by Jan Andersen
“Oh, Roger! I’m sorry, just one more thing, and I’ve made such a mess of things all round. But the worst of all was to doubt you for one single second. You asked me once if I hated you ... but how you must have despised me.”
He put a finger under her chin, gazing into her eyes that were shiny with tears. “You silly, silly goose ... I thought women were the ones with intuition. Right from the moment I saw you at the station I knew you were going to spell trouble for me.”
“Trouble?” she repeated stupidly. How close those black eyes were to hers. How could she ever have thought them fierce? Why, they were full of wisdom; strong expressive eyes...
“Yes, trouble. I’d been listening to your father singing your praises for so long, I’d even read your letters. The last thing I wanted to do was to fall in love with the boss’s daughter ... I tried so hard to hound you out to make me a free man again.”
Tracy was dazed, quite dazed. “You mean you’ve loved me all this time and I never knew it ... I never even guessed.”
“Oh, you guessed, but you didn’t know it. Every time we quarrelled it was because love was perilously near the surface and we were too proud to admit it. You too, I think ... or am I making the biggest mistake of my life?” His face was suddenly full of doubts.
A great, wonderful warmth was creeping over her. It wasn’t he who was making the biggest mistake of his life, but she had dam near done so. “No,” she said slowly, “you’re not making a mistake. I was just, too foolish to recognise the real thing when it was there all the time. No wonder I was frightened when you were ill, no wonder I couldn’t let you leave, no wonder something always seemed to be missing when you weren’t around.
“Oh, Roger!” There was a wild, happy note to her voice as she opened her arms to him. And as their lips met, hard and demanding as if they had waited much, much too long for this moment she thought exultantly: this was no timid man to give gentle kisses because he was afraid to show emotion. This was a real man who knew who was master.
When at last he drew away he said, “You know, my darling Tracy, we may well argue sometimes. Neither of us is perfect, and both of us are obstinate.”
“I don’t care if we shout and yell at each other. We’ll know all the time we’re in love ... that the storms will pass...”
“ ... And the sun will always shine for us.” Suddenly Tracy’s heart was too full for words. With their arms rightly entwined round each other they started towards the house.
When they reached the terrace she said suddenly with a grin, “Mr. Rens is here. He says that Father planned for something like this all the time!”
“Don’t I know it, and didn’t I fight it!”
“It won’t all be easy,” she said anxiously. “There’s Mother to think about... and Uncle George.”
“I think they’ll soon be busy thinking about themselves. Your uncle said to me only last night, with a great air of innocence, that if he stayed on he rather fancied my bungalow. And when I protested—rather mildly, since he owns it—he said carelessly that he had little doubt that I would eventually be moving into the house. Much too big a place for him.”
On the terrace they paused, looking back towards the glossy trees, rich with their fruit. “This is ours Roger,” she said softly, “and in spite of all the disaster it still awes me. One day Green Bays will be a great place. Thanks to you.”
But he shook his head. “Without you I would be nothing. It can only succeed with the two of us together.”
