Carolina Love Song

by Peggy Gaddis

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  Carolina Love Song

  Peggy Gaddis

  Avon, Massachusetts

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Judy Ramsey sat up suddenly at the sound of beating hooves on the old bridle path and saw the horse and rider coming hard. A young Negro bent low in the saddle, showing his expertise exercising fine horses, and the horse was galloping with all the enthusiasm of a workout after being shut up in the stable for the past two days.

  Judy ran to meet the boy, who leaned down from the saddle and said breathlessly, “Miss Judy, Mi’z Beth sent me to tell you to come home fast.”

  Judy’s heart stumbled in her breast, and she gasped, “Oh, Bandy, is the Old Gentleman—” She could not finish the words, and the Negro boy shook his head violently.

  “Oh, no, Miss Judy. Nurse-lady says the Old Gentleman’s doing fine. Well, she didn’t rightly say fine. She just say he’s doing as well as could be expected,” he assured her hastily. “No, Miss Judy, Miz’ Beth says she got some good news for you, and she’s anxious to give it to you.”

  “Thanks, Bandy.” Judy ran to Starlight, swung herself up in the saddle and, as Bandy drew his horse out of the way, gave the mare her head and went galloping off down the bridle path toward the Manor that had been home for her all her life.

  As she reached the stables, she slid out of the saddle, flung the reins toward a stable boy and went running up the back walk to the house. As she burst into the back entry, Mam’ Chloe, in the huge old-fashioned kitchen, looked at her in surprise. But Judy did not wait to be questioned. She hurried through the green baize doors that separated the kitchen quarters from the rest of the house and saw her mother coming toward her.

  “What’s wrong, Miz’ Beth?” she demanded anxiously.

  Elizabeth Ramsey smiled at her and asked, “Did Bandy-Legs scare you, honey? I’m sorry. I told him to tell you that I had some good news for you, so you wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that the Old Gentleman had taken a turn for the worse. He hasn’t, darling. All I wanted was for you to get here in time to make yourself all fresh and pretty in case you wanted to ride to the airport with Sam.”

  Puzzled, Judy asked, “What’s Sam going to the airport for?”

  Beth smiled tenderly. “To meet Bix, of course.”

  Judy caught her breath and flung out a hand to catch the balustrade to support herself.

  “Bix?” she repeated as though afraid to believe the news. “He’s coming home?”

  “Well, of course, darling, now that he knows how ill his grandfather is,” Beth answered. “Didn’t you know that he would be?”

  “I—well, I guess I just didn’t think,” Judy stammered, not quite meeting her mother’s eyes, her heart pounding so that she felt sure her mother must hear it, feeling as if her whole slender body were shaken by it “He’s been gone such a long time.”

  Beth was watching her, her eyes tender yet holding the faintest possible touch of anxiety.

  “It’s been eight years, darling,” she said quietly. “And that can be a very long time to a man of twenty-five—or to a girl who was only twelve eight years ago.”

  Judy drew a long, hard breath and lifted her pretty chin, her shoulders back, meeting her mother’s gaze.

  “What you’re trying to tell me is that Bix could very well have changed in eight years, aren’t you?” she said evenly.

  “And so could you!” Beth pointed out. “After all, a child of twelve—”

  Judy shook her head, silencing her mother.

  “I could never change,” she said softly, her voice so determined that Beth could not escape its complete conviction. “I think I fell in love with Bix when I was in my cradle and he used to baby-sit for me. And I guess I won’t ever change, because I don’t want to change.”

  Beth came close and put her arm about the girl.

  “But, darling, you have had very little chance to meet other young men living here at the Manor. Oh, you’ve gone to parties and all that, but you haven’t dated very much. You really haven’t given yourself a chance to change!” she pointed out.

  Judy shook off the arm and turned toward the stairs.

  “I haven’t wanted to change,” she said over her shoulder. “The boys I met around here are such dopes, all except Sam, of course. And Sam’s like my big brother. No, Miz’ Beth, I’m waiting for Bix. And now that he is coming home, you’ll see. He hasn’t forgotten, either! I’m sure of that.”

  She went lightly and swiftly up the stairs, and Beth sighed as she watched her. She had always felt that it was unfair to bring the girl up at the Manor House, where she had almost no chance to have young companions. Yet she had to admit that when there were chances, when her friends of school days brought young men to call, Judy was so plainly uninterested that she would not date them. Always, from the time they were children, it had been Bix and Judy, to the vast delight of Jason Bullard, whose ancestors had literally carved the beautiful plantation, Oakhill, out of the Carolina wilderness in Cavalier days and who now lay helpless after a stroke. The small world of people who lived at Oakhill and ran the place for him all called him affectionately the Old Gentleman.

  In her own room, Judy leaned her slim back for a moment against the panels of the closed door, waiting for her heart to cease its mad racing. All these years she had waited for Bix to return, holding her cherished dreams close; refusing to consider that she had been only twelve the last time she had seen him, when he was leaving for college.

  Down near the lake, its fringe of willows touched by the first hint of autumn, they had said goodbye. And he, a lordly young adult, barely seventeen, had told her gravely, “You wait for me, Judy honey. I’ll be back, and we’ll do all the things we’ve planned. Don’t you go forgetting me, you hear?”

  And she had lifted tear-wet eyes, yearning to be folded in his arms, to know the magic of his kiss. Yet both of them had been too shy, too awkward, to make that possible.

  “I’ll wait, Bix dear,” she told him huskily. “I’ll keep a candle lit in the window for you.”

  Bix had grinned at her and said, “Just keep it burning in your heart, honey-chile. Let’s not run the risk of burning down the old Manor House. The Old Gentleman wouldn’t be pleased at all!”

  She had managed a laugh at that, and they had gone back up to the drive, where Sam Gillespie, who had been the manager of the estate since the death of his father, was waiting to drive Bix to the station in the town eighteen miles away down the river.

  Judy had stood in the drive watching until the car had vanished from sight. Then she had turned, feeling a vast black cloud of desolation descend upon her; a desolation she told herself firmly would never be lifted until Bix came home.

  But he hadn’t come home. After college he had gone abroad for a couple of years to study architecture at the Sorbonne; then he had wandered around E
ngland and Italy, and on his return to New York had accepted a job with a famous firm of architects. Meanwhile, Judy had assured and reassured herself until she was tired of trying to make herself believe it, he hadn’t been able to take time to get home for a visit.

  She and the Old Gentleman had talked about him a lot. They had shared his infrequent letters. After the first spurt of writing to Judy, Bix had dropped that and wrote only once a month, duty letters to his grandfather. But through the letters to his grandfather, Judy had managed to keep up to date on some of Bix’s activities, and to hold long, worried thoughts about the ones she couldn’t imagine!

  Deciding that she had chosen her prettiest dress and that, since it was warm, she didn’t need a coat, she ran down the wide corridor to the Old Gentleman’s room and tapped lightly. The door swung open to reveal a middle-aged, very competent-looking nurse in a crisp white uniform.

  “May I speak to him for a minute, Miss Blanding?” Judy asked.

  The nurse opened the door wide and glanced toward the bed where the Old Gentleman lay, breathing stertorously, looking like nothing so much as a figure carved from gray granite.

  Judy’s heart contracted as though an iron fist had closed over it, as it always did when she saw him like this and remembered him strong, alert, very much the master of Oakhill! But she set her teeth, and went to the bedside and stood looking down at him.

  “I don’t think he will hear you, Judy!” said Miss Blanding gently.

  Judy bent and put her lips against the Old Gentleman’s ear and said very softly, “He’s coming home, darling. Isn’t that wonderful? Bix will be here in just a little while.”

  She watched the gray, expressionless face and saw no faint flicker that would indicate that he had heard her. After a moment she turned away, tears smarting her eyelids as she all but ran out of the room, leaving the nurse to look after her pityingly.

  Downstairs, Sam was waiting for Judy. As she came out of the house, he walked beside her to the waiting car and swung open the door for her. But he did not speak until the car was rolling down the drive, with its double border of rosy azaleas in full and triumphant bloom.

  “Look, Judy, there’s something I think you should face up to,” he began.

  Judy said instantly, “You mean that Bix may have forgotten me. But he hasn’t, any more than I could forget him! I’ve been waiting for him, Sam. He won’t have forgotten. He asked me to wait!”

  “A long time ago, and a lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then, Judy.”

  “Not enough to wash me out of Bix’s mind or his heart!” Judy insisted stubbornly.

  Sam looked down at her, his lean, rugged, sun-bronzed and weatherbeaten face touched with a sadness that she could neither see nor understand. For, of course, she had never guessed that Sam Gillespie, direct descendant of one of the early adventurers who had accompanied the Bullard family when they first came to this new country, had been in love with her for years. But, since he was ten years older than she, he had not dared to make his love known. He told himself now and then that he was waiting for her to grow up. He’d never taken her interest in Bix seriously, especially during the years when Bix had stayed away, not even returning for vacations! But now that Bix was coming home, not because he wanted to but because he was called home by his grandfather’s illness, he could plainly see that Judy was still enveloped in her old dreams of Bix.

  She had accepted Sam as a big brother, which was the last thing in the world that Sam wanted. But since they were both living at Oakhill, seeing each other daily, going to parties together, going to town for the movies, he had accepted the half-loaf of her liking and had not dared aspire to the full loaf of her love. He had kidded himself that some day she would discover he was there and waiting. And being the fool he was, he had kept hoping. But now that Bix was coming home, the hope had faded into nothingness. Not, he told himself, that there was any hope that Bix would stay on after the Old Gentleman died. For of course that was the only end to the illness that had striken him down as lightning strikes down a sturdy, stalwart oak. Bix would go back to New York, to London, Paris, and he would sell Oakhill. Which was a prospect so ugly to Sam that he pushed it out of his mind as he had done any time it thrust itself up from his subconsciousness.

  The plane was already in when they reached the airport, and the passengers were alighting. Judy stood close against the wire-screen, her eyes eagerly searching, until at last she cried out eagerly, “There he is! There’s Bix!”

  He came striding toward them, tall, young, very good-looking, well-tailored, debonair—all the words that Judy liked to apply to him, and that she had never felt fitted any of the young men she had known since Bix had gone away.

  Sam watched him as he came striding along and murmured to himself, “The conquering hero to the life. And who in blazes is he planning to conquer? Not Judy, I’d bet a pretty penny on that!”

  As he came through the gate, his eyes searching the crowd, Bix saw Sam and came swiftly forward, his handsome face beaming as he thrust out a hand.

  “Sam, you old son of a gun!” he laughed. “It’s good to see you. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  His eyes swung to Judy even as Sam managed an answer, and there was admiration in them but no hint of recognition.

  “Hey, Sam, aren’t you going to introduce me?” Bix demanded, and smiled warmly at Judy.

  Judy’s eyes widened, and she stammered, “Why, Bix, I’m Judy!”

  Bix caught her hand and squeezed it and said gaily, “Well, hello, Judy,” He added, “Judy who?”

  Sam watched their faces and saw humiliation dawn in Judy’s eyes at the shame of seeing that Bix not only did not recognize her but had obviously forgotten her.

  “I’m Judy Ramsey, Bix,” she managed huskily. “You and I have known each other since we were infants. You used to baby-sit for me.”

  “Did I, now? I was lucky even then, wasn’t I?” Bix laughed, and there was still not the faintest hint of recognition in his eyes.

  Still holding her hand he turned to Sam and asked with a hint of anxiety, “How is my grandfather?”

  “About the same. No change,” Sam said briefly as he supervised the porter stowing Bix’s not inconsiderable luggage in the car trunk.

  “Does he know that I’m coming home?” asked Bix as the three of them walked toward the car.

  “I told him before I left,” Judy said evenly. “But I’m not sure he realized what I was saying.”

  Bix looked down at her. “You live at Oakhill?” he asked.

  “Of course. My mother is the housekeeper, and I’m one of the stable boys that exercises the six thoroughbreds,” she mocked him, her eyes bitter.

  “Hey! This isn’t going to be a dull visit at all, not with you around,” Bix assured her as he helped her into the car and slid into the seat beside her, with Sam behind the wheel.

  And as though he suddenly realized what he had said, he added hastily, “Of course I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m very glad to be here when the Old Gentleman needs me. That is, if he does. I know he must have wanted me to come or you wouldn’t have sent for me.”

  “Oh, we felt you would want to be here. When he had the stroke Dr. Dellinger said that he might linger for months, yet he might go out like a light at any moment,” Sam told him brusquely.

  Bix looked startled, his brows coming together in a faint scowl.

  “Oh, is his illness that serious?” he asked.

  “A stroke, when you’re eighty, is never something to be taken lightly,” Sam drawled. Judy glanced at him swiftly, completely aware of the faint touch of contempt in Sam’s voice.

  “I’m sorry,” Bix mumbled, abashed. “I didn’t realize it was that serious.”

  The rest of the drive was made in silence, save for Bix making a polite remark now and then about the countryside through which they were driving and Sam’s equally polite answers.

  When they came up the wide, circular drive and the house stood befor
e them, stately pillars shining in the midday sunshine, the barns and stables well behind it, the sloping garden ablaze with spring bulbs and new grass, the trees shaking out their new green leaves, Bix said, “I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.”

  Beth stood on the steps, greeting him pleasantly, her eyes going anxiously beyond him to Sam and Judy, while one of the house servants removed Bix’s luggage and carried it in the house.

  Beth and the servant turned toward the house, and Bix paused to say to Judy, “I do hope I’ll see something of you while I’m here.”

  Judy eyed him, her chin tilted, her eyes bleak.

  “You could hardly avoid it, I’m afraid,” she told him evenly. “I live here.”

  “Hi, that’s wonderful! I’ll be looking forward to getting much better acquainted with you,” he told her happily, and followed Beth and the servant into the house.

  Judy sat very still for a long moment, and Sam waited, his eyes yearning to offer her comfort and yet not quite daring to do so.

  Judy spoke at last, her voice low and husky, thick with the tears she was fighting so hard.

  “He didn’t even remember me!” she whispered shakily.

  “It’s been a long time, honey.”

  “But I remembered him!”

  “Yes, but you have been right here at Oakhill where everywhere you turned you were reminded of him,” Sam pointed out. “He’s been here, there and just about everywhere and has met a vast number of women and girls in all the places he’s been.”

  Judy nodded forlornly. Two tears slid from beneath her lids and down her cheeks, but she was completely unaware of them, though Sam was not.

  “And of course he’s met a lot of beautiful, sophisticated girls and couldn’t be expected to remember a long-legged girl in pigtails with braces on her teeth, could he?” she managed at last.

  “Well, even then you were cute as a button and a girl who was sure to grow into what you have become, a lovely and devastating creature, whether he remembers you or not,” Sam told her with a sort of restrained violence.