The Flower Brides

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Her face flamed scarlet with anger and then turned white, and she began to tremble. What did he mean, treating her that way? Then as the car shot out into the road and he turned sternly to face her, she got a whiff of his breath, which was heavy with liquor. Laurie had been drinking again!

  Chapter 14

  A new kind of fear possessed Marigold now. She had had very little experience with drinkers, and so the situation was all the more startling. What was he going to do? Where was he taking her?

  She tried to steady herself, casting furtive glances at his stern face as he threaded his way recklessly through traffic, dashing through lights, disregarding a possible whistle of the traffic cop, whirling around a corner and back into the highway again without reducing his speed.

  Oh, what was going to happen? He could not keep this up! They would both be killed! There would surely be an accident before many minutes. She must do something to stop him. Wasn’t there any way to calm him? He sat there without looking at her and driving like a madman. If she only knew how to drive! She had had a few lessons back in the days before her father died, but there had been no car after he was gone. And she did not dare trust herself even to try to stop this one, not with Laurie’s hand on the wheel and Laurie looking like a crazy man, his face white with anger, his eyes wild and bloodshot. What could she do? Oh, Father in heaven, help!

  Like an answer to her cry there came the words to her memory, words from that last morning in Washington when Ethan had read the psalm: “Surely he shall deliver thee—” and “Thou shalt not be afraid—” Those were all the words she could remember, but they calmed her frightened heart.

  They were out of the city now and on the broad highway, but it was little better here. The traffic was thick, and Laurie, not satisfied with traveling along at a reasonable speed, was dashing in between cars and thundering past at a mad pace, rocking from side to side and barely escaping collisions on every hand.

  “Laurie, please,” Marigold managed to whisper with white lips, “please go a little slower. You frighten me!”

  Laurie looked down at her with bright, strange eyes in which triumph sat like a demon. “Frighten you? Ha, ha! Nothing to be ’fraid of!” His speech was thick and unnatural, and suddenly he reached out an arm and thrust it around her, drawing her close to him and forcing her head down on his shoulder.

  “Needn’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you! Nothing ever happens to me! Just lie down there and go to sleep.”

  Trembling with fear, she slid out from that embracing arm with loathing. She had never been so near a drunken man in her life.

  “No!” she said as quietly as she could manage her voice. “I’d rather sit up! It makes me a little sick, this going so fast! Couldn’t you go just a little slower, Laurie?”

  But he only gave an evil grin.

  “Sorry, can’t ’commodate you, Mara,” he said thickly. “Got a date and have to get there! But you’ll feel better pretty soon, baby! Do you good, riding fast. Good for the lungs. Blows the cobwebs away!”

  “But you said you were taking me home, Laurie,” she pleaded, “and this isn’t the way home. I’m feeling quite sick, Laurie, and I’d like to go home.”

  “Yes, after while,” he said indifferently. “Gotta go shumwheres else first. Didn’t I tell you where we’re going? My mishtake! You shee, we’re on our way to get married! Some wedding trip, baby! Like it now?”

  Horror froze her throat. She could not speak. She could not think. Was God going to let this awful ride go on? Was He going to let them come to some terrible end? A crash, terrible injuries, or death? Was a tragedy like this coming to her dear mother to bear, all because she had been so silly and thoughtless and self-willed and determined to have a good time with Laurie?

  “Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him….” The words came to her like a voice from far away, out of that quiet, happy Sunday night when Ethan had been reading God’s Word. She had been longing then for something deep and sweet in her own life that would calm fears and doubts and questionings and help her to anchor her soul, as the soul of the young man who was reading seemed anchored.

  “Like that, baby?” demanded Laurie suddenly. “Like to get married?”

  Her soul was one great cry for help and strength and guidance. What should she say? She loathed his calling her baby, but what was that in the midst of such danger? Not worth mentioning. The ravings of a maniac who must be calmed, not excited. She roused her frightened soul to self-control and tried to speak quietly.

  “Have you told your mother what you are planning to do, Laurie?” she asked as steadily as she could.

  “Told the mater? I should say not, baby! She’d fall into a rage and stop my allowance, and that would never do at this shtage of the game, shee? I’ve got eight bucks left in my pocket and my ’lowance is due day after tomorrow. Never do to tell the old lady I’m getting married. No, we’ll keep it quiet awhile, baby. By’m’by when I get my money, come of age, you know, then we’ll shrpring it on ’em. That ish, if we make it a go. If we don’t, nobody’s the wiser, and what nobody knowsh won’t hurt anybody. Shee, baby?”

  He cast a devilish grin at her, and she wondered with a sharp thrust of condemnation how she had ever thought him handsome. Oh, could just a few drinks make a man into a devil like this? Or had he been at it a long time, and she had been such an ignoramus that she hadn’t suspected it?

  She shrank farther away from him into her corner.

  “I’m—feeling pretty—sick,” she gasped out. “Do—you—mind—if I—don’t talk—much?”

  “Shick! Tough luck, baby! Thatsh a nish way to act on your wedding trip!”

  She barely suppressed a shudder at that and, putting her head down on her hand, closed her eyes.

  Oh, God! she prayed. I’m trusting You to see me through this somehow. Keep me quiet, and control this situation. You are stronger than the devil. You are stronger than a drunken man. Help!

  It seemed a miracle that they were still on the road. The car tore on amid traffic and barely escaped again and again. She began to hope and pray for a traffic cop, but none seemed to be around. Once there were two on motorcycles, but there was an accident ahead, and when Laurie dashed by they were engaged in trying to control the cars involved and did not seem to notice them until they were well past. Once Marigold heard a shrill whistle ring out far behind them and hoped they had been sighted and followed, but Laurie pressed on, almost overturning the car once as he rounded a corner at high speed. Often he sent them up in the air and bumping down again with terrific force. But Laurie only rushed on.

  It was growing dark now and beginning to snow, and Marigold’s heart grew heavier. She sat silent in her corner, and almost she hoped that Laurie had forgotten she was there. If she only could contrive some way to make him stop at a service station she would try to make her escape! Just run around behind some building and disappear. Would that be possible? But she dared not ask Laurie to stop. Perhaps the car would run out of gas or something pretty soon. Perhaps there would be help somewhere.

  But suddenly Laurie burst out again. “We musht be almost there! Down in Mar’land shomewhere—! You’ve heard of the plashe! Get married shlick and quick. Everybody doesh it. Don’t cosht mush, either. Guess we c’n get by on eight bucks. If we get shtuck, I’ll call up the old lady and tell her I’m bushted!”

  Marigold tried to control the shudder that passed over her involuntarily, envisioning such a life as he was planning for her. God! Oh, God! I’m Yours! I can’t do anything for myself! You sent a strong one to help me down from the high place. Please come Yourself now and help me!

  It was snowing hard now, a blinding snow. The windshield-wiper was tripping back and forth on the glass, but the snow in great flakes clogged its movements and placed large, soft curtains of snow quickly and neatly over the spot they had cleared. The visibility was poor. Marigold closed her eyes. She had no longer strength left to watch the near escapes, the oncoming lig
hts of cars that seemed about to crash into them.

  And now they were coming into a town. Marigold knew it even without opening her eyes because the light through her eyelids was more continuous. Laurie was still going at a breakneck speed. It was a wonder that he did not get arrested.

  Suddenly she felt the speed slowing, and then the brakes were jammed on with a shudder and the car screamed to a slower pace.

  “Thish musht be the plashe,” she heard Laurie say. “Nish little town. Marriage lishenshes on every street. Shee there!”

  Marigold opened her eyes enough to see a sign lit with a row of electric bulbs above it, under a small sheltering roof. She could read the lettering through the fringes of her lashes.

  MARRIAGE LICENSES MINISTER!

  it read, and a great fear took possession of her, more dreadful than anything she had experienced before. Was there going to be no way of escape? Would it be possible for an unprincipled man to go through with a ceremony and make it legal? Oh, God! What should she do?

  “Nish place,” said Laurie thickly. “Like to live here myself. Look, baby! Minishter! How ’bout that? You’re so religious, I shupooshe you’ll be tickled pink about that!”

  Marigold continued to keep her eyes closed as if she were asleep. It seemed her only defense. If he thought she was asleep, perhaps he would let her alone a minute. Perhaps he would get out and go into the house without her. If she could only drive a car she could get away from him. The car was idling by the curb now, and Laurie was still for the moment. Would it be possible that he might fall asleep and give her a chance to slip out the door and away?

  There was not any possibility that she had not conceived of during that awful ride.

  But no, he was not asleep. He was reaching down into the pocket on the door of the car and getting that awful flask. Twice before he had taken a swallow, the car lurching crazily as he did it. She dared not turn her head and look, but a second later she smelled the strong odor of the liquor again. And now that the car was standing still, he was drinking deeply.

  Then suddenly he held out the bottle toward her.

  “Take a drink,” he said foolishly. “Got plenty left for you. Shusht a drop, baby! Do you good! Take away your shicknesh! Better take a brasher. Then we’ll go in and get tied.”

  But she steadily kept her head turned toward the corner of the car, and presently he desisted.

  “Shtubborn! Thash what you are! Have a heckuva time breaking your will, but ish gotta be done! Awright, baby, you shtay here a minute, and I’ll go tip off the parshun!”

  Slowly and laboriously, Laurie opened the car door and got himself onto the sidewalk, slipping and sliding drunkenly in the snow as he made his way across the pavement and in at a little white gate.

  Oh, God! Oh, Jesus Christ! Send me help. Send a strong One.

  Marigold’s heart seemed to be praying of itself, while her mind suddenly came alert.

  She sat without stirring while Laurie half skated up the little path to the white house, stumbled up the two steps to the veranda, and reached out an uncertain hand to a doorbell, adding a knock on the door itself, just to make sure.

  Now! Now was the time!

  She cast a quick glance around to get her bearings and reached a cold, trembling hand out to the door handle. Was there a place to hide? There were lights ahead, cars coming—trucks, perhaps—she must get across before they came. It was her only chance. The headlights would show her up as she ran, but she must keep well behind Laurie’s car so he could not see her. Once out, she would scream for help before she would ever let him put her back there. But—would he tell some tale, make them believe he had the right? Oh, she must not think of such things now. She must go at once. God, my God, Jesus, my Savior, are You there? “Surely he shall deliver thee….”

  The cold steel handle in her hand yielded and the door swung silently away, letting in a rush of cold air. She could feel big snowflakes on her face.

  She cast one quick glance at Laurie. The door was opening and a man in a black coat was standing inside. He would see her go if she waited an instant longer. She swung herself out into the road in the snow, struggling to keep her footing, and immediately the sharp light from an approaching car picked her out and startled her to action. She sprang across into the darkness beyond that path of light.

  She was dazed from the long, hard ride, her senses were almost stupefied, but the snow stung her sharply in the face as she hurtled across to the shadows on the opposite side of the street and huddled there for an instant. Should she just crouch there somewhere and wait until the cars were past? No, for Laurie would raise an outcry as soon as he discovered her escape. She must be out of sight entirely before he found out. She darted a look toward the road, and suddenly she saw that the colored lights coming were on a bus! A bus! Oh, if she could get into a bus! It didn’t matter where it was going, if she could only get away somewhere. It was coming on swiftly, but she dared not try to signal it here in front of this house where Laurie stood. She cast a glance ahead and saw that the road curved around a slanting corner. Perhaps she could get past that and manage to signal the bus, somehow.

  She started ahead, slipping and stumbling as she went, but hurrying on. The snow blinded her, the sidewalk was slippery, the paving beneath the snow in places rough and uneven. Once just as she had almost made the corner, daring not to look back, she stumbled and almost went down, but a passing man reached out a hand and steadied her. She thanked him breathlessly and flew on, around the corner, past several stores whose bright lights made her shrink, and on to another corner. Now was she safe?

  The bus was rounding the corner now and coming slowly on. It was halting; it was going to stop in front of the drugstore. Would she dare run out and get in while it stood there in that bright light, or should she wait until just before it started again and make a dash for it?

  She was standing in a little alleyway between two stores in the shadow, just for the moment hidden in the darkness. But there was snow on the ground behind her, and the whole world seemed too bright because of the snow. Her dark coat would show up clearly against the white background.

  There were not many people in the bus, and they seemed to be asleep, their heads thrown back comfortably against the seats. The bus stopped just a little past the drugstore, the shadow of a great willow tree trunk half hiding the entrance from the sidewalk. The driver sprang out and dashed into the drugstore. He was carrying a long envelope in his hand. One passenger roused and followed him, digging in his pocket for a coin. Marigold peered out cautiously from her hiding place into the store window. The driver handed the envelope to a clerk, threw a coin down on the counter, and now he was tossing down a glass of something. The passenger had just received a pack of cigarettes and was in the act of lighting one.

  Marigold gave a quick glance back to the corner from which she had come. Laurie was not in sight yet. Could she make it? Oh, if he should appear just as she came out into the light she felt that her trembling limbs would let her down in an unconscious heap on the snowy pavement. But she took a long breath and dashed across into the open door of the bus, sinking into a seat far back in the shadow, scarcely able to get her breath again, though she had run not more than five steps. Was she really out of danger yet?

  Then she heard a car come thundering up the street behind the bus. Had Laurie discovered she was gone and come after her?

  She shrank lower and lower into the seat and closed her eyes, turning her face into the shadow.

  It seemed ages before that driver came out, and the passenger who was smoking his cigarette. She dared not open her eyes and look at them. Not until she was far away from this town. Would the driver notice that he had another passenger? She prayed fervently that he would not, at least until she was too far from the town to be let off the bus.

  At last the engine started, the bus lurched forward, made a wide circle, and turned back on its tracks down the street out of which she had just fled! Her heart stopped still. To her
horror, she saw the big sign MARRIAGE LICENSES loom into view. Was she caught? She couldn’t jump out of that bus and run back. It was well under way now.

  Marigold sank into the cushions, putting her arm on the window seat for a pillow, and turning her face so that it was entirely hidden from view, thankful that in her hasty choosing she had lit on a seat on the opposite side of the white house where Laurie had gone to arrange for their marriage.

  Her heart almost stood still as the bus rumbled on down the street, expecting every minute that it would be held up and Laurie would come staggering in in search of her. What a fool she had been to get into a bus without knowing which way it was going!

  She shut her eyes and did not dare look out until she was sure they had passed the place where Laurie’s car had stood. Then suddenly she was seized with anxiety to look back.

  The snow was coming down so thickly that she could not be sure of anything but the two blurred points of Laurie’s car lights. But there seemed to be a group of dark figures standing on the sidewalk near the car. She could not tell whether one was Laurie or not, but as she looked she was sure she saw one of them jump into the car, and a moment later those two bright lights came wallowing on toward her. Was Laurie’s brain clear enough to have figured out her way of escape? Certain it was that a car was following the bus in wavering lines! Was it Laurie?

  Chapter 15

  And while all this had been going on, down in Washington Marigold’s mother was having a time of her own.

  Some seventh sense vouchsafed to mothers only had told her that there was need for worry.

  Three times during the evening, quite casually, she had tried to call her daughter on the telephone and had gotten no answer. She could not understand it. She was unable to think out a situation that would explain Marigold’s not being in at any of her calls. And surely all three could not be blunders of a sleepy operator, because she had started calling quite early in the evening to ask Marigold for the address of a secondhand book firm that was famous for being able to ferret out old books, even out-of-print books, and produce them in short order.