Truth and Circumstances

by Myrna Parks

  “Don’t tell Father or he might offer you one as a wedding present.” Beth teased, and then blushed self-consciously. “I hate to imagine what your opinion of me must be. You probably think I need a good analyst.”

  “You forget, I crossed four time zones with you seated by my side today. I think I have a pretty good idea of what you are in need of,” he replied, a smile dancing in his eyes.

  As the car drifted into reverse, Beth looked suspiciously in the driver’s direction. She wondered, not for the first time, if her life was simply one big joke to Carter Phillips.

  He pulled the car back on the road. “Tell me about these surrogate in-laws.”

  Beth paused, organized her thoughts, and then attempted to describe her family. “Dad is striking in appearance, even at his age. With his erect carriage and aristocratic air, he has a strong presence. Peter is the younger, watered-down version of our dad. Both Peter and Alexis inherited Father’s handsome features and strong personality.”

  “And your mother?” Carter inquired.

  “Mother is like a Pekinese puppy in a house filled with Dobermans.”

  “That’s a strong analogy.”

  “I don’t intend to sound mean, but when I think of Dad and my siblings, I see them as dark, sleek, and polished, while Mother, on the other hand, is such a petite little thing who seems to float through life in an ethereal fog.

  “And you? How do you fit in?”

  Beth took a moment, pondering. “You can judge for yourself when you meet my family. I doubt any person can accurately describe his or her role in their family circle. I must warn you in advance, however, that you might notice a few significant changes in my personality when I’m surrounded by my relatives.”

  With a short laugh, Carter asked, “Do you have some secret potion you swallow in the hallway?”

  “No. It’s just that all my confidence seems to melt like chewing gum on warm cement whenever I am with my family. Instead of feeling like a Doberman, I find myself shrinking down mentally to the size of a teacup Chihuahua.”

  Ten minutes later, just as the sun faded and the lights came on, they turned into the walled entranceway of the Ashton estate. The car hugged the brick-paved driveway, which wound its way through magnificently lighted landscape. Expelling a slow, appreciative whistle, Carter parked the car near the front door. “This is impressive. I knew your family would be well-heeled, but this place looks like a museum.”

  “Wait ‘til you see the inside.”

  “And you choose to live in a small apartment in Georgia. Perhaps you really are in need of a good shrink.”

  Carter opened the passenger door. Beth stepped out into the sweet-scented twilight. Looking at the house where she grew up, with a catch in her throat, Beth said, “There is one other person I failed to mention.”

  Carter waited respectfully.

  In one breath, Beth murmured, “His name is Lon Keaton. He was my first love, but he threw me over as soon as my sister glanced in his direction. He’s now Alexis’s fiancé. That’s the reason I moved to Georgia.”

  ****

  To Carter, the sprawling estate’s towering trees and well-lit gardens looked grand and imposing. As they approached the entranceway, the massive door opened silently. A uniformed servant mutely waited.

  Carter followed Beth inside the marbled entryway. A heavy chandelier hung above an intricately tiled floor. A wide, sweeping staircase, which Carter assumed must lead upward into the lofty private quarters of the famous Ashton family, dominated the spacious area. While looking curiously around at the impressive collection of oil paintings and bronze carvings, Carter walked behind Beth, their footsteps echoing through the foyer and down a series of wide corridors. He could hear the sound of voices in the distance, which grew louder and clearer as they walked toward the back of the house.

  The couple stepped into a large formal drawing room filled with people. Carter pulled up short when he heard Beth’s jagged intake of breath. He looked down at her face and watched the young woman turn the color of ashes.

  A distinguished-looking gentleman with dark hair, graying at the temples, moved swiftly in their direction. With all the mannerisms of nobility, the man said, in a deep commanding voice, “Here’s my little girl.”

  John Ashton kissed Beth on each cheek before turning with a welcoming smile toward Carter. With a firm handshake, the man said, “I’m Beth’s father, and you must be my new son-in-law. Welcome to the Ashton clan. As soon as Alexis telephoned, I called Aunt Francis. She’s wonderful at organizing. Not all, but as many relatives as we could gather on such short notice are here to greet you, the newest member of our happy little family.”

  “Father, there has been a mistake.” Beth’s agonized croak came out as a whisper.

  Carter couldn’t remove the grin from his face. He couldn’t remember a time when he had found a situation so hilarious. Before Beth could expel another word, a thin, willowy-looking woman moved forward. The woman had shoulder-length gray hair, elegant features, and a cultured voice that hinted upper-class-boarding-school. She gave Beth a quick peck on the cheek. With the perfect diction of an eighteenth-century schoolmarm, the woman said, “I’m John’s sister, Fran. I’m greatly distressed your Uncle Gerald is away in Belgium. He sends his regards. You may expect a formal wire of congratulations tomorrow.”

  Carter watched Beth experience a meltdown right before his eyes. As people converged upon the couple, the young woman tried to speak. She tugged feebly at her father’s arm without success. When Alexis Ashton swaggered into the room with a lanky, nondescript, sandy-haired man, Beth clung to Carter as if his limb were the last foam doughnut aboard a sinking ship.

  A surge of sympathy prompted Carter to slide a protective arm around Beth’s waist. While one hand held her up, the other hand accepted welcoming handshakes, quick pecks on the cheek, and congratulatory pats on his back. Carter began to wonder if he would wake up from this bizarre dream, a maze of events in which there seemed to be no end.

  Twenty minutes later, Carter wanted to punch somebody in the face.

  John Ashton sat enthroned at the head of the massive dining room table. Servants moved about with soft footsteps as if by some unseen signal, removing plates and silverware, refilling goblets, and serving each course with expert precision upon the well-appointed table.

  He felt his blood pressure rising while he listened to the Ashton family speak of Beth as if she weren’t in the room.

  “Imagine, our Beth eloping without a word.”

  “I told you, Father, how it would be.”

  “Beth is such a child.”

  “No engagement parties!” chided a pompous uncle, whose name Carter couldn’t recall.

  “No bridesmaids.”

  “No escorting my daughter down the aisle.”

  “I promise I shan’t run away, Father.” Alexis smiled at her dad.

  Her father patted Alexis’s hand. “I can always count on you.”

  John Ashton leaned toward Carter and said, “Her mother and I worried a great deal about our little Beth. She left home in such a hurry.”

  Catherine Aston‘s soft southern accent and her loosely-piled, pale red hair gave her the appearance reminiscent of a quaint Victorian maiden. She smiled serenely and nodded silently to each comment, which Carter doubted the woman had even heard.

  “I should never have dreamt our little Beth would marry before Alexis,” Aunt Fran commented.

  John Ashton chuckled. “Beth is determined to be self-sufficient. She took that little job with that little newspaper. Now she refuses to allow us to assist her in any way.”

  Peter Ashton’s words were less patronizing. “I told you there was nothing to worry about. Now our Beth has found herself a nice professor to settle down with.”

  ****

  Carter had heard of the famous Ashton clan and had entered their world as a lark. He’d thought it would be something he could laugh about later, a humorous tale to tell his friends back home. H
owever, his amusement quickly evaporated when he watched Bethany Ashton’s misery increase with each pity-filled comment. With eyes on her plate, Beth slouched silently beside him, toying with her food. Her eyes lifted now and again as if drawn by some unseen force towards Lon Keaton, who sat on the other side of the table.

  Alexis leaned toward Carter, her dark eyes wide, full red lips forming a smile. ”Yes, our Beth is such an independent little thing. She won’t accept money or gifts. I sent her that cute little beaded dress. Do you remember?” Alexis turned to her fiancé and laid her red-tipped fingers across his arm. “Beth shipped the garment right back to me.”

  He’s Alexis’s well-trained lapdog, Carter thought, as Lon Keaton nodded eagerly, his head moving up and down like a bobbing puppet.

  John Ashton spoke directly to Beth for the first time in an hour. “Now that you’re married, surely you’ll leave that insignificant little southern town.”

  Beth, stammered, “I-I’m not—”

  Carter longed to say what he was thinking. Instead, he placed a protective arm along the back of Beth’s chair and firmly injected, “We both love the south. Even though I own the perfect honeymoon villa near Aspen, Beth hasn’t yet decided where she wants to reside.”

  Beth directed a shy grateful smile in Carter’s direction.

  “Beth tells us you’re a professor. What university?”

  “I—”

  “CU of Boulder, of course,” John Ashton answered his own question without a glance in Carter’s direction.

  “Who are your family? Are your parents still living? Are your relatives natives to the Rockies?” Questions rang out from several of Carter’s faux in-laws who were seated at the table.

  Speaking to no one in particular, Carter gave a brief rundown of his heritage. “My parents are retired schoolteachers. My dad taught history, Mother preferred language. Dad inherited a small ski-lodge in the mountains that enabled them to retire early. They run the inn themselves.”

  John Ashton responded with a satisfied grunt. “Glad to hear it, glad to hear it. These Mom-and-Pop inns are nearly extinct. We always rent a chalet for the month of December, which is the best way to spend a Christmas. We love skiing, except for Beth, who could never get the hang of it. Like her mother, she prefers to sit by the fire and read a good book.”

  “Perhaps Beth didn’t have the right teacher,” Carter said.

  Peter agreed, “Yes, Father, you gave Beth such a fright. If you’d allowed her to learn with the beginner’s class instead of instructing her yourself, she might feel differently.”

  “Nonsense! Anyone can develop skill if they are willing to apply themselves.”

  Alexis chimed in, “I was born to ski. Lon and I are thinking of Switzerland for our honeymoon.”

  “We can go wherever you choose, darling. Just say the word and I’ll book our passage,” Keaton said, reaching for Alexis’ hand. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, reverently, as though he’d just received a prized medallion.

  One glance at Beth, who looked as wilted as a daffodil in the desert, and Carter grimaced. “I just spent the past two weeks in New York. Since Beth and I are both functioning on Eastern Time, I think we might prefer bed over dessert and coffee.”

  For the first time, “Madame Curie,” Carter’s new imaginary name for Catherine Ashton, spoke. “Of course, dear. I instructed James to place your baggage in the green room. We just finished redecorating the east wing. You two should be very comfortable in there.”

  As she listened to her mother, Beth seemed to come alive. Her eyes darting like a captured bird from her mother to Carter and then back again, she stammered, “But… but, Mother… we… would prefer my old apartment. It’s larger. It has its own dressing area and sitting room—”

  “Beth, dearest, the decorators are still working in that suite of rooms. Besides, your old apartment had twin beds and pastel wallpaper. That would never do for a newly married couple.”

  Unable to resist the temptation, Carter leaned over and whispered close to Beth’s ear, “No, darling. That would never do.”

  Chapter Five

  Upstairs, inside the green bedroom with its lofty ceilings and hand-carved moldings, Beth faced her opponent like a Samurai warrior. “It’s needless to argue. I’m sleeping on the floor,” she declared with an icy stare.

  “What kind of man would allow a lady to sleep on the floor while he stretches out like royalty in that bed?” Carter argued.

  Standing near the foot of the elaborately furnished king-sized bed, Beth placed both hands on her hips and snorted. “And what kind of woman would I be if I let you bunk on the floor while I lounged like a princess in the lap of this luxurious bed? Especially considering it’s my fault that we are in this mess!”

  “If you were as fierce with your family as you are with me, you might not be in this predicament.”

  “I realize that. Nevertheless, I won’t give in. I will not allow you to sleep on the floor.”

  Carter’s mouth slowly spread into a wide grin. “There is another alternative.”

  Heat spread across her cheeks. Her eyes flashed and her mouth came open. Before she could spit out a single syllable, Carter assumed an expression of pious severity. Placing one hand over his heart, he stated solemnly, “I’m sorry. What I should have said is, this is a very large bed, and if we roll the coverlet into a barrier and place it down the center, I suspect we might both sleep comfortably in the same bed without knowing the other person is in the room.”

  Beth stared suspiciously at Carter. Was he serious?

  Carter waited patiently, returning her gaze with a steady unassuming stance. To prove his point, Carter moved to one side of the bed and began rolling up the heavy coverlet. “Help me. Then you can decide whether or not you think my suggestion will work.”

  Against her will and her better judgment, Beth assisted Carter in shifting the bulky spread. Imported from Malaysia, the thickly embossed coverlet proved too dense. They had to wind, unwind, and experiment with different folding techniques until at last the spread lay mounded like a chunky linen barrier down the center of the bed.

  Beth fell, exhausted and perspiring, face downward onto the bed. He had been right. She couldn’t see over the barricade. She couldn’t even feel the bed move when he sat down on the other side.

  “Do you know what time it is on the East Coast?” Carter sighed.

  “My head hurts. My body feels numb. I need a long soak in a very hot tub.” Beth murmured against the blanket, smooth and soft beneath her cheek.

  From the other side of the bed, Beth heard a shuffle. Carter’s face appeared over the top of the blockade, and with a mischievous grin, he asked, “Do we share? Or should I wait?”

  ****

  Early the next morning, Carter found Beth sitting on the balcony dressed in a sleeveless linen dress the color of summer lilacs. He pulled out a chair and joined her at the small, metal table. Beth ran an appreciative eye over his smart, tailored suit and custom shoes, lifting one eyebrow fractionally.

  Carter smiled as he raked one hand over his clean-shaven face. “Don’t’ look surprised. I usually dress with a little more care when I stand behind a podium. I leave the scuffed shoes and crumpled jacket for travel.”

  He caught a whiff of her fragrance — light and sweet. With a glimmer of humor tilting his lips, Carter looked at Beth. “Sleep well?” he innocently asked.

  Like a self-conscious schoolgirl, Beth glanced away. Keeping her head averted, she gazed across the multi-tiered garden below.

  “I thought I heard you snoring,” Carter teased.

  Beth swiveled like a spring-loaded rocket, staring speechlessly at Carter with a kind of horror flickering in her eyes. When she saw his slow, reluctant grin, she retorted, “You are lying!”

  “Sorry. You are such an easy mark. I cannot resist the temptation to amuse myself.”

  “Please spare me. After yesterday, my nerves need a rest.” Beth snorted.

  C
arter studied her profile. With her thick, soft hair pulled back and tied loosely at the nape of her neck and her clear skin and shapely lips curving upwards, she was rather pleasing to look at. Not striking like her sister, but fresh and natural.

  Carter softened his tone. “Yesterday, when you described your obsession with making a name for yourself, I decided you must be somewhat neurotic. However, after meeting your family, I now suspect you may be the only ordinary person in your household.”

  “That’s a scary thought.”

  “Peter isn’t so bad, but your sister. And your father.”

  Beth laughed. “Father is accustomed to getting his way. Alexis is simply addicted to adoration. My childhood was okay. Thank goodness, Alexis is three years younger. I shudder to think how warped I might be if I had grown up in her shadow. As it is, I find it best to remain silent. Their pity is painful, but nothing I can say will force their respect.”

  Carter felt a prick of conscience. “I guess you could wait a few months, tell them you grew tired of me and threw me out—”

  With a tight smile and shake of her head, Beth glanced at her watch. “We’re late for breakfast. Sooner or later, I must face my family.”

  ****

  Beth led the way down the winding staircase, their footsteps treading silently upon the thick, padded runner. In the hallway beneath them were oversized oil paintings in heavy, gilded frames.

  Cater leaned over Beth’s shoulder and murmured close to her ear, “I bet one of those bronze statues below cost more than my house.”

  Beth shrugged. She’d grown up with museum-quality furnishings and rooms routinely decorated by professionals. She found little value in items made of wood, stone, or metal.