Romance Classics

by Peggy Gaddis

  “Is it all right, Jonny?” she asked anxiously.

  “He was aboard the plane. There is no doubt of that,” he told her.

  “Oh, Jonny, let’s hurry back and tell her,” Cherry breathed, and looked up at him in eager warmth and happiness.

  “Let’s,” Jonathan agreed. As they turned to drive along the main street, several people called out to her and blew their horns in greeting as she passed their parked cars. But Cherry was so excited, so exhilarated by the news Jonathan was taking to Loyce, that she neither saw nor heard them.

  Back at the Lodge, Elsie and Eben came out to help unload the marketing, and Jonathan asked, “Where is Miss Loyce?”

  “Oh, she’s down at the barn looking after that new batch of pheasants that just hatched out,” Eben answered. Jonathan nodded and hurried around the house and down toward the barn.

  Loyce was just emerging from the pheasants’ cage when she saw Jonathan. Hastily she locked the door and came swiftly to meet him.

  “Come along,” said Jonathan, and took her hand and drew her with him down the trail to the place where they had had lunch that day that now seemed a century before.

  Loyce looked anxiously at him, and something in his face gave away the news he had to tell her. Her heart sang a small, frightened song as they reached the spot and he drew a thick envelope from his pocket.

  “There is not the faintest doubt that Weldon Hammett was aboard that plane when it crashed,” he told her gravely. “He did not run out on you and you should be ashamed that you ever thought he would.”

  He placed the envelope in her hands, and she dropped down on the large flat rock where they had had their lunch and held the envelope with hands that shook as tears slid down her face.

  “Oh, my darling,” she whispered so softly that the words barely reached Jonathan. Knowing they were not meant for him, he walked away from her, leaving her alone in that moment of healing peace.

  She wept there as she had not wept since the news of the crash. They were tears that came from her heart, but they came, too, from wounded pride and self-respect that beneath the healing tears grew sound and free again.

  When at last Jonathan came back to her, she sat with the sheets of paper in her hands and looked up at him with eyes washed clean of tears. And on her face there was a radiance that seemed to bathe Jonathan in its lovely glow.

  “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you, Jonny,” she said softly, her voice husky with tears.

  Jonathan looked down at her where she sat on the big rock, her face lifted, her eyes soft and warm despite the recent tears. And there was that in his eyes that made her catch her breath on a small, startled gasp. And then Jonathan smiled at her.

  “Oh, we’ll think of something one of these days,” he told her, and his tone made the words a promise that brought a soft touch of carnation-pink to her tear-streaked face.

  His tone, the look in his eyes brought her back to an awareness of her recent tears, and she got to her feet with a touch of the endearing awkwardness of a child.

  “I must look a sight,” she stammered. “I don’t weep prettily. I get all bleary-eyed and red-nosed and ugly.”

  “Loyce,” Jonathan’s voice was stern, as his hands caught her by the shoulders and gave her a shake, “you are never, so long as you live, going to say or even think anything like that about yourself. Do you understand?”

  “Well, I just meant that no woman looks attractive when she’s crying,” she stammered.

  “You couldn’t look ugly if you tried,” Jonathan told her swiftly. “Not to me, anyway. You are lovely and sweet and kind, and I’ll tell you more about how I feel toward you later on. For now it’s enough for me to say that I never want to hear you tear yourself down. You’ve got to believe that you are radiantly lovely; it shouldn’t be hard for you to do. You do have a mirror, don’t you?”

  She managed a soft, breathless laugh.

  “Well, of course I do,” she responded. “But I also have a radiantly lovely young sister, remember?”

  “And all your life you’ve been jealous of her,” Jonathan stated so flatly that for a moment she could only blink at him, not at all sure she had heard him correctly.

  “Why, that’s not true!” she gasped, outraged. “I adore her.”

  “Sure you do,” Jonathan answered. “But all your life you’ve felt that she was prettier and more attractive than you; and you’ve let yourself develop a perfectly insane and wicked inferiority complex that has made you try to withdraw from the whole human race. And when Weldon fell in love with you, you were so unsure of yourself that you were sure it couldn’t possibly last; that he would tire of you, because you were unsophisticated. Apparently it never occurred to you that your very difference from the women he had known was a great part of your charm. You should be ashamed of yourself, Loyce; not only for doubting him, but for doubting your own charms.”

  “I’m ashamed of doubting him,” Loyce said shakily. “But I never thought I had any charms.”

  Jonathan’s gesture was one of exasperation.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” He sighed.

  Color flashed in her cheeks and for a moment there was a spark in her eyes.

  “Well, you could just let me alone,” she flashed.

  “That’s the one thing I’m not going to do,” Jonathan assured her firmly.

  Anger now was burning within her; anger that momentarily drowned out her gratitude.

  “And just what makes you think you have anything to do with what happens to me from here on out?” she demanded hotly.

  Jonathan studied her for a moment and then gave her a disarming grin.

  “I’ve met Hutchens Mayfield,” he told her, as though no further explanation could possibly be necessary.

  Loyce caught her breath.

  “So?” she snapped. “He’s a very fine man.”

  “Sure he is,” Jonathan answered, “and full of ambition.”

  “Well, is there anything wrong about that?” she demanded.

  “Not a bit. More power to him. If I stay here long enough, I’ll even vote for him some day,” Jonathan answered. “He’s a fine man, but he’s not the man for you.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake!” Loyce gasped faintly.

  Jonathan grinned at her.

  “I promised you once I wouldn’t try to make love to you until you gave me permission,” he reminded her, and his grin deepened at her indignant gasp. “And this is hardly the time, anyway. I want you to have time to get Weldon Hammett completely out of your mind before I start trying to move in. But you may as well know now as later. I am moving in, and all the Hutchens Mayfields in the world can’t stop me. I’m not going to tell you now that I’m in love with you. But if you’re as smart as I think you are, you must have guessed it.”

  “How could I?” she stammered. “This is perfectly crazy! I won’t listen to any more.”

  “There isn’t going to be any more — now,” Jonathan told her. “We’ve got the rest of the summer. I’m not going anywhere, and you live here, so we’ll have plenty of time. But make no mistake about it, Loyce. You’re my girl, and before the summer is over you’re going to admit it.”

  His hands still held her by the shoulders and he was looking down at her with his heart in his eyes. Loyce met his gaze, and as he watched he saw her eyes widen slightly. Beneath his hands he felt the small, slight tremor that spread through her body. And angry shock bloomed in his eyes as his face became a taut mask.

  “Loyce, are you afraid of me?” he demanded sharply.

  “Why, of course not! What a silly question!” she stammered. “It’s just that everything is happening so fast! I’m confused.”

  Jonathan’s hands dropped and he took a backward step away from her. As though he no longer trusted them, he jammed his hands into his pockets.

  “So be it,” he said grimly. “So you’re confused. Well, I’ve never been noted for patience, but I can wait for you to get yoursel
f straightened out mentally. I know you’ve been under a terrific strain since the crash. Shall I go away?”

  She caught her breath, and alarm rather than fear was in her eyes now.

  “Go away? Oh, no, Jonny!” she cried out, and hot color burned in her face and her eyes dropped away from his. “I mean — I wouldn’t want you to go, unless you wanted to.”

  “You know darned well I don’t,” he told her. “But if you are going to be afraid of me every time I mention the fact that I love you, then I’d better go now, while there is still some very faint chance that I can get you out of my heart.”

  “Oh, Jonny,” she whispered faintly. “Just let me have a little while to adjust.”

  “To what? Hammett’s been dead more than a year,” Jonathan pointed out with brutal frankness.

  She cringed slightly.

  “I know,” she said huskily. “I have adjusted to that. But it’s only been a few minutes since I became sure that he didn’t just run out on me. I have to get used to that!”

  He studied her for a moment, and then he drew a deep breath and lifted his shoulders in a slight gesture that was not quite a shrug.

  “And how long will that take? Months? Years perhaps?” he wanted to know.

  “Oh, no, Jonny, no!”

  He nodded at the stricken look in her eyes, the tone of her voice.

  ‘I’ll stick around for a while then,” he told her harshly. “And when, as and if the time comes that you’re willing to face up to the fact that I love you and want to marry you, maybe you’ll let me know.”

  And without waiting for her answer, he turned and strode off down the trail towards the falls.

  Chapter Thirteen.

  Summer had come to the mountains, and with it the onrush of tourists from the low country, fleeing from the heat of city sidewalks and tall buildings. With the coming of the tourists the tempo of life at the county seat had been speeded up. The tourists had to be entertained; and their entertainment had to be quite different from anything they were accustomed to at home. Thus, there were taffy-pulls, fish-fries, square dances and picnics.

  The Lodge was overflowing with fishing guests. Cherry was so busy that she scarcely realized the change in Loyce until one night, the first in a week or more, when there were only the two girls, the Judge and Jonathan at dinner, she looked across the table and saw Loyce was flushed and bright-eyed and pretty. She noticed the look in Jonathan’s eyes and barely restrained a faint whistle of surprise.

  “There’s going to be a shindig down at Joe Mason’s barn tonight,” Cherry announced. “Job’s coming for me. Wouldn’t you like to go, Loyce? It would do you good.”

  Loyce looked up and met Jonathan’s eyes, and his own widened with surprise and delight.

  “Would you like to go, Jonny?” she asked.

  Jonathan held himself sternly in check, unwilling to allow a hope that had been smacked down so often to rear its head again.

  “I’m the city slicker myself,” he pointed out. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what a ‘shindig’ is. Sounds like fun, though.”

  “Oh, it’s a mountain name for square dancing,” Cherry explained gaily even as she coverertly watched the two. “A barn dance. You’ve never heard such music and may never again, unless it’s in another mountain community. But it is fun. Loyce is a marvelous square-dancer.”

  “I’m not, really,” Loyce began, and caught her breath beneath the look in Jonathan’s eyes. “Well, maybe I am, if Cherry says I am. Cherry’s the expert in the family.”

  “Well, I’m the fellow with two left feet and a tin ear when it comes to square dancing,” Jonathan said, and smiled warmly at Loyce. “But I’m supposed to be a fast study. Maybe you could teach me. That is, if you wouldn’t mind?”

  “I wouldn’t mind at all,” Loyce assured him radiantly, and for just an instant Cherry exchanged startled glances with the Judge, who was also watching Loyce and Jonathan.

  “Swell! That is, Cherry, if your invitation included me?” Jonathan grinned at Cherry.

  “As if you didn’t know it did!” Cherry sniffed gaily. “You and Loyce can go in her car and Job and I in his car. And we’ll all meet at Joe Mason’s barn.”

  Later, upstairs, Loyce asked Cherry, “I haven’t been to a barn dance in so long, Cherry. Do I have anything suitable to wear?”

  “Well, of course,” said Cherry judiciously, her eyes merry, “you really should have something simple but exquisite in gold lamé or black velvet, with a yard or so of pearls — you zany! Anything suitable for a barn dance? There’s just one thing in your wardrobe I forbid you to wear, and that’s your overalls. Them’s for daytime, not for dances.”

  Loyce laughed joyously and it was such a lovely sound and so unaccustomed that Cherry blinked in surprised delight as Loyce danced off to get dressed.

  Downstairs, waiting for Job, Cherry perched on the arm of a chair across from the Judge and asked curiously, “What do you think, Gran’sir?”

  “About what, chick?”

  “Now don’t be coy with me, Gran’sir!” Cherry protested. “What do you think about Loyce and Jonny?”

  “I think they make a very handsome couple, and they seem to be discovering that fact,” the Judge answered. “Do you mind?”

  “Mind? Saints preserve us, Gran’sir, you asked me that ages ago because you had some crazy idea that I wanted Jonny for myself. But how could I, when I’ve got Job?”

  “Oh?” The Judge’s eyebrows went up slightly. “Have you?”

  “That,” Cherry told him firmly, “is what I propose to find out tonight.”

  “Oh, then you’ve made up your mind?” asked the Judge.

  Cherry chuckled like an amused child.

  “Do you know something, Gran’sir? I don’t think there’s ever been the faintest doubt in my mind about that,” she admitted frankly. “I just had to have a good hard jolt to wake me up to the truth.”

  “And the fact that Betty was after Job was the jolt?” asked the Judge.

  Cherry nodded soberly. “I’m terribly sorry for Betty; she’s had a rough deal. Oh, I suppose it was her own fault she eloped with that creature her family couldn’t stand. But she probably thought she was in love with him. Anyway, I’m sorry for her. But I’m not sorry enough to give her my Job.”

  The Judge eyed her curiously for a moment.

  “So you aren’t going to give her Job?” he repeated.

  “I certainly am not!”

  “Well, could you, if you wanted to?”

  Puzzled, Cherry stared at him, frowning.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean, Gran’sir?” she asked him cautiously.

  “Only that it always puzzles me how women can feel they can hand a man over as if they’d bought and paid for him and were taking him back to the exchange desk.”

  Cherry colored faintly.

  “Did I sound like that about Job, Gran’sir?” she asked humbly. “I didn’t mean to. What I meant was that if Betty wants him, I’ll fight her for him; but if Job wants her instead of me, I’ll be a lady about it if it kills me, even if I have to go into a decline and be a permanent old maid.”

  “Who’s going to be an old maid?” demanded Job as he swung open the door and came into the house.

  Cherry jumped and flushed scarlet as she scowled at him.

  “Job Tallent, how long have you been standing there eavesdropping?” she demanded.

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Job protested with some heat. “I just opened the door, and somebody said something about being a permanent old maid, and my curiosity was aroused. That’s all. Shall I go back outside and ring? I thought you’d hear the car and be warned I was approaching.”

  Cherry smiled warmly at him and bent to kiss her grandfather’s cheek.

  “See you all of a sudden, honey-lamb,” she told him, and turned to Job just as Jonathan and Loyce came down the stairs. Loyce wore a wide-skirted cotton print gown that hugged her upper body and spilled out into many gores below the
narrow waist.

  “Hi, you two, are you going to the shindig?” Job demanded.

  “In my car, Job honey, so don’t worry,” Loyce told him. “Is that all right with you? Cherry invited us.”

  “Well, of course,” Job answered. “I just didn’t know that you cared about barn dances, Loyce. It’s been much too long since you’ve been to one. You’ll be the belle of the ball. You’ll have your hands full, Jonny, fighting off the stags.”

  “It’ll be a pleasure.” Jonathan grinned. “But I’m no good at square dancing, so maybe she’d rather dance with somebody else.”

  Loyce said gaily, “Don’t be silly. What’s that crazy old song: ‘I always dance with the guy what brung me’?”

  Job looked almost as startled at Loyce’s unaccustomed gaiety as Cherry and the Judge had been. But nobody remarked on it, and Loyce swept Jonathan out of the house, the bright scarf of her laughter floating back to them as they exchanged swift glances.

  Job whistled softly and looked at Cherry with raised brows.

  “That really was Loyce, wasn’t it?” he asked.

  “Or a reasonable facsimile.” Cherry laughed. “Oh, Job, isn’t it wonderful? She’s beginning to live again.”

  “Well, hooray for her!” said Job with deep sincerity. “Well, shall we get going?”

  They said good night to the Judge and went out to where Job’s car was waiting. Job put Cherry into it and slid beneath the wheel, and as the car rolled down the drive, picking up speed as it neared the county road, Cherry glanced at him in the dim light from the instrument panel.

  “I suppose Betty will be there?” she asked sweetly.

  “Betty?” Job glanced at her and back at the road as he negotiated the turn. “Betty who?”

  “Oh, now, Job, please!”

  “I suppose you mean Betty Marshall.” Job’s tone was a trifle stiff.

  “Well, who else would I mean?”

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” Job said, and then his tone sharpened. “I can’t understand why all you girls have your knives out for that girl. She’s a decent, honest, straightforward girl and she’s had a very rough deal.”