Romance Classics

by Peggy Gaddis

  “Of course, Miss Gerry,” he addressed Geraldine sternly, “I shall expect my devoted wife to be waiting for me at the employees’ entrance when I leave work each evening, and drive me home! I can’t afford to drive up to the gates in a car, and thus set myself instantly apart from all the others in my part of the mills.”

  “I’ll drive you in in the morning and come for you in the afternoon, of course, Tip,” she assured him quietly.

  He beamed at her. “That’s the kind of wife I like,” he said happily. “The nice, docile, clinging-vine type.”

  Mrs. Parker flung Geraldine an exasperated, almost frightened glance but Geraldine made herself smile at Tip and pretend to enter into his mood.

  Chapter Eight

  The town accepted, as a typical gesture of the Tip they had known, the fact that he had entered the mills as an apprentice. The fact that he came to work in overalls, and that he brought a lunch-pail like the others in his department was commented on with an affectionate amusement.

  His mother was outraged but helpless. There was nothing she could do or say that would alter his mind one single iota. He was as pleased as Punch when, at the end of the first month, he was promoted and given a small raise in pay.

  Geraldine drove him in each morning, shopped for the day’s supplies, and came back for him in the evening. A day or so after he had been given his promotion, she saw him come out of the employees’ gate in earnest conversation with someone her heart would recognize in the most dense darkness, surrounded by hundreds of people.

  Tip and Phil paused at the gate, talking, and then Tip looked up and saw Geraldine. He said something to Phil, and the two men came towards the car.

  Tip was grimy from his day’s work, his grin shining through the dirt, which he had obviously forgotten. Phil was taut and quiet, his eyes holding Geraldine’s for a breathless, shaken moment.

  “Hi, Gerry,” Tip greeted her. “You know Mr. Donaldson, of course.”

  “I should,” said Geraldine and was surprised that her voice sounded so casual. “I was his secretary. Hello, Phil.”

  “Of course, that’s right,” Tip agreed and beamed at them both. “I’m such a nut I guess I’d forgotten. Or maybe it’s that Mr. Donaldson is a being from another world to the fellows in my section, and I sort of forgot that he could be called ‘Phil.’ “

  Phil said swiftly, “I can’t think of anything more ridiculous, Mr. Parker, than for you, part owner of the mills, to call me, a mere employee, Mr. Donaldson.”

  Tip laughed joyously. “Unless it would be for you, the august General Manager to call a mere hired hand Mr. Parker,” he pointed out.

  Phil nodded. “Right, Tip!”

  “Good, Phil!” said Tip and the two grinned at each other in frank friendship. “Look, why don’t you come home to dinner with Gerry and me, and we can go a little further into that discussion we were planning?”

  Phil hesitated and while he did not look at Geraldine, she knew that he was waiting for some word from her to indicate her wish.

  “Please do, Phil,” she said steadily. “We’d be so glad if you would.”

  “You see? Now you’ve no excuse,” said Tip happily and swung open the car door.

  “Unless, of course, he may have an engagement for the evening,” Geraldine almost desperately offered Phil a way out if he wanted it.

  Phil looked at her and answered quietly, “No, I have no engagement.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” demanded Tip eagerly. “Here, you ride up front with the Missus and I’ll sit in back as befits a common day laborer, in all the glory of his greasy overalls.”

  Geraldine laughed a little as Phil got into the car.

  “To hear him boast about those overalls, no man in London-cut dinner attire was ever more fashionably dressed,” she said.

  “Oh, the Navy taught us that a little grease and grime and a suit of dungarees never hurt any man,” said Tip lightly. “And I’ve never had more fun in my life. Gosh, its great to find out what makes thing go round at the mill.”

  Phil turned to address him from the front seat.

  “You know, of course, that there are easier ways to learn, Tip.”

  “But none as certain and sure,” said Tip firmly. “That’s something else I learned in the Navy. You can learn to fire a big gun, or fly a ship just from looking at a chart, but until you’ve taken the gun, or the plane, apart and put it back together again and photographed in your mind where every tiny bolt and nut fits, and what each bit of mechanism does — you don’t really know!”

  “Have it your own way, feller,” Phil laughed.

  “Don’t worry, he will. He’s a bit on the stubborn side,” Geraldine said lightly, though her hands were clenched so tightly on the steering wheel that her knuckles were white with the strain.

  Mrs. Parker fluttered into the big, cool reception hall to greet her son, and was prettily distressed at sight of his untidiness, as she called it. Tip laughed and threatened her smooth, delicately powdered cheek with a grimy forefinger, as she cried out and drew back. And then over Tip’s shoulder she saw Phil and went stiff and white.

  Tip said gaily, “Miss Lucy, this is Mr. Donaldson — Phil Donaldson, from the mills. Or maybe you two have met?”

  Mrs. Parker nodded her smartly dressed head, her eyes glacial.

  “We’ve met,” she said and added stiffly, “How do you do, Mr. Donaldson?”

  “Good evening, Mrs. Parker,” said Phil politely.

  Tip grinned at his mother and made an impish pass at her with his grimy hand. “Don’t mind Miss Lucy, Phil. She’s shocked to the core that her son should yearn to get himself greasy and dirty learning things at the mills. She should have seen me in boot camp — on second thought, maybe it’s as well she didn’t. The shock might have proven disastrous.”

  He turned to Phil and said cordially, “Go in and make yourself at home, old man, while I get upstairs and into a hot tub. Be with you shortly.”

  He took the stairs two at a time, and Geraldine murmured an excuse and followed him. She felt she must have a few moments to pull herself together before she could face the evening.

  “My, my but you’re a pretty girl, Miss Gerry,” Tip greeted her later upstairs. “The prettiest girl I ever saw! I kind of like you!!”

  Geraldine managed a smile that he accepted as answer to his nonsense, and when they went into the living room, Tip’s arm lay carelessly about her slender waist.

  Mrs. Parker saw that and her eyes flashed triumphantly to Phil. But Phil was looking down at the cigarette he was just lighting and had apparently seen nothing.

  If there was an inescapable tension about the evening, Tip was unaware of it He was in gay spirits and he and Phil talked man talk, occasionally turning to Geraldine for a comment out of her own knowledge of affairs and machinery at the mills. After dinner, the two men disappeared into the library where they were to discuss some suggestion Tip had made for speeding up a certain operation in his department that would mean a saving of money.

  It was late when they emerged and Mrs. Parker, tight-lipped and frankly worried, had gone to bed.

  “There’s no need for you to drive me back to town, Tip,” Phil was saying as they came out of the library. “The taxi will be here in a few minutes, and I’ll be home before you could get the car out again.”

  And so, within a few minutes he was gone, and Tip came back to the terrace where Geraldine waited.

  The terrace was her favorite part of the house in summer. Built up a little above the garden, paved with wide flagstones, set in a crazy-quilt pattern, with little close-clipped paths of grass holding them together, the terrace overlooked the rose garden, and, beyond, the sweep of meadow that was visible from Geraldine’s window.

  Tonight the moon was full and the night was warm and soft. There was a breeze from the river, and the shadows on the lawn, beneath the huge old white oaks and hickories, made a brilliant black and silver mosaic. Roses, hundreds of them, poured their perfum
e on the soft, dewy air.

  Tip seated himself beside Geraldine, leaning forward to offer her a cigarette and a light. He said, “Look, this fellow Donaldson — he’s a pretty keen character. I like him enormously. Do you?”

  Geraldine was momentarily tense. But this was the moment and it must be said. She dared no longer put it off, and so she said very quietly, very carefully. “Yes — as a matter of fact I was — engaged to him once.”

  She all but held her breath lest that be a blow from which Tip would stagger. But he had to know — he had to know! And it would be better for him to hear it from her.

  Tip laughed and said, “No kiddin’? Why, you little two-timer! When was that?”

  Geraldine let out her held breath in a tiny ghost of sound. He was going to take it well! She felt a little warm rush of eagerness. The right words, exactly the right expression — Oh, dear God, it must be right!

  “Oh — when I was terribly lonely and — I thought you were never coming back,” she managed to say, almost brightly casual.

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” said Tip and seemed only surprised and not in the least upset.

  Suddenly he got up and walked to the balustrade of the terrace and stood with his back to her, looking out over the moon-drenched garden. She saw the tiny, gleaming arc his lighted cigarette made as he flicked it from him, and over his shoulder he spoke at last.

  “Were you — in love with him, Gerry?” he asked. Now there was no trace of raillery in his voice, but a sudden tension about him that she could see as well as feel.

  For just an instant she steeled herself for the one great, all-convincing lie of her life. She must tell it so that he would have no faintest doubt; he must believe her implicitly.

  “How could I possibly be in love with him,” she asked very low, “when I was — and always have been — loving you with all my heart?”

  There was the tiniest possible tremor in her voice, but Tip read it as further proof of her sincerity. He turned and came back to her and sat down. His hands captured hers, that were cold and shaking, and held them close.

  “That’s the truth, Gerry?” he asked and now his voice was taut, almost sharp. “You have never really stopped loving me?”

  And Geraldine said in a tone, the sincerity of which was utterly convincing to the man who needed so desperately to believe, “Never, for a single moment”

  Tip said levelly, “Phil Donaldson’s — quite a fellow.”

  Geraldine smiled through tears she could not control.

  “So are you, darling,” she said very low.

  Tip took her into his arms and held her closely, his cheek against her hair.

  “Dear little Gerry!” he said huskily. “Loving you always, Gerry. Never anybody else — never!”

  Geraldine had told her gallant white lie, and now with Tip’s arm about her, she knew her feet were committed forever to the path he walked, and which they must walk hand in hand. She was Tip’s wife, and she must never forget it for a single breath of time. If a sob struggled in her throat, Tip was not conscious of it; or if he was, he misunderstood the reason for it.

  Chapter Nine

  As Tip’s health increased, Geraldine gave up driving him to the plant. He had bought a little old jalopy in which he drove himself, leaving the sedan at home for Geraldine’s and Mrs. Parker’s use. He came home in the evenings excited and pleased about his work, interested, almost himself. But there were times when he thought himself unobserved, when he sat silent, his eyes brooding, his shoulders drooping. At such times Geraldine walked softly, and her heart ached with pity for him because of the ugly memories he could not quite shake off.

  Mrs. Parker had taken it surprisingly well when Geraldine had told her that Tip knew of her former engagement to Phil.

  “I knew you would have to tell him sooner or later,” she commented, the thin edge of accusation in her voice.

  “Of course,” Geraldine said curtly.

  Mrs. Parker studied her curiously for a moment.

  “How did he take it?” she asked at last.

  “Like a man,” said Geraldine.

  “Being Tip,” Mrs. Parker finished. “And I suppose he is going to set you free so you can marry your — lover?”

  There was a stinging lash in the last word beneath which Geraldine quivered inwardly.

  “I convinced him that I did not really love Phil,” she said evenly.

  Sharp relief showed in Mrs. Parker’s eyes.

  “Well, of course! Naturally you couldn’t forget a man like Tip for a creature like Donaldson,” she said sharply.

  Geraldine turned on her, and for a moment she wondered that she could ever have feared this woman.

  “I must ask you never to speak of Phil again in that tone,” she said harshly. “I’ve done what you wanted. I’ve done what I know is my duty. I shall be loyal to Tip as long as I live. But I will not endure your taunts and insults.”

  Mrs. Parker bristled indignantly.

  “Well, really — ” she began haughtily.

  “I used to be deathly afraid of you because you could be so very unpleasant,” said Geraldine steadily. “You had the power once to make me more miserable than any human being has the right to make another. I was a silly kid of a girl then — but you’ve lost that power. I’m no longer in awe of you. Nothing you can say or do can ever hurt me again. But I warn you that your days of bullying me are over. We either live here together quietly and with politeness and mutual consideration, or Tip and I will find living quarters somewhere else.”

  Mrs. Parker’s eyes flashed fire, but Geraldine went on.

  “Tip wants me to be happy. If he knew the way you have behaved, I can assure you he would not ask me to live another moment under the same roof with you. I’m perfectly willing to stay here, but only if I am given the courtesy and consideration I shall give you. I want that clearly and distinctly understood, here and now. Is it?”

  “I can’t quite understand your attitude, Geraldine — ” she began haughtily.

  “Oh, yes you can — you understand me perfectly,” Geraldine cut in swiftly. “This is what is vulgarly known as a showdown, my dear Mrs. Parker. Or perhaps the turning of the worm — I’ve been a worm long enough. This is the finish. I’ll play if you will — otherwise, Tip and I are leaving. I’m quite sure we understand each other better than we have ever done before.”

  “I suppose what you are trying to say is that from now on, you insist on being mistress here, giving orders to the servants,” she began huffily.

  Geraldine’s smile was small and thin, entirely without mirth.

  “Oh, no, you don’t suppose anything of the sort,” she said coolly. “I wouldn’t think of attempting to interfere with the running of the household. You do it superbly; I wouldn’t know how. All I ask is that I be treated, by you, with the ordinary courtesy you would extend a casual house guest — not as your private whipping boy, to receive the insults and taunts that relieve your mind when you can’t find anybody else to endure them!”

  She went up the stairs and into her own room.

  • • •

  It was at the Thursday night dinner-dance at the Country Club that Geraldine first became aware that Phil was seeing a great deal of Sally Walker. The discovery came as an unpleasant shock, which startled Geraldine. She had thought herself schooled to accept the fact that Phil must be lonely, and that he could, as most lonely men can, be solaced by another woman.

  She and Tip had arrived late at the club, and stood in the doorway of the ballroom for a moment, waiting for the music to finish before they sought their own table.

  Glancing idly about the room, Geraldine’s eyes found Sally’s red head, above an emerald-green silk jersey frock, deceptively simple, that molded her curves with a clarity that only a wet bathing suit could have duplicated. Sally was laughing up at her partner, and the dancers shifted a little so that Geraldine saw Phil’s head bent above Sally’s, and his arms holding her. Obviously, Phil was enjoying wh
atever it was that Sally was saying, for his interest was apparent. Suddenly he threw back his head and laughed — and his eyes met Geraldine’s. For the space of a handful of heartbeats they looked straight into each other’s eyes; and it was Phil who looked away first.

  “Quite an affair, that,” said a feminine voice beside Geraldine and, startled, she turned to find Betsy Hammond at her elbow. “The Donaldson dream, and Sal, I mean. She seems to have taken up where you left off!”

  There was, Geraldine thought, a faint edge of malice in Betsy’s voice, though Betsy’s eyes were wide and blue and innocent.

  “How very nice for Phil,” said Geraldine lightly, and prayed that neither her eyes nor her voice betrayed her inner emotion.

  “How very nice for Sal, you mean,” said Betsy.

  “Sally’s very attractive and good company.”

  “I don’t like her either,” Betsy interrupted cheerfully. “Few people do — that is, few women. Which, of course, worries our Sal so much that she barely sleeps at night So long as men come and sit up and beg when she whistles, Sal should give two hoots in Hades about women liking her.”

  “Aren’t you a little hard on her?” Geraldine made herself say lightly.

  “I’d like to be really hard on her — something with boiling oil in it.” Betsy was suddenly neither so young nor so innocent. “Women like that should be burned at the stake.”

  Geraldine studied her in sudden sharpness.

  “See here, Betsy — ” she began.

  Betsy drew a deep breath and said tautly, “Oh, I got him back, of course. He wasn’t a big enough fish for Sal’s net She just snagged him in an idle moment, to keep her hand in. When somebody with more money came along, she threw Ted back to me — slightly damaged and never to be quite the same again — but I can have him if I want him.”

  Geraldine said softly, “Betsy, I’m so terribly sorry.”

  Betsy managed a wry grin. “Thanks.”

  Tip, who had been talking to a group of men a few feet away, came back to Geraldine and said, “Want to finish this, honey?” Then he grinned at Betsy and added, “Hi, Bets! Or am I interrupting something?”