"Why are you agreeing with Father?" Marian stared at him, her eyes almost black in the fading light. "Do you want me to marry another man? I thought you loved me."
Her declaration echoed in his ears. Did he love her? He'd never said the words. But why was he staying in the area?
She struggled to get out of his arms and his hold tightened. "Marian..."
"No, let me go! I thought you'd help me because you cared about me. But I guess I was wrong." She pul ed free of his grasp and stepped away, her chest heaving with each angry breath. "I should've realized what was happening when you never came over to the house."
"But, Marian, how could I? What would I say to your father?"
"You could ask permission to court his daughter."
One corner of Frank's mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. "And of course your father would've accepted me with open arms. I'm just the man the reverend Cooper would want for his only child—a salesman who appeared on his doorstep one day."
She stamped her foot. "You're the man I love, Frank Robertson. Isn't that enough?"
Oh, Marian, darling, he wanted to say, you're such a sweet child, with your dreams of romance, flowers, candlelight. At least your father understands marriage requires more than that.
His lips tightened. Would this widower give her the romance she needed? Or was he just looking for a drudge to care for his house?
"Marian, does Applethwaite have any children?"
She nodded against his shirtfront. "Two boys. Father says they're absolute angels."
Frank grimaced. Usual y when two boys were described as angels, they were either the exact opposite or dead bores. He couldn't see Marian mothering either of them. No doubt these boys were hel ions and the reason their father was going farther afield to find a wife.
"Marian, when is he coming?"
She must have sensed the change in him because when she spoke, her voice sounded stronger. "The end of August. His sister wil be visiting him and he's leaving the boys with her."
A sure sign that the boys weren't angels. The man was smart; he didn't plan to ruin his prospects with his friend's daughter by bringing the future stepsons with him.
"Al right." He bent down until his face was level with hers. "Dry your eyes and go home. Don't say anything to upset your father but don't agree to the marriage, either."
She nodded and blinked several times. "What wil you do, Frank?"
He wasn't sure. But he couldn't stand the idea of her with another man.
Her hand brushed against his cheek. "I do love you, Frank."
He kissed her lips, then turned her toward the road."Go home and stop worrying about this. Everything will work out."
He watched her walk down the road, her shoulders drooping and her pace slow. His heart thudded in his chest.
Short of marrying her himself, what could he do to save her from Applethwaite or someone else like him?
Disgusted with her father, he climbed the stairs and entered bis smal bedroom. When he sat down on the bed, a piece of paper rustled under his leg. He stared at the words his mother had written. Come home.
Home. He could pack his bags and catch the next train north. By tomorrow night, he could be back with his family, sleeping in his own room, eating his mother's cooking. He could leave the traveling life, go to work for his father.
He leaned against the headboard, hands clasped behind his neck. If he went home with a wife, his father would have to see him as a man. He could rescue Marian and, at the same time, provide himself with a way to convince his father he'd grown up.
The next afternoon, he ran down the street as soon as the feed store closed. He bathed quickly, washing away the smel of grain and smoothing down his thick hair. Dressed in his new suit, he walked over to the Coopers' house, his back straight and his lips clamped together.
Marian answered the door; when she saw him, her hand flew to her throat. "Frank, what are you doing here?"
"I need to see your father, Marian."
Her eyes widened. He tapped one finger against her lips. "Trust me, Marian."
She nodded and led him into the parlor. A few minutes later, her father joined him. "Wel , young man, Marian tel s me you've requested a few minutes of my time. What would you like to talk about?"
Frank took a deep breath. Now that the moment had arrived, he didn't know what to say. He swal owed more than once before the words came out.
"Sir, I would like to marry your daughter."
The words were soft but their effect was the same as if he'd shouted them. Reverend Cooper advanced on Frank, his normal y placid features distorted. Frank took an involuntary step away from the fury in the older man's face, then forced himself to stand stil .
"Marry my daughter? How dare you? After the hospitality we've shown you, welcoming you into our home, finding you a job. Why, I should throw you from this house!"
Reverend Cooper strode around the room, hands clenched into fists at his sides, body rigid. Afraid to move, Frank watched in awe. He'd been prepared for some anger when Reverend Cooper realized what he wanted but he hadn't been ready for the extent of the older man's rage.
Reverend Cooper stopped by the window, his shoulders heaving. "I suppose my daughter told you about the proposal from Martin Applethwaite," he said without turning around.
"Yes, sir."
"And no doubt you have some romantic idea of saving her from this fate. "The man's words were heavy with sarcasm.
"That's not my only reason for proposing."
"No, I'm sure it's not." Reverend Cooper whirled around, his eyes narrowed and his hands stil clenched at his sides. "She isn't pregnant, is she?"
Frank gasped and his own eyes narrowed. "No, sir," he snapped. "You insult your daughter by implying she could be."
Cooper's lips were pressed tight. "At least that's one worry I won't have when she goes to Applethwaite."
Frank took a deep breath, trying to restrain his anger. If he could calmly convince this man that he was the right choice for his daughter...
"Sir, Marian doesn't want to marry Applethwaite. She loves me and wants to marry me."
"And you? Do you love her?"
A sneer fol owed the word love. Frank stared at the man, then slowly nodded. "Yes, I do, sir. And I'll do everything in my power to make her happy."
"Happy! Bah!" Reverend Cooper turned back to the windows and placed one hand against the glass. "And what can you offer her? I Applethwaite is a respected member of his community, a man already settled with a lovely home and two boys. What do you have?"
"I may not have a home yet, but Marian and I don't need 1 much. We'11 make our own way."
Reverend Cooper shook his head. "Young love. Do you have " any idea how many couples I've counseled after young love disappears? You barely know each other and have little in common. You breeze into town one day, see a girl who catches your eye, and fancy i you're in love." He swung around, his hands more relaxed. "I'm ' doing you a favor, young man. Pack your bags and leave tonight. My daughter wil cry for a few days and then, when Applethwaite j shows up with his offer, she'll be happy to marry him."
Frank scowled at him. "Is that what you want for your daughter? A marriage without love?"
"I want my daughter to be secure." He waved his hand around the room. "I'm old, Mr. Robertson, and I won't be here forever. With Applethwaite, my daughter will be cared for. She won't have to worry about her next meal."
"I can take of her," Frank said stubbornly.
"How? You live hand-to-mouth. You came into town with al 1 your belongings in one bag. Have you even saved a penny?"
Frank thought of al the money he'd sent to his mother. He would've had a tidy nest egg if he'd kept that money. But his father was stingy, and Frank had assumed he'd have years to start saving for himself.
His pride held him back from saying this. If the reverend had suggested they talk, man to man, about Frank's prospects, his ability J to care for Marian, he would've happily explained where his
earnings had gone. But he would not let the man reduce him to begging.
"I forbid my daughter to marry you, Robertson." Reverend Cooper's voice was low and gruff. "Leave my house now and get out of town tonight."
As Frank listened, the old man's threat registered deep in his brain. He spun around and slammed out of the room.
He yanked open the front door, which crashed against the entryway wall. Behind him, he could hear Reverend Cooper's furious voice cal ing for his daughter and wife. A couple stood on the sidewalk in front of the house; Frank brushed past them without an apology.
Once at Widow Bartlett's house, he went over the confrontation again, pacing the long hal way. How dare that man refuse him! Who was he, anyway? Nothing but a smal -town minister. And Frank had plenty of prospects.
Wasn't his father a respected businessman in Davenport, Iowa? Why, this little vil age would fit in one street of Frank's hometown.
His breathing more normal, he sank onto a low bench and buried his head in his hands. After the scene in the parlor, he wouldn't be al owed anywhere near Marian. She was probably locked in her room and Reverend Cooper was already informing the community of his edict. With his local influence, he'd be able to destroy Frank's reputation. If Frank didn't leave-town tonight...
He would leave town. He'd pack up and leave on the next train. And Marian would be with him.
*****
Summer 2004
"I'm going over to see G.G. and Grandpa." Hannah stopped outside the guest room that her brother used during visits to their grandmother. "You coming?"
"I can't." He was digging through his suitcase. "I'm supposed to mow the lawn today."
"Fine. Just don't tel Grandma where I am."
"What's with the secrecy?" He tugged on the worn T-shirt he had unearthed. "And what are you going to tel Grandma when she asks why you're taking her car?"
"I'm not taking her car." She held up a purple bicycle helmet.
"I'm riding Mom's old bike. It's not that far. And the exercise wil be good for me."
He fol owed her into the garage, where a dusty bike leaned against one wal .
Preston pul ed the lawn mower out to the driveway. "You could mow for me—get your exercise that way."
"Nice try." She fastened the helmet and hopped on the bike. "I should be back before you finish mowing."
The retirement development was a mile away. The property had once been on the edge of Lincoln but with the resurgence of building in the community, Winter Oaks was now just another part of the sprawling east end.
She parked her bike, then went inside the main building. Tiny cottages dotted the property. One had been Frank and Marian's home when they'd first moved to the community. But after Marian's hip fracture four years earlier, the family had encouraged them to move into the residence lodge, where they would have resources at hand if needed.
"Hi, Hannah." The woman at the front desk gave her a big smile. "They're in the sunroom."
A long room opened onto the back lawn, which separated the more independent living quarters from the lodge. There were bright summer flowers along pathways wide enough for wheelchairs, with several benches tucked among large old oaks. Floor- to-ceiling windows brought the outdoors inside for those who couldn't go out or weren't in an adventurous mood. Little groups of people sat in the sunroom, a few with books or newspapers. Several were gathered around a piano, where one elderly man was playing what Hannah recognized as a musical show tune.
Her great-grandparents sat at the other end of the room, near a table that could be used for family suppers. A newspaper was open on Grandpa Frank's lap. His head was down, his glasses almost slipping from his nose, and Hannah suspected he'd fal en asleep.
Her impression was confirmed by G.G. "Don't wake him."
Marian's smile tightened a few of the wrinkles in her face. "He was reading me the most boring article about the city council's last meeting. Why he thinks I'd be interested in that..." She shook her head in loving exasperation.
Hannah pul ed a chair from the table and placed it next to G.G., careful not to wake Frank. "How long wil he sleep?" His neck was crooked toward his chest and she didn't want him to be stiff when he woke up.
"About ten minutes. He's been dropping off to sleep like this for the last few weeks. The doctor isn't worried, says it's due to age."
Hannah could hear the worry, though, in G.G.'s voice. And Grandpa Frank was ninety-six. "The staff here will keep track of him, G.G.Vou said yourself they're very responsible. And he could just be tired. Or he could've bored himself to sleep with that article."
She was rewarded by the soft chuckle that was one of her favorite memories. G.G. and Grandpa Frank had moved into the retirement vil age before Hannah was born. The short visits Hannah and her brother made to the complex were always ful of special treats, movies on the big-screen television and walks through the grounds.
"So, why are you here, Miss Hannah-banana? Not that we aren't happy to see you."
"I think I've outgrown my nickname," Hannah muttered.
G.G. gave another chuckle and patted Hannah's hand. The touch was light and fleeting, like that of a butterfly landing on skin. "Darling, once you have a nickname in this family, it sticks. Do you suppose anyone wil ever cal me anything besides G.G.? Even your mother uses it now."
Hannah grinned. She'd coined the nickname for her great- grandmother when she was little, trying to put her mouth around the longer name of Great-Grandma Marian. She'd recently learned to recognize her letters and when her mother showed her the name on a birthday card, Hannah had pointed out the two Gs. From then on, the great-grandchildren and soon the other relatives had started referring to Marian as G.G., distinguishing her from the other grandmothers in the family.
"Do you think you could just cal me Miss Hannah instead?" she asked hopeful y.
"I'll try. Now, I can see purpose written al over your face."
Hannah cleared her throat. If she didn't want Grandma Anne to ask questions about her whereabouts, she needed to finish her errand and get back quickly. "It's about your party."
G.G. sat back in her wheelchair, her fingers twisting the crocheted lap rug that protected her legs from the air-conditioning drafts. "What party?" Her smile was gone and her eyes were blinking rapidly behind her glasses.
Hannah frowned, worried by G.G.'s agitation. Frank stirred in his sleep, as if aware of his wife's discomfort.
"For your seventy- fifth wedding anniversary," Hannah said slowly.
"Who said we were having a party?" She leaned over to pluck at Frank's sleeve, her actions reminding Hannah of a flustered bird. "Frank?"
His eyes opened immediately. He leaned toward his wife, the newspaper sliding to the floor with a rustle.
"Marian, what's the matter?"
"Hannah's here." Marian's fingers continued to pluck at his sleeve. "She said we're having a party. You said we wouldn't have a party. You told the girls we wouldn't have a party."
Marian's voice had risen. Hannah glanced around the room but they were far enough from the others not to be attracting attention. Yet.
Frank took Marian's fingers in his hand. "Hush, it's al right." His eyes narrowed as he glared at Hannah.
"What's this about a party? Your grandmother didn't send you over here, did she?"
Hannah shook her head vigorously. "No, it was my idea, Grandpa. I found some pictures and things and thought you deserved a celebration."
"We don't need a party to remember we've been married seventy-five years." His voice was firmer than she'd heard in her last visits. He leaned forward until he could cradle Marian's stil - fluttering hands against his chest, their heads close.
"That's true, Grandpa. But it's just, wel —" Her voice trailed off.
"No party. See how it upsets your great-grandmother?"
Hannah knew she should stop but maybe they didn't understand what she was asking. She sat forward, her face only inches from his. G.G.'s face was hidden against Frank's shoulder now.
Her breathing was uneven but the fluttering motions had ceased.
"Not a real party," she explained. Maybe it was the idea of a crowd that was bothering her. Or dancing. Now that G.G. was in a wheelchair, maybe she didn't like being reminded of what she could no longer do. "Just a family dinner. Here." She gestured at the table behind them. "A few speeches, some stories about your life together. Cake. That's al ."
She shifted until she could look into his eyes. "You've been together seventy-five years, Grandpa. We should celebrate that!"
G.G. was shuddering again.Tiny gasps sputtered against Frank's shirt. "Hannah, no more, please." His voice was sharp. "You need to go now."
Hannah stood up, hesitant to leave after being the unwitting cause of their distress. What had she said?
"Grandpa—"
He waved a hand at her, his other hand softly rubbing Marian's back. "She'll be fine. Just leave right now. And no more talk of a party." He mouthed the last word at her.
Hannah nodded and headed toward the entrance, pausing in the doorway. Marian had raised her head from Frank's shoulder. He was softly smoothing her hair from her face. Even standing at a distance, Hannah could sense the love around the two of them, isolating them from the other people in the room.
She pedaled slowly home going over the visit in her mind. Why wouldn't they want to celebrate their anniversary? With so many marriages ending in divorce, staying married was a major feat in itself. And to be married for seventy-five years to the same person, stil so ful of love...
She parked her bike inside the garage and slipped in the kitchen door. She didn't want to be pushy but somehow, the family needed to recognize their lives together.
Somehow, she'd convince G.G. to have a party.
**********
Marian’s Story
Chapter 4
Winston, Missouri
August 1929
Marian raced into the parlor at the sound of her father's shouting. "Father, what is it?" He swung around. "You knew what he wanted, didn't you? How dare you?"
The back of his hand struck her cheek. She sank to the floor. Tears sprang to her eyes and she pressed one hand against her throbbing face. "Daddy?"
Tessa McDermid - Family Stories Page 5