead. Let the dead stay buried, I say.” Bright spots of color stood on her cheeks as Debbie turned to Hallie. “Why don’t you tell him our plan, my dear?”

  Hallie smiled. She was delighted that Debbie considered the project her own. “Mr. Butler, I’m sure you already know about the theater for special children that Josh has so generously funded.”

  Hiram waved a bony hand in dismissal. “I have no interest in Josh’s business. Never keep up with it.”

  Hallie continued talking in a cheerful manner, as if he’d acted thrilled to death over his son’s project.

  “We call the theater Jubilee, which is an extraordinary form of joy.” Something you obviously know nothing about, she thought. “Our children are handicapped mentally, many of them physically and emotionally as well, but their response to being onstage is tremendous.”

  “You ought to see them, Hiram,” Debbie said. “Some of the little ones are so shy, they will barely say a word, but when Hallie puts them onstage singing their little songs, they simply blossom. It brought tears to my eyes.”

  If Debbie’s speech moved Hiram, he didn’t show it, even by the flicker of an eyelash.

  “While Debbie was there I noticed the children’s response to her. Some of them are hungering for attention. I’m starting an adoptive grandparent program that I believe will help both my children and the adults involved.”

  “Miss Donovan, I hope you won’t think me rude, but I can’t possibly see what your program has to do with me. I have no interest in children, special or otherwise.” His gaze swung to the mahogany table beside his chair, to the snapshot in a silver frame—a man, a woman, and a small girl. Probably George and his former family, Hallie thought. “And I’m certainly not interested in becoming somebody’s grandfather.”

  The bitterness in his expression was shocking. Hallie felt a chilling sense of defeat. She sat back in her chair, stunned. Josh had tried to spare her this. Now she could see why. Her chin jutted out. She wouldn’t quit, and she wouldn’t be defeated.

  “Mr. Butler, I’m looking for special people to fill the role of grandparent to my children. I’m looking for people who have the capacity to feel, for people who have the capacity to give—not money, but a part of themselves. Your son is one of the warmest, most generous, most loving men I’ve ever met. I thought his father would have some of the same qualities.” She stood up, watching his face carefully as she played her trump card. “I see I was mistaken.”

  Was that outrage she saw? Good. She’d exceeded the boundaries of good manners, and she’d do it again if it would help the man and the children she loved. She turned to leave. She’d flung Hiram Butler a challenge. The rest was up to him.

  “Just a minute, young woman.” He was almost majestic as he rose, stiffening his back and straightening to his full height. He was a tall man, like his son. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. If I have time . . . and I don’t have one of my headaches . . . I just might look into it.” For the first time since she’d entered the room, she saw a spark of life in his eyes. “But I won’t be called ‘grandfather,’ is that clear?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Butler. We’ll have open house for prospective grandparents at the theater in two weeks. I’ll send you a letter with all the details.” She wanted to hug his neck, to gather him in her arms and tell him that everything would be all right. Sensing such an emotional display would embarrass him, she refrained.

  Debbie was not as restrained. She caught his hand and squeezed. “You won’t be sorry, Hiram.” A tear slid down her wrinkled cheek, and she added in a softer voice, “I’ve always known that you’re a kind and loving man. Deep down, you’ve never stopped being one.”

  Hiram cleared his throat. “We’ll see, Debbie.”

  Hallie waited until they were in Debbie’s car before she let out her Texas whoop of triumph. “I can’t wait to tell Josh. Just think what this will mean to him. If his father becomes interested in life again . . .”

  “I’m liable to waltz him off to the altar.”

  Hallie looked at her in surprise. “Do you think so?”

  “I know so. Helen Keller’s teacher wasn’t the only one who could work miracles. I’ve got a few up my sleeve myself.”

  “Good for you. Go get him, Debbie.”

  o0o

  They drove back home, and while Debbie made them a pot of afternoon tea, Hallie called Josh.

  “Josh Butler.” Hearing his voice, deep and rich, hearing the businesslike way he identified himself never failed to thrill Hallie.

  “I have wonderful news.”

  His laughter thrilled her too. “You are wonderful news. What is it, Hallie? I could use a pick-me-up.”

  “Are you tired? You work so hard.”

  “Just a little overloaded today. Lots of meetings. What’s this good news you called to tell me?”

  “I didn’t call to tell it to you. I called to tell you that I’m going to tell you . . . as soon as I see you. It’s the kind of news that has to be told in person so we can share the joy.”

  He laughed again. “I see. Since this news is so good, I suggest we do something special tonight. I’ll be working late. How about a moonlight picnic on Whippoorwill Bluff?”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’ll pick you up around nine-thirty.”

  o0o

  Hallie and Debbie spent the rest of the afternoon contacting prospective grandparents by phone. They were thrilled with the positive response they received to the program. Late that afternoon they composed a newspaper ad.

  “We want as many people as possible to participate.” Hallie finished typing the ad. “What do you say we take this over to the office at the paper and then call it a day?”

  Debbie laughed. “I haven’t had this much fun since Aunt Lulubelle got her skirt caught in the washing machine wringer.”

  Hallie loved Debbie’s stories. “What happened?”

  “She got wrung all the way up to her bloomers before Uncle Axel could get her loose.”

  They laughed all the way to the newspaper office.

  o0o

  When Josh came to her door that night, Hallie could see in his face that he already knew. He was as tightly wound as a watch spring, and he wore a guarded expression.

  Oh, help. What now?

  She decided to do some acting. Pretending her heart wasn’t trying to sink all the way to her stomach, she gave a gay laugh and launched herself into his arms. Something was different there, too. He hugged her so hard she barely could breathe. She felt the heavy hammering of his heart, sensed the desperation in his embrace.

  Still pretending gaiety, she took the blanket and the picnic basket and led the way to his car. “My news has to have just the right setting,” she called over her shoulder.

  All the way to the river, she told cheerful stories. She shared the story of Debbie’s aunt, told about her own Aunt Agnes getting cornered in the pasture by a mad bull, but even Josh’s laughter was strained.

  At last they had their picnic spread on Whippoorwill Bluff. Far below them, the river whispered its ancient wisdom as it rolled against the bluffs. The moon hung in a starless sky, clear as only a September moon could be.

  They spread the picnic fare out and ate, Hallie skirting the main issue, postponing the moment of confrontation. Instead of being wonderful, her news now posed a new threat for them.

  The night waned and at last she could postpone the moment no longer.

  “I have something to tell you, Josh.”

  “I’m anxious to hear it.”

  There was only the ghost of a smile on his face. She shivered.

  “Cold?”

  Sh
e nodded. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her.

  “The night wind off the river is chilly this time of year.”

  “It’s more than the night wind, Josh. I’m afraid.”

  “Hallie . . .” She felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath. “I’ve tried to protect you.”

  “You know?” Deep down, she already knew the answer to her question, but she felt compelled to ask it anyhow.

  “Yes. Dad told me you and Debbie came by.”

  “What else did he tell you?”

  “That you’d asked him to become involved in your grandparent program.”

  “It’s a wonderful idea!”

  “Yes. I agree. It’s a generous, loving idea. It’s typical of you.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  His arms tightened for a moment, then he caught her chin and tenderly turned her face up to his.

  “Why, Hallie? After all I’d told you, after the way I’ve tried to keep you from getting involved in the Butlers’ ugly family affairs, why did you do this? And without discussing it with me first.”

  “Would you have said ‘yes’?”

  “No.”

  “That’s what I thought.” A look of purpose came into her face. She knew the time had come for boldness. “Don’t you see? I’m in love with you.” She heard his sharp intake of breath, saw the brief look of joy that flared in his eyes, then the careful mask he dropped over his face. “Oh, Josh . . . I do love you. Loving you has reminded me that I want the same thing I grew up with—a large, wonderful family—and I want those things with you!”

  “Hallie, don’t.”

  “Shhh.” She touched her hands to his lips. “I know you don’t want commitment. I know you’re not the marrying kind. And I’m not going to leave you because of that, believe me. I can be patient.”

  “A selfish part of me wants to believe you.” He tangled his hands in her hair, lifted it to his lips, then let it sift slowly through his fingers. He focused his attention on her hair, watching the play of moonlight on the gleaming strands. She loved him. She wanted marriage, children. He’d lost her. He felt as if somebody had taken a hammer to his heart and pounded it to pieces.