A Novel Idea

by Melissa Bowersock

  Chapter I

  LEIGH waited in bed, the silken sheets pulled just above her breasts. It was her wedding day, April 6, 1868. She was terrified, but didn’t want Will to know. She had dimmed the lantern until the room had only a smoky glow, and all its rich trappings took on a dreamlike quality. The brocaded wallpaper, the huge posts of the heavy canopy bed, the silken luster of the coverlet―it was all theirs now. She finally had a place of her own, her own home and bed and husband. Dear Will―it would all be nothing without him.

  It seemed so odd to be married, even though she was already twenty. With the wedding only hours gone, it was already misty in her mind. The garden of Will’s family home had been so perfect in the April sunlight. At first glance it looked as if half of New Orleans was there, but she of course knew that was ridiculous. Still, there were a lot of people―maybe three hundred guests. Will’s family was old and respected in New Orleans, a native-son shipping family, and her own father, a judge, claimed some importance. Hadn’t her parents left just after the wedding for Washington? Her father had national aspirations, and they had only delayed the big move until they had seen Leigh happily married. Now her mother was free to encourage her father’s career instead of fretting over an only child. It was all for the best.

  Leigh pushed her dark hair off her forehead. She wondered how long Will would be. She was eager, yet frightened. Just wedding night jitters. It would be all right. He was so patient with her. They’d known each other for over ten years, played together as children, and he’d always treated her like fine china. Tonight would be the same, only better. She knew it.

  She started when she heard the doorknob turn. Calm down, she told herself. Her heart thumped in her chest like a blacksmith’s hammer. Through the dimness she could see the door swing open, see Will’s smiling face, his carefully pressed dressing gown.

  “Hello, Mrs. Banning,” he said softly, closing the door behind him.

  Leigh smiled. “Hello, Mr. Banning.” He came and sat on the edge of the bed, bending to kiss her. His blond hair shimmered in the lamplight.

  “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “Thank you.” She blushed, aware of Will’s eyes on her face and bosom. She’d waited so long for this―why was she so afraid?

  “How do you feel?” Will asked tentatively. It was so like him to give her an out, an excuse, if she needed it.

  “Fine,” she said. “Different, but fine.”

  “Good.” He stood up and took off his robe, laying it carefully across the foot of the bed. Standing in the knee-length bed gown, he turned the lamp down, down, until the room was filled with darkness. Leigh felt him get into bed and slide over next to her. He held an arm up and she moved into the curve of his body. He cupped his hand around her shoulder tenderly, like a child with a new puppy. She allowed herself to breathe easily.

  “I think I’m the happiest man in the world today,” Will said, his voice smiling in the dark. His warm breath tickled her cheek. She felt his head move, and his lips brushed the tip of her nose. “You were so beautiful, with your dark hair and your white gown. I’m sure I was the envy of every man there.”

  “The same for me, with the women. You looked marvelous in the gray tuxedo.” She smiled. “We looked just like the couple on top of the cake.”

  Will turned his body to face hers. “And now you’re really mine, after all these years. I can hardly believe it’s true.” He kissed her cheek, her temple, nuzzled her ear. “But it is true, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

  Will cupped Leigh’s face in his hand, turning her head so he could cover her mouth with his. Her lips were soft and yielding, even promising, and his tongue explored further. She lay still, letting her mouth accept and express for her, unsure of what she should do with her body. When she felt Will’s hand slide down the column of her throat to cover her breast in its silken chemise, she tensed, but then forced herself to relax. His hand felt good, sending tiny sparks throughout her body. Her nipple came alive under Will’s caressing fingers and seemed to reach for more attention. His caress became more forceful.

  “Oh, God, Leigh!” he groaned into her ear. Kissing her again, he unbuttoned the tiny silk-covered buttons down the front of her negligee and bared her flesh to his full attention. His hands and mouth did marvelous things to her breasts, kneading and sucking and tantalizing, spreading the sparks from her nipples down into her belly and lower. She found herself arching her body toward his and burying her hands in the thickness of his hair. She felt far too good to be afraid.

  Then Will’s hand began to slide downward, and she tensed again.

  “I love you, Leigh,” he said reassuringly. “You’re so beautiful. I love you.”

  His hand strayed sideways around the triangle of darkness and played gently over her thighs and legs. Shock waves spread through her, and she felt her body jolt when his fingers drew too near. She was alarmed and ashamed of the tingling sensations she felt at the center of her womanhood, but they were much too compelling to stop.

  Suddenly Will seemed to fasten his mouth on her breast, demanding a response from her. Just as suddenly, his hand penetrated the final limit of propriety, and his fingers began to feel and explore her. Shaken by the double assault, Leigh lay trembling and apprehensive, her mind caught in half a prayer.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God ...

  She felt her sex opening up to him, allowing―no inviting―him to probe inside. Everywhere he touched was like a bare nerve, a nerve of pleasure, and her body jolted and shook in response. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. It was as if her body acted entirely on its own.

  “God, Leigh, I can’t wait!” Will cried. His breathing was like a bellows in her ear, blowing hot and fast, and he fumbled against her stomach, pulling his own gown up and out of the way. Suddenly she felt him, long and velvety and so big―could it be possible? Oh God, oh God, oh God ...

  He raised himself over her, and the tip of his organ touched her, jumped, touched her again. She parted her legs under him almost mindlessly, and he slid into the hollow. It felt good, strange, wonderful―

  “Oh!” she cried, then bit her lip. Had she felt something tear? The pain was sharp and stinging.

  “Are you all right?” Will gasped. “Leigh?”

  “Yes,’’ she lied, “I’m fine.”

  “You feel so good,” he puffed in her ear. “You feel so good.”

  He moved inside her, rocking back and forth, in and out. The pain seemed to permeate her body, but she could still feel the touches of pleasure behind it. If only she could get past the pain.

  She tightened her grip on Will’s shoulders and he increased his tempo. Soon, he was moving frantically, his breathing panicked gasps in her ear, his hands hot and damp on her shoulders. He thrust into her, pounding against the already sore spot, paining her with each forward movement. When it seemed she could not take any more he suddenly hesitated, seemed to shudder and shake, and dropped down on top of her.

  “Oh, Leigh.” He groaned. “Leigh, I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Will,” she said, lying dry-eyed beneath him. The entire lower half of her body seemed to pulse and her head was pounding. His weight was suffocating, but she did not know how to tell him. She felt out of sorts and uncomfortable.

  Finally he rolled off. She ignored the way he readjusted his gown and waited patiently for him to pull her to his side. With one arm around her, he kissed her temple endearingly.

  “I heard the first time was usually not very good,” he said happily, “but I guess that doesn’t apply to everyone. Or else it just gets better from here.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Good night, Mrs. Banning.”

  “Good night, Will.” It was some time after his breathing deepened until she was able to sleep.

  The pillow was so soft and comfortable under her head, she did not want to move at all. Sunlight slanted through the window sheers and warmed her closed eyelids. She snuggled down deeper into th
e covers and let her foggy brain sink back to sleep.

  Fingers began to play on her bare shoulder. They lighted tentatively, slid over a short bit of silky flesh, lifted and started again. Leigh rolled over.

  Will’s face was surprisingly close; their noses almost touched. He smiled happily at his bride, his light blue eyes sparkling.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Banning,” he greeted her.

  She had to smile. “Good morning, Mr. Banning.”

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Perfectly,” she lied. “This bed is so comfortable.” That at least was true.

  He lay his hand alongside her face, his fingers playing in the dark, disarrayed curls. “We won’t be sleeping here for another two weeks.”

  “I know. But it’ll be here when we get back from our honeymoon.”

  “You don’t mind the delay? I know we discussed it before, but I hope you don’t feel differently now.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Leigh said seriously, “I do feel differently now. We’ve been married almost twenty-four hours and we still have our honeymoon to look forward to. It’s much more exciting to have something to look forward to.” She covered his hand with her own.

  “I’m glad,” Will said. “I just wish it wasn’t business that kept me. I don’t want to leave you.”

  “It’s only for a few hours,” Leigh affirmed. “You said yourself it wouldn’t take long.”

  “It won’t. But I don’t even want to leave you for a minute. I’m afraid if I look away, you’ll disappear like a dream.”

  “Silly,” she said, “I’m no dream.”

  “No,” he whispered huskily. “You’re not a dream.” He stared deeply into her eyes, seeming to drink from them. Leigh could feel the love emanating from him, enveloping her.

  Dear God, she thought, let me be worthy of his love. Let me love him and enjoy him the way he does me. Let it be true that it gets better every night.

  “What are you thinking?” Will asked suddenly.

  “Just that I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too.” He kissed her. “But if I don’t get up that new steamboat is never going to launch today.” He rolled out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown from the foot. “Will you be all right here by yourself?”

  “Of course,” she said, luxuriating in the big bed. “I have plenty to do, what with packing and all, and anyway, I’m not alone. Your mother and three sisters are here too.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind living here?” he asked as he shrugged into the jacket.

  “Oh, Will, we already decided we’d stay here for the first year or so. It’s all right. I’d just like my own home when I―when we have children.”

  “I promise you that,” he said forcefully. He sat on the bed and kissed her again. “By then, Mother will be too busy marrying off my sisters to care where we live. But if you need anything while I’m gone, don’t be afraid to ask. Mother’s really very pleased. I can tell.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she insisted.

  “All right. I’ll go. But I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”

  That was the last time she saw him alive.

  Thelma Banning had always presented a controlled if aloof face to her future daughter-in-law. Representing the enterprising spirit of the Banning family, she was very like a queen, nodding regally to her subjects and passing out judgments that were veritable edicts. And although she’d always spoken civilly to Leigh, it was clear to the younger woman that “Mother” Banning did not like her.

  As Leigh dreamily folded her clothes into traveling bags, a despairing wail cut into her musings, and the voice did not sound like the carefully paced tones of her mother-in-law. Her first thought was of a wounded animal shrieking in pain, but as Leigh opened the door and stood hesitantly at the top of the stairs, the sound became a terrible, sorrowful keening. Gathering her skirts, Leigh stepped quickly down the stairs.

  The sound came from the sitting room, a small, quiet room off the front entrance. Done in soft velvets and earthy browns, the room was one of Leigh’s favorites. It was there that Will had proposed.

  Now she flew through the doorway and stopped short at the sight before her. The elder Mrs. Banning sat crumpled in a ball on the velvet couch, her face cradled in her hands, blindly emitting the awful, painful moans. Her eldest daughter, Theresa, two years Leigh’s senior, had wrapped herself consolingly around her mother and cooed softly to her. She glanced up at Leigh, the look on her face fairly challenging her sister-in-law to intrude. Theresa had modeled herself after her mother and had become almost a second self to the older woman.

  Beth, the youngest at sixteen, stood in the window overlooking the gardens and sobbed noisily. She barely noticed Leigh, her reddened eyes focused on some small object outside as she cried. The middle girl, Marion, had been sitting quietly in a chair when Leigh came down, but she quickly got up and went to her sister-in-law. She was Leigh’s own age and the only one of the four women who seemed to have totally accepted her into the family.

  “What is it?” Leigh asked hesitantly when Marion came close. “Is there anything I can do?” Suddenly, over Marion’s head Leigh saw a uniformed man step into view. He apparently had been behind the door at the fireplace. Leigh didn’t remember ever seeing him before, but the white ship’s uniform was familiar.

  “You’d better come in,” Marion said. She put an arm comfortingly around Leigh’s waist and led her to a chair. “This affects you, too, although I wish to God it didn’t.”

  “What is it?” Leigh asked more forcefully this time. “What’s happened? Something’s happened; tell me.”

  Marion pressed her down into the chair. “Yes, something’s happened,” she agreed solemnly. “To Will.”

  “Will?” Leigh repeated. Her voice had crept to a higher note and suddenly her hands were trembling. “What is it? Is he hurt? Is he all right?”

  “He’s dead,” the man said sadly. The words, though softly spoken, struck Leigh like iron fists. She reeled back from them, pushing them away with her hands.

  “No!” she said fiercely. “He can’t be! I was with him not two hours ago.”

  The man nodded. “I know. He was in a hurry to get back. But the engines weren’t acting right on the Mary Elizabeth and she was supposed to launch today.” The man half turned toward the windows, his eyes unfocused as he slipped into his story. “He insisted on seeing to them himself. A lot of times he could figure things out better than the men in the engine room. I had just left him down there and gone ashore to see to the last-minute launch procedures when―when it just exploded. The whole ship just blew into a ball of fire, flaming pieces falling like rain all over the water and the dock. It burned on top of the water like a pyre for a few minutes, then sank. It was awful. The water bubbled, and I kept seeing burned things floating up. I couldn’t tell if they were parts of people or wood or...”

  “Thank you, Mr. Leacock,” Marion said abruptly, but not unkindly. She went to his side. “I think we all probably need a bit of solitude.”

  “Of course,” the man agreed quickly. The look of awe retreated from his face as he saw again the grieving women around him. He stepped toward the door. “I can see myself out. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all ...”

  “Thank you,” Marion said again. “It was very kind of you to think of us.”

  She sat on the padded arm of Leigh’s chair and put her arm around her sister-in-law. They both sat very still for a while, only the slow rise and fall of their chests showing that they were alive. The only sound was the muted sobbing of Beth and the congested breathing of Mrs. Banning.

  Her room―their room―looked unreal now. The bed, still unmade, showed plainly where they had lain so close. It was more like one indentation than two. On either side the covers were folded back, showing how first Will had gotten up, then Leigh on her side. One closed suitcase stood waiting on the floor; another one, half packed and open, lay like an unanswered question on the bed.


  Moving trancelike past the bed, she went to the small secretary and found paper and pen. She had to write to Mother.

  The letter would be waiting for them in Washington―an awful welcome to their new life. They would be upset, of course. They thought they had left their capable daughter in a predictably stable life, and in less than a day it had fallen into rubble. She dipped the pen into the ink and began to write.

  Dear Mother, I don’t know how to say this. Will is dead. He died today in an explosion on a new steamboat. He ...

  Tears spotted the paper like raindrops and puddled and smeared the ink. The flat, meaningless words melted together into a blob of charred black flesh. Leigh threw the pen down and crawled into the bed, burrowing her head into the pillow. In seconds it was soaked.

  The funeral was not as bad as Leigh was afraid it would be. A light, spring rain drizzled over the burial ground and dappled the shoulders of the mourners. No one minded; it seemed more fitting to bury in the rain than in bright sunlight. Leigh saw Thelma Banning for the first time since the day Will died. She’d kept to her own suite and had been seen to by Theresa, Leigh supposed. The two of them leaned together at the gravesite, buttressing each other like twin black pillars. They both looked drawn and pale.

  When the ebony and silver casket was lowered into the ground Leigh found herself strangely dry-eyed. That’s not Will, she said to herself. That’s only what they could find of him, and even then the parts were impossible to identify for certain. And even if they’d found his whole body, it still wouldn’t be Will. His essence was gone. The bright smile, the cheerful blue eyes, the quick squeeze of his hand―they could not bury that. That was for Leigh to keep locked in a chamber of her heart. They were simply burying the flesh.

  Mrs. Banning threw the first flower on the coffin. Leigh waited for Theresa’s and Beth’s. Surprisingly, there was a pause. She looked up at Marion, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Leigh tossed her flower, a startling white carnation, onto the shadowed blackness of the coffin. Marion’s followed. The first handful of dirt fell, showering the flowers. Leigh turned away.

  At the Banning house, black-draped carriages lined the drive. With every newcomer mouth-watering aromas drifted out the door―sweet hams, fried chicken, young buttered peas, all sorts of pies and cakes. At the very least there were as many people as at the wedding five days earlier. How different the feeling was now.

  Leigh moved hesitantly through the people. She dreaded each new face, the same words of sympathy spoken over and over, her same reply of thanks. Less than a week ago these same people had wished her well, she dressed in her dazzling white gown; today their eyes held nothing but pity for her in her black widow’s dress. She appreciated their pity but did not want it.

  Suddenly, out of the sea of faces, Leigh recognized two she was genuinely happy to see. Looking out of place and uncomfortable, they were like family to Leigh. She made her way determinedly toward them.

  “Louis! Maria!” she said happily. The looks of discomfort turned to smiles and the friends hugged each other. The two dark faces instantly relaxed with Leigh at their side.

  “Miss Leigh,” Maria said, her words tumbling out, “we heard and we just couldn’t believe our ears! It was so awful. We tried to see you the next day but that Banning maid wouldn’t even let us into the house!”

  “Oh, no!” Leigh said, squeezing Maria’s hand. “I had no idea you came. No one told me. But everyone’s so upset here at the house. Still I’m awfully sorry.”

  “That’s all right, Miss Leigh,” Louis said. “Even though the war’s over, a lot of folks still don’t hanker to us black folks, and white servants always seem to be the worst for it.”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” Leigh snorted. “You’re servants, but you’re not slaves. And you know if I could have, I would have brought you here to the Banning house with me. It was just that the Bannings already had a full complement of servants.”

  “We know, Miss Leigh,” Louis agreed.

  “We’re doing okay with the Hersch people,” Maria said. “It’s not like home, but it’s a good house.”

  Leigh could have cried. It was odd that two servants could hold such a place in her heart, but these two did. Just slightly older than she, the couple had been her closest confidants for years. It was a sad day when her mother explained their services were no longer required, but Leigh was glad they’d had no trouble getting new positions. Now they were like cool mirages to her tired eyes.

  “Come in and have something to eat,” she said, starting toward the laden buffet.

  “Oh, no, we can’t stay,” Maria said. “We promised we’d only be a minute. Mrs. Hersch had pork smoking and I’ve got laundry to see to. We just wanted to see you and tell you―how sorry we are.”

  Leigh smiled tearfully. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

  “Are you … doing all right?” Louis asked delicately.

  “Well, I’m not quite ready to face the world on my own, but I’m all right. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’m looking ahead.”

  “Good,” Maria pronounced. She shook her head sadly. “The Lord does strange things, but who knows why?”

  “Yes,” Leigh agreed. “I’m … accepting things. I have to. There’s no other way.”

  “That’s good. Well, we’d best be on our way. If you need anything, Miss Leigh, if there’s anything we can do for you, you just let us know.” Maria squeezed Leigh’s hand even while edging toward the door. All the fancy white folks were making her nervous.

  “Thank you,” Leigh said. “I won’t forget.”

  The next few days were strange, transitional ones. Leigh spent a lot of time alone in her room or walking the lovely gardens behind the Banning house. At first it was hard for her to face the scene of her marriage, but gradually she learned to see each flower individually, each separate rose and mum, each daisy and daffodil. Each was a celebration of life in its own right, a small, colorful piece of the natural cycle. Leigh roamed aimlessly amid the bright spots of color and began to feel her emotions knitting together, healing.

  The hardest times were the nights. Lying in the big velvet-covered bed, Leigh felt the loneliness closing in on her like folds of a gray blanket. The dim, shadowed shapes in the room pressed close. All Will’s things, asking for him. If she shut her eyes against the room, the loneliness welled up from inside. Then her skin prickled, alert for his touch, and she became warm. Would she ever feel a man’s caressing fingers again? She squelched the selfish thought as soon as it flashed across her mind. That was her nightly battle: the eerie aloneness, and the guilty hunger. She began to dread the nights.

  Marion was a strength she could lean on. She would join Leigh in the garden, the two dark-haired, darkly dressed young women walking close and talking quietly. It was a balm to Leigh, especially when the rest of the family seemed to snub her. Thelma and the other two girls spoke civilly to her, but seemed always to have something pressing and no time to talk. Leigh felt the avoidance, but attributed it to their anguish. They were all in need of time for healing.

  Meanwhile Leigh waited to hear from her mother. Pretty, blond, smiling Monica Harband always seemed to make things brighter. Although she and Leigh had never had a close, affectionate mother-daughter relationship, they were friends, and Leigh depended on Monica’s knowledge. Their striking dissimilarity―Monica’s light coloring and Leigh’s black hair and dark eyes―puzzled Leigh. It made her feel different somehow. And her father, Douglas Harband, was not a typical Southern father―he had no use for pampered, spoiled debutantes, and his daughter would not be so treated. He’d kept his attention to her limited, putting his law practice and political ambitions first, as if for her own good. In the last five years their contact had been minimal, and although Leigh felt no animosity, she neither felt any great affection. She waited for her mother’s reply, mostly because Monica was so practical and unemotional; she would know the best course for Leigh to take now.

 
; A week after the funeral, Leigh noticed Mrs. Banning leaving the house for the first time since Will was buried. From her second-floor window Leigh watched the thin, black-shrouded woman settle heavily into her carriage. The tall willows that lined the Banning drive swayed slightly in the April breeze, as if to lay sympathetic hands on the small carriage as it drove past, headed toward town.

  The next day Leigh was surprised to have a sealed note delivered to her. Sitting in her room, trying to concentrate on some needlework, she expected her visitor to be Marion, and called easily to her to come in. Instead the housekeeper pushed open the door, holding the envelope as if it were a disagreeable object. Leigh quickly relieved her of it and walked slowly back to her window seat, waiting to hear the door click shut before tearing open the envelope.

  Leigh―I hate to disturb you, but can you come to my office this afternoon? I have some legal matters to discuss with you that shouldn’t wait. You have my deepest sympathy.

  Davis Maynard

  Leigh was puzzled. Davis was an old family friend, an adopted uncle of sorts. He was a lawyer, and until her father began to act on his ambitions, shared an office with him. Leigh had seen him and his wife briefly at the funeral and wake, and he had made no mention of any legal matters. There was Will’s inheritance, of course, but she hadn’t thought much of that. There was no amount of money that could replace him.

  She went downtown quietly, telling no one at the house. She still felt odd in the Banning home; not a guest, yet not quite a family member. They wouldn’t miss her anyway.

  Davis Maynard was in his fifties, a rather stout, salt-and-pepper-haired man with a winning smile. He was sober now, though.

  “You have no idea how sorry I am, Leigh,” he began. “This whole business has been a shock, and I think you’ve stood up to it admirably. I just wish I could have done something about this unpleasant development, but I’m afraid it’s all in black and white. Personally, I think it’s deplorable for the Bannings to behave this way, but ...”

  “Davis, there’s no need for you to apologize. No one could have foreseen, and about the Bannings, well they’re just a very close family, I think. They’re hurt right now.”

  Davis looked keenly at her, his tired blue eyes taking in every pore of her face. If possible, he became even more grave.

  “Leigh, I don’t think you know why I’m apologizing. It’s not just for you, for Will―although it is that, of course. Leigh―look at me.”

  Feeling a vague resentment at being treated like a child, Leigh raised her chin and met Davis’s eyes. For the first time she saw the depth of his concern, and an alarm rang somewhere in the back of her mind.

  “You will receive nothing from Will’s estate. You weren’t even mentioned by him at all, of course, because who could have known? But the Bannings have very clever lawyers back east, and they’ve succeeded in denying any inheritance to you. All properties and assets revert back to Mrs. Banning and her daughters. It’s all tied up in the shipping business, some sort of enterprising protection. But you have nothing more than you had the morning of your wedding day.”

  The last sentence dropped from his lips like a bomb, and his eyes took on a pained, wondering look as he waited for Leigh’s reaction.

  At first there was none. She sat stony-faced, her dark eyes blank and her face pale. Then she seemed to fall in on herself, like a broken doll with the stuffing pouring out, and she folded into a small, retreating child, alone and vulnerable.

  Davis was on his feet as soon as the first tear fell, and he put comforting arms around Leigh as she poured out her sorrow. The eyes that she had thought were permanently dry seemed to flood, and the tears coursed unchecked through her fingers. Desolate sobs shook her.

  “I’m so sorry, Leigh,” Davis said softly, his voice cracking. “I know it’s not much, but if there’s anything I can do ...”

  “How can she do that?” Leigh cried. “I knew she didn’t care for me, didn’t want Will to marry me, but he wouldn’t be swayed, and it all seemed to fade away in the end. How can she hate me because her son loved me?”

  Davis flexed his heavy fingers on her shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not the money,” Leigh said, trying to hold back the tears. “It’s not anything like that. He was my husband and I loved him. We were part of each other, even if it was only for one day....”

  “I know; I know,” Davis said soothingly. “I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you. I―well, what will you do? Join your mother in Washington?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t even thought about it.” She wiped her eyes with a sopping handkerchief. “I’ve got to get out of that house right away―today. I can’t bear to see her, talk to her. I won’t be able to look her in the face, knowing how she must be gloating.”

  “I hardly think Mrs. Banning will be gloating. After all, she has lost her only son. Still―I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you move in with me and Helene just as long as you need to get going? We’d love to have you. Then you could wait until you’ve got all things considered before you set out in another direction.”

  “Oh, Davis, thank you, but I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve just got to get out of that house.”

  “I know, dear, I know,” Davis said, patting her back lightly. He suddenly crossed to his desk. “But you can’t leave with nowhere to go, and you’re practically like a daughter to me. I’m going to get a message off to my wife to prepare a room for you, and I’ll have a driver come to the Banning place to pick you up. Let’s see, it’s one-thirty now. How long will it take you to pack?”

  ###

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  Romance - Contemporary

  Lightning Strikes