by Peggy Gaddis
But Lynn’s eyes were on Wayde, and the flames of anger blazed.
“I don’t blame you for being angry, Lynn,” Wayde said quietly, “I hated myself afterwards. And I can’t ever tell you how sorry I am.”
“I should think you would be!” Lynn flashed at him. “But you’ve wasted your time coming here. You can’t apologize to me, because I’ll never accept an apology from you. All I want of you is to get out and stay out! I never want to set eyes on you again or hear your voice.”
Ruth murmured a stricken protest, but Lynn did not so much as look at her. Her whole attention was centered on Wayde.
“As bad as that?” said Wayde quietly. “That’s very encouraging.”
Lynn blinked at the word, and had the feeling she had stepped off a curb without seeing it and had fallen flat.
“Encouraging?” she repeated.
“Very encouraging,” Wayde told her quietly. “If you were just angry and insulted, as you have every reason to be, and could shrug it off and forget the whole business, then I’d know there was no hope for me. But since you are so furious, I know our quarrel was important to you.”
“Important?” she blazed. “It was the most insulting, the most humiliating, the most uncalled-for—”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Wayde agreed. “And I couldn’t be more sorry, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make amends.”
“That’s impossible. I could never forgive you!”
Wayde’s eyes held hers.
“Never’s a long time, Lynn,” said Wayde.
“It’s not long enough for me to forgive you.”
“Now, Lynnie darling, Wayde’s explained—” Ruth began.
“Keep out of this, Mother,” Lynn said curtly, without even looking at Ruth. “This is between Mr. McCullers and me. I don’t know how he’s managed to get back into your good graces, but he’s a wily, conceited creature who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Just what do you want, Mr. McCullers?”
“To be forgiven,” Wayde said simply.
Lynn’s mocking sniff was thick with disdain.
“I’m touched that any living creature in the despised town of Oakville could possibly ruffle you to the most infinitesimal degree—”
“There’s only one who can,” Wayde told her. “You.”
He turned quickly to Ruth, smiled warmly and said, “I may as well leave, Ruth. It’s obvious she isn’t going to listen. Thank you that you were more understanding.”
Ruth rose and walked with him to the door. When he had gone, she came back to the living room and studied Lynn quietly.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Lynn,” she said, and the note of censure in her voice startled Lynn. “To be so rude and ungracious to a guest in your own home—”
“Well, I like that!” Lynn sputtered indignantly. “Who invited him to be a guest in my own home? I certainly didn’t! And I was a guest in his home, remember, but that didn’t stop him from insulting me.”
Ruth had listened quietly, but her eyes still held a censorious look.
“I’m not only disappointed in you,” she said, ignoring Lynn’s protest. “I’m distressed about you. I had no idea you were so deeply interested in Wayde.”
That jolted Lynn to the tips of her toes, and her eyes were enormous in her startled, angry face.
“Deeply interested in him?” she repeated as though quite sure she had not heard her mother correctly. “I loathe him!”
Ruth nodded and sighed. “That’s what I meant. It’s only the people we are fond of who can really hurt us, as Wayde has obviously hurt you.”
“Mother, you’re out of your mind!” Lynn gasped.
“I wish I could think so,” Ruth said. “But because of the way you’re reacting, I’m worried about you. It’s not the right way to go after Wayde; that is, if you want him.”
“Want him?” Lynn gasped incredulously. “Good grief, Mother!”
“I’m afraid that fabulous secretarial charm school overlooked an important part of your training, dear, which is never to allow yourself to fight quite so hard for something you don’t want. Wayde’s a rather wary creature, as is natural. The girl who plays hard to get must be very familiar to him. But there’s a limit to her game. If she’s too hard to get, the man may feel he’s not interested enough to make the struggle.”
Lynn sat down in a big chair with the feeling that if she tried to stand one more moment, her knees would refuse to support her. She was speechless before her mother’s calm summing up.
Ruth went out of the room, leaving Lynn to sit in angry silence.
Ten
The congregation of St. John’s Church was very proud of their church. It had a long and cherished history; built in the early 1800s, destroyed twice by fire, and each time rebuilt, its records carefully preserved, it was a cherished landmark in the town.
Built of red brick, set in the midst of two acres of beautifully landscaped grounds, its steeple holding a bell whose mellow voice could be heard clear across the valley in which Oakville sat, it was a church any member could be very proud of. It had been written up in various magazines and Sunday supplements, and when the camellias that adorned its lawns were in bloom people often drove from as far away as Macon and Jacksonville to attend services there.
On the Sunday morning following Wayde’s call, Ruth, the Judge, Lynn and Steve settled into their pew as the choir prepared to sing the first anthem. It was a glorious day, and the sunlight streamed in through the beautiful memorial stained windows and lay like a benediction on all the worshippers. Outside, the birds were filling the air with their ecstatic songs. Even the traffic sounds were muted this morning and Lynn thought she had never known a more peaceful moment; a moment in which she thrust away from her all the unpleasant thoughts of the past few days and “rested her mind,” as she used to say as a child.
Suddenly there was a small, startled rustling through the church like a faint wind running through a wheat field. Heads turned, and there were faint gasps as one of the ushers guided a man down the aisle and into the McCullers pew.
Wayde smiled his silent thanks at the usher, accepted the proffered hymn book, glanced about the church casually and took his seat.
It had been years since anyone had occupied the McCullers pew, and now there was much craning and peering as the congregation looked at Wayde, who seemed completely unaware of the excitement his appearance had created.
The choir rustled to attention, and the first anthem began, the pipe organ rolling out the melody under the experienced hands of Miss Effie Stanley, approaching seventy and the close of fifty-two years of service as organist of St. John’s.
When the collection plate went around, people peered to see what Wayde dropped into it. But nobody was any the wiser, for it was in a small white envelope, and the usher merely smiled at Wayde politely and went on his way, while the choir gave full voice to the offertory hymn.
When the collection plates had been deposited beneath the altar, the Reverend Sneed paused a moment before beginning his sermon. He was small, meek-looking, and a ray of sunlight falling through a memorial window behind him turned his white hair to a nimbus about his head.
“I wish to welcome to our sanctuary this morning all of our regular members and our visitors,” he said in his surprisingly deep, resonant voice. “But I would like especially to welcome one visitor. It has been a long time since a member of the family occupied the McCullers pew, so it is very good indeed to see someone there this morning. We welcome you, sir, most warmly.”
Wayde nodded a smiling thanks, and the Reverend Sneed began his sermon.
The congregation settled down to give it their attention, and Lynn whispered accusingly to Ruth, “You asked him to come.”
Ruth gave her a look of displeasure.
“Aren’t you forgetting, Lynn?” she murmured softly. “This isn’t my house, you know. It’s God’s house.”
“But you knew he was coming.”
“I knew noth
ing of the kind!” Ruth said curtly. “And behave yourself.”
Her tone was touched with censure, and Lynn subsided, feeling her cheeks warm a little beneath her mother’s rebuke.
She gave every appearance of listening intently to the sermon, but she could not have repeated one single word of it. She was a little startled when the benediction was pronounced and the congregation began stirring, as the Reverend Sneed, his black robe tucked slightly above his hurrying feet, went swiftly down the aisle so he could take up his accustomed place on the front steps as the congregation filed out into the sunshine.
The McCullers pew was almost directly opposite the Carter pew, and so inevitably they all met as they came into the aisle. Judge Carter greeted Wayde pleasantly, with every evidence of being delighted to see him. Steve shook hands with Wayde, and then Ruth said brightly, “You must come home to dinner with us, Wayde. We insist.”
Wayde’s eyes lit up.
“Why, thank you, I’d like to very much,” he answered with an obvious pleasure that faded slightly as he looked with a trace of anxiety at Lynn. “If I may?”
Lynn ignored him and thrust her hand chummily through Steve’s, looking up at Steve so warmly that he looked startled.
“Shall we go, Steve dear?” she suggested lightly. “We’re holding up the procession.”
Steve looked down at her, and his arm drew her hand closer to his side as they walked together through the lingering groups who were chatting in the aisles.
Outside on the stone steps, the Reverend Sneed greeted Wayde with friendly cordiality.
“It was good to see your family’s pew occupied this morning, Mr. McCullers,” he said with a warm handshake.
“It was good to be here, sir,” Wayde answered, smiling. “I enjoyed your sermon very much.”
The Reverend Sneed’s faded blue eyes twinkled behind his eyeglasses, and the soft breeze touched his snowy hair, making him look, Lynn thought fondly, more than ever like a good little elf.
“That’s very kind of you, the sort of thing any parson likes to hear.” The Reverend Sneed smiled. “I’m afraid too many times our congregations merely endure our sermons, especially those of an old man like me.”
“Oh, I’m quite sure that’s not true, sir, especially of you,” Wayde assured him firmly. “I hope to hear you again, sir, while I’m here.”
The Reverend Sneed thanked him and presented a few of the members of the congregation who were issuing slowly from the church. And then the Judge led his party across the lawn, pausing here and there to greet old friends.
“I have my car here,” suggested Wayde. “Perhaps I could drive somebody.”
Ruth said briskly, “I’ve always yearned to ride in a Cadillac convertible, Wayde!”
Wayde laughed, bowed to her, swung open the door of the low dark green car and helped her into it. The Judge watched, smiling as Wayde drove away, and then looked down at Lynn’s taut young face, and at Steve who was watching Lynn curiously.
“Well, we’d better get started, don’t you think?” he suggested. “Suppose you drive, Steve. I’ll tuck into the back and catch a nap on the way home.”
Steve and Lynn got into the front seat, and Steve carefully backed the car. As they drove slowly out of the church parking lot, Steve glanced down at Lynn.
“You and McCullers don’t seem very friendly all of a sudden,” he said mildly.
“I never liked him, remember?” Lynn said curtly.
“But I thought you were going to help him redecorate his place.”
“He — we changed our minds. He only has another six weeks to serve on his sentence, and I suppose he decided it wasn’t worth-while, after all.”
Steve was driving slowly because of the press of cars sliding down the drive to the highway, and he glanced down at Lynn, caught by her tone.
“Oh, then he’ll be leaving soon?” he asked curiously.
“Doesn’t he always, five minutes after the clock strikes twelve and his sentence has expired?”‘ Lynn answered dryly.
From the back of the car the Judge suggested briskly, “Since Ruth has invited Wayde to dinner, why don’t we drive over and pick up Stella and bring her along? I’m sure she’d enjoy it. She seemed to like Wayde.”
“I’m sure Stella would enjoy it,” Steve said. “She lives with her aunt, and I’m sure the weekends are pretty long for her.”
They were driving now toward the bridge over the river that separated Oakville proper from the mill village locally known as Rivertown.
“You don’t think Stella would already have plans for Sunday?” Lynn asked as the car crossed the bridge and turned down a recently paved street, bordered on either side by neat white-painted cottages, each behind its picket fence.
Steve turned from the main street to a narrow sandy road that was little more than a path. At the very end there was a small white house whose dooryard simply burgeoned with flowers, and along the porch railing geraniums bloomed in all their glory.
An old car, polished and waxed within an inch of its life, sat in front of the house, and as Steve stopped, Stella appeared on the verandah, her flower-printed cotton dress protected by a gingham apron. As she recognized them, she stepped swiftly backward through the open door, and when she came out again the apron had vanished.
She came down the walk and through the gate in the picket fence, looking anxiously from Steve to the Judge, barely sparing Lynn a glance.
“Is something wrong?” she asked them.
“Of course not, Stella. Does something have to be wrong, for us to come calling?” asked the Judge. And before she could answer, he went on to extend the invitation to dinner.
Lynn saw Stella’s plain face light up and her eyes brighten.
“Oh, that’s lovely of you, Judge!” she said eagerly. “I was just getting Aunt Em’s lunch ready. I’ll run in and tell her I won’t be able to eat with her. I won’t be a minute.”
She turned and went running youthfully back into the house, and Lynn looked up at Steve curiously. He was looking down at his hands on the wheel of the car, but there was an unmistakable tinge of red on his cheeks.
Did he realize, she wondered, that Stella was in love with him?
“You sit up front with Steve, Stella, and I’ll ride with Dad!” Lynn decided impulsively, and slid out of the front seat and into the back beside her father. “I don’t see nearly enough of my favorite boy friend. I’m jealous of you because you’re with him five days a week!”
Stella glanced at Steve as though expecting him to protest, and when he didn’t slipped into the seat beside him, and Steve backed the car to where he could turn it and head back for Oakville.
Stella chattered gaily as they rode, and no one else needed to find answers. She was relating events and incidents about the people she and Steve knew, and who were strangers to Lynn. Lynn felt a twinge of jealousy.
The Judge put out his hand, took Lynn’s and drew it through his arm, holding it close as he smiled tenderly down at her. Lynn felt her heart twist as the sunshine revealed his pallor and his gauntness.
The Cadillac convertible was parked in the drive when Steve drove in. As they climbed out of the car, the screen door was thrust open and Wayde stood there, a ridiculous ruffled apron tied about his middle, a cooking spoon held aloft.
“Well, there you are at last,” he pretended to scold them, and Lynn’s eyes widened at his un-Wayde-like gaiety. “Ruth and I had about decided you’d gotten yourselves lost. Dinner’s going to be ruined.”
“And since when have we had a butler?” the Judge asked lightly. “That apron looks fetching. It does something for you!”
Wayde laughed and brushed the apron lightly.
“Pretty, isn’t it? Ruth was afraid I’d spill something on my ‘good suit.’” He grinned happily. “I had no idea kitchens could be such fascinating places.”
His eyes met Lynn’s without a change of expression and went on to Stella, whom he greeted like an old friend before he turned to le
ad the way back into the house.
“Oh, Stella,” Ruth came bustling importantly out of the kitchen, “I’m so glad you came. How is your Aunt Em?”
“Oh, she’s much better, thank you, Miss Ruth!” Stella answered. “Said she was glad to be rid of me; now she can eat whatever she wants without me standing over her scolding her. But of course there’s nothing in the house that Dr. Eaves doesn’t want her to have, so I could leave her with a clear conscience.”
“I’m so glad! Do come in, all of you. Dinner’s on the table,” Ruth urged hospitably, and glanced at Wayde with merriment. “I’ll let you take your apron off now, Wayde.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Wayde docilely, his eyes twinkling.
Lynn looked about the table as they all settled down.
Wayde was seated directly across the table from her, and she felt the impact of his eyes upon her. She looked up unwillingly, met his eyes and for a moment was unable to tear her own away. He studied her quietly, intently, but there was no change of expression in his eyes. He was not pleading with her, not asking her forgiveness; he was just studying her, almost as though seeing her for the first time. And then deliberately, his eyes released hers and he turned and said something to Stella, his expression warm and friendly. Stella looked up at him as though startled momentarily by what he had said. Then she laughed delightedly, and the next moment they were conversing as if they’d known each other always.
The meal progressed its leisurely way, table talk flowing. When Lynn rose to help her mother clear the table for dessert, Stella and Wayde were so intent on what they were saying that neither seemed aware of the table clearing.
In the kitchen, Lynn said sternly to her mother, “Now what are you up to?”
Ruth looked up from the coconut layer-cake she was slicing, to accompany home-made peach ice cream, and looked innocently bewildered.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she protested.
‘Oh, yes, you do — this ‘Ruth’ and ‘Wayde’ business! Since when?”
“Oh, that.” Ruth gestured carelessly with the cake knife. “It just seemed more friendly. And after all, nowadays only old ladies are called Mrs. This-and-That! And I’m not an old lady!”
