“All right. I’ll tell you who he is. But I must swear you to secrecy. A lot rides on keeping this quiet. And I don’t want any morality lectures from you. The man is married and he’s local. Do you swear?”
“I so swear,” Ron said solemnly. “I’m not one to deliver lectures on morality. That’s not my area. So, who’s the lucky guy?”
“The father is Harry Drake, as you may have suspected.”
“I didn't. Never met him, in fact, though I've heard of him.”
She scanned his face for disapproval, but could detect none.
“I’ll go over to the hotel this afternoon, after rounds. Shouldn’t take long, man to man. I’ll make sure Drake shows up or calls you, whichever you want.”
“My sources say he’s taken the rest of the week off and is at his home with his wife at Drake’s Roost. I’ve already tried once to find him there. I flopped, miserably.”
Ron shook his head, his lips compressed. It was the first time she’d seen anger on his face since he caught a fellow classmate heckling her on the playground and promptly thrashed the big bully.
“My God, Lena," he muttered. "You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
“I left him a message to call me, days ago. He knows where I am. But so far he hasn’t tried to phone me here, as asked. I’m stumped.”
“Perhaps when he calls here, someone else answers and then he hangs up. Chicken shit thing to do. Sorry, Lena. I can see from your face you don’t like it when I say anything against him, so I’ll cool it. ”
"You're right, though, Ron. What we need is a signal system, so he knows it's safe to call me. How about this? I’ll stay by the phone at one o’clock. He should ring me for three times, then hang up. When he rings the second time, I'll know it's him, and I'll immediately answer."
"I'll call him at home today and tell him the signal system."
Fleetingly, it flashed on Marlena's mind that a system of signaling had existed between Cassandra Vye and Curly Drake, involving pebbles thrown into a pond or against a window.
Their secret system had ended up costing Drake his life when they got their signals crossed one fateful night in 1901, and he misinterpreted a holiday bonfire as her signal light.
But before Marlena had a chance to tell Ron to forget the whole thing, that it was too dangerous for him to get involved in, he was buttoning his coat, hot to trot.
On the other hand, she thought, if fate was stepping in, there was no way of knowing what random series of events would trigger either disaster or victory. Fate, after all, was inexorable as well as random. Ron had volunteered for this mission, and she needed the help. Shrugging off an intuition of disaster, she decided she would let matters take their own course and not try to second-guess her destiny.
“Thanks a million, Ronnie.”
"Suddenly I feel like Dolly Levi."
The young doctor had put on his galoshes. Marlena assumed he was in a hurry to head for the hospital. In fact, his sense of urgency was directed at carrying out a mission for the woman he loved.
“Ron, come here for a second,” she commanded.
He walked over to her side and leaned his head down quizzically. A piece of auburn cowlick grazed her cheek, giving her a sensory thrill that tingled into her toes.
Marlena reached up her arms and grabbed him by the neck, kissing him full on the lips. The buzz between them surprised her. She drew back and murmured, “Thanks for being my knight in shining armor.”
“Any other tasks I could do around here? How about chopping wood? I can come back when I’m done with my rounds.”
She laughed.
“You’re doing quite enough already. Besides, we have Apollo here to cut wood, and I’m afraid he’d be quite put out by having any competition.”
“Yes, but I’d do anything you say for another of those kisses.” He beamed at her in such an eager way that her eyes dropped.
“Get along with you, Eagle Scout. Besides, I’m practically an old married woman twice over. You’re wasting your breath.”
“Is that a fact?”
Was he posing a serious question?
She thought a moment, then offered a gentle, but serious answer.
“Yes, it is. You see, I'm devoted to Harry Drake, until death do us part, and I’m expecting he’ll do the right thing by me.”
“You mean, stand by you while you have his baby? Divorce his wife and marry you?”
“I don't know what it means. Only one thing has become clear to me. I shouldn't have an abortion just to let Harry off the hook. There should be a better reason than that."
Ron was smiling approvingly at her. Seeing the look of admiration on his kind face, she blushed and changed the subject.
“Ron, will we see each other tomorrow night?”
“Jiminee. I almost plumb forgot. The main reason I came by was not to lecture you about the dangers of alcohol but for a purely selfish reason."
"And that is?" She flashed a smile. He felt it inside, as a heat that was threatening to melt him into a puddle before her eyes. He cleared his throat. Get on with it, cowboy.
"May I have permission to escort you and your mother to the big shindig? I'm a plain country doctor, but even clods have fantasies. Mine is making a grand entrance to the Christmas Fire Night Ball with the prettiest girl in town on my arm.”
Marlena pursed her rosy lips, considering.
It wouldn’t hurt for Harry to see her being escorted by the town’s most handsome, very eligible bachelor. It might just inspire Harry to do the right and loving thing by her (even if it was for the wrong reason).
“Why, that would be very nice, Ron,” she said, flashing her amazing eyes at him. “Mother will be thrilled.”
He felt crestfallen by the reply, but what he said was: “Fantastic. I’ll arrive a bit early, then.”
“I’ll look forward to it. Ciao.”
Close on the heels of Ron’s departure was the arrival of Apollo Nelson, dusting off snow as he came inside with Pierre.
He walked into the kitchen where Marlena was having a light breakfast and asked if there was anything he could do for her.
She smiled sweetly and said she’d be most obliged if he would get the tallest ladder from the barn and meet her at the mill wheel.
With Apollo up on the ladder and her supervising, the two spent the next hour affixing a long, fresh garland strung with lights to the mill wheel. It had been successfully repaired and was now fully operational.
When they finished decorating it, they turned it on with an electric switch. The giant wooden wheel began slowly to rotate, making a whirring noise that was very pleasing to her ear alongside the splash of falling water. What a soothing, natural effect.
Through the glass wall in the kitchen, Annie was watching Apollo and Marlena work. The rotation and the lights on the garland, flashing like twinkling stars, cast a resplendent vision of light and shadow across the room.
"Isn't that thing going too fast?" Annie muttered as Chloe was heading out the door. "Apollo should adjust the speed. Someone could get hurt."
To celebrate the mill wheel’s return to functionality, Marlena went back inside the house and made Bloody Marys for herself, Annie, and Apollo. This time, however, she made hers a virgin.
“What’s that on your sleeve?” she asked Apollo. “Looks like a goose feather.”
He swallowed a bite of egg salad sandwich, then said, “It is. I was at a feather-ticking yesterday. Jack, my oldest cousin, is getting married the day after Christmas in Bulette.”
"So I've heard," said Marlena demurely. "Jack was my horse-back riding teacher. I was his worst student ever."
“Do you mean to tell me they still do feather-tickings hereabouts for weddings?” asked Annie.
“In the Nelson family they do, leastways. If someone’s a-gettin’ hitched, the family's obliged to put together a goose-down quilt. Now there’s fewer ranches than there used to be, and sometimes it’s harder to find geese to get the feathe
rs. But me and pop went to see Mr. Scattergood last night, and he said we could pluck some of his.“
Marlena said: “So you know Mr. Scattergood, do you?”
“Everyone knows him.”
“What do you think of him? Is he trustworthy?”
“No man here is more so. Some say he’s the only man in town to go to, if you’re hard up and can’t make your mortgage. He’ll loan you the money at no interest and on a hand-shake, so you don’t lose your house or your ranch to the bank.”
“He could get burned doing that, not to mention pissing off the bank officers,” opined Annie.
“Yeah, but so far, he hasn’t lost a dime. And he don’t care that”—Apollo snapped his fingers—“for them guys at the bank."
"Do you know why he does it?" asked Marlena.
"I think he don’t like to see them old houses get bulldozed to make way for some new crap pushed through by Drake Enterprises.”
"I work for Mr. Drake." She arched her eyebrows at him.
"Didn't know. I apologize if I've offended you, ma'am. Wouldn't do that for the world."
She decided to play devil’s advocate. “People need affordable housing, don’t they, Apollo? How is the town to grow and thrive if there’s nowhere for newcomers to live?”
He scratched his chin. “Well, ma'am, what’s the matter with fixing up the older houses and keepin’ the trees? Why do they have to pull 'em all down, just to put up new, when the stuff they build is so cheap, with walls thin as paper and no space between houses? That’s what I don’t understand about this so-called development thing.”
She laughed.
“Bravo. I believe exactly the way you and Mr. Scattergood do about local development, and I'd hate to see any more shoddy housing going up in this wild territory. There might be a way I can save some of the old buildings in our home town. With the help, in fact, of your Mr. Bryce Scattergood.”
Apollo's face lit up, this time with more than ardent admiration of the lady’s beauty. He had the eager look of a knight errant on a mission. Where had she seen look before? Why, on Ron's face, just now.
What was up with that? Did Ron seriously have a thing for her?
“Ma’am, I’d love to work with Mr. Scattergood. You let him know that, will you? Now that we have only the one horse, and the high school kid comes in twice a week, Miss Chloe’s just keeping me on to be nice. I’d do anything in this world that you wanted me to. Say the word. I’m your man.”
She put her right hand on his wide shoulder, which quivered at her light touch, then laid her hand on the round oak table. “I dub you a knight of the round table, Apollo Nelson.”
After walking around aimlessly for awhile, Marlena went into Chloe's downstairs study. Chloe had told her she was welcome to anything in this room that wasn’t under lock and key. She picked up the manuscript from the Cleveland doctors that Chloe had been asked to review in her article, on maternal attachment disorders.
These were the materials she chose to take into her bedroom with her to read while awaiting Harry’s call at one o’clock. At noon, she picked up the phone in her room to make sure it was working. Chloe’s expected return wasn't until three o’clock.
Everything was in order for Harry’s call, provided Ron had succeeded in his mission.
Chapter Thirty Two
One by one, Ron was checking off completed missions for the love of his life.
First, he stopped at Bower of Bliss Flower Shoppe and ordered flowers for his hostess, an elegant basket of Birds of Paradise flown in from Florida. He also selected corsages for Marlena and Faith Bellum--white camellias from North Carolina--to be ready for pickup on the afternoon of Christmas Day.
Then he went into his office and sat at his desk. He was preparing himself mentally to place the call to Harry Drake, whom he’d never heard anyone say anything good about.
He now personally regarded the man in a most unfavorable light. Yet he must take the right tone with him, not judgmental but firm, a man-to-man approach.
Ron allowed himself a few moments of righteous indignation before placing the call. This powerful man was almost certainly unworthy of Marlena’s love. Drake enjoyed unparalleled prestige in the community and already had a beautiful wife of his own. Yet he’d stooped to making a mockery of the titles of boss and husband.
If Ron hadn't promised he would get Harry to call Marlena, he wouldn't have been able to restrain himself from calling the cad out. But a promise was a promise, even where his opinions were in the way, and so he placed the call, meanwhile loathing himself for carrying out this particular mission.
“Merry Chrithmath. May I know who ith calling, pleathe?”
He’d reached the butler first, which was a relief. Ron guessed he could easily get past such a personage.
“This is Dr. Ron Huddleston speaking. Is Mr. Drake at home? If so, I must speak to him personally, on a matter of some urgency.”
“Yeth, Dr. Huddlethon, he ith here, thomewhere.” The butler sounded bemused. “I’ll get him on the phone, if you don’t mind holding.”
“Thank you. I'll hold.”
In her study near the hall phone, Lila had heard Alexander say the doctor's name to Harry. She softly picked up the phone and heard the sound of a whistled Christmas carol, "Oh Come All Ye Faithful.”
Marlena would have recognized it as Typhoid Ronnie’s tried and true, Tom-Sawyer-like method of dealing with stress. Indeed, Ron had the endearing habit of whistling Christmas tunes year round.
“Harry Drake."
"Hi. Ron Huddleston."
"What’s this all about, Dr. Huddleston? Plague hit the town?”
“Mr. Drake, we aren’t acquainted, and I apologize for disturbing your holiday weekend. But it has fallen to me to transmit an urgent message from a lady we both know."
"Yes?"
"I have a message from Marlena Bellum that it’s urgent you reach her today at one o’clock by phone. She’s tried to contact you but has been unsuccessful. I'm directed to instruct you as to how to reach her. That way, you can be assured only Marlena will be at the other end of the line.”
And then Ron explained the signaling process.
Harry cleared his throat. “Is that all?"
“It is, but there’s one additional message from me. If you fail to call her, you’ll have me to answer to.”
Click.
Harry looked at the phone in his hand as though it were an adder poised to strike. The next moment, he was so hot under the collar, he could barely contain himself from calling that pipsqueak Huddleston back and giving him a piece of his mind. Outrageous! No one tells me what to do!
This added pressure only confirmed Harry in his resolution not to make a single move to contact Marlena. They were over and done with. This third party call was only another one of her tricks to railroad him into doing what she wanted.
Signal her. What a crock of donkey shit.
He'd be forced to see her tomorrow night, but it would be in a public setting where she wouldn't be able to bare her soul. She'd get one dance, and that would be it. He slammed down the phone, making his wife jump from her seat in the adjoining room.
With the open line buzzing in her ear, Lila quietly put the white phone into its cradle. After the scoop she'd obtained from her inside source at the doctor's office, Huddleston's call proved her original hunch was right: Marlena was pregnant with Harry's child.
Slumped in her chair, Lila held her stomach, grieving her barrenness. She’d gotten pregnant when she was only fifteen. She couldn’t recall the pimply boy who’d taken her to the cotillion and barely remembered losing her virginity. Then she had miscarried.
It was all hushed up, as was done in the best families. The doctors had told her parents it was unlikely she’d ever bear a child to term, as she had a heart-shaped uterus. But she hadn’t believed them then, and she still didn’t.
What was her next move? Perhaps she should get on the phone and line up a lawyer. She wouldn't put it past Harr
y to divorce her and marry Marlena so he could fulfill his destiny and leave his empire to his progeny, like Henry the Eighth.
Though she needed to protect her own interests, Lila found herself disinclined to do anything that would hurt the kid. She felt a keen sympathy for Marlena, who was more vulnerable than ever before, with the cat out of the bag and no commitment from Harry.
What must she be going through, in the situation that she was in? Yes, the truth was she liked the kid a lot, much more than she liked Harry. He was up to his old tricks again. This week, there’d been repeated calls from that new woman he'd taken up with--the dishwater-hair with acne and a boob job who worked in the sheriff's office.
Harry claimed the woman was calling him to get her brother a job. But she figured otherwise. Alexander said she was the town's pot connection. Just like Harry, to let the kid down just when she needed him the most.
Chapter Thirty Three
Marlena waited all afternoon for a call that never came.
By Christmas Eve, she felt depressed and restless. When Chloe and Faith retired to their rooms to wrap presents for the morning gift exchange, she pretended to go to bed, then sneaked out.
Zooming down the dark, clear road, with the snow-bank on each side up to ten feet at some points, she felt as though she were spinning through a tunnel. However, the great outdoors made her felt better--more clear-headed and focused. She took a deep breath, then another.
With an uplift of her customary optimism, she felt sure she would run into Harry at B.L. Zebub’s. He hated the holidays and would seek respite in his bar. This was a spite battle, and she had a hunch he was waiting and hoping for her to find him. She willed him to be there. He doesn't know how important it is we meet before Christmas. Why should I hold his little power play against him?
Half an hour later at the bar, with Sally and Coddie perched on either side, she realized her hunch couldn't have been more wrong. She felt bereft. What had happened to her special powers?
Sally couldn't seem to keep her hands to herself, and Coddie was stinking drunk. She needed desperately to get back to Mill's Creek and sleep, but Sally was pressing for a commitment to join her in Key West immediately after Christmas.
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