by Pamela Morsi
"Oh my heavens, then it is still ahead of you," she said. "You must be a bundle of nerves having to wait like this."
"Oh I'm fine," Cessy assured her. "Truly I am fine. I'm . . . I'm sure that Daddy is just going to love Gerald."
"Where is he?"
"Daddy?"
"Gerald?"
"Oh, Gerald. He's not here."
"He's not here? Where is he?"
"He had . . . something to do," she said.
"When will he be back?" Muna asked.
"When? Ah . . . later, he'll be back later," Cessy said uncertainly.
"Oh, well, we are sorry to miss him," she said.
Cessy nodded politely and was momentarily grateful that Muna and Maloof did not know. Then she realized that keeping the truth from them was the same as lying. And the truth, she had already decided, was not that she was abandoned, but merely that her husband was temporarily absent.
"When I awakened this morning, Gerald was gone," she said, her expression almost challenging.
"Gone?"
"Yes, he had already left for the day," Cessy told her.
"Wherever did he go?"
"I have no idea," Cessy answered.
"Oh, you poor thing," Muna wailed, coming forward to enfold her friend in a comforting embrace. "How could he do this? How could he . . ."
"Do what?" Cessy asked. "Go about his business as any man would without mentioning what that business might be to his wife."
"But what on earth . . ."
"He is my husband, Muna," she said. "Yesterday you promised to try to like him for my sake. Now at the very first crossroad you are eager to believe the worst of him."
Muna looked embarrassed. "I don't want to believe the worst of him, Prin," she insisted. "But I could never bear to see you hurt."
"Your lack of faith in my husband hurts me as dearly as if you refused to believe in me myself."
Muna sighed heavily and nodded, but she still looked very worried.
"But where on earth can the man be?" she asked.
"It is Monday," Maloof interjected. "He is gone to the work."
Muna eyed him curiously.
"What on earth are you talking about?" she asked him.
"It is Monday," the young foreigner tried again. "He has job to go to on Monday."
"Oh, Gerald doesn't work, Maloof," Cessy explained to him. "Not everyone in America has a job. Many men from wealthy families do not participate in business, they just pursue interests and avocations."
Maloof listened to her thoughtfully, nodding as if he understood, but apparently he did not.
"Tom has job," he assured her.
"Maloof, his name is Gerald," Muna said patiently. "And he does not have any kind of job."
"Gerald has job," he insisted, emphasizing the name. "On the wells of King Calhoun."
The two women shared a momentary puzzled glance. Then Cessy began nodding with understanding.
"Oh," she said to Maloof. "You mean that now that he's my husband, he will be working with my father."
"Yes, of course that's what you mean," Muna agreed.
"And you are undoubtedly right," Cessy told him. "Gerald probably will be a great help to my father. But first they have to meet each other."
Maloof's expression was puzzled. He opened his mouth as if intending to say more, but Muna interrupted him.
"First your husband has to return to you," she said.
"Muna, Gerald has not left me," Cessy insisted. "He is simply not here right now. If you are my friend then you must learn to trust him and believe in him as I do."
Muna didn't appear convinced, but she did have the good grace to change the subject.
"So do you like the rug that Maloof picked out for you?" she asked.
"It's perfect,” Cessy assured Muna and then directed her words to Maloof. "It's a beautiful rug," she said. "And I know that Gerald will be equally as pleased with it."
Chapter 13
It was barely half-past six when Tom slipped unnoticed, through the sun parlor doorway as he had that morning. He had cleaned up and changed clothes in record-setting time. And he'd pushed a brisk pace from the Pusher's Camp in Topknot to residential Burford Corners. He was weary, worried, and anxious as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. His last day at work had not gone at all as he would have wished.
Just after ten o'clock, the Sixteen, one of the wells upwind from the "P," hit a pocket of noxious fumes. Every man on the Topknot scrambled for safety. A similar blow had hit a well in Baston three years earlier. The bad air had killed five men, plus several horses, hogs, and chickens.
Fortunately today none of the men were seriously poisoned, but many were sick and vomiting and the work stopped for hours as everyone waited at a safe distance for the wind to carry the dangerous gas away.
Calhoun was on the scene within minutes and stayed all day. Fortunately most of the attention went to the Sixteen, but King consulted with Cedarleg several times. Each time he came over, Tom either wandered away or got busy with some task that required keeping his head down. He was very concerned that Cedarleg might try to introduce him. If Calhoun met him as Tom, all would be lost when he attempted to pass himself off as his son-in-law Gerald.
With that in mind, toward midday, Tom approached Cedarleg and asked to leave.
"It's my last day, and you're not going to need me for any work, so I might as well get on out of here and save Royal Oil the money they have to pay me for standing here.”
"You can hardly wait to see the last of us, eh?" Cedarleg said unkindly.
"That's not it at all."
"Well, you owe me a full day and I expect you to work it," the old man insisted. "If the wind comes up it'll blow that bad air out of here in no time and we'll be restarting the rig."
Tom didn't argue. He stood around with the other men for most of the afternoon waiting for the wind to come up. It was time for Tom Walker to disappear. He wanted Tom to disappear.
But he just couldn't, not yet.
Gerald was his new life. Gerald was who he was going to be from here on out. But somehow he hated to leave Tom behind. Tom had made friends, found a trade he liked, and was loved by a smart and generous old cripple and his wife. But the necessity of being Gerald was the end of Tom's existence.
"Cedarleg, I'm sorry about this morning," he said by way of apology. "Believe me, things are not at all the way you think them to be."
"It don't matter to me a bit," he insisted, his chin up in challenge. "But you hurt Ma's feelings. I ain't so forgiving of that. I ain't so forgiving at all."
Tom wasn't very forgiving of himself either. He had hurt Ma. It had seemed necessary at the time, but surely he could have planned better. He should have been able to see how things were going to turn out. But he hadn't. He'd simply done what was good for himself without thinking about what that meant for Ma and Cedarleg. And now they were paying for it with hurt feelings and broken hearts.
The sun parlor was dim and fortunately empty. Tom walked through the house, listening for the sound of Cessy's voice. The place was extremely quiet, inordinately quiet. Almost as if there had been a death in the family.
The parlors were all empty. Tom made his way upstairs. Cessy was not in her bedroom. He'd almost wished that she had been. He wished that she still lay warm and sweet as she had been when he'd left that morning. She'd undoubtedly been busy all day long. But she'd thought about him, after their night together, of that he was certain. Tom stowed his duffle beneath the bed, discarded his panama hat, and went to find his new bride.
He walked through the empty, silent house, ill at ease. The place needed noise and laughter and, well, it needed children. Tom was surprised to find himself pleased by the prospect. A whole house full of bright and curious little faces, endless giggles and loud enthusiasm. The Walker children, all well-scrubbed, well-heeled and unfailingly well-mannered.
Of course, they wouldn't be the Walker children, he remembered. They w
ould be the Cranes, of the Bedlington, New Jersey Cranes. Tom's brow furrowed with displeasure at the thought. Then he determinedly pushed it away. They would be his
children, his and Cessy's. It didn't matter what they were called or who they were thought to be related to, the children would eternally and inalterably belong to them.
There was no china laid out in the dining room, but Tom heard the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and could smell dinner cooking. He had never been in that part of the house, but perhaps Cessy was there. He made his way down the back hall, past the washroom, and through a spring-hinged door.
She was seated at a long table. A huge dishpan of fresh picked okra set in front of her. She was busily engaged in cutting, cleaning, and preparing it for the frying pan.
She glanced up hurriedly and Tom was privileged to watch the most beautiful change of expression he had ever seen on a human face. Like the blooming of one of the flowers in her garden, the stern and determined visage was transformed into joyous happiness.
"Gerald!" she called out to him, rising from her seat so hastily that the chair clattered unheeded to the floor.
Cessy raced to him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him to her tightly.
Tom was delighted by the effusive greeting and a little embarrassed, as he noted the presence of the housekeeper and butler, by her obvious display of affection.
"Where the devil have you been?" Mrs. Marin demanded.
Tom, who had barely set eyes upon the woman the day before, was astonished at the vehemence in her tone.
"What?" he asked.
"Left the girl in the morning without so much as a by-your-leave and then waltz back in here as if it's nothing in the world!"
"Mrs. Marin, please," Cessy scolded. "I told you he would be back."
"Of course I'm back," Tom said, confused.
"They—" Cessy said, indicating the servants. "They thought that you had abandoned me."
Her statement was offered as a joke, but it was obviously not as far from the truth as she attempted to make it seem.
"Abandoned?" Tom was incredulous. "Why, I would never . . . surely you know ..."
"How are we supposed to know that?" Mrs. Marin asked. "Never even heard of you until a week ago, you run off and marry Miss Princess and then sneak out of here like a thief."
"I didn't . . ." Tom began to defend himself and then remembered that he did actually slip out unnoticed on purpose. "I didn't ... I didn't imagine that you would worry about me," he said finally. "I had some business to attend to today and I didn't want to wake you before I left."
"I knew it was something like that," Cessy told him.
"I never meant to worry you," he told her sincerely. "I am new to being a husband. It just didn't occur to me to say anything."
Cessy nodded lovingly and hugged him tightly, obviously forgiving him completely.
"You are just accustomed to doing things on your own. Now you know that when you leave without a word, your wife might worry."
"Yes," he said. "I am sorry, Cessy."
She smiled up at him. "We both must get used to our new roles. But the good thing is, we have the rest of our lives."
She encouraged him to take a seat at the kitchen table beside her. Mrs. Marin and Howard were still not particularly pleased with him. But Cessy seemed totally happy and at ease with him.
"Did you get your things from your bachelor quarters?" she asked.
"Yes, yes I did."
"Mrs. Marin and I will make some room in the wardrobe for your things," she told him.
"Oh, I don't have much," Tom assured her. "I ... I travel light."
Cessy nodded with understanding. "Yes, I do suppose that would be necessary. But now that you have a home, well, you can send back East for your things."
"Ah . . . yes, yes, I guess I can."
"Did you wire them?" she asked.
"Who?"
"Your family? Did you send them a telegram about our marriage?"
Tom had not thought of this. Of course, he would have to start some story about his family. Cessy would naturally expect him to want them to know.
"Why . . . why yes, yes, of course I did. It was the most important thing that I had to do all day," he told her.
"And did they send a reply?"
"Ah . . . not yet," he said, hoping to buy time.
Cessy giggled and feigned biting her fingernails. "I'll be on pins and needles until we hear if they approve."
"How could they not approve of you, Cessy?" he said. "You are wonderful."
"But I'm not at all the kind of woman that should have married Gerald Tarkington Crane," she said with a shake of her head.
Tom was surprised at her words. She was exactly the kind of woman to suit Gerald. And she certainly suited him.
"Cessy," he said evenly. "I am just glad that you are married to me."
A blush stole into her cheeks and she lowered her eyes. His words obviously pleased her and he was glad that he said them.
She gave a hasty glance to see if Howard or Mrs. Marin was looking, and when she found they were not, she kissed him quickly and hurried away.
"You must be starving," she said. "Why don't we eat in here, it is so much more friendly."
Cessy fixed him a glass of sweetened lemonade and began bustling around, setting the table in the kitchen as the servants finished up the dinner preparations. She was jovial and teasing and her mood was positively infectious. She told him about her day. She made taking a bath while the laundry was being done sound like an adventure. And her description of Maloof s pleasure at presenting them with a new rug was as entertaining as any vaudeville skit. Tom just sat back in his chair, relaxed, and watched her.
This was the life, this was what he wanted. A fine, clean home, nice clothes, plenty of good food and a woman who loved and respected and worried about him. It was perfect. It was everything that Tom Walker had ever dreamed for himself and he basked in it.
Dinner was placed before him. It was simple fare, but tasty and hot. Tom was very content.
"I don't want you to be nervous about meeting my father," Cessy told him. "His bark is very much worse than his bite. Once he gets to know you, he will see just how perfect a son-in-law you are."
Tom shook his head. "I don't know about perfect, Cessy, but I am going to try to do my best."
"Of course you will," she said.
"And I won't be going anywhere without letting you know," he assured her.
"Don't give it another thought," Cessy insisted. "It was just something that happened. Years from now we'll look back at today and laugh."
"I love to hear you laugh, Cessy," he told her.
She did then, just for him.
"And besides, you are not the only one who has been gone all day," Cessy told him. "My father still hasn't shown up and I worry about him, too."
"Don't be anxious about King Calhoun," Tom told her as he finished his last bite of okra. "The Sixteen blew into a gas pocket and he's been up on the Topknot with the men all day."
Tom dipped his fork in his potatoes before the stillness of the woman across from him caught his attention. He raised his head.
"You know Daddy?" she asked.
"No, oh no, but well, everybody knows King Calhoun," he said.
She nodded slowly.
"How did you find out about the blowout?"
"I . . . ah . . . it's what everybody is talking about down at the saloons in Topknot. I . . . ah . . . stopped by to get a beer before I came home . . . ah . . . from the bank. All the men in there were talking about it. They said Calhoun was up there with his men all day."
"Oh," Cessy said, shrugging acceptance. "What were you doing at the bank?"
It was an innocent question. Unfortunately, Tom had no reasonable answer.
"I was ... I was . . . well, when I sent the telegram to my family I also wired my banker that since I'm going to be here, I'd . . . ah . . . need a transfer of funds."
&n
bsp; "Oh, yes," Cessy agreed. "I would imagine that's so. Then you stopped into one of the saloons." She hesitated. "Why would you go all the way over to Topknot to get a beer? They have a beer garden in Burford Corners."
"I ... ah ... I have a favorite saloon over there that I prefer to do business with," he answered.
"A favorite? Which one?"
Tom searched his mind for the names of just one of the rows of saloons that were the part and parcel of downtown Topknot. Only one came to mind.
"Queenie's Palace," he answered.
Glass shattered noisily on the floor and lemonade splashed everywhere as Howard dropped the decanter that he carried.
Chapter 14
Cessy Crane knew herself to be the happiest young woman on the planet. Others may have doubted, they may have tempted her to doubt, but she'd believed in him. And he'd proven her true.
After dinner the two sat cuddled up on the sofa together. Between occasional kisses they made plans.
"I have been considering the best way to break the news to Daddy, and I want you to follow my lead,” she told him. "I think that we should let the truth come out rather gradually," she told him.
"That sounds like a good plan," Gerald agreed. "It is likely to be a shock to him. And he may even get angry that I have so propitiously stolen your heart."
She grinned at him. "Such a charming robber, you are," she teased.
"King Calhoun may not find me so," Gerald admitted.
Cessy nodded. "It will be fine, I'm certain of it," she said. "He will be surprised, but he's not the kind of father who would deny me anything that I desire."
"And do you desire me, Cessy," he whispered close to her ear.
"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Crane?" she asked him, batting her eyelashes like a coquette.
Gerald laughed at her performance and rewarded her with a hasty peck upon the end of her nose. It was no passionate kiss, but it was so dear and familiar and so ordinary it made her feel very married. And Cessy found that she liked that feeling very much indeed.
"When Daddy gets home," she said, "I will introduce you. We can sit around for a few moments chatting and getting to know each other."
Gerald nodded.
"When he's warmed up to you a bit, we'll mention that we've been seeing each other," she said. "Now, Gerald, that may surprise him a bit because, honestly, I haven't been keeping company with any gentleman."