A Bride Idea

by Yvonne Lehman

  When the driver pulled up in front of the impressive palatial house, Neil got a strange feeling he should have worn a more formal suit. This didn’t fit the picture of a poor girl from a mining town. But it did fit the picture of a young woman whose uncle, or father, would pay her expenses to college. . .at least.

  A housekeeper opened the door and addressed Juliet as “Miss Easton.” Neil was welcomed warmly by Mr. Easton and met John and Sarah Easton, who were introduced as “Olivia’s” brother and his wife.

  When Mr. Easton said Mrs. Cooper would show them their room, Neil felt a moment of panic. How could he not have expected that? Now he supposed his bed that night would be a chair.

  Juliet spoke up, however. “Oh, I was wondering if Sarah and I might share a room tonight. We’ve never spent much time together.”

  “Well, I was an old married woman when you were still a schoolgirl. It’s about time we got together for some girl talk. And we have a lot to talk about.” Her rather plain face took on a glow. “I have to tell it.”

  Having seen women patients act like that before, Neil had a good idea what she had to tell.

  “I’m in the family way. We were beginning to think it would never happen.”

  Juliet reached out, and they hugged each other. “I’m going to be an aunt,” Juliet said. “Yes, we have a lot to talk about.”

  During dinner, where Juliet was being served rather than serving others, what Neil suspected was confirmed. Herman Easton owned several mines and lumber mills. He was not surprised to learn that John, in his pleasant but formal manner and wearing eyeglasses, was an accountant for his father’s businesses. Sarah taught piano lessons in her home.

  Neil felt they were interested in and appreciated his medical practice in Sunrise. He was impressed anew with how articulate Juliet was about her responsibilities at the inn. Her enthusiastic rendering of her activities—learning to cook, playing piano at church, having Bible studies—seemed to impress them. Her sincere love for Stella and his grandmother was evident.

  Mr. Easton seemed pleased. “I’m glad to hear that you and Stella have settled down and you got that foolishness out of your system.”

  Foolishness? Neil wondered what that foolishness was. Why had Juliet and Stella led him to believe they had been victims of abuse or poverty? He realized he had assumed many things that had not been explicitly stated. Just what was going on with this “wife” of his?

  Neil didn’t have an opportunity to question her about that, even if he had the right. After dinner they discussed the wedding, and Sarah played the music she would play the following day. John and Sarah had traveled a good portion of the day, so they wanted to retire early. They all decided to turn in early.

  Midmorning on Saturday, they all took their places in the parlor, not larger but more luxurious than the one at Sunrise Inn. Neil sat on a couch with the pastor’s wife, Evelyn James’s sister, and her brother-in-law. The pastor stood in front of the fireplace that was hidden by pots of white flowers and a mantel decorated with white flowers and lighted candles. John stood on one side of the pastor beside Mr. Easton.

  But Neil’s eyes were only on Juliet. She looked so lovely in a soft blue dress, with her hair hanging below her shoulders, quite different than on the day they were married. She looked like she belonged here, not in that small cabin wearing an unimpressive dress.

  Sarah began to play “The Wedding March,” and Neil stood with the others as Evelyn walked in, wearing an ivory-colored lace gown. She kept looking at Mr. Easton with love-filled eyes. Juliet hadn’t looked at him when they married.

  Juliet held the orchid bouquet while Herman Easton slipped a ring on Evelyn’s finger. In his wedding to Juliet, the bouquet had been smelly marigolds.

  Who was that stranger standing there? Was she really his wife? The family relationship and background didn’t match with what she and Stella had led him to believe.

  Were they married or did she lie?

  Why had she wanted the. . .job?

  Was it all some kind of foolishness?

  ❧

  A trip to the coast followed by their returning to West Virginia to see the sights of the state together is something Neil would liked to have done with Juliet. However, that was the trip planned by the newlyweds, Herman and Evelyn Easton.

  Since their annulment was to take place in September, Neil had thought the ideal time would be in August. He had imagined standing above Blackwater Falls as it fell over rocks as high as a five-story building. Then he and Juliet would go deep into the earth and explore the caverns. The best place he would take Juliet would be to see the spectacular shower of stars. He would tell her she lit up his life like that and ask if they could make the marriage permanent.

  Now, however, after the Eastons left on their honeymoon and John and Sarah left to return home, he and Juliet had nothing to say. Their train would leave in the afternoon. It seemed they had reverted, not as far back as to the day they first met, but to the second day, when each was so careful and uncertain about what to say or do.

  That was decided for them when the telephone rang. Juliet picked up the receiver immediately. “Yes, this is she. Stella, what’s wrong?”

  She went so pale, Neil thought she might faint. But if Stella was making the phone call and something was wrong, he knew what it had to be.

  Juliet didn’t seem able to speak. Her eyes turned to him, and he saw her fear.

  He took the phone from her. “Neil here. What is it, Stella?” He closed his eyes as he repeated what he thought she said. “Grandmother’s in the hospital?” He listened to the skimpy details. Stella was usually in control of every situation. Now she sounded panicked. He knew this had to be bad. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  I? Neil realized he didn’t say, “We.”

  Would this. . .Juliet Olivia Kevay Easton McCory. . . return with him?

  She was a city girl; he saw that now. She’d done something that had displeased her father, uncle, foster parent, whomever, but the man had forgiven her and they were on good terms again.

  He turned to her. “Grandmother’s in the hospital.”

  She was shaking all over. “What happened?”

  How many times had he asked that question of patients or someone who brought them into the clinic? There was always a story behind a fact. But he didn’t know this one. He could only say, “She fell.”

  Juliet turned away. “I’ll get my things.”

  Yes, she planned to return with him. After all, she was under contract—with the job—for another two months.

  They all had been quieter at home—going through the motions, ignoring the tension—over the past two weeks since Mr. Easton came and called “Olivia” his daughter. Looking back, he could see that might well be the beginning of his grandmother’s stroke, if that’s what caused her to fall. His grandmother was smart enough to know the implications of that day. If Juliet was Olivia Easton, what did that mean?

  After many miles of thinking and hearing the chug-chug of the train winding around the mountains, going higher, the forest becoming denser, he felt his mind became like the forest. The miles of thinking brought no answers.

  Juliet looked miserable. But why? Was she like Kathleen, deciding she preferred city life now that she and Mr. Easton were on good terms? He could ask something. Whether she answered would be her choice.

  “Juliet,” he said, “who are you?”

  “Olivia Easton.”

  “Not. . .Juliet Kevay?”

  She shook her head.

  Olivia Easton played on his mind with the sound and rhythm of the wheels on the track. . .going, going. If she’s not Juliet Kevay, then she’s not Mrs. Neil McCory.

  She didn’t move. He watched her profile as she stared out the window, seeing. . .what? “Were you mistreated at. . .” He didn’t even know what the relationship really was. Was Herman Easton her father? Uncle? Foster parent? What? He tried again. “At the Easton home?”

  He thought she would
n’t answer.

  Finally, her stark face turned toward him, but she didn’t raise her eyes to his. “I thought I was.”

  He strained to hear her words.

  “As far back as I can remember, I wanted to be an actress. Father refused to support me if I pursued that. I took this. . . job to save money so I could go to acting school in New York this fall.”

  He had told her at the beginning that he wanted her to pretend for his grandmother’s sake. Was their entire relation-ship a pretense on her part? He’d begun to believe she cared for him. Maybe because that’s what he wanted to believe. They seemed right for each other.

  Now he knew it was all an act. An act that he had begun to believe. Soon the curtain would close. Many times he’d thought of her name that represented one of the great love stories of all times. Now he realized just how fitting it was.

  Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy.

  twenty-two

  The prognosis was inconclusive. The only thing the specialists seemed to know for sure was that Mama McCory had ex-tensive bruising and a couple of cracked ribs from the fall.

  Neil could have told them that.

  What he did know was that she looked helpless and frail, her face and hair as white as the sheets on which she lay. He knew the doctors were keeping her heavily sedated. She would moan sometimes from the pain of even a shallow breath but never open her eyes. Neil feared she might never do that again. Pneumonia was also a concern, and she was allowed no visitors.

  After several days, the specialists were still trying to deter-mine if a heart attack or stroke caused the fall. They needed more tests. Neil felt they were not as open as they had been when she had her stroke and they discovered her weak heart. He feared the worst.

  When the doctors said they would be consulting with another specialist, Neil could only nod. Here he was a doctor but helpless to do anything for his own grandmother except pray and wonder what they were doing in her room so much of the time.

  Carter assured him he was taking care of the patients at the clinic. Neil visited his patients in the hospital and sat in the waiting room—not as a doctor but as a helpless person concerned about a loved one in the hospital. He wasn’t allowed to stay in her room at night, so he slept in an empty room with the promise he’d be called if any change took place.

  On one of the rare times when they weren’t poking, prodding, testing, or consulting, Neil sat by her bedside, held her cold, thin hand in his, and confessed that he had deceived her. His intentions were good and the results had been good, but he had not been completely honest with her. Although she couldn’t hear him, he asked her forgiveness.

  Finally, he was told she could have regular visitors. Her pain medication had been lessened and she was lucid at times, but most of the time she slept.

  “Her breathing is not as painful now that her ribs are heal-ing,” one specialist said with a reassuring smile.

  Neil wasn’t reassured. Why did they keep talking about ribs? They should be more concerned about the bigger issues of stroke and heart disease. He knew from experience, a doctor wouldn’t tell you any more than he wanted to.

  “Is she recovering?” Neil asked.

  “We can’t answer you yet, Neil.”

  That’s when he feared something even more threatening was taking place in his grandmother’s frail body, in addition to her weak heartbeat and aftermath of a stroke.

  Perhaps they were allowing visitors because she was failing fast.

  Stella and Olivia came right after he called home. He wouldn’t prevent this visit. His grandmother loved them, regardless of what deception had taken place. Hedda accompanied them. They came in quietly and stood near the door, staring at the quiet, still figure in the bed.

  “It’s my fault.”

  Neil could hardly believe who said that. “Hedda, how can you blame yourself for something like this?”

  “I knew things,” she said, “about Stella. We were arguing about it that day.”

  “No, it’s my fault if anybody’s,” Stella said.

  Olivia began to refute that, and so did Neil. They stopped suddenly when a moan sounded from the bed.

  Neil went over and spoke to his grandmother, but she didn’t respond. He looked at the women. “If we’ve hurt her, all we can do now is ask forgiveness. It’s too late for blame and explanations.”

  “No it’s not,” came a feeble sound. Grandmother struggled to open her eyes but couldn’t make it. “You just keep talking and talking, and I’m trying to get a good breath. That’s what’s killing me.” She struggled. Her words were slurred. “I want to hear it all. Let’s try again when I can sit up without my ribs hurting.”

  Neil had seen enough illness to know that sometimes a patient revived shortly before he or she died. He feared this was the case with his grandmother.

  ❧

  His grandmother seemed to feel better daily, but the doctors still claimed their tests and consultations were inconclusive. They wanted to keep her in the hospital until they were sure. Neil was a doctor—he knew that kind of talk was always bad news.

  Finally, Grandmother was ready to hear everything. Neil, Olivia, Stella, and Hedda gathered outside her room. Neil went in while the others remained at the door.

  His grandmother was propped up on pillows. “The doctors have their diagnosis,” she said.

  They hadn’t told him. What was this? Neil opened his mouth to speak.

  “No, Neil. I told them not to tell it until after I’ve talked to each of you.” She gave an audible breath. “This still hurts, so don’t make me talk too much. You’re to do the talking.”

  Neil couldn’t believe the doctors wouldn’t have talked with him. Last year, they’d said she was dying. Why this secrecy now? “But. . .Grandmother—”

  “Neil, I made them promise to not say anything yet. Before you hear it, I want the truth about what’s being going on.”

  She motioned for the three women, still standing at the door, to sit on her bed.

  Olivia and Hedda did. Stella held up a small bag. “I brought things to fix you up.”

  His grandmother nodded. Stella leaned over the bed and began to brush her hair. She held his grandmother’s head out a little to get the back, then brushed and fluffed the waves around her face. Stella looked around. “Any of you can start at any time.”

  His grandmother let out a sound like a laugh turned into a yelp. “Eew, that hurt.” She rolled her eyes up at Stella. “Don’t make me laugh.”

  Hedda began. “We were arguing. She didn’t want to hear it, but I kept on. To get away from me, she turned too quick and struck her hip on the corner of the kitchen table. Her cane slipped, and she fell across the table trying to catch herself. But she lost her balance and fell on the floor.”

  “Tell what we argued about, Hedda.”

  Hedda squeaked. “In front of them?”

  “We’re here to tell the truth, Hedda,” Neil said. At least he hoped so. But how would he know the truth? Nothing was like he thought for the past ten months. Olivia was an actress, and he had no idea who or what Stella might be.

  Hedda kept her head down. “It started the first day they came to the inn. I knew I’d seen Stella somewhere. Then I remembered. When me and Bart went down to Canaan Valley last year to visit our son and his wife, we went to the nickelodeon. Sure enough, there she was, playing the piano big as life.”

  That didn’t surprise Neil. It sort of put some things in perspective. His grandmother’s expression didn’t change, and her eyes were closed.

  “I felt it was my Christian duty to tell Mama McCory. The first time Stella played the piano at church, I told her I’d seen Stella play the piano in that nickelodeon. That it just wasn’t right to come and sit on that piano bench in church and play the piano. I said that was being a hypocrite.” She began to sob.

  “Tell what I said about that, Hedda. It hurts my ribs to say too much.”

  “Yes, I’ll tell it all.” She took a hand
kerchief from her skirt pocket and made use of it. “Mama McCory said, ‘Hedda sits in a nickelodeon while Stella plays the piano. Hedda sits in a church while Stella plays the piano. Now why is Stella a hypocrite and Hedda is not?’ That’s what she said.” Her sobs were louder and her handkerchief wetter.

  Stella turned and patted Hedda’s shoulder. “I am a hypocrite.”

  “We are,” Olivia said.

  Stella nodded. “We’re not good Christians. When we went to church, we pretended.”

  His grandmother held her ribs. “I told you not to do that.” She turned her face toward Neil and gestured.

  He would try. “I think what Grandmother means is that’s what we all do in church. That’s not bad, but it’s what you do at home, at work, and in private that shows who you really are.”

  His grandmother nodded, so he must be doing all right. “But you don’t do things to be a Christian. You do things because you are a Christian.”

  Stella’s eyes got big. “So we weren’t sinning?”

  “Well. . .I. . .no. . .but. . .far as I know.” He cleared his throat. “Basically, being a Christian is being a follower of Christ.”

  “Having Jesus in your heart?” Stella asked.

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “Then we were sinning. We didn’t get that done.”

  “Are you finished with me?” his grandmother asked.

  “Oh. No.” Stella finished her hair. “Now the truth about me. I’m a retired actress. And I’m not Olivia’s mother; I’m her aunt—the sister of her father, Herman Easton.”

  “Hmm, I didn’t know that part.”

  Neil wondered what “part” his grandmother did know.

  Olivia spoke up. “My mother died when I was very young. Stella has been like a mother to me.”

  “Yes,” his grandmother said, “I know the love you two have for each other. I saw it that first day, and it’s never wavered. That isn’t pretended.”

  “Now, I guess we get to the ad in the paper?” Stella asked.

  Neil exhaled heavily. “That’s where I come in.”

  His grandmother gave him a look. “I’ve known about that advertisement all along. Hedda showed it to me.”