Promises to Keep

by Chaffin, Char

  “No doubt she does.” Annie sighed. The desolation in her voice was easy to hear. “Ruth won’t give up. She won’t stop trying to force things between them. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she arranged to have Catherine go to Yale. It’s pointless to think on it any longer.” She leaned her head against the window. “We’re almost home.”

  Susan glanced over. Aunt Nan’s rambling old house was three blocks away. She gathered up her purse and the shoes she’d kicked off as soon as she’d climbed in the car. As she slipped them on, she said, “You’ll have to decide how much crap you’re willing to take from any of the Quincys, once they find out about the baby. I’m figuring no crap. Am I right?” She looked expectantly at Annie, who nodded. “Then don’t. Don’t let any of them intimidate you. And don’t think their money can buy everything, either.” She gave Annie an elbow nudge for emphasis. “You’ll be a great mother, and that’s all that matters.”

  Aunt Nan met them in the driveway as they parked and climbed out of the car. “Well, home again, I see. I hope none of you brought home any germs. Nasty places, those clinics.” She looked straight at Annie, who tried not to blush. “So, let’s hear it. What’s in that tummy of yours?”

  Annie hoped her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “It’s a boy, Aunt Nan.”

  For a few seconds Aunt Nan’s eyes grew suspiciously bright, before she cleared her throat and nodded once, briskly. “Well, then. Now we know.” She stepped to Annie, gave her a quick hug and planted a kiss on her cheek, before striding toward the front door. “I hope nobody minds hot turkey sandwiches. And I think we have at least two whole pies left. Either we eat them or they get tossed out.” She mounted the wide-planked steps, grumbling vague insults about doctors and foul clinical smells interspersed with supper details and how wide to cut slices of apple pie.

  Susan clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in the giggles, and her eyes brimmed with mirth. Annie swallowed her own giggles as they walked into the drafty old house.

  “Aunt Nan, let’s set a fire in the fireplace.” Susan winked at Annie as she spoke.

  Their aunt turned to gape at Susan. “Are you crazy, girl? And waste firewood? You think that expensive firewood grows on trees?”

  Everyone erupted with laughter as they trooped through the house behind stiff-shouldered Nan. Mama threw a grin of approval over her shoulder, raised her hand, and made a victory sign with her fingers.

  The next morning was dreary with rain and cold, as Annie’s family piled in the station wagon and left for Thompkin. It was always hard to watch them drive away. This time the ache lessened somewhat because of the extra few days she’d been able to spend with them.

  A boy. She curved both hands protectively over her stomach as she walked back into the house. A boy changed everything. She’d do anything in her power to keep her son from Ruth Quincy.

  Maybe someday she and Travis could be together, when they were both older, when he got strong enough to go against his mother and forge his own way. Until then, she couldn’t trust that he’d be capable of standing up for her. She wanted to be loved for who she was. She wanted strong arms around her and courage behind those arms of strength.

  As for Ruth, Annie wasn’t so naïve as to think the woman would never find out about her grandson. Eventually Travis would realize there was a child. She couldn’t guess what his reaction might be, and it was hard to accept. Once, she’d known his heart as well as she knew her own. It hurt to think she now fumbled in the dark, unsure, worried, and fearful.

  Stifling a shaky sigh, she turned to face her aunt. Those shrewd blue eyes, so much like her mama’s, crinkled at the corners in a reassuring smile. With a nudge to her shoulder, Aunt Nan urged her up the sidewalk and into the house. Pushing her toward the kitchen, she pointed to a chair and Annie obediently sat.

  She watched her aunt collect milk from the fridge, a glass from the cupboard. She pulled a container of chocolate powder out of another cupboard and with efficient hands mixed up a large glass of chocolate milk.

  Aunt Nan placed it in front of her. “Here. Drink every drop.”

  Annie stared at the foamy treat, blinked back a few sudden, burning tears, and drained the glass in three swallows. Aunt Nan tsked at her for her unladylike gulps, but there was a smile on her weathered face when she picked up the empty glass and rinsed it in the sink.

  In that moment, Annie knew everything would be all right. She cupped her hands over the swell of her baby and felt the subtle, stretching movements he made. Softly, she whispered, “We’ll be fine, little one. You’ll see.”

  It was a promise and a vow.

  Chapter 18

  Eighteen Months Later

  April

  Ruth stacked the last of the invitations and set them aside. One hundred and thirteen would go out in the mail later on today, and she expected the same amount of RSVPs to be returned. Last year, when Travis became of age, he’d flatly refused a party. This year she wasn’t going to let him back out of one.

  Twenty-two years old. It didn’t seem possible that a month from now, she’d toast her son with champagne. Where had the years gone? When Travis came home for visits and she looked at him, so tall and handsome, Ruth still felt amazement that he came from her body. She was proud of him, although she rarely told him. It wouldn’t do for the boy to get a swelled head or to inflate his ego. Especially during the last few years, when she had to ride roughshod on him to keep him in line. She hadn’t wanted to. Contrary to what her son thought, she did have feelings and she didn’t enjoy his cold attitude toward her. Someday he’d understand, and thank her for all she’d done for him.

  She thought about the upcoming party as she dropped the packet of invitations on the foyer credenza and started up the stairs toward her suite. The extensive and elegant menu promised to satisfy her most choosy guest, and the birthday cake would be both a centerpiece and a delectable confection. Fine wine, wonderful apéritifs and witty conversation blended with an atmosphere of sophistication, assured Travis’s birthday party would be the talk of the county.

  She made a mental note to call Janice Cabot and ask her when she and Catherine planned to arrive. Ruth so envied the closeness that Janice and her darling child shared. If only she could have the same kind of relationship with Travis. Well, he’d calm down once he returned home permanently. She’d accept nothing less.

  She had one aim: to see her son take his rightful place as head of the family and the power behind the Quincy Legacy and fortune. She’d realize that aim, and when she did, Catherine would stand at his side. If everything went according to plan, not only would Catherine have the Quincy wedding set on her finger, she’d soon carry the Quincy Heir in her body, too.

  Now that she had the key to Travis, and a way to assure his compliance, she was certain she’d have everything she wanted for her son.

  And nothing—or no one—that she didn’t.

  The Cabots’ invitation to Travis Quincy’s birthday celebration, hand delivered to their estate later in the day, sat on a side table in the foyer. Catherine’s mother found the thick vellum envelope and ran for the day room where Catherine sat reading, curled in an armchair by the sun-dappled window.

  “Cathy, I have something you’ve been waiting for.” Her mother dropped the card onto the open book in Catherine’s lap.

  Catherine trailed a finger over the envelope before she opened it. She read it silently, then laid it on a small side table. “I did assume I would receive one, if not directly from Travis, then of course from his mother.”

  Her calm nature afforded her a bland façade she used whenever something bothered her. In this case, it came from Travis’s lack of enthusiasm where she was concerned.

  But she wouldn’t say anything, for it would get back to Ruth, who would then find a way to take Travis to task. And months of hard work on Catherine’s part would be ruined. She’d grown weary of taking three steps backwards for every one forward that she gained with Travis. And she blamed her own mother
almost as much as she blamed Ruth.

  “Well, aren’t you excited? Don’t you want to talk about what you’ll wear? I think a trip into Newport would be in order. You will need an especially lovely party dress for Travis.” Her mother was nothing, if not predictable. Her answer to every social event centered on finding an expensive boutique and buying more clothes. Catherine’s ample closet already bulged with outfits she rarely wore.

  The last thing she wanted to do was to traipse around in search of yet another dress. It wouldn’t matter what she wore for Travis because he wouldn’t notice.

  He never did.

  “Mother, no. We just got home last night. I don’t want to run right back out and go to Newport. Besides, I have plenty of dresses, any one of which would be suitable. Please don’t worry about me—”

  “But you must have a new dress, Cathy. You simply cannot wear something old. Now, let’s check your calendar and see what day would be best for you.” As usual, her mother steamrolled right over her in mid-sentence, already planning another shopping excursion.

  When her mother strode to the mahogany secretary desk in the corner and proceeded to dig out a copy of Catherine’s weekly calendar, she jumped from her comfortable armchair and snatched it away. Her mother’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Catherine Elizabeth Cabot, what on earth has gotten into you?”

  She tried to avoid confrontations, but Catherine suddenly had enough. If she could point a finger of blame at her mother for mucking up her chances with Travis and not suffer guilt for it, she’d have done so. For all Mother’s faults, however, Catherine knew she meant well. But it was just so very frustrating.

  This time, she stood her ground and chose honesty over any attempt to spare her mother’s feelings. “Travis could care less what I wear. In fact, it’s probably pointless for me to attend the party. He won’t even know I’m there. Don’t you see?”

  Her mother sank onto the settee in shock. “Catherine—”

  “He’s never noticed me, not unless you or his mother pushed me right in front of his nose. And even then, I’d often wonder if he saw me at all.” Catherine laid the calendar back on the desk as she searched for words her mother would understand and accept. “When we were children, I didn’t exist for him, and now that I’m an adult, it hasn’t changed very much. He’s polite, so he calls me. But only after Ruth has already nagged him. He asks me to dinner because his mother would make his life miserable if he didn’t.”

  Holding onto her composure took some effort. “Regardless of what either of you think will happen, Travis isn’t for me. I used to hope—” Catherine caught her breath on a sudden, ruthlessly swallowed sob. “I really used to hope he’d see me, and then fall for me. But it never happened, and all of the conniving you and Ruth do together only makes it worse. You both need to stop, before I lose even his friendship.”

  “Catherine, darling, I don’t understand.” Complete bewilderment shone from her mother’s eyes. “I thought you were coming along so well! Why, your father and I assumed we’d hear an announcement any day now. We thought for certain that Travis would be stopping by to ask your father formally for your hand.”

  “Mother, for the last time, no. It’s not going to happen. You must know by now that Travis is in love with someone else. I think they’re engaged.”

  At the blank look on her mother’s face, Catherine knew she wasn’t getting through to her. She sighed. “Mama, listen to me.” Falling back on the childhood name, she knelt at her mother’s feet and took her hands. “If I could have my way, I’d be the one engaged to Travis. But you can’t force love, you can’t schedule it, and you can’t make it happen where it’s not meant to. I know Ruth is your dearest friend. But if she’d just left Travis alone instead of always trying to push me on him, then maybe he would have seen me in a better light. Maybe he wouldn’t have turned to someone else in the first place.”

  For a full minute her mother was silent, digesting Catherine’s words, then she squared her shoulders. And she looked Catherine right in the eyes. “I’m surprised at you. Letting a few small difficulties get in the way of your future happiness. Allowing a challenge to go unmet. If Travis slips out of your fingers forever, then you have only yourself to blame.”

  Catherine protested, “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”

  “Oh yes, I heard. And what I hear is a little coward, afraid to be bold and reach out for what she wants. In my heart, I believe you could have Travis tomorrow if you put your mind to it. And if you used all of the advantages you do have.”

  She pulled at Catherine until they sat side by side on the narrow settee. Her mother insisted, “You have Ruth in the palm of your hand. Maybe you don’t think she has influence over her son, but she does. She favors you as a daughter-in-law. She always has. If you want Travis, you have the opportunity to get him. Use it, Cathy.”

  “Not like this. He wouldn’t love me, Mother—”

  “How do you know, darling? How do you know he wouldn’t fall in love with you? For heaven’s sake, you’ve never given him much encouragement, from what I’ve seen. Have you ever flirted with him, tried to get to know him other than talk of school and such? You’re a lovely young woman. You certainly have as much chance, if not more than anyone else, of getting him to notice you, become fascinated by you.”

  “I just don’t think it’s an honest way to proceed. It’s like I’d try to trick him.”

  Her mother gave a righteous huff. “And you don’t think it’s fair to trick a man into seeing things your way? If we women didn’t use what wiles we have, none of us would ever have gotten married and had you children. Men don’t think about settling down, Cathy. Men think about manly things. It’s up to women to train them into considering love, commitment, family. It’s up to you.”

  With that, her mother rose, leaned over to brush a kiss over Catherine’s cheek. Her stride was its usual bustle of energy but in the open doorway, she turned and delivered one last parting shot. “If you decide you want Travis, you know what you have to do. I raised a smart, resourceful girl. Think about it.”

  Catherine sat there for several minutes after her mother exited the room, and wondered if, all these years, she’d simply given the impression she didn’t care one way or another if she and Travis were even nodding acquaintances, much less anything more. Wondered just how much influence Ruth did have, over her son.

  Wondered if a new dress—and possibly a complete hair and facial makeover as well as an attitude adjustment—might be the answer for her.

  Oh, why not? She supposed she could fit a few more dresses into her closet. She rose, moved to the abandoned chair by the window and picked up her book, returning it to its slot on the shelf next to the desk. It looked as if she’d be too busy in the next few weeks to read much more of it.

  She had a party to plan for.

  Travis laid a dark blue henley shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans on the bed. Beat-up sneakers sat on the floor next to the closet. It was a far cry from the cashmere jackets and the leather tassled loafers he forced himself to wear on those occasions when he gave in to his mother’s damned blackmail, and took Catherine out. At least for this evening, he’d go out for pleasure and not duty.

  He’d have one last bout of fun with his frat brothers before he left for Thompkin. He’d tolerate the obligatory visit with his family and deal with the stuffy birthday party his mother planned. He should refuse to leave campus, but he knew she’d push the issue if he balked.

  It suited him to let her think she had him by the short hairs, and chuckle over the phone to Janice Cabot weekly as they congratulated each other for their latest bout of scheming.

  Early on, he’d struggled at Yale and let his mother’s unbending attitude get to him. When it was almost too late to salvage his grade point average, he realized the only way to get through the rest of college was to get his mother off his back. The only way to accomplish that, was to make her think she really controlled him. And in her mind, one aspect of c
ontrol meant pushing Catherine at him regularly. For his own academic sanity, Travis gave in.

  He tugged on the jeans and shirt, smoothing his hair back into place, and thought about Catherine as he tied his sneakers. To be honest, she wasn’t all that awful as a companion. She was easy on the eyes, intelligent, and well spoken. She knew when to be quiet and when to offer conversation. She seemed to understand and accept his silences. Another thing she’d accepted was his up-front honestly about why he saw her socially.

  He still remembered their first lunch together, in a corner booth at Bali Bistro during a particularly boisterous lunchtime rush. As their stilted conversation lagged, Catherine placed her sandwich on the plate and folded her hands in her lap, her eyes steady on his face. “Why did you ask me to lunch, Travis?”

  It was a blunt, yet honest, question, and he’d told her the truth. “Because if I didn’t, my mother would nag me to death. I don’t want to have to listen to her. How about you, Catherine?”

  She flushed, but her eyes remained on his. “The same, I suppose. Nagging mother.” She shrugged helplessly. “Over the years, I’ve tried to tell her, Travis. I’ve tried to get her to give it up. She doesn’t listen. She never has.”

  He could sympathize.

  That first lunch set the tone for others to come. In time, dinner dates were added, but only after a strenuous prod from his mother. Every time he protested, she’d mention the Turners, and how it would be so easy to make a few calls and “set their trashy world on its ear.” Or she’d threaten to cut off his school tuition. He despised feeling weak. He’d sworn to Annie he wouldn’t be manipulated, and now here he was, letting his mother dictate to him.

  If his father could stand up for him, his mother wouldn’t dare do this. And Travis hated feeling resentful for it, because it made him less than a good son and more of a selfish one.