“I know of one less than two hours’ drive from here that we are free to use. As Christmas is on Monday there will be a long holiday. Can you use it?”
“Eleanor,” said Carolyn with earnestness, “you are nothing less than an angel from heaven! Just leave it to me to show you a good time. How many folks can you put up overnight in this made-to-order cottage?”
“Twelve, by squeezing a bit. I was there once for a house party, so I remember. The owner says we can use it, but we will have to bring our own linens, as the house hasn’t been opened in two years.”
“Len, you’re a honey. And whoever the owner is, tell him I love him. I’ll get a crowd together right away. I’ll be the official chaperone and go around and gather up an assortment of other young people stranded here for the holidays.”
Eleanor looked forward to the house party with mixed emotions. After Aunt Ruth’s death she and Mary had closed the cottage, and she had not been near it since. She had thought she would never want to go back again, but now she found herself looking forward in keen anticipation. It would be wonderful to see the woods blanketed in snow, to watch the moon rise over the sparkling pines and birches on the hills, and to skate out on the lake with the wind fighting against her. It was exhilarating to defeat the wind!
Plans were finally completed. Eleanor and the Fleets would drive to the cottage on Friday evening and make preparations for the others, who would arrive after work on Saturday afternoon.
All Friday afternoon Carolyn and Eleanor shopped, and when they stopped at the laboratory to pick up Fred Fleet, the car was loaded with fruit, cakes, all kinds of good things to eat, decorations, games, blankets—everything they could think of to make a perfect weekend.
Fred bounded down the steps three at a time, followed by a tall, blond young man wearing a leather coat and cap, whom Eleanor recognized as the assistant to Professor Merritt in the biological laboratories. Fred opened the car door and then made the introduction.
“Carolyn, Eleanor, this is Chad Stewart. He is going to do the heavy work while I boss. Chad, this is my wife, Carolyn, and this is Eleanor Stewart. Quite a coincidence, the same name, isn’t it? I doubt you are of the same family, though. Chad is of the royal line—Bonnie Prince Charlie, you know. Eleanor is just plain middleclass Scotch-Irish—of the very best kind, though. Climb in back, Your Highness, and ride with the lady while my wife and I do the driving up here.”
So began the great weekend, and simultaneously began something that Eleanor came to know as her Picture Gallery, in which hung one portrait after another of Chad Stewart: Chad drawing deep breaths of crisp, tangy winter air; Chad lifting quiet, worshipful eyes to the hills as they came into view; Chad swinging an axe with powerful strokes that told of years spent in woods country; Chad carrying in great armfuls of pine logs to pile in the fireplace; Chad and herself walking quietly along the aisles of the snow-clad forest cathedral or silently watching the moon above the eastern wood.
All the members of the house party were a jolly crowd, and every hour was packed full of fun. Truly, Carolyn knew how Christmas should be spent, as she had declared.
But after the first evening, Eleanor and Chad lived in a world apart. Whether tramping through the snow or sitting about the fireplace, singing or roasting apples, Eleanor and Chad found themselves side by side, almost unconscious of the presence of the others. As the twilight of Christmas Eve drew on, the young people gathered around the fire, singing carols and playing games until ten o’clock. Then Eleanor remembered that there was traditionally a midnight service in the nearby church, so off they all trooped to attend. The solemnity of the service subdued the hilarious group, and they returned quietly. Eleanor and Chad loitered behind the others and hand in hand climbed the hill overlooking the lake. They were quiet for a moment; then, to relieve the silence, Eleanor said, “This is the highest spot in the state. I used to think it the highest in the world.”
“Have you been here often?” asked Chad.
“Yes, every summer. Don’t tell the others, but this is my cottage. Father and Mother left it to me when I was a tiny baby, and Auntie brought me here every summer.”
“This is certainly a great place! Didn’t you love coming here?”
“Yes, and I still do. When I was little I would climb up here and look and look and try to see Father and Mother in heaven. Sometimes I thought I could see the gates.” She smiled.
Chad’s voice was quiet. “This seems like heaven right here to me—just you and I together alone on the hilltop!”
Eleanor’s laugh was a bit tremulous. “You’re not asking much of heaven.”
Chad laid a reproving finger on her lips. “It’s more than I deserve, young lady.” Then his tone changed, and he reached out for her hand as he said, “Eleanor, I know this is … well … precipitate. But since I first saw you on Friday, I haven’t been able to think of anything else except how sweet you are. I love you, Eleanor Stewart.”
Eleanor drew a quavering breath but said nothing. After a moment, Chad continued, “I know this must all sound crazy. I never intended to love any girl for years to come. But I do love you, and I must know—do you care even the least bit for me?”
Still no answer. Chad waited anxiously, then said in a husky tone, “Forgive me. I’ve made you angry. Oh, I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it. You’re so sweet, and—Oh, please don’t!” For Eleanor was crying. Clumsily he fumbled for a handkerchief and, wiping away the tears, continued, “I’ll go away tonight and never bother you again. I’m such a clumsy chap. I don’t know how to show love!”
Eleanor’s sobs continued, so in desperation Chad gathered her close in his arms and whispered, “Please tell me. What is it, dear?”
In a broken voice Eleanor replied, “You’re so dear … and … it’s been … so long … since … anybody … really cared … for me … I … just couldn’t … stand it!”
Chad held her close as he laughed happily. “From this minute on you can know there’s someone who does care for you more than his own life. Do you love me too, Eleanor? Will you marry me someday when we can manage it?”
For a moment there flashed through Eleanor’s mind the thought of Aunt Ruth’s will, of her plan for a life devoted to work, of the brilliant career she was to achieve. But Chad’s arms were around her, his cheek was against hers, and when she looked up she could see the pleading in his eyes. She was lonesome and hungry for love, and he was very dear!
So there under the wintry sky they pledged themselves to each other and went downhill together. To the others they gave no sign nor word of explanation, and when they returned to the city not even Carolyn and Fred knew how matters stood between them.
Through the weeks of January and February, Eleanor worked as never before. But now her evenings belonged to Chad. Occasionally they attended social affairs, but they preferred to take long walks and talks together, just getting acquainted with each other. Eleanor described vividly the several years of travel she and Aunt Ruth had spent together between her graduation from high school and her entry at the university. She explained how Aunt Ruth’s death had directed her choice of a profession. She described her dreams for the future: a brilliant career, a laboratory of her own. Now she would work with him on the isolation of this dread disease germ.
Chad, in turn, gave graphic pictures of his childhood on the farm, attending the district school, helping his doctor-father with the chores. He described his younger brother, Bob; his lovely sister Connie; and the baby sister, Mary Lou. He unconsciously gave Eleanor glimpses of small economies that she had never known, such as walking to and from high school in the nearby town. She clasped his arm and pressed it close the night he told of his father’s death and the five years that followed, years of farm drudgery lightened only by the dream of someday getting an education that would enable him to hang over the gate the shingle CHARLES E. STEWART, M.D.
“I didn’t expect to start college this soon,” Chad said. “But Bob says he is through with
school, and fortunately his choice of lifework is farming. Then, too, Mother has turned the house into a sort of convalescent home. She’s great at putting folks back on their feet. So I found it possible to get away sooner than I had hoped. Add to that the fact that Mother had promised Dad that I should come—and here I am. And here you are,” he finished suddenly.
“Lovely lady, I certainly didn’t plan on you. I wasn’t going to even think of women until the old shingle was nailed up good and tight.”
“Are you sorry?” Eleanor smiled quizzically.
“I’m not sure,” he teased. “I haven’t had a really coherent thought since Christmas.”
“I didn’t plan for you, either,” Eleanor said seriously. “I was going to travel the long road alone, Chad. I was brave and big. Now I have no desire to go on without you. And yet—you are a disturbing element. When I’m away from you I can’t work—very well—and when I’m with you I can’t work at all.”
“If we could only get married!” Chad twisted a lock of his hair as though he expected it to stir up in his head an answer to the whole problem. “It will be years before I can support you. By that time you’ll probably be tired of having me around.”
“You know better,” Eleanor said soberly. “I don’t change, Chad. I’ll be there to hand you the nails when you hang up the shingle.”
“But six years!” Chad exclaimed in dismay. “That’s … that’s half a lifetime!”
Eleanor said nothing. Chad would have been surprised could he have seen the pictures flashing through her mind. One showed herself on her twenty-fifth birthday, with the family lawyers handing her all the papers entitling her to her complete inheritance. Following that, the picture of herself and Chad being quietly married in some little chapel. Then, herself paying for both her education and Chad’s. There was no sense in both struggling along separately!
Strangely enough, she had never told Chad of Aunt Ruth’s peculiar will, and hence he had no idea that she was really wealthy. She lived in an ordinary little furnished room, dressed simply, and had no extravagant tastes. She longed for the intervening two years to pass so that she might have her money and be married to Chad. She could not afford to sacrifice her future by marrying him now, even if he had asked her. Her dreams of medical school and of the battle against disease were too sweet to her. The money she must have—but she wanted to marry Chad, too, and as time went on Eleanor began to be irritated by the thought of waiting until her twenty-fifth birthday.
A vague resentment against Aunt Ruth began to take root in her heart. “What right did she have to bind me this way?” Eleanor demanded of herself one sleepless night. “Just because she hated men, why should my life be spoiled?” She turned and tossed, finally falling asleep to dream that Aunt Ruth’s arm was reaching out from the grave, holding her in a viselike grasp, and she herself was crying out, “She cheats! And I can cheat too!”
The next morning a thought was implanted in her breast. But she bided her time.
When Chad, tired from a morning in classes and an afternoon in the laboratory, broke out one evening with impatient rebellion against their lot, Eleanor thought a moment and then offered a solution to their problem. “We could get married now, Chad.”
“What do you mean? I can hardly pay my own expenses.”
“Well, look, dear,” she spoke rapidly, “I make enough to live on here, and you earn enough to keep yourself. It wouldn’t cost any more if we were married.”
“But my wife shan’t support herself!” he said almost viciously.
She stroked his hand. “Isn’t that rather silly? It’s not as though I were going out scrubbing floors to earn my money. Whether I’m married or not, I want to keep my job with Professor Nichols. If you were making enough money to support us both, would you want me to give up my job?”
“No,” he said slowly. “But I still don’t like it.”
Eleanor hung her head. “I don’t like being all alone in the world either.”
Chad drew her close for a moment, then continued protestingly, “Folks would think I’m a regular leech! They’ll say I can’t support you so you have to work!”
That was Eleanor’s opening. “No one need know,” she replied quietly. “I’m quite sure Professor Nichols wouldn’t like it anyway. He’s a dear old soul but a childish one, and he would probably expect my work to suffer. So why tell?”
“Lovely lady, I want you desperately for my wife, but when the day comes I want the whole world to know about it. I don’t like secrecy.”
Eleanor ignored him and continued, “Our ‘old Mary’ would have called me a shameless hussy. But I see happiness, and I want it! Chad, don’t think I’m wicked, but we could do it. You could live in your room all week, and I in mine, and no one would suspect a thing. But every weekend we could go to our wonderful cottage and live in our own little world until Monday morning.”
Chad’s eyes glowed. “It would be a little heaven on earth, and no mistake,” he agreed. “But I can’t do it. I just can’t.”
For a whole month they battled. Eleanor’s face became pale and strained and there were shadows under her eyes. Chad was quiet and grave. Then one day they were walking across the campus and Chad was reading aloud a letter from his mother. One paragraph in particular seemed meant for them:
Today is my wedding anniversary and I have been thinking much of your father. We never intended to marry as soon as we did, but I was alone and needed him. We went ahead—and I have never been sorry. For thus I had a greater share in his work, and the things we suffered together are my sweetest memories now.
“There, now, you see,” Eleanor said quickly, “he didn’t let his pride keep them away from happiness.”
“True,” Chad admitted thoughtfully. “But when they were married they let everyone know. They didn’t hide it like a crime.”
“They didn’t have any reason for hiding it. We have. For the sake of our work it seems better for us not to appear to be married. And I’ve been thinking lately that fate must have decreed it so. That’s why we have the same name. We can do it, and no one will suspect.” Her face glowed as she continued, “Think, Chad, of the beautiful days we could have together every weekend—and a real honeymoon during spring vacation!”
Chad drew a long breath. In the shadow of the great tree above them, he grasped her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes.
“So be it. Eleanor Stewart, for better or worse, you and I are going to take the fatal step!”
On Saturday afternoon they drove to the chapel near their cottage in the woods, and there with the rain pattering softly on the roof, they spoke the sweet solemn old words. For richer, for poorer … in sickness and in health … until death do us part. “Whom therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder,” the minister concluded.
Chad clasped Elanor’s hand, and together they walked out into the forest, just beginning to come alive with springtime, hope, and life. “Whom God hath joined together—forever,” exclaimed Chad.
They had forgotten that God plans our lives.
Spring vacation. Spring in the woods, with the earth smelling pungently damp and little green shoots pushing through the mold; with the streams running bank full, and the ground springy underfoot; with returning birds busy with nest-building; with new life triumphantly breaking forth on every side.
“Wake up, Len!” said Chad. “Let’s go for a walk before the sun is up. If we hurry we can beat him to the hilltop!”
They scrambled into their clothes and raced through the woods. The sun was just peeping over the line of hills on the horizon. Silhouetted against the crimson light, the church tower looked large and dark, and the red glow through the belfry caught Chad’s fancy.
“God’s light, through His church,” he whispered.
Eleanor was awed. But the beauty had not reminded her of God. She leaned against Chad and looked up at his bare head, the spring wind rushing his hair, his eyes shining as he watched the ascending sun. In later
years Eleanor would linger long over this portrait in her Picture Gallery.
Back to the cabin they raced and dropped laughing and breathless on the steps. As Eleanor began to pin up her hair, Chad said, “It’s too cool to be without a fire. I’ll get that axe I impressed you with last winter and cut some wood while you scramble some eggs for breakfast.”
“While I scramble some eggs, did you say?” she asked.
“Certainly. Didn’t we bring some?”
“Yes,” she said doubtfully. “I guess we did. But, Chad, I can’t scramble eggs.”
“Can’t scramble eggs? Well, where’ve you been all your life? What did you eat while you were there?”
“I’ve eaten scrambled eggs lots of times, but I never cooked any.”
“Couldn’t you just look at them and guess how?” Chad teased.
“No. I don’t even know how to get the crazy things open.”
Chad threw back his head and laughed so loudly that a stray hound sneaking out from under the porch drew back in alarm. Eleanor’s cheeks flushed.
“Is that so funny?” she asked in annoyance. “Did all your other girls know how to cook?”
“Why, certainly. I thought women were born knowing how to scramble eggs. Say, you aren’t peeved, are you?” Chad looked tenderly into the pretty, pouting face.
“I don’t like to appear incompetent,” Eleanor said quickly. “I’m sure there are some things I can do.”
“Sure there are. You’re the cleverest little germ isolator I know.” Chad patted her head consolingly. “But it so happens I want eggs for breakfast, not germs.”
Eleanor jumped up, smiling again. “I can learn to scramble an egg just as well as any of your other girls ever could.”
Chad arose, too, and drew her close as he laughed softly. “Bless your jealous little heart! I never had any other girl in my life. The only women I have ever loved were my mother and Connie and Mary Lou. And you don’t have to scramble eggs. I can do it well enough for both of us.”
Not My Will and The Light in My Window Page 3