by Peggy Gaddis
“They’re the kindest, most wonderful people in the world,” Alison said eagerly, and added uncertainly, “Of course, it was Judy who invited me to stay. Mrs. Ramsey hasn’t said a word. Nor has Bix. I suppose with his grandfather so ill, it’s up to Bix to offer such invitations, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so, but I’m sure you needn’t worry about that,” Sam assured her firmly. “For whatever Judy wants will be whatever Bix wants, from now on. I feel quite sure of that.”
Alison studied him earnestly for a moment, wondering if she really had caught the faintest possible note of wistfulness in his voice.
“You are—well, pleased that Bix and Judy are getting married?” she asked hesitantly.
Sam’s brows drew together in a slight frown, and now it was his eyes that avoided hers.
“Since they’ve been in love with each other since they were kids, I think it’s perfect,” he told her.
She knew she should not go on probing, but for some obscure reason she would not face up to, she had to know the truth.
“When we first arrived,” she said, “I got the impression that you were in love with Judy.”
Sam looked up sharply, as though unpleasantly startled by the words. Then he looked away from her and said brusquely, “I thought so, too. But after Bix came back and I saw that she was as much in love with him as ever, I realized that she and I had been drawn together only by the fact that we were both lonely. That can make an awful fool of a guy, as you must surely know by now.”
“I can’t imagine that you’d ever be a fool about anything,” she told him impulsively.
He turned his eyes to meet hers, and now there was deep relief in them.
“Thanks, but I can be and have been an astronomical number of times, as I’m afraid you’ll discover if you stay here as long as I hope you will.”
“I’ll stay as long as they’ll let me,” she promised. “But I doubt very much that I’ll ever catch you making a fool of yourself. Somehow, I just can’t feel you’re the type.”
“Now you’re the one who’s being kind, and I like it,” he assured her. “I like it very much!”
She twinkled at him demurely.
“It was no trouble.” She laughed. “In fact, it might easily become habit-forming—in time, of course.”
“And time, let us hope, is what we have plenty of.”
For a long moment they stood looking at each other. In the golden afterglow of the sunset, with the chatter of the birds all about them, something shimmered between them; something gauzy-winged, iridescently beautiful, fragile as a cobweb. Each of them was aware of it, and for some absurd reason it made Alison suddenly unreasonably shy.
“Well,” she said a trifle hurriedly as though to prevent the cobweb from tightening about them, “I’d better go in and see if Mrs. Ramsey will let me make myself useful.”
Sam, understanding perfectly the reason for her escape and indeed grateful that she had destroyed the shimmering exquisiteness of the moment, nodded and said, “Don’t be too anxious about that. You’re a welcome guest, and they won’t expect you to be useful. You’re decorative enough without that.”
He rose from the big wicker chair and started for the steps, just as Judy came out of the house and hurriedly toward them.
“I thought I heard you two out here.” She beamed happily at them and added, “What about Mrs. Abbott, Sam? Are you driving Alison in to see her?”
Sam explained, and Judy’s happy smile broadened.
“Whoops! That’s wonderful.” She glowed, and added hastily, “I was hoping that Alison would be staying on for a long time, and Mother is, too. Bix thinks he and I should go on a honeymoon, and I didn’t want Mother to be alone while I was gone. It won’t be for more than a week, I’m sure. With the Old Gentleman so ill, I wouldn’t want to be away any longer.”
Sam smiled warmly at Alison. “See? I told you it would all straighten itself out if we just gave it time enough.”
Judy looked from one to the other, puzzled.
“I must have missed a part of this scene,” she admitted. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about. Should I?”
“Well, I see no reason why you shouldn’t, Young ’Un,” Sam told her. “Alison was telling me that she couldn’t stay on here forever, and I was trying to tell her how welcome she’d be, even though I realize it’s not my place to tell her that.”
“Why not?” Judy was frankly puzzled. “You’re part of Oakhill.”
“Such an invitation should come from Bix, Young ’Un,” Sam pointed out. “Or Miz’ Beth.”
Judy shrugged. “Oh, Bix will be delighted, too. I can speak for him and for Miz’ Beth, too.”
Sam raised his eyebrows at Alison and said, “I told you it would be like that, didn’t I?”
Mildly suspicious, Judy asked, “Like what?”
“Like whatever Judy wants, Bix wants, too.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Her head was up, and there was frostiness in her eyes. “Because whatever Bix wants is what Judy wants.”
Sam spoke to Alison, mildly amused. “Sounds like it might be a very happy marriage, don’t you think? No arguments!”
“Oh, there’ll be arguments, of course,” Judy said happily. “Probably a lot of them, because we are both human. But the arguments can be settled by compromise, not a brawl.”
She changed the subject abruptly and said, “Isn’t that just like me? I was sent out here for a purpose, and instead I let myself get all bogged down in chatter.”
“A not unusual happening,” Sam murmured, his eyes warm on her as Alison could not help but note with a slight sinking of her heart.
“You hush!” ordered Judy childishly, and grinned disarmingly at him. “I was sent out here to tell you that you’re invited to stay to dinner, and Mam’ Chloe won’t take ‘no’ for answer!”
“And knowing Mam’ Chloe as I do, I’d hesitate to refuse her,” Sam said. “I’ll be happy to stay for dinner.”
“It’s a celebration,” Judy announced happily.
“Of the engagement?” Alison asked.
“Golly, no!” Judy laughed. “A celebration of the departure of the invaders.” She added hastily, “We never considered you one of that mob, honey, not even from the first day!”
“Thanks, Judy,” Alison answered. “From the first day, I realized we were invaders, but there was nothing I could do about it.”
“Well, that’s all over and done with. Let’s go in and see what Mam’ Chloe has whipped up for dinner,” Judy said. “She said the freezers were overloaded with fancy vittles,’ and she wanted to get rid of them, so we’d have ‘fancy meals’ for dinner every night.”
She tucked her hand through Alison’s arm, her other hand through Sam’s, and drew them into the house with her.
Beth was coming down the stairs as they entered the big reception hall, and Judy cried out gaily, “Guess what, Miz’ Beth?”
Beth hesitated at the foot of the stairs and looked apprehensive.
“I’m afraid to,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me they’ve come back! That I couldn’t endure.”
“Golly, no,” Judy hastened to reassure her. “Mrs. Abbott is spending the summer in New England with Ellen, and Alison is going to stay on with us for a while. Isn’t that scrumptious?”
Alison said hastily, “If you don’t find the idea appealing, Mrs. Ramsey, don’t hesitate to say so, and I’ll clear out.”
“Don’t be a blessed idiot,” Beth protested. “My dear, I couldn’t be happier. It’s going to be wonderful to have you here for as long as you can stand us.”
Alison managed a small, slightly unsteady laugh.
“Be careful, Mrs. Ramsey! That might be a lifetime invitation!” she stammered, the mist of tears in her eyes, a small lump clogging her throat, making her voice unsteady.
Beth said gently, “My dear, nothing would please me more than to have you here for years and years. And I’m sure Bix and Sam will join m
e in that, won’t you, Sam?”
“Of course.” Sam’s tone was quite firm, and his eyes on Alison were warm.
“I think,” Alison’s voice threatened to break as two crystal tears slipped against her will from her eyes, “you are the very kindest people I’ve ever been lucky enough to know.”
Childishly uncomfortable at the emotion in Alison’s voice and the sight of tears, Judy said awkwardly, “Oh, hush up, honey! Be a good girl and stow the tears! We’re being kind to ourselves, not you! On account of because we like you, see?”
“She’s right, Alison,” Beth said heartily. “We do like you a lot, and we’re very happy to have you stay with us as long as you like.”
“Now what did I tell you?” Sam grinned at Alison, who was making a sincere effort to control the emotional outburst that threatened.
A gay whistle sounded from the back of the house, and Bix came toward them, his eyes finding and clinging to Judy even before he discovered the signs of tears on Alison’s flushed face.
“Hey, Alison, who’s been mean to you? Point him out to me and I’ll clobber him!” Bix offered handsomely.
Alison managed a laugh, while Judy explained and Bix beamed at Alison happily.
“Hey, are we in luck? The only staying guest we would accept, and she’s staying!”
“Aren’t we lucky? Suppose it had been Marise? Or even Tony and Mimi?” Judy shuddered at the thought.
Bix looked down at her with mock sternness.
“Worst of all, suppose it had been Roger!”
Judy grinned impishly at him.
“Oh, Roger’s quite a nice lad! Might make an excellent house guest,” she drawled.
“Over my dead body!” said Bix.
Judy slid her hand into his and leaned close to him.
“And just think, Alison was afraid you wouldn’t want her to stay,” she marveled.
Bix scowled at her and then at Alison.
“Oh, come on, Alison; you know better than that! Zounds, haven’t we been pals for a long time? You should know how very welcome you’ll always be at Oakhill!” he protested.
Alison looked around at them and blinked, even while her mouth curled in a faintly tremulous smile.
“You really are the kindest people in all the world.”
“One more tear out of you, my girl, and you’ll get a paddling,” Judy threatened her.
“Even if they are happy tears?”
“Even so. I hate people who weep because they’re happy. Keeps you so uncertain. You never know whether they’re weeping because they are miserably unhappy or on tiptoe with happiness!”
“I’d be the most ungrateful creature in the world if I wasn’t happy, after you’ve all been so kind and sweet!” Alison’s voice was stronger now, and the tremulous smile on her mouth deepened a little.
“Andy Abbott wants to call on Alison, but she wasn’t sure that she should allow it without consulting all of you first,” Sam said pleasantly.
Startled, Judy looked swiftly at him.
“Do we want him to?” she asked softly, so that her voice did not reach the others.
Pretending surprise, Sam’s brows went up slightly.
“Don’t we?” he drawled.
Judy gave a slight shrug.
“Do we?” she insisted.
Sam said brusquely, “If she wants him to, that’s all that’s important, isn’t it?”
Judy’s eyes held his, and her voice was gentle when she said quietly, “If you think so.”
For a long moment Sam’s eyes met hers. Then he looked away and his jaw clamped so that a small ridge of muscle leaped along it.
“I really can’t see that I have any right at all to object to any of her callers,” he stated flatly.
“But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” Judy persisted softly.
Dark brick-red touched his jaw for a moment, barely visible beneath the sun-bronze, and his eyes flickered.
“Look, Young ’Un, suppose you tend to your own knitting and let me handle mine,” he suggested.
“Of course, Sammy dear,” she said. “It’s only that I am so happy I’d like everybody else in the world to be happy, too.”
“Very generous of you, I’m sure. But there are those who would call it meddling,” he told her harshly.
Not noticeably disturbed by his tone or his manner, Judy met his eyes and said softly, “I’m sorry, Sam dear. It’s only that I know how much you like her, and I wasn’t anxious for you to have any competition. Oh, not that Andy would really be competition for you; not if you really work at getting her to fall in love with you.”
Sam growled angrily, raising his voice slightly so that the others glanced at them curiously, “Will you for the love of little green apples mind your own darned business?”
Bix moved toward them, puzzled by the sudden heat in Sam’s voice, and Sam blurted, “See you folks later. I’ve some chores to attend to before dinner,” and stalked out.
Judy watched him go. Then she turned and grinned at the others and said happily, “I guess I made him mad.”
“Apparently you did, and you should be ashamed of yourself,” Bix told her. “What was it all about, anyway?”
Judy gave him an impish, gamine grin and said airily, “Oh, you wouldn’t understand, darling.”
And Bix eyed her warily, mildly suspicious yet with a wealth of tenderness and yearning in his eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
It was a couple of days later, in the early dusk of the day, that Judy came to relieve the nurse and sit with the Old Gentleman for her usual hour or two with him. Her love for the Old Gentleman made her look forward to these intervals. Now she sat beside the bed, her hands warm and gentle on his that lay outside the covers.
These days her heart was singing with happiness, and the only shadow on that happiness was that she could not share it with the dearly beloved man who lay there like something carved from stone.
Bix spent the days with Sam, riding over the estate, learning something about the various duties and responsibilities of operating the place, admitting frankly to Sam and the others that he never expected to be able to take Sam’s place and that he hoped Sam would consent to stay on forever.
Alison busied herself trying to be helpful to Beth and absorbing as much as she could of the vast complexities of housekeeping and taking care of the house. Mam’ Chloe had been prevailed on to give Alison some lessons in cooking, and Alison went around glowing as though there were twin candles behind her eyes.
If only, Judy mourned as she sat beside the Old Gentleman, there were some way she could communicate with him; some way in which she could tell him of all that was going on at Oakhill; most of all, some way in which she could tell him about herself and Bix. He would be glad, she felt sure. He had always been fond of her; he had always seemed to want her to stay at Oakhill, as he had wanted Bix to. But now that Bix was going to be there permanently, there was no way she could tell the Old Gentleman.
She bent her head suddenly and kissed the hand she held and closed her fingers about it, as though to transfer to him something of her own warmth and strength.
She leaned forward and put her lips almost against his ear and spoke very softly, very earnestly, in the frail hope that her voice would get through the fog that gripped him.
“Darling,” she murmured softly, “Bix and I are going to get married.”
Just saying the words lifted her heart, but—was that a faint breath of sound from him, or a soft early summer breeze bringing the memory of bird song? It was a ghost of a sound. Could it possibly be that he had managed a word of speech?
Still with her lips almost against his ear, her heart clamoring so hard she felt sure that it could be heard all over the room, she went on very slowly, “Did you hear me, darling? Bix and I are going to be married and always live at Oakhill.”
And again came that ghost of sound, that word that was “Good!” but not as the Old Gentleman had been wont to say it. Now it was a sound so
frail, so faint, that only because her ears were so near his flaccid lips could she be sure that he had really spoken.
She had a wild desire to shriek for joy, to summon the others, to cry out that the Old Gentleman was recovering his speech. But she had to be very sure that he had really spoken.
And then, to her amazed delight, his hand beneath the close, warm clasp of her own stirred so slightly that that, too, was something she scarcely dared believe.
“Darling?” she whispered, so shaken that her own voice was little more than a gasp.
“Always—wanted—it,” came the low words from those flaccid lips.
“Oh, darling, darling.” She could not keep back the tears that fell warmly on that still, granite-like face. She bent her head and laid her tear-wet cheek against his and sobbed like a child. She had gotten through that fog that enveloped him, shutting him off from everything that he knew and loved. She had managed to get the message to him that Bix would be there always, and that she and Bix were going to be married so that she would be there always, too!
It was the most perfect moment she had ever known, except, of course, for the moment in which she had learned that Bix loved her and wanted to marry her.
She was still there when the nurse came back and said quickly, “Judy dear, you mustn’t weep over him. It’s just barely possible that he may be able to understand, to hear your weeping, and it would only worry him.”
Judy lifted her tear-wet face, radiant despite the tears, and said shakily, “Oh, Mrs. Blanding, he spoke to me!”
The nurse’s plump, good-natured face was touched with an expression of a startled protest.
“Oh, no, Judy, you are mistaken. You just imagined it. He couldn’t have spoken.”
“But he did, Mrs. Blanding, he did!” Judy insisted shakily. “I put my lips against his ear and told him Bix and I were going to be married, and he said, plain as anything, ‘Good!’ I couldn’t be sure for a moment I’d really heard him, and so I told him again. And he said, ‘Always wanted it.’ Oh, not clearly, of course; sort of faint and breathy. But I heard it! I did, I did! You’ve got to believe me. You’ve just got to! He’s going to get well. You hear me? He’s going to recover! Whether you or Dr. Dellinger believe it or not, he’s going to!”