“I am sure that is true,” smiled Percy. “But for the first time in my life I am at peace being the son of my father. I do not intend to lose out on what being a son can teach me. I am not anxious to be independent of him. And since I am still young, and since I spent some years in rebellion, my father is in a position to know what is best for me better than I am myself. That’s what it means to trust his wisdom. It means trusting him to know my best even above my own desires, trusting him, in a sense, to speak for God in my life.”
“You make it sound as though he makes all your decisions.”
“Not at all. Every individual grows into an autonomy and independence as a man or woman in their own right. That is exactly what every parent ought to be working toward. My father wants that very thing for me. He doesn’t tell me what to do. But I want his advice and counsel. He gives me his impressions, helps me focus on spiritual principles, points out factors I may not have considered. And he will sometimes urge me very strongly in one direction or another. But in the end, he always encourages me to make my own decisions. Now, at least that’s what he does. Five years ago he made me come here. I had no choice then because I was incapable of wise choices. I was sixteen and rebellious. I had been in trouble with the police. It’s different now. Part of that process is his trust of me, too.”
“I think I begin to see … a little,” said Florilyn thoughtfully.
“It’s really a wonderful thing—the more I trust him, the more he trusts me. That’s why our dialogue is based not on either of us trying to convince the other to any particular point of view but about mutually trying to figure out what is best. In that my father’s vote, you might say, weighs very heavily, even though the ultimate decision rests with me. That probably sounds contradictory, but that is sort of how the mechanics of the thing work in practice.”
“Will you ever consider yourself fully on your own, so that you don’t think about what your father says?”
“I hope not. My father is a wise man. Why would I ever not want to glean as much of that wisdom as possible? As long as I live, he will always be ahead of me spiritually simply because he is older and has been listening to God’s voice longer. And he still wants the wisdom of his father, even though, as you know, Grandpa has been in China for ten years. In the same way, I will always be spiritually ahead of my children, if I have any, in the same way. That’s the way the generations are supposed to work. I will go to my grave, long after my father is dead, still doing my best to learn from his wisdom. I think that’s the way God intended it to be with sons and fathers.”
“I doubt that’s the way Courtenay looks at it!” laughed Florilyn.
“Courtenay has not spent his life developing spiritual eyesight. It grieves me to say that for most of my life I didn’t either. I have only been learning to see my father in this way for five years. That’s why I am trying so hard to listen to him and learn from him now, even though I am no longer under his roof and technically, I suppose you might say, on my own. And as I said, my father still sees himself learning from his father, where he is the son. Of course, Grandpa recognizes him as a man of God in his own right, because that’s what he prepared him to be. But my father looks up to him just as I look up to my father.”
“It must be remarkable to be part of something like that,” said Florilyn. “I knew that Grandfather and Grandmother Drummond had gone to China, but sad to say, Mother has learned not to talk about spiritual things around the rest of us. I feel bad about that now. I had no idea all that was at work between … well, all three of you, I guess.”
“I admit that it is not very common. But as I said, I believe it is God’s pattern.”
They sat down on one of the garden’s stone benches. Dusk was closing heavily around them. It was now after ten o’clock. The sounds of evening drifted toward them from the nearby trees. They sat for several minutes.
“What about … your future?” asked Florilyn, at length voicing the question that had been on her mind for two years. As she spoke, her voice betrayed a slight quiver.
“That’s one of the things I hope to resolve while I am here,” replied Percy.
As much hopefulness as Florilyn might have hoped to take from his answer, his expression revealed nothing. “What does your father think … about us?”
“He is pleased that we have become so close,” replied Percy, again revealing nothing.
Once more it was quiet.
Percy drew in a deep breath. “It is getting late,” he said. “Suddenly I am very tired. It’s been a long day.” Slowly he rose. “Shall we go in?” he asked.
“I think I will sit a little longer,” replied Florilyn. “You’ve given me so much to think about. I have never heard anything like what you have described between you and your father … and even your grandfather’s role in it. It sounds both wonderful and frightening. I’ve never considered that a father and son, or a daughter I suppose as well, could trust one another like that and be such … It sounds like your father is actually your best friend.”
“He really is. That’s exactly right. I know there would be many who would think me out of my mind to talk about my father this way. Others would think me a fool. I don’t know, perhaps this is not a road everyone can walk. I don’t even say everyone should. I don’t know. I am still young. I am probably guilty of the common hubris of youth of thinking I know more than I really do. All I can say is that this is the way I have chosen to obey the command to honor my father and mother.”
Florilyn smiled. “Well, I don’t think you a fool. But I need time to absorb it all.”
“All right. Well then, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. How about a ride tomorrow afternoon? After we both sleep in!”
“I would like that,” said Florilyn with a smile.
Percy turned to go.
“Oh, Percy,” said Florilyn after him, “did you stop by to see anyone else in the village or on your way up here this evening?”
“I stopped in at the inn, then by the smithy, then I came straight here. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just that there is something you need to know, something you ought to be prepared for. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you all evening.”
“What?”
Florilyn hesitated. “Come to think of it,” she added with a smile, “there’s no sense ruining your evening. I’ll tell you in the morning. Though not too early!”
“I know. You like to sleep in. But now I will worry about what it might be. My night’s ruined either way.”
“I’m sorry,” rejoined Florilyn. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It will keep until tomorrow. If I know you, you won’t worry about it for long. I’ll tell you everything in the morning. Well, everything I know, which isn’t much.”
Assuming she had something to tell him about Rhawn Lorimer or one of the Burrenchobays, or possibly something to do with her brother and the university scandal Mistress Chattan had mentioned, Percy consented to wait. “Sure … okay. Good night, Florilyn.”
“Good night, Percy. It’s really nice to have you back.”
70
Old Wounds, New Beginnings
Expecting to sleep till at least eight or nine, Percy was wide awake the next morning before seven. After a spirited visit with his aunt in the breakfast room, he decided to walk to the village. It was hours before Florilyn would make an appearance for the day after the late evening. With a ride planned for the afternoon, he wanted to wait no longer before visiting Grannie and Gwyneth.
Walking past the draper’s shop on the afternoon of his arrival, Percy was reminded of the first time he had set eyes on Rhawn Lorimer. The momentary exchange that fateful day had seemed innocent enough. But even then, the flirtatious mischief had been evident in her eye.
He knew it well might stir up the old rumor, but he needed to see her. He had unfinished business with her, too, just as he did with Gwyneth—though of a much different nature. He had to look Rhawn in the eye and ask her why. If Florilyn’s news c
oncerned Rhawn, he might just as well find it out for himself.
While they ate breakfast, he asked his aunt about Rhawn.
“We have hardly seen her in the last two years,” replied Katherine. “She and Florilyn never visit anymore.”
“I would like to drop in on her this morning.”
“Goodness, Percy … why?”
“It’s just something I need to do. I am concerned about her, for one thing. I want to ask her why she did it.”
“I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her. Aren’t you afraid of stirring everything up again? People will talk.”
“Who cares? And why would people talk? Are you saying …? Is she not married? Did the father not come forward?”
“No to both,” answered his aunt. “She is still living with her parents. She has a baby boy.”
“No one ever owned up to it?”
Katherine shook her head.
“And Rhawn never divulged the truth?”
“No.”
“Did she ever absolve me?” asked Percy.
“Yes, eventually she came clean and said she had lied about you.”
Percy took in the information thoughtfully.
“Must you see her, Percy?” asked Katherine.
He thought about her question a moment. “I don’t know if I have to, but I want to. Things need to be brought to resolution. It’s something my dad’s always talking about—reconciliation and healing. I have to see if there might be an opening with Rhawn. If not, at least I will have tried.”
His aunt nodded then her lips broke into a smile. “That’s your father, all right,” she said. “Even as a teen he could not tolerate conflict. He was always trying to resolve differences between people. Why should I expect Edward’s son to be any different? Like father, like son, I suppose.”
“That’s a great compliment coming from you, Aunt Katherine.”
Percy left her and set out for Llanfryniog about eight thirty. He left Florilyn a brief note saying he would be back by noon. Whatever she had to tell him would have to wait for later in the day.
He walked straight to the village. He wanted to get that visit out of the way first. Then he would have plenty of time with Gwyneth afterward.
He made no attempt to hide his movements. He went directly to the magistrate’s home. A woman whom he had never seen answered the door.
“Mrs. Lorimer?” said Percy.
“Yes,” she answered, looking him over with a questioning eye.
“Is Rhawn here?” Percy asked. “I am a friend of hers.”
“Do I know you?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve not been in Llanfryniog for two years.”
Whatever suspicions Percy’s statement might have aroused in Mrs. Lorimer’s mind, she kept to herself. She disappeared into the house, leaving the door open and Percy standing outside.
A minute later Rhawn appeared.
“Hello, Rhawn,” said Percy with a smile.
She stared back at him blankly, not believing her eyes. In the distance Percy heard the sounds of a child.
“Percy!” she said in a soft, almost questioning voice. Her eyes began to fill. The change that had come over her was remarkable. On her face was the look of a sad and broken young woman.
Percy stepped forward and embraced her.
She began to weep in earnest, though softly.
“Why have you come here, Percy?” she asked at length, stepping back and wiping her eyes. “Aren’t you afraid of being seen … of what people will say?”
“No, I am not concerned.”
“Are you … angry with me?” she asked, forcing a sad, almost frightened smile.
“No, not that either. I do have to say that I was surprised and disappointed.”
“Have you come to rub salt in the wounds?”
“Rhawn! I would never do that.”
“Why, then? Why would you want to see me?”
“I had to ask you why … why you did it. Why did you, Rhawn?”
She smiled again more sadly than before. “Can’t you guess?”
“No, honestly I can’t. What did I ever do to hurt you?”
“Nothing, Percy,” she said, starting to cry again. “Nothing at all. That is the reason.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“I knew the real father would never acknowledge his child. He had already turned his back on me. I knew he would never marry me. You were the nicest boy I had ever met. I suppose I hoped that maybe … But it was stupid and selfish of me. I was not in the habit back then of thinking of anyone but myself. I didn’t think of the consequences to you. I am sorry for what I must have put you through. I just thought … “
She looked away and began to cry again. “I did it because I was selfish, Percy,” she went on in a halting voice. “I kept trying to convince myself that you were smitten with me. All my life I had been able to make any boy I wanted fall all over me. You were the first boy who didn’t. It made me crazy to conquer you. I told myself that you were playing hard to get, that you really loved me. But everyone knew how it was between you and Florilyn. I knew well enough that she was in love with you.”
She was looking down as she spoke and did not see Percy’s expression of surprise at her words.
“That made me angry, too,” Rhawn went on, “that she might succeed where I had failed. I suppose I was trying to get back at you both, and at the same time I hoped that you might … I suppose I still hadn’t given up on the idea that you might actually care for me in some way. I see now how foolish … that you never—” Rhawn glanced away, crying again.
She started a moment later when she felt two strong hands on her shoulders. She looked up. Percy was staring straight into her eyes with a more peaceful look of love and compassion than she had ever seen from anyone in her life.
“Rhawn,” he said, smiling tenderly. “You were right. I did not love you in that way. I hope you do not mistake my visit today in thinking that has changed. I cannot love you as a man would. I cannot be a father to your child. But I want to be a friend to you. I would like us to make a new beginning, if you are willing. I think Florilyn is ready to be your friend again, as well.”
“Oh, Percy … I don’t know. Why would you treat me this way? After all I … I mean, why would you be so good to me?”
Percy smiled.
It was the old smile she remembered!
“Isn’t that what friends are for?” he said.
Rhawn could hardly believe how kind and generous he was. “Would you … could you come in for a cup of tea?” she asked. “I would like you to meet my mother … and my son.”
71
Gone
Percy left the Lorimer home thirty minutes later, full of many thoughts. Mostly he felt compassion for Rhawn. She was now reaping the fruit of the foolishness of her younger years. But all beginnings offer hope for new life. Perhaps this might be such a day for her.
He turned into the lane toward Grannie’s. He hoped he might find Gwyneth there. After tea with Grannie, they could walk along the beach together.
It was great to be back, he thought. Just walking through the streets of Llanfryniog made him happy.
He couldn’t wait to see Gwyneth again. He was nearly running by the time he reached Grannie’s. He tried to calm himself, reminding himself how changed Gwyneth was last time. He had almost not recognized her that day he had first seen her working at the manor. In his eyes she would always be the nymph of the Snowdonian hills, the lake creature out of whose hands deer came to eat. Yet she was bound to be changed again. And still the question dogged him why she had not met him two years before.
He slowed. Would she be taller? he wondered with a smile. She would never be as tall as Florilyn. But she might grow to five feet, and then be not much more than a foot shorter than he.
She would be eighteen now. Would the same thing happen as before? Would he gaze upon the face beneath the head of white and wonder, Is it really her?
As he went, he
also tried to prepare himself for the possibility that there could be a young man in her life … if she wasn’t engaged or married already. He had tried to prepare himself for it. But he knew he wasn’t really prepared for such news.
He reached Grannie’s cottage. Strange, thought Percy, there was no smoke drifting out of the chimney. He went to the familiar door and knocked. There was no response from inside. A second knock, then a third produced the same result. He tried the latch. It was locked. Grannie never locked her door. Something felt wrong.
He thought a moment, then turned and quickly broke into a run in the direction of the cottage outside the village. He hoped the explanation was as simple as that Grannie was with them. With the premonition growing that something wasn’t right, he ran across the moorland plateau. He ran straight to the door of the cottage and knocked.
It opened a minute later. A rough-looking man, unshaven for several days and with a scowl on his face, opened the door and stared at him. “What do you want, mate?” he growled.
“I came to see the Barries,” said Percy, glancing into the house behind the man in perplexity.
“Ain’t nobody by that name here.”
“Codnor Barrie? He has a daughter by the name of Gwyneth?”
“Look, mate—this is my place. I ain’t heard of no Barrie.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Seven months. Came from Australia to work in the mines. Now they ain’t giving me the work they promised. Now beat it!” The door slammed in Percy’s face.
He walked to the side of the house. Not a creature nor pen was to be seen behind it. In bewilderment Percy hurried back to the village. He went straight to Grannie’s again. This time he knocked on the door of the house next to it. It opened, and he was met by Grannie’s neighbor, a woman Percy had seen a few times in the past. “Good morning,” he said.
From Across the Ancient Waters- Wales Page 37