'The kid's a mute!' Bazzel hissed so vehemently that Amanda could feel his spittle on the side of her face.
'Sssssh!' Amanda glanced quickly over her shoulder and wiped her cheek with her sleeve. 'Somebody might hear you!'
Out in the hallway Elender hung their coats in the closet under the stairs. As she closed the closet door, she felt a light tug on her skirt. She turned around and looked down. Elizabeth-Anne stood there, her eyes wide with fear.
Elender pulled her close and held her tightly. This unexpected visit by Elspeth Gross . . . Elspeth Grubb, she corrected herself . . . was a totally surprising turn of events. Over the months, she had become extremely attached to Elizabeth-Anne, and had begun to think of her as her own. She loved her (dared she even think it?) more than she loved Jenny. Elizabeth-Anne had a fragility, a sweet vulnerability that Jenny had never possessed.
People were wrong, she thought. Ties of flesh and blood weren't necessarily the strongest. Emotional bonds were far stronger. And Elizabeth-Anne knew it too. Elender could see that in her eyes. There was something about this child which filled her heart with all the warm hopes and dreams that she had once reserved exclusively for Jenny, and she had been secretly relieved when there'd been no reply to her letters. But now, here were the Grubbs . . . in the flesh. Waiting in the parlor to take her beloved Elizabeth-Anne away.
Elender felt a viselike grip around her heart.
For the first time that her roomers could remember, Elender's Christmas Eve party ended early. After they had reluctantly gone to their rooms, Elender, Jenny, and Elizabeth-Anne cleaned up. Finally Elender moved two settees together, brought extra linen, pillows, and quilts down from the upstairs linen closet, and made the Grubbs a makeshift bed.
They can stay as long as they like, she thought. That way Elizabeth-Anne will be here a little longer.
When the parlor door closed and they were finally alone, Amanda sank wearily into a chair. The drumming of the rain was enough to make her go mad. She rubbed her fingers over her face. She felt tense and drained from the last hour of deception, constantly thinking carefully before she spoke so that she wouldn't make any blunders. Even so, she had almost slipped once. 'Elspeth?' Bazzel had said, and she had not responded. He'd had to repeat it, much louder and sharper, before she finally remembered: she was no longer Amanda. She was Elspeth.
'Mrs. Grubb is hard of hearin' sometimes,' Bazzel had covered smoothly, 'she's been havin' ear troubles.'
Now Bazzel waited by the door until Elender's footsteps receded. A moment later he opened it a crack and peered out. The hall was dark, empty, and quiet. Satisfied that no one could eavesdrop, he quietly closed the door and went over to Amanda. 'Been a long day. Let's git to bed.'
She lowered her hands and looked up at him, her face pinched and tired. 'I could use some sleep.' She folded her hands in her lap. 'My nerves are frazzled.'
'Pull yourself together, woman.'
'Bazzel,' she said softly, 'there ain't no circus. Nothin' but the kid.'
'Don't you think I know that?' he hissed nastily.
She hesitated a moment. 'What do we do now?'
He shrugged. 'Move on, I suppose. There ain't nothin' to keep us here no more. I reckon we'll do what we been doin' all along. Sell minin' shares.' Then suddenly an idea hit him. They would take the kid with them. Having her around would give them a greater aura of respectability and would make it even easier to con folks. 'We'll take that kid,' he said flatly. 'We oughta be able to sell twice as many shares with her hangin' to yer skirt. Maybe . . .' His teeth showed yellow as he smiled. 'Yep. Maybe we kin even unload some of them shares on Miz Clowney before we leave here.'
Amanda bit down on her lip. 'Bazzel,' she said softly. 'There ain't no more shares.'
It was a moment before her words registered. 'Sure there are.' He turned and pointed to their luggage. 'They're in the bottom o' that suitcase.'
'No they ain't,' she said meekly.
He crossed the room quickly, pulled the suitcase out, and got to his knees. Snapping the catch open, he rummaged through it. She watched quietly as he flung clothing out on the floor. Then he froze. The bundles of silver-mine shares were not there.
He got to his feet and turned around slowly.
Amanda could feel the familiar pain in her stomach start up again. She knew that he was in a rage--whenever he got that icy, implacably calm look in his eyes, there was no telling what he might do. 'Where they at?' he demanded tonelessly, stepping toward her.
'B-Bazzel,' she stammered. 'I . . . I thought—'
'What did you do with them, woman?' he demanded with an icy edge to his voice.
Her face went white. 'I . . .I burned them.'
'You what?'
She averted her eyes. 'I burned them just before we left York,' she whispered. 'You've got to believe me, Bazzel. I didn't want to do it. I . . . I just couldn't be part of it no more.' She closed her eyes. 'Not cheat- in' old women out of their life savings.'
He stared down at her, his fists clenched at his sides. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to lash out at her and beat her senseless.
She glanced up at him, her eyes filled with fear. 'Please, Bazzel,' she begged timidly. 'Don't beat me. We'd have to explain—'
'We'd have to explain?' He shook his head. 'No, woman. You'd have to do the explainin'. Jest like you got a lot of explainin' to do to me.'
She stared at him miserably.
He was silent for a moment before he spoke again. 'Soon as we're gone from here, you're gonna git yer punishment,' he threatened slowly. 'Don't think yer gonna git out of it.'
She felt a cold chill settle over her. Bazzel was not one to make idle threats. He never forgot a slight or a double cross. She shuddered to think what the punishment might be. 'Bazzel . . .'she said in a tiny voice.
'Git to bed,' he said coldly. 'One more word outta you and you'll git punished right now.'
She crawled meekly under the covers and pulled the quilt up around her, wondering how he was going to get back at her and how she might avoid it.
Perhaps she should just pack up and leave him. Be rid of him for good. No, she'd considered doing that before, but she'd always come to the same conclusion: there was no way she could make it on her own. She was too dependent on him. Strange as it seemed, she and Bazzel were a family of sorts.
She could hear Bazzel's loud, sharp snores. He always snored loudly since he'd developed adenoid trouble.
She glanced around the dark room, smelling the redolent fragrance of pine emanating from the Christmas tree. A strange ache of loneliness and despair stole over her. In the rush to leave York and come here, she'd almost forgotten.
It was Christmas.
She could feel tears stinging in her eyes.
It was hours before she finally cried herself into a fitful sleep.
9
While she had been pregnant with Jenny, Elender had promised herself that, no matter what, she would create a warm, loving home steeped in honest values and traditions for the child she was bringing into the world. Subsequently she had selected what she considered to be the best of all possible worlds—what shed known from her own poor but happy childhood, and the good things (yes, there had been good things too) shed observed as a servant in the Cromwell mansion on Beacon Hill. As a result, she mixed these select experiences judiciously so that, together, they created a graciousness, a warmth, and a sense of ethics rarely seen outside the best homes. She had kept her vow, providing Jenny with everything that an 'aunt' possibly could.
And now, with Elizabeth-Anne, her generosity and love knew no bounds. Since this was Elizabeth-Anne's first—and last—Christmas here, she intended to make it truly, truly special.
Christmas Day began early for Elender. She got up long before anyone else stirred, quietly preparing for the festivities ahead. There was breakfast to be cooked and served across the street at the Good Eats Café, as it was every morning, but the late lunch in the rooming house was a feast that nee
ded more than half a day to prepare. There would be the cream of vegetable soup she'd learned to make from the Cromwells' cook, the big goose, which had been brought, slaughtered and already plucked, by the farmers who supplied all her meats and poultry, the sweet cherry syrup which would accompany it, the mashed potatoes and candied yams, the vegetables, glazed in caramel, the apple and pumpkin pies topped with dollops of thick rich whipped cream . . . everything had to be cooked to perfection, and that took time.
She started the day by carrying the gifts, tagged and gaily wrapped, downstairs from their hiding place in the attic. Traditionally she would arrange them under the tree, but because the Grubbs were rooming in the parlor, she stacked them on the hallway table instead. She had to make two trips—not only were there gifts for Jenny and Elizabeth-Anne, but a thoughtful little something for each of her roomers, be it tins of home-baked cakes and cookies, a shawl or sweater she had knit, a pair of gloves or woolen socks she knew they needed.
In the midst of arranging the packages, she paused and eyed herself thoughtfully in the mirror above the table. She had always prided herself on her fairness, kindness, and sense of decorum, was and had always been acutely attuned to other people's sensitivities, and now she realized that the arrival of the Grubbs put her in an embarrassing position. There were gifts for everyone but them. Of course, how was she to know they'd arrive? And on Christmas Eve of all times? Still, she would have to come up with a little something for them. Christmas was, above all, a time for sharing, a time for celebration and joy.
But it was not a time of joy for her.
The Grubbs had come to take Elizabeth-Anne away.
It would be a miserable Christmas.
When Elizabeth-Anne entered the kitchen she was wearing thick woolen stockings, a flannel skirt, and a heavy knit sweater. She could already hear everyone moving about in the house, but only Elender and Jenny were in the little-used kitchen; with special exceptions, cooking was usually done at the café across the street.
Elizabeth-Anne glanced into the big adjoining dining room. It was still empty, but places had already been set on the gleaming waxed table in anticipation of breakfast. She noticed that two extra place settings had been squeezed in for the Grubbs.
The big kitchen was snugly warm and smelled delicious. A half-hour earlier, Auntie had put the big Christmas goose, stuffed with a mouth-watering mixture of bread crumbs, finely chopped goose giblets and drippings, herbs, and diced Granny Smith apples into the wood stove, where it roasted slowly.
When she heard Elizabeth-Anne's footsteps, Elender looked up from the pastry she was rolling and smiled. Quickly she wiped her hands on her apron, rushed across the room, and scooped her high into the air. 'Good morning, Elizabeth-Anne!' Elender kissed her warmly. 'Merry Christmas!'
In reply, Elizabeth-Anne coiled her arms around her neck and returned her kiss.
Elender set Elizabeth-Anne down, placed her hands on her shoulders, and propelled her toward the kitchen table. 'As soon as you finish your breakfasts, you and Jenny can open your presents,' she said.
Elizabeth-Anne nodded, and Elender busied herself at the stove. There was a sizzling sound as pancake batter hit the greased hot skillet.
With all the heat from the cooking, Elizabeth-Anne didn't need her sweater. She pulled it off and draped it over the back of her chair. Then she scraped the chair out from under the table and sat down. A moment later Elender placed a mug of steaming hot milk and slid a plate with a big golden pancake in a puddle of rich syrup in front of Elizabeth-Anne. Then she went back to her pastry.
Jenny, who'd already finished eating, shot Elizabeth-Anne a piercing look from across the table. 'Hurry up and finish eating, 'Lizbeth-Anne,' she hissed impatiently.
'Leave her be,' Elender called over her shoulder. 'Eating fast makes for bad digestion. The presents are not going to run away.' Then she turned around slowly, placed her hands on her hips, and looked questioningly at Jenny. 'Well? I didn't hear you wishing Elizabeth-Anne a Merry Christmas.'
'I didn't hear her wishing me one either,' Jenny retorted tartly.
'Jenny . . .' Elender's voice held a warning note.
'Merry Christmas, 'Lizbeth-Anne,' Jenny sang in a loud, sweet voice.
Elizabeth-Anne looked at her and smiled hesitantly.
'Even if I don't see why I should wish you anything,' Jenny added under her breath.
'What's that?' Elender asked sharply.
'I was just telling 'Lizbeth-Anne that I wondered what our presents are, Auntie,' Jenny replied innocently.
Elender fixed her with a long look before she turned around again.
Elizabeth-Anne picked up her teaspoon and carefully skimmed the thick, wrinkled layer of cream from the top of her milk. She blew on it so it would cool and then ate it with relish. She licked the white mustache off her upper lip with her tongue. She loved the sweet richness of the cream; it was her favorite part of breakfast. She took two cubes of sugar from the china bowl and plopped them into her milk. With the spoon, she tapped the cubes gently to break them up, and stirred.
Jenny glanced at Elender. She was busy pinching the pastry around a shallow round pie tin, her back turned. Taking advantage of the situation, Jenny gave Elizabeth-Anne a swift sharp kick under the table. 'Hurry up!' she mouthed silently.
When Elizabeth-Anne ignored her, Jenny's patience snapped. She reached out, grabbed the pancake off Elizabeth-Anne's plate with her fingers, and began gobbling it down, all the while glancing at Elender from the corners of her eyes.
Elender's back was still turned.
The pancake finished, Jenny slid Elizabeth-Anne's mug over to her side of the table and exchanged it with her own empty mug. She blew on the hot, sweet milk and sipped it, blew on it some more, and took big gulps. Elizabeth-Anne could only stare curiously, astonished at her speed.
A moment later Jenny scraped back her chair and jumped to her feet. ' 'Lizbeth-Anne's finished, Auntieeeeee . . .' Her words trailed off into silence. Elender had turned around, arms akimbo, and was glaring at her through narrowed eyes.
Jenny suddenly turned pale.
'I saw what you did, Jennifer Sue Clowney.' Elender's voice was unnaturally harsh as she wagged an admonishing finger at her. 'I'm ashamed of you!'
Jenny burst into tears and ran from the kitchen. A moment later the slam of her door reverberated from down the hall.
Elender shut her eyes and took a deep, painful breath. She felt a tightening in her stomach. She wished now that she'd pretended she hadn't noticed what Jenny had done. Of all the days of the year, Christmas was one she didn't want spoiled in any way. Not for the roomers, not for Jenny, and not for herself. And this year, especially not for Elizabeth-
Anne, since she wouldn't be here very much longer. But Jenny had been getting away with far too much lately, constantly testing her authority. If she didn't put her foot down now, she would only get more and more selfish and spoiled.
When she opened her eyes, she saw that Elizabeth-Anne had twisted around in her chair and was gazing at her with wide and sympathetic eyes.
Elender smiled sadly at her, slid a saucepan from the burner over to the cold side of the stove, and then marched, with grim, terse footsteps, down the hall to Jenny's room. Elizabeth-Anne slipped off her chair and followed quietly.
Jenny was lying facedown on her bed, sobbing into her pillows. Elender motioned for Elizabeth-Anne to go back to the kitchen; then she shut the door softly and approached the bed. 'Jennifer.'
Jenny sniffed noisily, lifted her head, and turned around, a bitter, challenging look on her wet, red face.
'You deserve to be severely punished,' Elender said in a quivering voice. 'Ever since Elizabeth-Anne came here, you've treated her miserably. Don't think I haven't noticed. But this time you've gone too far.' She shook her head in exasperation. 'Don't you have any heart?' she whispered. 'Don't you know what she's been through?'
'She's been through!' Jenny wailed uncharitably, hopping up into a sitting position.
'She's taken over, Auntie! Everything's 'Lizbeth-Anne this, 'Lizbeth- Anne that! You don't even love me anymore!' Jenny's tears poured down her cheeks.
'You know that's not true, Jenny,' Elender said quietly. But she bit down on her lip, knowing that Jenny's accusation was close—too close—to the truth. She loved Jenny. Always would, no matter what she did. Jenny was, after all, her only daughter, even if she could never admit it publicly, let alone share it with her privately. It was just that, compared with Jenny, Elizabeth-Anne was so . . . angelic. So sweet and obedient and good-hearted. After witnessing the devastating fire and the nightmarish deaths of her family and friends, and suffering her subsequent loss of speech . . . well, how could one's heart not go out to her?
'Get up, Jenny,' Elender said wearily, 'and dry your tears. You're not going to be punished, because it's Christmas. But let me warn you . . .' Her voice was stern and icy. 'One more incident . . .'
Jenny got up slowly, but her words came swiftly. 'I'll be good, Auntie,' she promised. 'I'm sorry, really I am! It's just that I didn't think you loved—'
Elender swiftly embraced her. 'I'll always love you, Jenny,' she said softly, pressing the child's head toward her bosom. 'I'll always love you. More than anyone else in the world. You've got to believe that.'
But in her heart, Elender knew she was telling a lie. Perhaps she could fool Jenny, but she wasn't fooling herself. She would always love her daughter, yes, but she could not love her more than Elizabeth-Anne. Jenny would simply not permit such unquestioning, pure, blind love. She was, at heart, cold, conceited, selfish, and spiteful. She always had to have her own way, even if it meant hurting others.
And whose fault was that?
Mine, Elender thought to herself, suddenly feeling a hot rush of guilt. Mine, and mine alone. Jenny inherited those traits from Arthur Jason Cromwell. She is his daughter as well as mine. If I'd been strong enough, brave enough, to flee the Cromwell mansion when he . . .
Texas Born Page 8
