by Linda Hughes
“Of course I came. I keep my word,” she said.
“Oh, I’m not implying you wouldn’t. It’s just that my pursuing you must have come out of left field, so I was afraid you might feel like you don’t know me well enough for us to ride out here alone. I realized I never even told you my last name.”
They’d led their horses to the shoreline where the beasts walked into the fresh, cool water, lowered their heads, and lapped up their fill. Meg and Jed stood side-by-side, just outside the reach of the benign waves. The sky above reigned blue with sunshine peeking through scattered, puffy, white clouds. A slight breeze made the warm spring air comfortable. It couldn’t be a more perfect day, Meg thought. Yet Jed had been right; she’d considered not coming. Not because he didn’t seem trustworthy but because meeting him would break her promise to herself to stay away from men for at least the next few months, seeing that they were all bozos.
Bozo this man was not, even though she’d thought so for a while. At least, right now it didn’t seem as if he was an idiot like so many men.
She said, “You are Jed O’Neill, nephew of Judge Daniel O’Neill. Originally from Detroit, you and your sister used to come here every summer to stay with your uncle. Your sister fell in love with a young lawyer here and stayed. Now you’ve come to join your brother-in-law in keeping up the judge’s old law practice, which he can’t do anymore, being an officer of the court and all. You plan to stay, too.”
He let out a low whistle. “You must have been talking to your father. He and my uncle are good friends, from what I understand, and are even euchre partners on occasion.”
“Oh, no, not my father. That all came from my maid Peggy. That girl is a wealth of information. But when I told my father I was going riding on the beach with Jed O’Neill he knew exactly who I was talking about. He seemed pleased.”
He threw that dazzling smile of his at her again. It became harder and harder for her to keep her “avoid all bozos” vow to herself.
The horses backed away from the water, looking at each other. His horse huffed. Millie turned away from him, no longer having any patience for young male displays of superiority.
“You rode a long way,” Meg said to Jed. “I only had to come from the house.” She pointed up the hilly dune, where spires from the big house were visible. “Do you feel like riding some more?”
“I’d love to,” he said. Thrusting his foot into the stirrup of his saddle, he mounted. Meg did the same and they were off, trotting north up the beach.
They rode beside each other for another mile, not pressing the horses into a gallop. It went without saying that Millie wasn’t into running full steam anymore but they had a pleasant ride anyway. The exercise warmed Meg; she opened a couple more buttons of her blouse and rolled up her sleeves. She looked at Jed to see that he’d undone another button and rolled up his sleeves, too. It seemed they felt comfortable with each other, any sign of formality already having fallen away.
When they reached a dune that stretched into the water, eating up the flat beach and making anymore riding that way impossible, they stopped and got down. While the horses drank, they each splashed water onto their faces.
“That feels good!” Jed offered.
“Let’s sit over here for a while.” Meg pointed toward the rising side of the dune. “We can tie the horses here.” They tethered their horses to a large bush and walked a few yards away to plop down in the cushy seat of sand, looking out over the west arm of Grand Traverse Bay. On the other side of the water sat the long peninsula that jutted into the bay across from them, Old Mission Peninsula. From this side of the bay they could see tiny images that told them that peninsula was dotted with small farms, a large cherry tree orchard, and a cow pasture. It presented a pleasing, restful scene. They couldn’t see it but knew the east arm of Grand Traverse Bay stretched out on the other side of that narrow landmass and beyond that arm of water the western shore of Michigan headed north to the tip of this part of the state.
Long ago, somebody had nicknamed the lower peninsula of Michigan the Mitten State because on a map it looked like a hand held up with the thumb on the right. This bay lay between the ring and pinky finger.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Jed said. “When I was a kid, my uncle and sister and I used to ride our horses up there.” He pointed straight across the water at Old Mission Peninsula. “I love it out there at the old mission church and lighthouse.”
“Yes,” Meg agreed. “It is beautiful here. I thought I’d miss Chicago more than I do. I’d almost forgotten how pretty it is here. That is, until the snow hits in December.”
They both laughed. “Even that is pretty, so crystal clean and sparkling white. For about a month. Then I’m always ready for it to go away.”
“Yeah, but you have at least two more months to wait. But when it breaks and spring comes, there’s nothing better.”
He nodded his concurrence, looking out at the water. When he turned his head and his blue eyes rested on her face, Meg fairly melted. They sat so close to each other their shoulders touched, giving her an urge to grab him and ravish him with kisses, her whole body tingling at the very thought. Inching her shoulder away from him and looking at the bay, she said, “Jed, before we get to know each other any better, I want to talk to you about something.”
“Okay,” he said.
“It’s about my mother.” She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, finally looking at him again.
“Yes. She’s in the asylum,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“You know about that?”
“Sure. I remember my uncle talking about it a long time ago, and when I told him I’d met you he told me all about it. It’s a sad situation, Meg. I’m sorry.”
“You understand that most people think she’s quite mad?”
“Yes. That’s what Uncle Sean said, anyway.”
“And you still want to be my friend?”
His face softened and he put a hand on the back of hers, stroking her smooth skin. “Yes, I want to be your friend. I don’t care if your mother is in an asylum or in Timbuktu or in prison. You aren’t her. It’s you I’m interested in, not your mother.”
Meg turned her hand over and let their palms meet. “It’s just that, well, my fiancé…” she faltered, unable to finish the sentence.
“He left you because of your mother. Hasn’t anyone told you he’s an absolute ass?”
That broke the morbid spell that had started to consume her and Meg broke into a smile. “No, no one has put it quite that way. Although father said he’s a moronic idiot.”
“That, too. I don’t know the bore and hope I never do, but anybody who would do that isn’t worth a plug nickel. Are you still pining for him, Meg?”
“Strangely, no. You’d think I’d miss a man I intended to marry. But now, here, it seems like that was all a childish game. I think… It’s hard to admit, but I think I let myself get engaged to him because I just didn’t know what else to do with my life. That’s not a good reason to marry someone. I’m glad it didn’t work out.”
Jed let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulders, slowly pulling her to him as they looked at each other. She didn’t resist. With the gentle caress of a Valentino, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and kissed her lips in a long melding of desire.
Holy moly, it was never anything like this with Robert! Meg thought. This was an entirely new terrain of emotion for her, so desirable it was frightening. When their lips parted, she drew back and looked away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Too much, too soon. I just couldn’t resist.”
Looking at him again, she said, “It’s okay. It’s just, well, it is a bit soon after promising myself that men are trouble and I wouldn’t have anything to do with one.”
Jed removed his arms from around her and laughed heartily. “I’ll have to work to prove to you that’s not me.”
“You are making me consider changing my mind. That’s
a big step.”
“Thank the stars for that.
“But, listen, Meg, there’s something I need to tell you now.”
“Oh, oh. Is your mother in an asylum, too?” She lifted her eyebrows and tottled her head.
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “But I did meet your mother, just the other day, next door to her rooms. I’ve been hired by a woman in Grand Rapids to try to get her sister a divorce so she can get out of the asylum and go back to her children. The woman I’m representing, her name is Jenny, asked your mother to join us for our first meeting. I hadn’t expected to meet Elizabeth Sullivan and was surprised. I know you haven’t seen her in a long time, so I wanted you to know.”
Meg’s eyes flared in disbelief. Here she’d conjured up a secret, complicated plot to sneak in to see her mother in the middle of the night and this man had walked right in during the middle of the day and talked to her!
“What’s she like?” she asked, almost breathless.
“Well first of all, there’s no doubt you’re her daughter. You two look just alike, except you’re the younger version. Both astoundingly beautiful. Oh, you’re blushing. Somehow, I can’t picture her blushing, even though she didn’t say much, seeing that we only talked about Jenny’s situation. Jenny’s husband basically had her committed to get her out of the way so he could do whatever he wants, including drinking and holing up with other women.”
“What did my mother wear?” Such a girl question, she realized after asking it.
“I didn’t pay much attention to that — some kind of long, flowy thing. Pretty colors, I do remember that. I wasn’t there very long. I did see a couple of pretty pictures she painted, one she gave to Jenny. Apparently she’s quite generous in giving them away. I’ll be going back next week. My uncle says he doesn’t have a problem granting the divorce, so we’ll be able to get this done.”
This was it. Meg knew that if she was going to tell Jed about her plan to see her mother it had to be now. Wild thoughts skittered through her brain. Maybe she didn’t need to sneak into the asylum; maybe he would take her when he went. No, he was probably too ethical for that. His law practice was too new; he couldn’t chance it. She didn’t really know him yet, luscious kissing aside, and he might report her plan to his uncle who would tell her father who would be mightily dismayed with her. Jed might see her plot as unscrupulous behavior and would never want to see her again. He might never kiss her again!
She said, “I hope things work out for Jenny. I know there are other women there in the same situation. It’s an awful thing. It’s good Jenny has a sister who cares about her enough to find you to help her.
“But, Jed, you know all about my family. You’ve even met my mother. Tell me a little about your family. I know you’re from Detroit and you have an uncle, a sister, brother-in-law, and two nephews here. What about your parents?”
“Oh, my parents are great. My grandparents, on both sides, came over from Ireland when they were young and first married. Things were bad in Ireland and they were destitute, with barely enough money for passage but big dreams for a better life. My mom’s parents eked out a living farming outside of Detroit. I loved going to the farm and helping them out when I was a kid. They were happy here. They’ve both passed on. My dad’s parents worked right in the city and finally got a haberdashery shop there. They both still work in the shop, although they’ve passed it on to my parents. Everybody works there every day, although gram and gramps mostly just visit with people now. They’re a lot of fun, still talk with thick Irish brogues. I loved growing up with them; we had apartments next door to each other. I worked in the shop up until college, and at first I think they all were disappointed that I don’t want to take over the shop one day. But I was always fascinated with Uncle Sean’s talk about the law. I think I knew by age twelve that would be for me. Now I they all say they’re proud of my choice.
“But, as you can see, hats are still a big deal to me.” He pointed to the fedora he wore. “This, in fact, is my lucky hat. They make sure I have others, but this is the one I trust to make things go well for me.”
Meg realized she got lost in his eyes as he talked, drawn to him in ways no young woman should be drawn to a man she hardly knew. “Your family sounds wonderful. And I like your lucky hat,” she said, wrestling with herself to take her mind off of Jed’s eyes, Jed’s lips…
Pushing her way out of the side of the dune, she stood up, swiped sand off her behind, wiped her hands together to get any tiny grains off her palms, and said, “Well, we’d better head back.”
Jed didn’t get up for a moment, the pause obvious. “Sure,” he said, pushing up and matching her stride as they went to the bush and untied their horses. Hopping on, they rode back the way they’d come.
Once they reached the spot where they’d met, they pulled up and stopped.
“My father asked that I invite you in for refreshments. Would you like lemonade, or perhaps something a little stronger? Father doesn’t mind and imbibes himself. Brandy is his favorite.”
“Would you like me to come in?”
“Oh, yes,” she said honestly, her conflicted emotions at least allowing her that. “Come on, there’s a good path that leads to the gazebo, then up to the house.”
Halfway up the hill, Jed hollered over at her. “What’s that? It’s such an intriguing place.” He pointed to her mother’s cottage.
“It’s where my mother used to go to paint. No one’s been in there in years. I’ve been thinking of breaking in to look it over.”
“Really?” Jed craned his neck to look back as they rode by. “If you want help, I’ll be glad to do it.”
“You’re on!”
The house was all activity when they arrived, with field workers scurrying up to take the horses. When they went inside, her father took long strides out of his study to meet them in the vestibule and shake Jed’s hand. The servants scampered about busily fluffing parlor room cushions and bringing lemonade, and then the illegal whiskey. Cook came in herself with a plate of freshly baked sugar cookies. Peggy, although being the upstairs maid, appeared to ask if they needed anything else. Meg wasn’t fooled; they all wanted to see the man she’d brought home.
After an hour of congenial conversation, with all three of them appraising the many positive aspects of living in the beauteous and busy small town of Traverse City, Jed excused himself. He’d been invited to his nephew’s fourth birthday supper that evening. Her father asked if he and his uncle might be able to join them later in the week for dinner. Jed said he’d be pleased to come and would have his uncle call to set a day, as his schedule was busier than his nephew’s. The gentlemen said their goodbyes in the parlor, shaking hands one more time.
As she walked Jed O’Neill to the door, Meg became struck with the absence of all the voyeurs. She and Jed stepped outside the front door and he took her hand.
“I had a lovely afternoon, Meg. Can I see you again, before dinner later in the week?”
“How about tomorrow,” she suggested, “to see if anything was left behind in my mother’s cottage?”
“Yes, I’ll be here! What time?”
“Well, we go to mass then have Sunday dinner. How about 3:00?”
“Okay. I’ll drive over this time. See you then.” He leaned closer to her, their faces just inches apart as she lightly laid her hands on his chest and he held her elbows. But knowing there were undoubtedly prying eyes coming at them from all directions, they simply smiled at one another and backed away.
One of the outdoor workers appeared with his horse and Jed road off.
Meg stepped out to the flagstone walk in front of the long front porch to watch until he disappeared from sight. As she turned to reenter, she looked up to see Peggy’s cherub face pressed to the glass above.
18
“Hello, my friends!” Abby announced her arrival as she entered the backdoor of the big house and went into the kitchen. “What a beautiful Sunday morning. And look at what I brought fo
r you today! Fresh out of the woods yesterday.” She plopped a big basket of morel mushrooms on the kitchen table, with her usual flowers in a separate basket beside it. Today the flowers were dainty white trillium and bluebells.
“My-oh-my! Look at those fat babies!” Cook clapped her hands together when eyeing the morels. “You found so many! Thank you, thank you.” She used her apron to wipe flour off her hands and grabbed Abby for a hug that buried the much smaller woman in pillows of chest and arms. When Cook let go, Abby took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what,” Cook said, “we’ll fry up a big mess of them right now for breakfast. We’ll have scrambled eggs, too. Later I can fry the rest to go with the family’s dinner. They’ll be delighted!
“Peggy, dear, check the bread, would you please? Sarah’s out right now collecting the eggs. This will be a grand breakfast!” Cook got busy preparing the iron skillet for their feast, stoking the wood fire in the stove’s belly to increase the heat and using a wooden spoon to drop a large glob of lard from its jar by the stove into the skillet. The lard sizzled loudly, announcing the coming of good eats.
“Abby, don’t ya know we have a lot to tell ya?” Peggy interjected in her Irish way of turning a phrase. She opened the oven door to reveal three golden mounds of bread. Using the edges of her apron to cover her hands, she pulled them out one by one and set them on a towel on the table. “Meg brought a young man home yesterday! And what a looker he was. Could put that John Gilbert to shame, to be sure. Maybe even Rudolph hisself.”
“I want to hear all about it,” Abby reassured her, pouring herself a cup of tea and sitting down at the table. Kitty jumped up on her lap, rubbing her head on Abby’s chest. Abby stroked the cat’s back and received an appreciative purr in return. Then, as quickly as she’d come, Kitty jumped down as if she had an appointment somewhere else, and scampered out of the room.