Tessa McDermid - Family Stories

by Tessa McDermid

  "No, it's al right." At his questioning glance, she grinned. "My parents trust me and let me have my own way.

  The townspeople would tel you I'm a bit spoiled."

  She leaned back. He was fascinated by her long, white neck exposed by the soft summer dress. Several loose curls danced around her face and her hands fluttered with each word.

  "Have you ever heard of Abraham and Sarah?"

  He frowned, trying to fol ow her lightning change of topic. "I'm not from around here."

  "They're in the Bible, sil y," she said.

  He dug in the dim recesses of his mind. Church on Sundays had been a regular part of his growing-up years, walking the few blocks with his mother and two sisters. Their dad always stayed home to read his paper in peace and quiet.

  "An old couple who wanted a baby?" he ventured.

  She nodded. "My parents see themselves as Abraham and Sarah. They had decided it was God's will that they never have children. And then, just like Abraham and Sarah, they found out I was on the way."

  "They must've been very excited."

  "They were. Mother was sick a lot but they were so happy, she didn't care. She couldn't go anywhere with my father, even to church. She sewed clothes for me, lovely clothes for this precious baby she was expecting."

  Frank watched the changing expressions on her face. She spoke about babies and birth as if they were the most natural things in the world. Maybe she's right, he thought, touched by her candor.

  "And here you are," he breathed when she stopped, vowing to start praying again. If God could create a vision like the one sitting next to him...

  "I almost wasn't."

  Frank caught her hand at that horrible possibility, staring at the sight of her delicate fingers against his much larger palm. She smiled at him and he was ensnared in the spel of her eyes. Sapphires, he told himself, even though he'd never seen the actual gems. Her eyes must look like sapphires. Bright blue rimmed with dark lashes.

  She tugged her fingers out of his tight hold and folded her hands in her lap. "My mother suffered complications just before I was born. She told the doctor and my father that if a choice had to be made between her and the baby, then the baby must live. Father argued with her but she wouldn't listen. Final y, he gave in, hoping a miracle would happen."

  "And a miracle did." He felt his own faith rekindling at her simple story.

  "That's what my parents believe. I stil think it's because my father can speak to God so easily, or maybe God finds it easier to understand a minister's requests."

  She laughed at his look of surprise, a throaty tril that spun cobwebs down his spine. "Oh, you mustn't mind what I say. Real y, I do believe in God but living with people who praise God whenever you walk into a room can be tiring."

  She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and rested her head on her arms, her face turned away from him. A delicate pink ear was visible among the disorder of her curls and he clutched his hands in his lap. When a light breeze brought the fresh scent of her soap to him, he closed his eyes. Help me, God, he prayed for the first time in years. She's too young, too innocent. She doesn't know what her mere presence does to a man.

  He opened his eyes and saw her sitting up, watching him with a mixture of longing and worry.

  "You won't go away, will you?"

  I'm going right now. I'm catching the next train and riding as far away from you as I can.

  But the words didn't form on his lips. Looking into her eyes, he knew he couldn't say them.

  "Your parents won't let us meet," he said instead, both relief and regret in his tone.

  She rose graceful y to her feet and smoothed down her skirt. "Don't worry about my parents. Come to church on Sunday and don't be late." She paused, studying his rumpled clothes. "Do you have another suit?"

  "Yes," he lied. Sunday. He had three days in which to buy another suit. If it cost every penny he'd just earned, he would arrive at the church in a new suit.

  "Good." She started to walk away. "Then come to the church by 8:00 a.m. The white church, not the brick one."

  She was almost gone. "Wait!" he shouted, running after her. "I don't know your name."

  "Marian," she cal ed to him. "Marian Cooper."

  "Marian," he whispered, walking back to the log. He took off his jacket and rol ed it into a pil ow. His stomach growled but he pushed his hunger aside. A smal price to pay to see her again. He curled up against the suddenly cool summer breeze and whispered her name over and over.

  He spent the next three days knocking on doors in nearby towns. On Saturday he went back to the storekeeper whose wares he carried, received his pay, then asked about a suit. The old man was pleased with his profit and offered Frank a discount on a ready-made suit. He directed him to the tailor's house on the outskirts of town and by nightfal , Frank owned another outfit.

  He slipped into an empty freight car and watched the stars through the open door. Sleep eluded him. One part of him hoped the feelings she'd aroused in him would be extinguished by the real presence of her, and another part wondered how he would live if she'd forgotten him or, worse, been toying with him.

  What if she had only been using him to while away a few summer hours? What if she snubbed him when he arrived at the church, her adorable little nose in the air as she walked haughtily past him? He groaned and punched his bag into a pil ow of sorts. He stretched out his long form and, resting his head on the crumpled bag, wil ed himself to sleep.

  By the time the train pul ed into the vil age of Winston, he was a bundle of nerves. Each time he'd drifted off, her face invaded his vision. He could see again the soft curve of her cheek, the gentle sweep of her lashes, the rosebud perfection of her lips. Clenching his teeth to stop another moan, he grabbed the smal bag with a sweaty hand and swung himself down from the freight car. The train's whistle sounded in his ears as it chugged down the tracks, leaving him alone in the dark countryside.

  He found an empty barn near the edge of town and crawled into a corner, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and his heart aching with worry. Stripping off his jacket and shoes, he lay down and closed his eyes, begging for at least a few hours' sleep to release him from his anxiety.

  He was up with the dawn, only slightly rested from his hours in the barn. He gobbled down the sandwich he'd bought the day before and dressed careful y in the new suit. The tailor had assured him he looked extremely well-dressed; he hoped the little man was right. He dusted off his shoes with a handkerchief. Using a bit of broken glass he found in another corner of the barn for a reflection, he styled his hair careful y. Satisfied he looked his best, considering the facilities he had to use, he hid his bag under some dusty tools and headed down the road to town.

  Winston, Missouri, woke up early on a Sunday. He could smel Sunday dinners already cooking. Children sat on porch swings, their hair brushed and pul ed back from scrubbed faces. Their feet swung in shiny dress shoes. They waved at him and he waved back, his mood lightened by their friendliness.

  As he neared the center of town, church bel s rang out. People were filing into the brick church; remembering her directions, he joined the throng at the white frame church only a few steps from her home.

  He chose a pew in the middle of the right side. He bent his head, unable to look around now that he was final y there. He chastised himself for being seven different kinds of fool for even being in the same vil age again.

  Just as he'd decided to bolt out the door and run for the nearest train station, the organist started to play.

  Hymn books rustled, and his neighbor handed him her open book with a pleasant smile. He returned her smile, nodding in thanks, then froze as he saw Marian.

  She was sitting across the aisle in the front pew with her mother. A dark-blue hat rested on top of her curls, enhancing their luminous glow. Her dress was in the same sedate blue and while the high col ar hid her neck from sight, he could imagine its slender beauty under the protective material.

  She stood with the rest o
f the congregation and shifted slightly. He got quietly to his feet, his eyes stil on her face. A hint of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth and a moment later she was singing lustily. The blood rushed to his head and he could hardly breathe.

  He felt relieved when they bowed their heads for the prayer. By the time he sat down again, his breathing was normal. He kept his eyes on Reverend Cooper's face, wanting to know this man who was Marian's father, but he could find no trace of the enchanting woman-child in the man admonishing his flock to always choose the right path.

  After the final prayer, the congregation was ushered out. Marian and her mother left first and he watched them walk up the aisle. Not by a single movement did she acknowledge his presence.

  Eyes narrowed, he fol owed the others up the aisle. She had given him her answer. He had spent his hard-earned money on a suit he could il afford, al for a spoiled country girl who only wanted a bit of amusement.

  The noontime sun blinded him as he walked outside, and he shielded his eyes with one hand. "Bright, isn't it?"

  said the friendly woman next to him and he nodded.

  As he turned to speak to her, his mouth suddenly went dry. Marian stood on the steps, her hand lightly resting on her father's arm. She greeted each person who came out of the building, her voice low and melodious.

  Pushed by the people behind him and hindered by the woman in front, Frank had no choice but to stop.

  Reverend Cooper held out a hand. "Welcome my son. I don't believe we've met."

  Frank swal owed, dragging his eyes away from Marian. The reverend stil held out his hand and Frank belatedly remembered his manners. "Frank Robertson, sir. I was passing through and thought I'd stay for a while."

  "Ah, so our fair town has lured yet another visitor." Reverend Cooper's smile was one of proud ownership.

  "Many a person has decided to settle in Winston after stopping for only a night."

  He glanced around, as if searching for someone, and then tapped Marian on the arm. When she finished her conversation with an older woman, she turned to her father, stil without meeting Frank's eyes. "My dear, I can't find your mother."

  "She went home to finish dinner. She knew I wouldn't mind taking her place with you."

  Her father nodded and turned back to Frank. "My daughter, Mr. Robertson. Marian, this is Frank Robertson, a visitor to our community."

  Marian slid her warm hand into his cold one and smiled. "Welcome, Mr. Robertson. I'm glad you could come today."

  The warmth from her fingers remained after she released his hand. He didn't think he'd imagined that slight emphasis on the word you. Aware of her father, he pressed his lips together and swung back to the older man.

  He searched his memory, trying to recal what his mother would say when she greeted their minister. "I appreciated your sermon today, sir."

  Reverend Cooper beamed. "Thank you, young man. Sometimes it's hard to know how to reach people today.

  So many choices pul ing us in every direction."

  Marian wrapped her fingers around her father's arm. "Now, Father, church is over. Mr. Robertson doesn't need to hear about this anymore. After al , what could happen in Winston?"

  Her father patted her fingers. "The devil is everywhere, Marian. You have to be on guard at al times."

  As he watched Marian, the slow rise and fal of her bodice, the slender ankles and calves he could see under the demure dress, Frank knew that her father was right. The thoughts spinning through his brain had nothing to do with the straight and narrow path.

  He cleared his throat. "Wel , I should be going, sir. Again, thank you for the warm welcome."

  He turned toward Marian, schooling his features into a neutral expression. "And I enjoyed meeting you, Miss Cooper."

  Her eyes widened, a beseeching look in their depths. He hesitated, unsure what she was asking. How could he see her again without prompting her father's concern?

  The movement was barely noticeable, just a flicker of her fingers. Her father frowned, then leaned his head toward her, his thick gray eyebrows raised in question. "Marian?"

  She raised herself on tiptoe so she could whisper in her father's ear. The soft cotton dress tightened around her slender form. Frank jammed his right hand into his pocket and flexed his fingers.

  "Of course, my dear." Reverend Cooper clapped Frank on the arm, his relationship to Marian now evident from the sparkle in his eyes. "My daughter has reminded me of my manners. If you'd honor us by coming to dinner, we'd be very pleased. I have to greet the rest of my congregation, but then we'll take you home for some of my wife's delicious cooking."

  Frank accepted the invitation and stood at the side of the steps, wondering if he'd caught some sort of summer madness. People stopped to greet him, their faces wreathed in welcoming smiles, and he answered them careful y, always aware of Marian only a few feet away. Several of the women were his former customers and he waited for one of them to denounce him as a traveling salesman, not worth the dirt under their feet.

  But they didn't see the door-to-door salesman today. Instead, they favored him with their most charming smiles, one daring young woman even rubbing her hip against his as she sauntered down the steps.

  She tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder and he grinned. She had obviously paid scant attention to the reverend's words that morning. Frank watched her sway down the walkway, her hips inviting him to spend some time with her. He had no doubt of her intentions.

  "So, Mr. Robertson, are you ready? "The reverend tugged the church door to be sure it had locked securely.

  He joined Frank at the bottom of the steps.

  With a last glance at the young woman, Frank made his decision. "Yes, sir. You're sure this won't be an inconvenience for your wife?"

  "Of course not. She always plans for some company each Sunday."

  The young woman stood poised at the gate, her hand resting on the latch. Frank shrugged, shaking his head at her smile. She spun around and stood toward the vil age, her black curls bouncing in the sun.

  "I wonder what's the matter with Flossie." Reverend Cooper clicked the gate shut and turned toward his home.

  "She's not happy about something," Marian agreed, a smug inflection in her voice.

  Startled, Frank looked at her but the reverend hid her from view. Was she as innocent as she seemed? She did know a lot about the birth of babies. Did she also know as much about how they came to be, what happened between a man and a woman?

  His neck grew hot. Her father was talking about the run of warm weather they'd been enjoying and Frank immediately commented on how good the fields looked.

  "And what line of work keeps you traveling so much?" Reverend Cooper asked as they neared the house.

  Frank hesitated. Many of the people he met saw traveling salesmen as little more than hobos, slamming doors in their faces and ordering them off their property. The women at church hadn't connected the dashing young salesman with the man they'd met on the church steps. Reverend Cooper professed to love al people, but would that love extend to the man walking next to him, even if he was wearing a new suit?

  He couldn't take the chance. "I've worked with my father in his store back in Iowa," he offered, staying close to the truth without betraying his current occupation. "I've always been good with words."

  A soft snort from the other side of the reverend almost proved his undoing. He could feel his cheeks flush and he stared at the ground. How could she turn him into this blithering fool in only a few short days?

  Her father didn't seem to notice anything amiss. He rubbed his chin with one gnarled hand, reminding Frank that this man had waited a long time for his child.

  His footsteps lagged as they neared the house and then he straightened his shoulders. I might not live in a fine place, he thought, but I have as much right to walk into his home as anyone. His natural confidence returned; he greeted Marian's mother with a smile and a low bow.

  The older woman frowned and Frank realized his error. She bit h
er lip, glancing at her husband from under lowered lashes. When he introduced Frank to her, she shook his hand gravely, giving everyone the impression that she'd just met the young man.

  Relieved that he wouldn't be discovered yet and aware that he could be doing the minister a grave disservice, Frank fol owed Marian and her father into the parlor. Reverend Cooper excused himself at the door, murmuring that he needed to jot down an idea before it left him. Alone with Marian, Frank sank into the soft seat of a tapestry chair and clutched the brim of his hat, studying the carpet.

  "That was nicely done," Marian said.

  He lifted his head. "What do you mean?"

  "My mother. I think you've charmed her. She sets a lot of store by the manners one has."

  "She recognized me."

  "Mother?" Marian shook her head. "No, you were a traveling salesman the other day. Today, you're a handsome churchgoing young man."

  As Frank started to contradict her, Reverend Cooper hurried into the room, apologizing for his urgent departure. "But when an idea comes, I have to capture it as quickly as possible, else it leaves this feebled old brain of mine," he said with a half smile.

  Marian sat in a corner of the room, the picture of demure womanhood. When Mrs. Cooper announced that dinner was ready, she let her father escort her into the dining room. Frank held her mother's chair and Marian favored him with a warm look from under thick lashes before resuming her modest demeanor.

  The food was simple but plentiful. He complimented Mrs. Cooper on her cooking and had the pleasure of seeing soft color

  Hood her wrinkled cheeks. Reverend Cooper talked about the many advantages of their smal vil age, punctuating each comment with a jab of his fork in the air. Marian ate with her head down, the flash of her dimple showing her humor at the conversation.

  He'd begun to relax, even enjoy himself, when the reverend suddenly asked, "You don't have a wife somewhere, do you?"

  Chapter 2

  Reverend Cooper's question startled him, coming in the middle of a diatribe on city life, and he almost dropped the forkful of mashed potatoes that was halfway to his mouth. Seeing only curiosity on the man's face, Frank relaxed and shook his head. "No, I've never felt much desire to settle down."