With Eyes of Love (Heartsong Presents)

by Linda S. Glaz

  Ted was a terrific guy. How had the Barrymores whelped such a louse as Teo? Maybe he’d been the favorite and spoiled. Jackson had seen worse at school. Privileged boys from good homes, with parents who’d told them all their lives how wonderful they were. Planted the belief in their heads that they were entitled—to whatever they wanted.

  Barbara slunk around the corner of the gazebo with tears in her eyes. Jackson wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and convince her it would be all right. All was forgiven. But it wasn’t. The game she’d been playing this week had been dangerous for each of them.

  * * *

  Barbara dashed past the few remaining guests to her room before anyone else could stop her—question her. Tears burned hot on her cheeks. Jackson had only told the truth. She’d been playing with fire all week to make Jackson jealous, and her immature behavior had blown up in her face. Her mother had warned her about such conduct and God had warned her with His written words. Not by deceit. Now, it was too late.

  She fingered the soft wool of Jackson’s suit coat, drew it closer around her, trembling under the blanket of warmth. She turned her nose into the fabric and breathed in the fragrance. Ivory soap and the light, lingering aroma of the peach blossoms swirled together and filled her senses along with the unmistakable scent of Jackson himself. With her arms wrapped across her chest, she pretended Jackson held her. But it wasn’t his arms. Just an old coat that she took off.

  She shivered. Teo had threatened Jackson. He might make good that threat.

  None of it mattered. In two days she would be gone. Back to New Castle, Indiana, where her family waited. She could forget about all men and concentrate on her singing.

  Chapter 14

  Over the delicious aroma of crisp bacon and warm maple syrup, Mr. Judge’s brow arched up as he stared across the table at Jackson. “I heard there was a bit of a tussle last night.” His head dipped to his plate of food.

  Barbara glanced from Jackson to his father. No one could miss the black and blue tinge across the back of Jackson’s knuckles when he lifted a cup to his lips. The entire family must have heard by now what a fool she’d made of herself.

  Jackson set the cup down, slumped on his elbow and pressed against the table, but his face reflected directness as he sought his father’s eyes. “No, sir, just a slight misunderstanding.”

  “One that might cause problems for Teddy and Bets?”

  “Dad, Teo and I will never be friends, but I won’t allow that to affect my sister’s happiness. If we have to be in each other’s company for whatever reason, I’ll behave if Teo does. However, if he takes advantage of situations, then I’ll step in to right the wrong. The choice is pretty much his.”

  Mr. Judge clapped his hands together. “Well, then, let’s have our breakfast and put any unpleasantries behind us.”

  Barbara cringed; she’d been the root of the unpleasantries. She couldn’t wait for the meal to finish so she could escape to her room and pack her belongings. Tomorrow she’d be on the train for home. Home.

  She missed Betty already. The two lovebirds had taken the first train out this morning, practically before the sun rose. And there was no longer a reason for her to stay.

  * * *

  Was that a smile edging her face? Why not, impatience probably ran from her head to her toes. She couldn’t wait to leave this house. Get away from him. She had no doubt been counting the days since she had arrived and had seen him.

  “Jackson, are you with us? Could you please pass the syrup to Barbara?” Mother’s face quizzed him. “French toast is a bit dry without it, don’t you think?”

  Startled, Jackson picked up the blue willow pitcher and reached toward Barbara’s outstretched hand. His fingers brushed hers in the transfer and he choked on the coffee swirling in his mouth. He shifted back in his seat and mopped at his shirt with a napkin.

  His mother fired him a look.

  “Sorry, Mother. I seem to be making one mess after another.”

  In twenty-four hours Barbara would be gone. Just one more day, but he couldn’t figure out if that was what he really wanted or not. One thing was sure, he couldn’t sit here in her presence and think straight.

  Not hungry anymore, he pushed back his chair and stood up. “If you’ll all excuse me, I’m heading out back to finish some of the cleaning. “Dad, when you’re done eating, I’ll help you pack up the chairs and we can return them to church. No rush, but I’ll get started stacking.”

  Though he didn’t intend to, he slammed the door leading out back. Surveying the mess gave him something else to concentrate on and he dug in.

  Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two. Jackson counted out piles of ten chairs each as he folded and stacked. Hard work kept his mind from Barbara. Sixty-six, sixty-seven. Sweat dripped in his eyes and he brushed at it using damp shirt sleeves as he started another pile. Fold and lift. Fold and lift. Seventy-two, seventy-three. He’d help his father and then he could take care of his own matters for a change. He had a life after all. Eighty-nine, ninety. No more worry about Miss Richardson. No more caring about who she chose to flirt with. Or who chose to flirt with her.

  He stopped a minute, remembering her exchange with Teo. One hundred five, one hundred six. She could flirt with Errol Flynn if it pleased her. He couldn’t care less.

  Jackson leaned against the gazebo, catching his breath. Struggling, sweating, beating himself up on the outside. Nothing was going to take away what he felt inside. One hundred ten, one hundred eleven.

  Just like before. He was seventeen again remembering how he and Teddy had unfolded dozens of chairs. Some were set up for the band, nearly one hundred for the other students, and a handful for the honored guests—teachers and parents serving as chaperones.

  The parents shouldn’t have been sitting in chairs. They should have been up, doing their jobs. Watching over the girls. Protecting them from jerks like Teo Barrymore.

  Saturday night, the day before graduation, Jackson and Teddy had strolled proudly into the gym, two of the prettiest girls from school on their arms. Katherine O’Keefe had turned heads with her long red hair and laughing eyes. She’d removed her glove, dropped it in his pocket while they had danced. He wasn’t sure, but by the end of the evening, he’d convinced himself he was falling in love.

  He’d only turned his back for a couple minutes, just long enough to request her favorite song from the band. When he had returned to the dance floor, Teo swirled Katherine in his arms, covering the dance floor from one side to the other.

  Jackson bent from his waist, lifted, groaned. Hefted another four chairs. He wiped more sweat away, doing his best to clear out memories that whorled through his mind like uninvited guests. A heave and up went another two chairs. He stopped, bit the edge of his lip, but pain couldn’t wipe out memories so vivid he might reach out and touch them.

  He’d dropped the cup of punch, strode across the floor. His jacket had been soaked through; he had taken it off and placed it on a chair near the door. The smells in the hot room had overwhelmed him for a minute. Cologne, sweat, stale food. He had grabbed the edge of the door frame and steadied himself. Looking out, he had to wonder where they’d gone.

  She didn’t return to school the next year. A girl’s reputation was so easily shattered. Just the slightest hint of impropriety and a girl had faced ruin. A boy? His reputation had jumped up a notch or two. No. It wasn’t fair. Jackson could see the inequity in that kind of reasoning.

  One hundred ninety-nine.

  Now, all that remained of her in New Hope was the small white glove he’d kept all these years in his coat pocket.

  Last one. Two hundred. His lungs pushed out a rush of air. Done.

  Barbara must have been as frightened as Katherine, and what did he do? Told her how foolish she’d been. Instead of holding her, as she’d wanted, he had chastised her for leading Teo on.

  He shouldn’t have talked to her the way he had in the peach grove. She’d known better than to egg Teo on. She didn�
��t need Jackson rubbing her face in her folly.

  * * *

  There would be no train ride home today.

  Clouds roiled as lightning struck again and again. Rain pounded the dry ground, which didn’t seem to be able to soak it up fast enough. They were stuck inside until the rain stopped.

  First thing that morning, her father’s phone call to Mr. Judge confirmed what they’d heard on the radio. Dangerous high winds and driving rain had crisscrossed through Indiana, bringing with it deadly tornadoes. Could be zigzagging into Ohio and Tennessee right now. Barbara’s father had asked the Judges if Barbara might stay another week or so, until the weather stabilized and they could arrange to have their roof fixed. And while the Judges had agreed, Barbara ached to get home. She should be there, helping. Not here avoiding Jackson.

  If Barbara had been wise, she’d have left for New Castle at the same time Betty and Ted left for their honeymoon. Instead, she’d offered early on to stay and help Mrs. Judge clean, press and put away the wedding clothes.

  Now, hearing the news that she would have an extended visit, her legs, heavy and numb, carried her to her room as fast as she could make them go. With frustration as strong as the rain, she flopped on the bed and sobbed. Today was supposed to have been the day she finally escaped.

  Grateful no one would hear her sobs over the lightning and thunder, she allowed herself the luxury of self-pity. Memories of another time, when flooding had caused them to stay, whirled in her head. Brown eyes through a window. A new best friend. The kindness of strangers. All memories that drew her back to New Hope. A sudden memory of her clothes flying through the air brought a much-needed smile to her lips. The event was funny now, but it certainly hadn’t been then as she had scrambled to retrieve what Auntie Ina would call her unmentionables.

  A crack of lightning pulled her attention to the window. She got up, wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks and stared into the black morning where only tiny glimpses of light fought to press through the weakest points in the clouds. In the anger of the storm, Barbara pictured a furrowed brow with eyes dark and foreboding, she put a hand to her throat, unsure where the storm outside started and the storm inside ended. She’d seen that face on Jackson the night he had confronted Teo on her behalf, when she had followed him to the lake. And she had witnessed the look when Jackson had chastised her for playing dangerous games.

  * * *

  Potato soup and corn bread with honey, his favorite, but even the tastiest meal couldn’t straighten out the mess Jackson had made of his life. He couldn’t change what happened at Pearl and now he had to deal with Barbara for another week.

  That sure put a tack in his tire.

  His mother passed the bowl again. “Another piece of corn bread?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you all right, son? You’ve been moping around the house ever since Betty’s wedding.” She reached toward his hand, but he pulled away. A frown crossed her face. “Are you feeling well?”

  “I’m fine.” Liar. Lying to yourself and now to your mother. This has to end. “Really. I’ll be fine.”

  His father looked at Mother and shook his head. “Leave the boy alone. He’s not your baby anymore.”

  She shifted in her seat. “He’ll always be my baby, like it or not. You know we’re both here for you, don’t you, Jackson?”

  Jackson forced a smile. “I know.”

  “Say, Will’s at the factory,” his father said, “but where’s Barbara? Not hungry? Not like her to miss a meal.”

  He groaned at the mention of her name.

  His father looked up from his bowl. “You say something, son?”

  “N-no. I, uh. No.” He shoveled in more soup.

  Once he’d excused himself, he dashed through the rain to the shed. Alone without all the questions. Tramping outside the building, he hauled in a few downed branches.

  Then he appreciated the seclusion and dimness of the shed for the rest of the afternoon, slamming the ax into branches, one after another, letting his muscles labor until they burned. He hadn’t carried such a heavy workload in a long while.

  Rain pelted the roof, and lightning cracked against the old chestnut at the back of the house. They’d probably lose a few more branches before this storm passed. He stacked the wood in neat piles by the door. Will could take them out to season in the sun once the rain stopped.

  For hours, slab after slab collapsed under the sharp sting of the ax. He couldn’t believe his bad luck. Her staying longer changed his plans. Jackson slumped onto the growing pile of maple and chestnut; logs shifted and he lost his footing—landed in sawdust. Should he simply give up? Give in? Tell Barbara she meant more than the world to him?

  Too many questions without answers. Leaning his head against the wall, he daydreamed of porcelain skin, dark brown hair, and big—really big—blue eyes surrounded by thick, black lashes. A soft little mouth, almost always with an opinion to accompany the cuteness. He had to chuckle. She certainly was opinionated.

  Sawdust sifted through his fingers and he snagged the edge of his lip between his teeth. He bit down hard because the pain felt good. It meant he was alive. He’d survived this horrible year, but he didn’t want to dwell on his own survival. The thought of him living caused guilt to rise up in swells of disgrace. He should have died along with his friends.

  If you truly loved someone, you let go. Allowed her to have a good life for herself. And he loved her enough to lift her up and let her wings take her away. He could see her on a stage, singing in that angelic voice. Pretending he didn’t care took all his effort.

  Why, God? Why can’t she just go home where she belongs? I’m trying to do what’s right here. Don’t You ever listen to me?

  No. No praying. He snatched a piece of wood and flung it as hard as he could against the shed wall. Boards shook and snatches of light peeked between them now that the rain had let up. God didn’t care anyway.

  The door opened and his father dipped his head under the five-foot door frame, a streak of sunlight doing its best to poke through the clouds. “Whoa, son. What are you doing? We don’t want to have to repair the shed wall in all this muck and water. Your mother said to tell you, supper in about half an hour.”

  “Supper? We just had lunch.”

  “Five and a half hours ago. You’ve been here all afternoon. Maybe you should come in for a bit, get washed up, relax. The storm’s had everyone on edge.”

  His father leaned down and offered a hand. “You don’t seem happy, son.” He tugged as Jackson heaved up on his heels. Then, he stared into Jackson’s eyes. Was Father reading all the hurt?

  “I’m happy enough just being with the family,” he lied.

  His father was no dummy. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t even glad you came back alive. Am I right?”

  “Dad, I don’t want to talk—”

  “You know I’m here to listen when you do want to.” He smiled and clapped Jackson on the back.

  Once his father stepped away, Jackson brushed dirt from his palms and the seat of his pants. “Dad, I didn’t want to talk about this before and I don’t want to now.” Wiping damp sawdust from the ax, he returned to the waiting pile of wood.

  His father’s brow lifted. “Festers, son.”

  “What?” Jackson set a log to split.

  “Hurts fester inside if you don’t talk it out.”

  Once his father left the shed, Jack put down the ax. The biceps in his right upper arm quivered, then spasmed from all the difficult work. He massaged the pain away and dropped to the floor again.

  I don’t want it to fester anymore, God. If You’re there, really there so that You care about what happens to us, I need to know. Because if not, I’m finished fighting. Life is just too hard when it hurts this much. I’m destroying the people around me little by little. They’ll be better off without me. So, I’m asking this last time. If I’m supposed to stay here for whatever reason, help me to understand it and see what I’m t
o do. If not, then let me go ahead with my plans.

  * * *

  Barbara stole a glance between the curtain panels at the window. So much wind and rain all day, and now the sun worked hard shooting rays in between the remaining clouds, bullying its way through the chaos.

  Chaos. Remembering Teo’s behavior at the wedding, she shivered and wrapped arms around her chest, protective as a mother lion, but too late for herself. She had known better when the thought had touched her heart more than a week before the wedding. Still, she had played Teo’s game of cat and mouse; she’d even supplied her own trap by walking alone after dark. How foolish. Now, staying the extra week or so with the Judges, her humiliation couldn’t be hidden. Just thinking about the tussle, as Mr. Judge had called it, warmed her face. Tussle. Fine word for Jackson charging to her rescue, fists flying and blood boiling.

  Grabbing the sweater she left on the back of the vanity chair, she stopped and stared in the mirror. A look at the red-eyed girl reminded her to keep her opinions to herself and to trust her upbringing. Her mother would be appalled at the way she’d behaved.

  God, I am so sorry for the trouble I caused. Not only am I ashamed, but I let my parents down. I’m even more ashamed I let You down. Please forgive me, and allow me the strength to hold my head up and behave in a manner that will make me proud to be Your child.

  There, like Mama taught her. She’d asked for forgiveness. Done and done. People, not God, held grudges. She understood He had already forgotten her sins. As far as the east was from the west.

  Down the stairs and into the kitchen, her feet carried her lightly to Mrs. Judge’s side where she offered a hug before asking, “May I help with dinner?”

  “You look better after that nap, now, don’t you?” Mrs. Judge returned the hug and stepped away. “Much better, really. We know you miss your folks, but we surely are happy you’re here with us a few more days. Helps to get us over missing Betty some, you know?”

  Her wistful smile spoke volumes to Barbara about how much they missed their girl. Mrs. Judge added, “How about getting some of the leftover chicken from the icebox? Oh, lands. I still can’t seem to call that Philco a refrigerator, can I?” She turned with hands on hips. “Let’s make chicken salad sandwiches on crusty rolls and you can bring up some of my bread and butter pickles from the cellar. Ooh, and pickled beets, too. Sound good?”