Naughty Marietta

by Nan Ryan

  For a long, tense moment, Marietta continued to stand just inside the door, saying nothing. After what seemed an eternity, the pale, pain-stricken Maxwell Lacey sensed a presence, turned his head and saw her. At once his sick old eyes lit up.

  “Oh, child, child,” he rasped, raising his head from the pillow. “Please, come closer.”

  Years of bitterness having made her immune to his pain, Marietta approached the bed, glared down at the grandfather she had never met and said coldly, “What do you want, old man?”

  “Just to see you,” he said honestly.

  She smirked. “It’s a little late to be claiming your bastard granddaughter.”

  He lifted a weak hand from the bed and reached out to her. She ignored the gesture. “You have your mother’s eyes,” he said, his own swimming in tears. “Can you ever forgive me, Marietta?”

  “No, never!” she declared hotly and pivoted.

  “Oh, please, child,” he begged, “don’t go. Stay for just a moment.” Jaw clamped tight, Marietta slowly turned back to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “There’s so much I want to tell you,” he said.

  “Yes, well you have five minutes and not one second longer.”

  Scowling, she stood by the bed and listened quietly as her repentant grandfather begged for her forgiveness. He said he knew he had made a terrible mistake and that he had paid for it every day of his life. He told her she could rest assured that his had been a lonely, meaningless existence filled with unhappiness and regrets.

  Marietta stared at him. Her arms came unfolded.

  He looked so frail and pitiful lying there with bright tears shining in his eyes. There was little doubt that he truly had suffered for his sins. Since she was now so fulfilled and happy herself, so secure in the knowledge of Cole’s love, it made her more understanding, more forgiving.

  Knowing that her grandfather was dying, Marietta finally took his withered hand in hers, but gently accused, “You turned my mother out because she was in love and made a mistake. How could you have been so cruel to a young, helpless girl? Your own daughter?”

  “I don’t know, child,” he admitted, “I was a pigheaded fool and I should have been horsewhipped for it.”

  They talked and talked and Marietta, by nature a kind, loving person, finally decided to ease her suffering grandfather’s conscience by telling him that he was forgiven. She saw the relief flood his pain-clouded eyes and was touched. In that minute she decided that she would do what she could to cheer him in the final days of his life.

  She kept to herself all the struggles and loneliness she’d suffered through the years. Instead, she told him how she had been a popular opera singer in Central City. And she told him that she and Cole Heflin, the man he had sent to Colorado after her, had fallen in love on the journey to Galveston and had gotten married in Abilene. She could tell by the look on his face that he fully approved.

  Just outside the door, Cole and Nettie waited anxiously, wondering what was going on inside. Both were surprised that Marietta had stayed with Lacey as long as she had. Several long minutes had gone by. What, they wondered, was happening? Was she continuing to torture the dying old man by telling him how much she hated him?

  Cole’s jaw dropped open and Nettie blinked in surprise when all at once they heard the distinct sound of laughter erupt from inside the sickroom. Maxwell Lacey was chuckling loudly with delight. Marietta was laughing as well, the sound musical, genuine. Cole and Nettie exchanged pleased looks.

  “…and then after Cole got me down out of the mountains it was one unbelievable escapade after another,” Marietta was saying, squeezing her grandfather’s hand, entertaining him with the many thrilling adventures she had experienced on the trail.

  Maxwell listened with glee, living vicariously through her. She said, “Can you believe this one? We had to outrun a band of Comanches! I tell you it was touch-and-go, but Cole outsmarted them and thus saved our scalps!”

  “Thank God,” said her beaming grandfather, “you have such beautiful hair. Your mother had glorious red-gold hair just like yours.”

  “Yes, she did. That’s where I got it. Now, where was I?” Marietta said. “Oh, yes, and before that we met up with two wild-and-woolly buffalo hunters! They camped with us.” She wrinkled her nose. “They smelled bad.”

  Her grandfather laughed.

  “And then there was the day we almost got run down by a thundering herd of buffalo. It was the first time I’d ever seen hundreds of those shaggy creatures. They raced across the dusty plains like Satan himself was after them.”

  Marietta continued to enthrall her grandfather with tales of the days and nights she and Cole had spent on the trail. She asked if he had ever been to Palo Duro Canyon in far North Texas. When he shook his head that he had not, she painted vivid pictures with words.

  She artfully described the canyon’s rugged beauty and made his old heart beat with joy when she added, “You get to feeling better, we’ll all go back up there and camp out under the stars. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  The thought so excited him, Maxwell Lacey attempted to raise up off the bed. His granddaughter shook her head, gently urged him back down and said, “I’ve stayed too long, tired you out.”

  “No, don’t go,” he said, his disappointment evident.

  “Now, now, it’s all right. I’m going to let you get some rest.”

  “You’ll come back? You won’t leave?” he asked hopefully.

  “I’ll be back,” she said, nodding. “I promise.”

  “Thank you so much for coming, Marietta,” he said. He squeezed her hand and added, “You’ve made a dying old man very happy.”

  “I’m glad,” she said and meant it.

  “I don’t suppose that you…you…”

  “What? Tell me.”

  “Would you consider calling me…grandfather? Just once?”

  Marietta flashed a dazzling smile and said, “I’m glad that you and I have finally met, Grandfather.”

  Maxwell Lacey died the next day.

  Peacefully.

  His granddaughter and her husband were at his bedside when he drew his last breath. Marietta was holding his hand. When they came out of the room, Nettie was waiting.

  Marietta said softly, “He’s gone, Nettie.”

  Tears shining in her eyes, Nettie said, “You’re a kind young woman. I appreciate you for making his last hours happy.” She blinked back her tears and announced, “Mark Weathers, Maxwell’s attorney, is waiting for you in Maxwell’s library.” She extended her hand, pointing the way up the long corridor. Then she turned and went into the sickroom to say her last farewell to the man who had been a dear friend as well as her employer.

  Her hand enclosed in Cole’s, Marietta walked up the hall to the darkly paneled library. As soon as she stepped inside, her attention was drawn to the fading poster advertising an opera in which she had been the star.

  That, for some unexplained reason, brought hot tears to her eyes. For the first time since arriving in Galveston, she cried. Cole hugged her, kissed her forehead, then guided her to the massive mahogany desk where he had first laid eyes on Maxwell Lacey. The attorney, Mark Weathers, was now seated behind the desk.

  He rose to his feet as they approached. They reached the desk and he said, “Mark Weathers, Marietta. My condolences.”

  “Thank you,” she replied and lifted a lace handkerchief to dab her damp eyes. “You’ve met my husband, Cole Heflin?”

  “Yes, I have,” said the attorney, reaching across the desk to shake hands.

  Mark Weathers said, “Won’t you please have a seat. Both of you.”

  When they were seated, the attorney sat back down. He picked up a legal document and explained, “Maxwell’s last will and testament. Shall I read it to you, Marietta?”

  She nodded.

  Weathers read the will aloud. Marietta learned—to her pleasant surprise—that, with the exception of a substantial inheritance left to Nettie, she was the sole heir t
o a vast fortune. For a long moment she was speechless. Finally the attorney cleared his throat needlessly, handed the will across the desk and got to his feet.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my office and leave you two alone.”

  Once he had gone, Marietta turned to Cole and said, “You’re an attorney, aren’t you, Cole?” She got up out of her chair.

  Cole rose to face her. “Was an attorney. I can’t practice law, Marietta. I’m a disbarred felon, remember?”

  “Good!” she said. “I don’t want you to practice law. I want you to take over the task of overseeing and maintaining this expansive estate.”

  “Are you sure? There are experts who, for a fee, would be more than willing to manage your estate.”

  “Our estate, Cole. Yours and mine.” She put her arms around his neck and said, “And you are the expert I want handling it. Say you will, darling.”

  Cole grinned. “I will.”

  “One more thing, I want my voice coach to move down here from Central City. Sophia has no family and she’s such a dear, she’s been like a mother to me. I’m sure we have opera here in Galveston, don’t we?”

  He nodded. “But of course. Even we Texans appreciate the higher arts.”

  Marietta smiled. “Sophia could give voice lessons.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Cole said. Then, “So…you’re still as interested in the opera as ever?”

  “Well, certainly. I’ll want to attend every production.”

  He noted that she said “attend” not “appear in.” But after a pause, he said, “Marietta, if you could sing in any opera house in the world, where would it be?”

  She laughed gaily, took one of his lean hands, placed it lightly on her flat stomach and said, “I’ll be singing only lullabies in the nursery soon.”

  Cole blinked in surprise. “You mean, you…?”

  “No, I mean we. We are going to have a baby.” Speechless, Cole stared at her. “Please, darling,” she said, “tell me you want the baby. Tell me you want me.”

  His arms going around her, Cole said, “Ah, sweetheart, I want you both. I love you both and always will.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6391-1

  NAUGHTY MARIETTA

  Copyright © 2003 by Nan Ryan.

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