Promises to Keep

by Chaffin, Char

  “No, I won’t marry anyone but Annie! Catherine already knows it, Mother. You’re wasting your time.” Travis dug in his heels and wrenched his arm from her grip in a blatant attempt to ignore her authority. “Once Annie and I are married, we’ll be moving to New Haven to get ready for fall semester.”

  Ruth permitted herself one short, sarcastic laugh. “Fall semester? Is that what you think?” She narrowed her eyes at her son. “I think not.” Her voice lowered. “If you disobey me, you will never step foot back on Yale property, Travis. This I promise you. Persist in this madness of yours, and I will disown you without one speck of guilt. No education, no prospects. No Legacy. Nothing. And I’ll still obtain custody of my grandson. You will never see the boy, once he’s under my guardianship.”

  Both Travis and Annie blanched as they processed Ruth’s threat. Satisfied, she added, “See if your little girlfriend can replace all you will lose, should you rebel against your destiny. And you can also forget about coming back to Quincy Hall to visit your father.”

  Ruth moved forward as she spoke, until she was mere inches from Travis. Her breath fanned his ashen cheeks as she issued her final blow. “You’ll lose everything.”

  “Whose car is that?” Susan nodded at the stately silver Mercedes parked out in front of the house. “Maybe one of our neighbors won the lottery?” She grinned at Henry as he glanced in the rear-view mirror. He mugged a face at her before he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. Then he gave the expensive sedan another perusal, and sobered.

  “Oh, Lord, this isn’t good.” He exchanged a worried look with Mary as he climbed out of the driver’s seat and hurried toward the back door with her fast on his heels.

  Ruth Quincy. Who else in town owned a car like that?

  They heard raised voices coming from the living room. Henry headed for the narrow hallway as Mark tore down the stairs, his face dark with anger and concern. He muttered, “I never even heard the damn doorbell.” Henry nodded as they both strode into the living room with Susan and Mary close behind.

  Travis stood trembling before his mother, and Ruth Quincy’s face had never looked so harsh, so cold. Next to Travis, Annie pressed both hands to her mouth.

  “Mrs. Quincy, what are you doing here, intimidating my daughter?” Henry moved to Annie and slipped an arm around her shoulders, drew her close to his side. She turned her face into his chest.

  Without taking her eyes from Travis, Ruth addressed Henry. “I apologize on behalf of my son for disrupting your household. As I have already explained to your daughter, I plan to arrange for paternity tests, to assure the child in question was indeed fathered by my son. After that, we will finalize the transfer of custody from your daughter, to me.”

  A harsh growl behind her drew Ruth’s attention. She glanced over her shoulder. And paled at the sight of Mark, who stood near Mary and scrutinized her with revulsion.

  Swaying, she reached for something to hold onto. She brushed Travis’s arm and gripped his elbow.

  “Mother, what the hell is wrong with you?” Travis took her arms in a hard grip, holding her upright when it seemed her legs would give out beneath her.

  Ruth raised a shaky hand and gestured. Travis turned and frowned as he looked where she pointed. “That’s Mark, Annie’s big brother. I doubt he’d stand aside and let you take his nephew.”

  Mark came farther into the room and rasped, “No one is taking Hank anywhere, ma’am. I can guarantee that.” At the sound of his voice, Ruth’s knees buckled. Travis wrapped an arm around her, bewilderment plain to see on his face.

  It suddenly dawned on Henry. Of all the Turner children, Mark was the only one who bore a marked resemblance to his grandfather, Franklin: similar coloring, the same husky build and the same eyes. Even the same heavy brows and distinctively shaped nose. That striking similarity seemed to scare Ruth half to death. Henry wasn’t by nature mean, but right now he was glad to use anything at hand to rid the house of Ruth Quincy.

  Including his own offspring. He gestured to Mark, who nodded and narrowed his dark brown eyes at the cowering woman. “Leave please, ma’am. Now.” Turning, Mark addressed Travis, who still held onto his mother. “Take her home, Travis. And understand this: she’ll never get her hands on Hank. You got that?”

  “Mark, none of this is Travis’s fault.” Annie confronted her brother and caught his arm.

  Mark shook her off. “I don’t care whose fault it is, or isn’t. I only care about you, Annie. Our family.” He jerked his chin toward the stairs. “My nephew.”

  As if on cue, Hank started to fuss. Annie rushed toward the hall, but at the bottom of the stairway, she stopped and looked over at Travis. “You have a choice, Travis. Your mother got here by herself, and she can leave just as easily.” Ruth sucked in an audible breath, but Annie ignored her. She held Travis’s gaze. “You want to marry me, be a father to Hank? Then stay here, and send your mother home.”

  “Annie—” Travis stepped away from his mother, and she instantly grabbed hold of him. He tried to pull his arm away, but she held fast.

  “Mother, let go.”

  “You will come home with me now, Travis.”

  “Travis, I’m warning you. Get your mother out of here,” Mark ground out furiously.

  “Stop it!” Sissy’s loud protest shut everyone up, and they all turned to look at her, poised on the stairs. While everyone had been arguing, she’d come down, with Hank held in her arms. Flushed from sleep and teary, he popped two fingers into his mouth and nestled his head on her shoulder.

  Sissy frowned at them and chastised, “You woke him up. All of you, stop shouting. Annie, take him, I need to sit down.” Annie hurried to retrieve Hank, and Mark swung Sissy off the stairs and into the living room. He settled her in the armchair, and she sank onto the cushions, rubbing at her distended belly.

  “Are you all right? Did you have a contraction?” He hovered over Sissy.

  She offered a faint smile. “I’m okay. Just indigestion. But you know I can’t stand to hear a baby crying.” Sissy flicked an apologetic glance at Annie. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

  “No, you’re right. It’s wrong of us to fight this way. And I’m glad you checked on Hank. I’ve never been able to let him cry, either. He’s such a good little boy.” Annie pressed her lips to her son’s temple, and smiled when he let out a huge, contented sigh against her shoulder.

  Henry watched the astonishment steal over Ruth’s face when she saw for herself how much Hank resembled his father. Maybe it was a mistake for Sissy to bring him downstairs while there was shouting going on, but Hank so seldom cried. Besides, it was time to settle this once and for all.

  Still, when Ruth took a few hesitant steps toward Annie, she stepped close to her brother. Mark crossed his arms over his chest, and Ruth wisely kept her distance. But her eyes never left Hank’s face.

  Hank looked all around the room, wide-eyed, caught sight of Travis and pulled his fingers out of his mouth, waving them wildly. “Da!”

  He managed to grin. “Hi, buddy.” Hank wriggled, wanting his daddy, and Travis sent a pleading look towards Annie. She hesitated, nodded, and Travis held out his arms for Hank. He settled the boy on one hip, placed his free arm around Annie’s waist, and linked the three of them together. It was a visual unit even Ruth couldn’t possibly miss.

  For endless seconds, nobody moved or spoke. Then, Ruth strode toward the foyer with her head held high, giving Mark a wide berth as she did so. The rest of the family moved back to let her pass.

  As she opened the door, Ruth tossed Henry a final, cold glare. “My attorneys will be in touch.”

  Chapter 26

  Warm air stirred the lace curtains at the window. Annie held down a squirmy Hank while she finished pinning his diaper and slid the rubber pants in place. Travis, lounging on the edge of the bed, handed her the pullover shirt and jeans she’d laid out for him to wear. She looked up with a smile of thanks. “That was fast. You’re already done with the dish
es?”

  “I didn’t do them. Your mother kicked me out of the kitchen.” He made silly faces at Hank while Annie finished dressing him. As soon as she let him go, Hank crawled to Travis and climbed all over him. They fell back in the bed, Hank giggling madly as he gained his feet and stood on Travis’s chest.

  “Look what a big boy you are. You’re taller than me!” He winced as Hank did a rapid tap dance on his ribs. “Wow, he’s heavy.” He poked a finger into his son’s tummy and laughed as Hank shrieked and collapsed next to him.

  For the last four days, he’d stayed with the Turners. He didn’t want to go back to Quincy Hall any more than Annie and her family wanted him to leave. Even Mark, whose improved attitude meant a lot, had urged him to stay.

  Earlier in the morning, the family surprised him by throwing him a breakfast birthday party. With so much going on, Travis had forgotten about his birthday. He’d received cards, small gifts, and everyone feasted on cobbler thick with fresh peaches and accompanied by home-cranked ice cream. It was wonderful, the best birthday he’d ever had.

  Now, cuddling his son close, Travis tried to imagine Hank at Quincy Hall, surrounded by regimented luxury instead of a place where he was free to be a rowdy little boy. Relegated to an extravagantly decorated nursery instead of this simple, warm and happy room. Wearing designer baby gear instead of the comfy cotton knit shirt and denim pants he currently had on.

  Being cared for by an impersonal nanny, or worse, his mother . . . instead of Annie and the rest of her loving family.

  “What are you thinking? You’ve got a strange look on your face.” Annie nudged his shoulder, and he shook his head to clear it.

  “Just trying to visualize Hank living at Quincy Hall. And remaining the well-rounded baby he is right now.” He dropped a kiss on his boy’s forehead as Hank snuggled against his shoulder, two fingers in his mouth.

  “And?”

  He caught her hand and pulled her close, caressed her cheek. Leaned in and brushed his mouth to hers. “And I just can’t see it.”

  She nodded. “Now you know how I feel. Where do we go from here?”

  “Well, a fast marriage at City Hall is still an option, but I agree with you. It won’t stop my mother. It’s obvious she’ll try ruining life as I know it, unless I fall in with her plans. Since that’s not going to happen, I guess you’re stuck with me.” With Hank curled into his side, he slipped his free arm around Annie and completed the circle, holding them both close. “My mother will do what she wants, and we can’t change it. So maybe we should plan that wedding, the way you’ve dreamed. And then go to Roanoke.”

  After a speechless few seconds, she pressed her cheek to his in the sweet gesture he’d always adored. “My aunt Nan will love you.”

  Travis squeezed her tightly. He wanted to be alone with her, though he knew it was selfish of him. He should get down on his knees and thank God he’d been given a second chance. But oh, he needed her. He wanted to make love to her. It had been so long. He struggled to put his desires aside for a while longer, and instead basked in the wonder of holding his family.

  Susan suddenly burst through the open doorway of the bedroom, interrupting their quiet moment. Worry flared in her eyes.

  “Annie, you’d better get downstairs. There’s some creepy guy in a suit on the front porch, asking for you. He’s got a big manila envelope in his hand. Mama thinks it might be a subpoena. It’s got your name on it.”

  Ruth leaned back in her chair and watched Jenny and Bette dismantle the contents of the dining room table. Watched them remove the remnants of smoked salmon and grilled crab cakes dripping with tangy horseradish sauce, which her party guests raved over. She had served artfully arranged crudités, select cheeses from around the world, crackers and assorted snacks.

  A dizzying variety of sweet and savory graced her expansive buffet. Everything a tasteful birthday celebration needed to be a smashing success, all displayed around the three-tiered masterpiece of a birthday cake. The design crew from Newport, who’d decorated the downstairs rooms and the more informal patio area, outdid themselves. Her party guests exclaimed in rapture over the food, the cake, and the atmosphere.

  She did it all for her son. Ruth spent a small fortune to make this birthday memorable for him. She hired a jazz ensemble instead of the small, classically trained orchestra she’d first leaned toward. Personally, she thought jazz music sounded like discordant noise, but Catherine assured her the party guests would love it.

  And they had. She heard many compliments as the young people enthusiastically indulged in dancing. Dear Catherine had been right. She would make the most splendid daughter-in-law. Ruth allowed herself a brief, sentimental smile.

  Then her smile faded as she rose to her feet and walked stiffly from the dining room. She couldn’t sit still any longer. Not when there was so much anger and fury whipping through her body, it was a wonder her hair didn’t stand straight on end.

  She’d made Travis’s birthday party a true event. Except it wasn’t much of a birthday party.

  Because the birthday boy hadn’t bothered to attend.

  At first, she didn’t believe it. She fully expected Travis to walk through the door in plenty of time for his own party. She’d welcomed the early arrival of Janice and Catherine, such a great help with the final preparations. Catherine looked sweetly young in a sundress of palest blue, with a heart-shaped bodice and thin straps crisscrossing over her shoulders, the full skirt falling to just above her knees. She’d swept her long blond hair to one side and had applied a tasteful amount of eye makeup. The Cabot pearls glowed around her slender neck and the matching pearl bracelet played up the delicacy of her wrist.

  Ruth could hardly wait to see Travis slip the diamond and pearl Quincy betrothal ring onto Catherine’s finger. It would look perfect against the lovely bracelet she wore.

  She’d planned for this union. Yearned for it. She’d contacted the jazz ensemble in advance of the party and asked for as much romantic music as possible to be included in their repertoire. She’d ordered extra champagne for toasting the newly engaged couple.

  As the hour of the party loomed closer, however, her anxiety became hot anger. She knew where her rebellious son was: on the dirty side of town, with those accursed Turners.

  He didn’t come home, didn’t call. Nothing. To be fair, she’d provoked him with her parting shot three days ago when she’d swept out of that tacky, run-down house. And she kept her promise, had contacted her attorneys as soon as she arrived back at Quincy Hall. Ruth began immediate subpoena proceedings and her attorneys promised to serve within the week, directly to Annie Turner.

  But foolishly she expected Travis to return home, to understand and accept his duties as the future Quincy Heir and to put aside his childishness. She never thought he would continue to act so contrarily. It was the ultimate betrayal.

  When one guest after another inquired after Travis, her quickly contrived excuse—about him having to run back to New Haven concerning Yale-related business—had been easily accepted.

  One fib after another emerged. No, it was sudden. Yes, it was important, but he hoped to make it back in time for the party. But in case he didn’t, Travis asked her to offer his apologies to his guests and for them to carry on. Have a wonderful time in his name. Saving face was vital, and she’d accomplished it. No one guessed how she’d seethed in fury beneath the social mask she wore.

  “Mrs. Quincy?” Catherine’s soft voice intruded on her dark thoughts, and Ruth hastily composed her features before turning and smiling at her standing beside the dining room table. Poor child, Travis humiliated her this evening. It would never happen again, she promised herself.

  She drew on her innate poise and approached Catherine, placing an arm about her shoulders. With effort, Ruth kept her anger in check. “I am so sorry, my dear child. I don’t always understand my son. I apologize for his insensitivity and his lack of decency in not attending his own party.”

  “It’s all right,
Mrs. Quincy. Really, it is. I just wanted to ask you if there was anything else Mother and I could do for you before we leave. I’m driving back to New Haven in a few days and I have more packing to do—”

  “But Catherine,” Ruth felt a resurgence of her earlier panic. “My dear, you must stay here in Thompkin. I feel certain once Travis understands the gravity of the injustice he has done to you, he’ll be quite remorseful and present his proposal.”

  Catherine moved away, dislodging Ruth’s arm. She stepped back toward the wide archway of the front foyer. Her smile held, calm and steady as ever, but her lovely eyes showed pain. Ruth held out her hands, wanting to comfort the darling girl, but Catherine’s next statement stopped her cold.

  “No. Travis won’t offer for me, Mrs. Quincy. And even if he did, for any reason at all, I wouldn’t accept him. I don’t want to marry your son.”

  Ruth didn’t think she’d heard right, and she regarded Catherine in shock. Not marry Travis? Not become her cherished daughter-in-law, the mother of her grandchildren? She sputtered, “What sort of nonsense is this?”

  “It’s not nonsense, ma’am.” Catherine remained polite, but firm, as she clasped her hands at her waist, ever the perfect young lady. “I will always consider Travis my very good friend. I will always care about him. But there will be no marriage. Please, let it go.”

  “Let what go? Cathy, what insanity are you spouting now?” Janice bustled into the dining room, her heels clicking with each step. Ruth sighed in relief. Her dearest friend would help her. Janice would convince her daughter to have patience. Fortitude.

  Taking Catherine’s shoulders in a strong grip, Janice spun her around. “Why would you say such a thing, Cathy? You’re not going back to New Haven. Why, it’s weeks until you need to leave. Explain yourself, immediately. After all Ruth has done for you, I don’t understand your mindset.”

  “No, neither of you do, and it looks as if you never will!” Catherine wrenched away from her mother and faced them both. Tears formed in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. In a splintered voice, she pleaded, “Why can’t you see the truth, for once? I am not meant for Travis. I never was. You have pushed us together and interfered, until I’m the last person on earth he’d ever want to be in the same room with.”