GI Brides

by Grace Livingston Hill

  A wave of color flew up into Dale’s cheeks and then receded suddenly as she remembered her promises to her grandmother not to get angry in talking with her aunt, but to remember to take a deep breath and lift her heart in prayer when she felt tempted. Grandmother had been so anxious that all things should be done decently and in order, and she must have known, too, just what provocative things might be said. So Dale drew a deep breath with partly closed eyes for an instant and a lifting of her heart to God for help.

  “Why, the house isn’t for sale, Aunt Blanche,” she said quite sweetly, in a pleasant tone.

  “What do you mean?” screamed the lady. “Do you mean to say that the house has already been sold and Grandmother was only renting it? I always understood that it was her own.”

  But just then Corliss raised her voice from the foot of the stairs. “Mother, if you stand there and chew the rag with Dale any longer, you won’t get anything done, and I simply won’t stay in his house tonight the way things are. I feel as if I was about to faint this minute. Where is my medicine? I’m going to faint. I am! Come quick!” And Corliss slumped down on the stairs and dropped her head back on the step above, rolling her eyes and gasping for breath.

  Her mother flew wildly down the stairs, wafting back angry words to Dale: “There, see what you’ve done now! You’d better send for a doctor. These spells of hers are sometimes very serious. Powelton! Powelton! Where are you? Go out in the kitchen and get a pitcher of cold water, and a glass and spoon, and then look in my black bag for Corliss’s medicine. Be quick about it, too.”

  Corliss was presently restored to sufficient consciousness to talk again, and she began to whine at her mother. “Moms, you’ve simply got to get things going. You can’t have night coming down and all this funeral stuff around. I simply would die to be in a house with a dead body.”

  Then Dale stepped up quietly and spoke with dignity and sweetness. “Corliss, if you would just come up into the room and see Grandmother, how sweet and pretty she looks, just like a saint lying there with the soft lace around her neck and her dear hands folded and the loveliest smile on her gentle lips, you wouldn’t feel this way.”

  But Dale’s plea was interrupted by a most terrific scream of utter terror that must have been heard throughout the neighborhood. “No! No! No! I won’t! I won’t ever see her. How perfectly horrid of you to say that. Take me out! Take me out of this house!”

  This was followed by a quick exit to the front porch and a flinging of the girl’s body down in a chair, where she sat moaning and wailing in a tempest of hysterics.

  Then her mother came back into the house to Dale. “Dale, you’ll have to tell me someplace where I can take her until you can make other arrangements. Corliss will be a wreck unless we can get her out of here.”

  Dale, with a quick uplifting breath, thought rapidly.

  “Perhaps you would like to take her to the Inn,” she said coolly. “I think they might have a room there. At least they would have a reception room where she could lie down on a couch till you could find a room that would do. I’m sorry I don’t know of a boardinghouse that is not full to the brim with defense workers just now. Or it might be one of the neighbors would let her lie down in the parlor till she gets control of herself. But certainly it is impossible to make any different arrangements here in the house. These are Grandmother’s own arrangements, and I intend to see that they are carried out. If Corliss cannot get used to the idea, she might stay at the hotel or down at the station till the service is over. Now if you’ll excuse me, Aunt Blanche, I think I’m needed in the kitchen. The dinner will be ready in about a half hour. Perhaps Corliss will feel better after she has had something to eat.”

  “No!” screamed Corliss, uncovering her sharp ears. “I’ll not eat a mouthful in this house! I’m going to the hotel.”

  But Dale went into the kitchen to face an indignant old servant.

  “Let her go to the hotel!” said Hattie furiously. “We don’t want her screaming around here, desacratin’ Grandma’s house for her when she ain’t fairly out of it yet. We don’t want ’em here. Let the whole kit of ’em go. We don’t want to house ’em or feed ’em or nothin’.”

  “There, there, Hattie,” said Dale. “Remember what Grandmother said.”

  “Yes, I know; only Miss Dale, it ain’t fair for you. You workin’ an’ slavin’ to get ready for ’em, an’ then they act like this! It ain’t reasonable.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Dale wearily, “but it will soon be over and they’ll be gone.”

  “Yeah?” said the old woman. “I wonder, will they?”

  And then Dale could hear her aunt calling loudly for her, and she went back into the living room to see what new trouble might have arisen.

  She found her aunt most irate. “Dale, what in the world was that you said about the house just as Corliss was taken ill? Did I understand you to say that you thought this house was not for sale? What did you mean by that?”

  “I meant just what I said, Aunt Blanche,” said Dale firmly. “The house is definitely not for sale.”

  “But how could you possibly know that?” asked the aunt sharply. “Grandmother didn’t rent it, did she? I always understood that she was the full owner.”

  “No, Aunt Blanche. Grandmother did not own the house at all. It was just to be her home while she lived, but she had no ownership in it.”

  “Well, she did own the house once, I’m sure of that. I remember perfectly well. I think my husband engineered that. I think he paid part, or perhaps it was the whole price for it. And of course it was to be mine after Grandmother was gone.”

  “I’m sorry you have misunderstood, Aunt Blanche,” said Dale quietly, “but that was not the case. Grandmother never owned the house, or even a part of it. The house is mine. My father bought it for me before he went away on business. Later he was killed, and there was a proviso that Grandmother was always to have a home here as long as she lived. The house was left in trust for Grandmother and me until I should come of age, and that happened just a year ago, you remember.”

  “How ridiculous! That’s a pretty story for you to concoct out of whole cloth. I suppose the real truth of the matter is that you coaxed Grandmother into signing some papers and giving the house over to you, but a thing like that will be easily broken. And of course it will not be hard to prove that your father never had any money before he went to war. He was a sort of a ne’er-do-well, as I understand it, and couldn’t have bought a house if he wanted to. As for you, you were only a babe in arms when he went away. I don’t believe that even Grandmother could have helped to make up a story like this, much as she disliked me.”

  “Aunt Blanche, don’t you think perhaps we had better leave this decision until after dinner? Hattie has just told me that the dinner is all ready to be served, and I’m sure you must be hungry. If Corliss doesn’t care to eat in the house, would she like to have a tray brought out to the side porch? It is pretty well shaded with vines and nobody would be likely to see her, and wouldn’t it be good for us to sit down now and postpone this discussion until tomorrow after the service? You know a little later the friends and neighbors will be coming in to see Grandmother, and we wouldn’t want to be eating then.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake! Is that going to happen, too? I think we better go over to the hotel right away. This certainly is an odd reception you are giving us.”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Blanche. We have a nice dinner, and surely you must be hungry!”

  And just then Hattie swung the kitchen door open, letting in a delicious smell of roasted chicken. Powelton arrived in the doorway and spotted two plump, delectable lemon meringue pies on the sideboard.

  “Oh gee!” he said. “Let’s stay, Mom. I’m clean hollow, and if you don’t stay, I’ll stage a scene, too, and then see where you’ll be!”

  So Dale seated her recalcitrant guests around the table that had been stretched to its fullest extent for the occasion, and there was a sort of armed truce while
they ate.

  But Dale felt as if she scarcely could swallow a bite as she sat trying to be sweet and pleasant and not think of what was going to happen next. Perhaps she should have insisted that they go to the hotel. But she wasn’t entirely sure there were rooms there, and certainly the neighbors would think it very strange that Grandmother’s relatives would be sent off to a hotel. Still what would they think if a public argument about the house, and the funeral in general, should be staged that evening in their presence? Well, she couldn’t help it. What had to come must come. But she prayed in her heart: Dear Lord, please take over, for I can’t do anything about it myself.

  So they were soon served, the visiting aunt under protest, though she was hungry. She sat down with a face like Nemesis, as if she were yielding much in doing so, and snapped out her sentences as if she were a seamstress biting off threads.

  Outside on the pretty white porch sat the petted, unhappy Corliss, accepting ungraciously the plate of tempting food, surveying it with dissatisfaction, and tasting each separate dish tentatively, with a nose all ready to turn up and lips all ready to curl in scorn. But after the first taste she gobbled it all down in a trice and called out for more.

  But before anyone heard her outcries, her roving glance suddenly lit on the lovely spray of lilies that was fastened so gracefully to the doorbell, and she rose from her improvised dinner table with a clatter that rattled all the dishes. She flung down her knife and fork and spoon noisily to the floor; she pranced angrily over to the front door, where her frantic fingers wrenched the beautiful flowers from their moorings then, snatching them up, marched into the dining room.

  “So you thought I’d eat my dinner beside a lot of funeral flowers, did you? Well, I won’t, and that’s flat!” she finished and flung the lovely blossoms across the room.

  There was an instant of utter silence while the angry girl stood surveying them, frowning, and then Dale rose from her seat and slid quickly over to pick up the flowers and vanish into the kitchen to determine how much damage had been done. These flowers were sent by Grandmother’s close friend, Mrs. Marshall, the lady who lived in the finest house on the hill above the town and had her own conservatories and wonderful gardens. They must go back in place and must not be missed for a moment by the neighbors or anybody in town.

  Dale found that, fortunately, the blossoms were reinforced by wire around their stems and had not been badly broken by their rough treatment. She straightened them carefully and, going out the back door, went around to the front and put the lilies back in place again. Then, just as she fastened the last bit of wire and felt that the flowers were going to be all right after all, Corliss appeared in the front door with a dish of Hattie’s exceptional apple pudding brimming with delightful hot sweet gravy. With thunderous fury on her brow, she stood and screamed. “You shan’t put those horrid flowers back on that door. Not till I’ve finished my dinner!” And she stamped her dainty foot resoundingly. Then she followed her wild words by another piercing scream, which brought her mother to the door at once.

  “Well now, what are you doing, Dale Huntley? You certainly act possessed! Are you determined to make my little girl suffer?”

  Dale turned as calmly as she could, though she was trembling from head to foot. “I’m sorry, Aunt Blanche, but these flowers were sent by Mrs. Governor Marshall, from her own conservatories. She cut them with her own hands for Grandmother, for she loved her very much, and she is due to arrive here any minute now, for she was anxious to see how the flowers look, and I could not let her see that they were not in place. I’m sure you will understand that, Aunt Blanche. And—here she comes now!”

  A shiny limousine pulled up in front of the door, driven by a uniformed chauffeur, bringing a lovely lady of unmistakable breeding.

  Aunt Blanche stared aghast and then suddenly turned and vanished inside the house, herding her children together and out to the kitchen.

  Chapter 2

  Mrs. Marshall’s car had been gone only a short time when a handsome naval officer came slowly down the street with a package in his arms, looking carefully at the numbers of each house.

  Corliss emerged from her hiding in the kitchen just in time to see him in the near distance. She remained within sight to watch him. Such a personable young man in uniform she had not seen since she came East to attend this awful funeral of a grandmother she had seldom seen and had not been taught to love.

  Corliss went nearer to the open window to see him better and wondered if it would be too obvious if she were to go back to the chair in which she had eaten her only half-finished dinner.

  But the young officer was stepping more quickly now and was actually turning in at the gate. He was coming here! What was he? A florist? Surely not, as he was in uniform! Of course not.

  Corliss gave a quick pat to her golden curls, adjusted a smile of come-hitherness on her fierce young features, and got ready to go to the door when he should knock. She had no intention of letting an opportunity like this pass her by.

  But Corliss was reckoning without her hostess, for Dale had lingered on the porch to straighten out the evidence of the recent meal served there before more people should arrive, and she went forward with a quiet little smile as the officer came up the steps saluting her.

  “Is this where Miss Huntley lives, Miss Dale Huntley?” he asked with a grin of recognition. “I thought I’d find you. You wouldn’t remember me, would you?” And there was a wistfulness in his voice that it was most fortunate that Corliss was not outside to hear. “I’m just the guy that helped you wipe dishes about a month ago at the Social Center. I had another short furlough, and I thought I’d stop by and see if you were still on the job.”

  “Oh yes, I remember you,” said Dale with a sudden lighting of her eyes. “You are David Kenyon. Isn’t that so?”

  “That’s right. You’ve got a wonderful memory. All the fellows you must meet at that center.”

  “Oh, but that night you were there was the last night I’ve been to the Center. You see, we’ve had sickness here, and death—”

  “Yes, I know,” said the young man with a sudden gentle sobering of his expression. “They told me. They said your grandmother was gone. And I remembered how you spoke of her. You’ve lived with her for a long time, and it seemed as if you must love her a lot. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I brought a few flowers, just to show my sympathy.”

  He held out the florist’s box he carried, almost shyly.

  “Oh, how very kind of you,” said Dale, quick appreciative tears springing to her eyes at such thoughtfulness in a young stranger. “Do you know, I told Grandmother about you when I got home that night. She had been a little worried about my staying out so late, and she was so grateful that you had walked home with me. Of course she wanted to know what kind of a man you were, and I told her how you came out in the kitchen and helped me wash up the last dishes after the other helpers had gone. She enjoyed hearing what we talked about, and she said, ‘If you ever meet that young fellow again, you tell him I thank him for being helpful to you and for bringing you home. And tell him I like his name, David!’”

  “Say! I appreciate that,” said the young man. “You described her so pleasantly I was quite disappointed when I heard she was gone. I had hoped I might be able to find you and perhaps have the pleasure of meeting her. You know, my own grandmother died while I was overseas the first time, and she was the last of my family, so I have missed her greatly this homecoming.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry you couldn’t have met my grandmother, then. She would have loved it, I know. She was so sharp and sort of young for her years. She could enter right into conversation with anyone and seem to understand them. Would you—care to—see her now? She looks so sweet, lying there, just as if she is glad to be seeing heaven.”

  “Yes, I’d like to see her,” he said gently. “That is, if you don’t feel I would be intruding.”

  “Intruding? Why, of course not! I’d love to have you see her. We’ll
take your flowers up and give them to her. Come!”

  She brushed bright tears away and led him in the front door and up the stairs. Right past the curious Corliss, who had quickly and arrogantly arranged herself where they would have to brush by her and could not, she was sure, fail to see her in her recently repaired makeup.

  But David Kenyon did not cast an eye in her direction, although he passed so near he almost had to push by her, following Dale up the stairs. Dale had not even noticed that she was there until she had started up the stairs, and then she could only pray in her heart that her young cousin would not be moved to scream or otherwise mar the quiet atmosphere of the home from which the moving spirit had fled.

  Corliss stared up after them until they vanished toward the room where the grandmother lay, and then she flounced out onto the porch and met her brother, who had just come whistling up the walk from the street.

  “Hi, Cor; didn’t I see a navy man coming in here? What’s become of him, and how come you’re not flirting with him with those big, wistful eyes of yours?”

  “Oh, get out! You’re a pest if there ever was one! That navy man is a flat tire. He’s gone upstairs with Dale, acts as if Gram was his relative. It makes me tired, all this carrying on about a dead person. When you’re dead you’re dead, and that’s the end of it, isn’t it? Then why all the shilly-shally? Where’ve you been? Isn’t there a movie theater around here where we could go see a picture or something? I’m simply fed up with all this funeral business. And where is that hotel Dale talked about? I think it’s time we found it and moved on. Go find Mother and tell her to come out here. I can’t see going into that house again. It makes me sick to smell those flowers. I’d like to pull them all down and scatter them on the sidewalk. I wonder what Dale would do if I did, now that her precious Mrs. Marshall has been here and seen them. I believe I will.”