Blue Ruin

by Grace Livingston Hill

  The birthday cake stood on the sideboard ready, its pink candles all set for lighting. It looked like a fairy cake in its glistening white frosting, four layers thick, and every layer lying deep in creamy custard, the kind of cake that Lynette best loved. Nobody could quite make cream custard cake like Lynette’s mother, delicate as a feather, luscious with the cream filling so that it would melt in your mouth, crisply sheathed in the perfect frosting that never got too stiff, nor refused to set. It was a perfect birthday cake, a reminder of others of the years that had preceded it. There was nothing lacking to make that birthday table the most beautiful birthday table that any beloved daughter ever had.

  Moreover, there was roasted chicken in the oven, just turning the right shade of brown and sending forth savory odors from its stuffing every time the oven was opened. There were potatoes almost ready and crisp spinach and new peas as green as if they were still on the vines, hoping themselves done in the bright aluminum kettle, and little new beets in another kettle, ripe for the slicing into butter and pepper and salt. Oh, it was a good dinner, and it was almost ready to be eaten.

  Lynette went to the telephone. It was good to be home and answer the phone again. It might be almost anything. She had been away from a home telephone long enough to get the thrill of answering one again.

  Lynette’s mother arose from the front porch with a sudden premonition. Elim had not come home yet and he had promised to be back in time to get cleaned up.

  Lynette’s grandmother, catching the excitement of the hour, unlatched her door and listened, feeling there might be something new and pleasant; mainly perhaps just to hear Lynette’s voice again with its dear lilt, answering.

  The two listeners paused in their two doorways, trying to seem not to listen, yet holding their breath to catch the words. Dana’s voice. Ah! Lynette’s mother relaxed. It was not Elim then. But why should Dana telephone when he was coming right over? It must be the train was late and he was going to have to wait for it. He was probably down at the station now. That meant that the dinner would not be so good as if it were served on the minute. She must go and turn down the gas of the oven. The chicken would get too brown.

  But Dana’s voice was clear and penetrating. He could be heard across the dining room distinctly.

  “I’m in a jam, Lynn; I can’t come to supper tonight. I find they expect me to stay at home. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there’s lots of days ahead of us.”

  Then Lynette’s voice in dismay, “Oh, Dana! But didn’t you explain to them? Didn’t you tell your mother beforehand that you were invited here?” There were almost tears in the sound of Lynette’s voice, the lilt all gone.

  “Why, I don’t know that I did, Lynn. It never occurred to me. I never tell her where I’m going. I just go. I had no idea they had counted on me here, but they do, so that’s that.”

  “But Dana, couldn’t you explain to them now? Surely your mother would understand and excuse you!”

  “Understand?” rumbled Dana sharply. “What is there to understand? What is there to explain? Mother knows I’m over at your house for meals more than half of the time anyway. She certainly wouldn’t understand why this occasion was any different from any other. Why, Lynn, have you got anything special for supper? Won’t it keep till tomorrow?”

  Lynette was struggling with her voice. It wanted to flicker and wobble like a disappointed child’s.

  “Ice cream won’t keep,” she managed to say with a little hysterical giggle.

  “Ice cream? Oh, well, eat it up. There’s plenty more to be had at the drugstore, or I might manage to run away and eat my share later in the evening, but no, I forgot. I’ve promised to do something else. Miss Smith wants to go and see a picture tonight. I told her we’d take her. We’ll be up for you early, so there’ll be plenty of time to get good seats. They say the new theater is crowded always for the first showing.”

  But Lynette’s voice faltered into this explanation.

  “Miss Smith?” she asked in a puzzled tone, “Why who—?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Smith’s daughter,” explained Dana with a sound of impatience in his voice. “You know I told you I was going to the station to meet them.”

  “But I don’t understand, Dana. You said she was a little girl.”

  “Oh, no I didn’t. I said it was a child, but it seems I didn’t understand. She is a young girl, about your own age. We must help her to have a good time, Lynn. She is deadly homesick. We must show her some good times. You’ll like her, Lynn.”

  Somehow there was something in Dana’s voice that gave the impression of Miss Smith standing near the telephone. The listening grandmother and mother sensed it too, perhaps more in the stiffening of Lynette’s voice than in actually hearing anything.

  “You’ll be ready by seven, won’t you, Lynn?” came Dana’s voice hurriedly as if he wished to forestall anything Lynette might be going to say.

  There was a distinct silence at Lynette’s end of the wire.

  “Lynn! Where are you? Hello! Hello! Didn’t you hear me, Lynn? You’ll be ready at seven, won’t you?”

  Lynette’s voice was cool, deliberate, kindly, but aloof.

  “Why, no, Dana, I scarcely think I can,” she answered.

  “Why … Why not, Lynn? You sure have plenty of time to eat your supper, ice cream and all. If it isn’t ready, come on down here and eat. We can’t afford to hang around, Lynn. I just telephoned up and they won’t reserve seats. You have to get there early for any chance at all. And Miss Smith is very anxious to see this special picture. She says it’s all the rage in New York and she hasn’t seen it yet.”

  “Well, don’t wait for me,” said Lynette still coolly. “I don’t think I’ll go tonight.”

  “Not go! Why Lynn, that’s absurd. Of course you’ll go! It isn’t like you to act pettish just because I can’t come to supper. Tomorrow night will be just as good as tonight, won’t it?”

  “Why, yes, of course, if you feel that way,” answered Lynette with a forced gaiety, “but Dana, I think I’ll be excused. I believe I’m tired. I don’t think I’d care to go. And besides, I couldn’t think of going away again tonight when I’ve been away all day. Mother and Grandmother and Elim—”

  “Nonsense!” broke in Dana. “You’ll go of course.”

  “No,” said Lynette decidedly. “I’m not going, Dana. Don’t waste time coming after me. I really don’t care to go.”

  “Is that some of the nonsense they taught you at that fool college?” asked Dana roughly.

  There was another distinct silence during which Mother Brooke’s heart beat hard with indignation. She had often regretted Dana’s quick temper, but she had never heard him speak so rudely to Lynette before.

  “I—beg your pardon?” said Lynette at last, as if she had not quite understood. There was a gentle rebuke in her tone.

  Dana laughed.

  “Well, you’ve got so many antiquated notions out there that I didn’t know but you had cut movies as an act of grace.”

  Lynette did not answer. It did not seem to her that she could answer.

  “Lynn!” shouted Dana impatiently, while Aunt Justine at his elbow told him that everything was on the table and he really must come at once. Lynette could hear her distinctly.

  Dana joggled the instrument angrily.

  “Lynn! Lynn! Where are you? You certainly haven’t hung up, have you?”

  “No,” said Lynette gravely.

  “Well, then, why don’t you answer me?”

  “I thought I had, Dana.”

  “Well you didn’t. I want your word that you’ll hurry and be ready by seven.”

  “I told you no, Dana. Please don’t come after me. I’m not going tonight.”

  “Well, that’s foolishness. I suppose you want to be coaxed. It isn’t like you to act this way about something I can’t help, Lynn. But I haven’t time to talk about it now. I’ll be there in a few minutes, and I want you to be ready to go with us.” There was command in his voice
, and the assurance that he would be obeyed.

  Lynette opened her firm little mouth to reply, but this time Dana hung up.

  Lynette lingered for a moment with the receiver in her hand, a look of bewildered pain on her face. Her mother, glancing in from the kitchen door, was reminded with a pang of the same look on her little girl’s face years ago when a little playmate had slapped her in the face. The mother’s heart was filled with fury at the beau who could speak so to her daughter, yet there leaped behind it an exultant thrill. Could it be that she was glad to have Dana show up unpleasantly? What was the matter with her today anyway? Ugly, fierce impulses seemed striving within her soul, primitive emotions that would not be downed. But to have Dana speak in that tone to her pearl of a girl! To have him lightly put aside the invitation to her birthday dinner and say it was not different from any other day! Oh, she would like a chance to tell Dana just what she thought of him!

  Lynette hung up the receiver and came slowly back to the dining room, a blank look upon her face.

  Mrs. Brooke began to cut bread furiously, forgetting entirely about the biscuits. She cut enough for twice her family. Her lips were set in a thin, hard line.

  “Mother, has Elim come yet?” Lynette’s voice rang out in a sharp gaiety that her mother fancied hid a sob.

  “He’s just coming in the back door!” called back the mother with a false cheeriness in her own voice.

  “Well, then we can have dinner right away,” said Lynette. “Dana can’t come. They’ve pre-empted him at home. He says he can’t get away tonight on account of the company.”

  “Dana can’t come?” said Mrs. Brooke apparently as much astonished as if she had not heard the whole dialogue. “Why, Lynette?”

  “It’s all right!” said Lynette bravely. “I’ll just run up and change my dress, and I’ll be right down. Elim’ll be hungry. We needn’t wait!” Lynette vanished up the back stairs, and Grandma Rutherford’s door closed softly with an indignant click.

  Mrs. Brooke stood with the bread knife poised and thought unutterable things. She turned around, the bread knife still in her hand, and looked out of the pantry window down toward the Whipple house.

  Over across the dining room, in Grandmother Rutherford’s room, Grandmother Rutherford stood softly at her own window and looked with aristocratic indignation off down over the Whipple house and toward the eternal hills.

  Up in her own room, Lynette Brooke stood at her window flooded with the sunset glow and looked through blinding tears with unseeing eyes at the Whipple house down the road.

  Just at that moment Elim entered the kitchen door and crossed to the pantry.

  “What’s the matter, Muth? You look as mad as a hatter!”

  “I’m just—” Mrs. Brooke paused for an adequate word. “I’m just being a little indignant.”

  “S’th’matter, Muth, did that poor fish stand Lynn up?”

  “Why, Elim, how did you know?” asked his mother surprised out of the feeble rebuke she had started to administer.

  “Gosh!” said Elim hotly, “I saw him down at the station just now letting a regular baby doll put it all over on him. He was bringing her up in his car and he came mighty near smashing into Jabe Winslow’s truck, looking at her. If Jabe hadn’t nearly climbed a telegraph pole just in the nick of time there wouldn’t have been any baby doll, nor any Dana either. Call that driving? Gosh he makes me sick. He oughtn’t to be allowed on the road. I’d like to take him down by the creek and wallop him till he couldn’t swing those graceful Whipple arms above his shoulder, nor lope along the highway with that look-at-me smirk. I’d like to give one of his lovely eyes a good black-and-blue swelling. I could do it, too. He’s as soft as putty. Always thought himself too good to keep in training. He makes me tired. He’s a pain in the neck. I don’t see what my sister ever saw in him anyway. Why, he can’t even pitch a ball straight. He pitches exactly like a girl. Gosh!”

  “Hush, Elim! Lynnie’ll hear you! Don’t make her feel bad. I guess she feels pretty bad now. She had everything fixed so prettily on the table, and she’s been counting on his coming. Don’t let her see you know it.”

  “Well, why’n’t she get a real man then? Why’d she take up with that poor fish? Say, is she going to stand for him standing her up like that? Staying home just ‘cause another girl has come, when it’s her birthday and all?”

  “Hush, Elim! You mustn’t let her hear you! I don’t believe Dana knew it was her birthday. He’s probably forgotten—”

  “Aw! Now you try to take up for him, Muth. Whaddaya wantta do that for? Know? He knows all right. Hasn’t he been keeping her birthday parties for years, ever since I was a little kid? Keen on ‘em, too, coming here and eating up half her birthday cake, and bringing her some good-for-nothing present that didn’t cost more’n fifty cents or so and flowers he picked in the woods!—aw, bah! He’s a pain! He may have forgotten, but don’t tell me he didn’t know. I’m too wise for that. That baby had something else he wanted to do, Muth, and don’t you forget it, or he’d a come. He’s too fond of your cooking.”

  “Elim, you must hush. Lynnie will—”

  And just then from the dining room came Lynette’s voice, cheerful, brave, and almost natural.

  “Where are you all? Why don’t we have dinner at once, Mother? I’m starved and of course Elim is. Come buddy, get your hands washed and help dish up. Isn’t it going to be great having a real birthday together again, just ourselves?”

  Elim looked at his sister with a relieved sigh and stamped off to wash his hands.

  “Isn’t she the little old sport, though,” he said softly to himself while he combed his rough curls and smudged off his face and hands. “I’ll bet on my sister every time. She shan’t marry that poor stiff if I have to wallop him within an inch of his life to keep her from it. She’s too good.”

  Mother Brooke looked at her child and marveled.

  There were marks of tears on Lynette’s face, sudden, fierce, hot tears, the kind little Lynnie used to shed when all her child world went utterly wrong and she couldn’t set it right, but there was a firm little set to her lips that gave a white radiance about them, and a patrician tilt to her chin that reminded one of her Grandmother Rutherford. Lynette was not going to be utterly crushed by Dana’s defection. She was going to carry the evening through with smiles. There might be storms and tears and anger afterward in the seclusion of her dark room, but she was not going to spoil the celebration for the family. Dear Lynette! She was wearing a little turquoise-blue crepe frock, and she looked heavenly to her mother, with the touch of sunset glow on her golden hair. The precious child! Her pearl of a girl! She had worn her grand new dress for them!

  Grandmother Rutherford came out of her room bravely garbed in soft gray silk with foamy white ruffles at throat and wrists, and the old cameo pin at her neck that looked for all the world like a cutting in precious stone of her own exquisite face.

  “It’s so nice to have just us here, Lynnie,” she said as she settled into her high-backed chair with Elim pushing her up to the table. “I’ve sort of wanted to have us all together without anybody else, just for once. It’s so nice and cozy, like old times, Lynnie. Not even Dana to feel like company. Now he’s a minister it somehow seems as if he was a stranger. I’m glad he isn’t here just for tonight.”

  “Well, then I’m glad, too, Grandmother,” said Lynette playing up to the occasion courageously. “Let’s have a real time this evening. Just us!”

  A light of admiration sprang into Elim’s eyes, and Mother Brooke smiled tenderly, though in her heart she knew what pain these smiles were costing her beloved girl. She would see a little white rim of suffering around her Lynnie’s delicate lips and a shadow in the dear blue eyes. He wasn’t worth it! Oh, he wasn’t worth a shadow in such eyes, she thought, mother-like.

  Elim carved the chicken without a murmur, and Lynette served potatoes and spinach and peas, and passed biscuits and jelly and preserves, and glowed over the roses and the tis
sue-paper packages she found beside her plate, and was duly surprised by the ice cream in molds—ate two of them, in fact, a rose and a lamb—and joked with Elim merrily, until the spirit of depression was removed and it seemed almost as happy as in the dear old carefree days.

  “Gee!” said Elim. “Isn’t this great? I wish we were always just us. Say, Lynn, don’t forget we’re going fishing together tomorrow all day. Nobody else along. Get me? I got lots of new places to show you, and there’s a thrush’s nest right where you can look into it from a big rock and watch—”

  It was just then that the telephone rang, and Lynette went white and severe around her lips and started to her feet.

  “Let me go dear,” said her mother suddenly rising to her feet. “I think that is for me. I’ll answer it,” and Lynette sank limply back into her chair, a sudden pained hush upon her.

  Chapter 7

  They were sitting down to supper at the Whipple house.

  Amelia Whipple, with a smudge of powder still adhering to one side of her nose and the rest of her face hot and steamy from the kitchen, was at the last minute dishing up. A long, grizzled lock of hair that had escaped from its pinning waved over one eye in spite of her efforts to push it back with her tired, moist hands. She did not present the impressive appearance which she had hoped to show to the guests from New York. Moreover she was disturbed by the snatches of telephone conversation which she had overheard as she went back and forth through the pantry swing door to the dining room. The telephone was located in a little back hall that opened off the pantry and constituted a sort of semi-privacy. But Amelia was keen enough to sense what was going on. She knew that Dana had been invited to take dinner with Lynette. She did not like it that this other girl had kept him at home. Little as she really desired Lynette for a daughter-in-law she liked this other girl less, just on general principles. Was she not a girl of Justine Whipple’s selection? That was enough for Amelia. She hated her even before she saw her.

  “Dinnah is sehved!” announced Justine at the top of the front stairs, tapping lightly on the guest room door. Her voice floated jubilantly down the stairs and made the old lady cackle with dry laughter.