The New England: ROMANCE Collection

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The New England: ROMANCE Collection Page 70

by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris


  Sheridan seemed not to notice Clemmie’s tart responses to her questions or the little glares that she immediately tried to curb, and Clemmie did her best to improve her disposition, knowing it wasn’t fair to either of them. But she couldn’t help wishing more than once that Sheridan were a vindictive shrew and not the pleasant young woman who shared their company.

  It was with great relief that Clemmie realized the picnic was coming to an end, as members of the congregation stacked dirty dishes in crates. Soon the blessed moment arrived when they made their farewells.

  “It’s been wonderful being with you today, Joel.” Sheridan put her hand to his arm.

  “We really must do this again sometime. Do you still have my number?”

  Clemmie wondered if her face had turned flame red due to the fire of jealousy building hotter inside.

  “Not anymore, no.”

  “I’ll give it to you.”

  “Won’t do me much good. Can’t read it, you know.”

  “Oh, but someone surely can read it to you if you ask. It would be better than me relying on that faulty memory of yours.”

  He laughed, and she joined in. Only Clemmie remained sober.

  Equipped with Sheridan’s number, which he’d stuffed inside his pocket, Joel walked with Clemmie to the waiting car. All through the drive back, Hannah happily chattered about a boy she’d met, but Clemmie wished for silence. Once the Rolls pulled into Herbert’s drive, Joel took her hand, surprising her.

  “Come with me inside Herbert’s house. I have something I need to talk with you about.”

  “Oh, but …” Clemmie glanced at Hannah’s mother, uncertain.

  “We can send the chauffeur again,” the woman assured. “Just give us a ring.”

  “Or Herbert could take her home, now that he has his car running,” Joel assured.

  “Either way, you’ll have a ride.”

  “All right.”

  She said a quick good-bye, sensing Joel wanted to speak before Herbert and his family returned. He’d taken them out for an ice cream soda to top off the day, a rare treat judging by the manner in which the girls had jumped up and down, squealing, when they heard his plan.

  Joel used his cane to find the door and opened it for Clemmie. She preceded him inside, wondering what he had to say. She followed him to the sofa and sank beside him.

  “Tell me before I burst, Joel. You’re so mysterious….”

  “I guess I got that lesson from you,” he teased.

  “Joel …,” she warned.

  “I’ve decided to have the operation.”

  Chapter 16

  Clemmie grew so silent Joel could barely hear her breathe. He had thought she might squeal, like the girls often did, or display some other sign of enthusiasm since she’d been urging him for weeks to put the past behind him. Today at church, no, even before that with Clemmie, he’d begun to consider seriously the subject he’d chosen never to think of since his initial consultation with the doctor.

  “Clemmie, did you hear me?” He twisted around and slid his hand on the cushion, leaning in her direction. The tips of his fingers suddenly met her hand, and she jerked back a little, as if scalded. He frowned, wondering why she acted so jumpy.

  “Joel … I—I don’t know what to say.” Her voice trembled. “I’m so pleased you made this decision. Th–that you found something worthwhile to live for …”

  Her words trailed off in a wistful fashion, and he drew his eyebrows together, confused. He moved his hand purposefully along the cushion until he found hers and covered it with his. “I wouldn’t be where I am right now if it wasn’t for you, Clemmie. You kept at me and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Sometimes a stubborn will can be a blessing if you look hard enough. But only sometimes, Joel.”

  He chuckled. “That first part sounds like something Darcy might say.”

  “Actually, she did.”

  He heard the smile in her voice and laughed outright.

  “And the last was a warning to me, hmm?”

  “If you like.” There was no mistaking the amusement in her voice.

  He felt better now that the mysterious tension had eased but still found the next subject difficult to introduce. “Clemmie … about what you said regarding your parents and your grandfather … and … and helping me out—”

  “Oh, they’d consider it a privilege!”

  “What with these tough times we live in? And running the reformatory?”

  “Grandfather’s money is tied up in banks in England. My family wasn’t affected like so many, and the Refuge survives on the patronage of its investors. So you needn’t worry, Joel.”

  She seemed so assured and confident Joel couldn’t help but feel a spark of that same hope. “Well then, it seems I have a call to make. Would you mind getting things started?”

  She gasped. “Oh—I’d love to. Are you sure Herbert won’t mind?”

  “He won’t, and Clemmie, well, the charges will have to be reversed. I doubt Herbert could pay for the call, and I sure can’t—”

  Clemmie squealed as she jumped up from the sofa, keeping Joel’s hand in hers and tugging him. “Oh that’s no problem, I’m quite certain. Come on then! My parents will be thrilled to hear from you. I can’t wait to tell them the good news—that you’re here and alive. At times we did wonder….”

  Joel felt a niggling of guilt, again shocked that any of those at the Refuge had given him more than a fleeting thought. He’d been such a trouble-maker during the majority of his time there; he’d have thought they would feel relieved to have him out of their lives for good.

  She led him down the hallway to where the phone was. He heard her connect with the operator and give the number of the Refuge, asking to reverse the charges. It took awhile to get through, Clemmie’s toe-tapping almost wearing a hole through Joel’s nerves, but at last she gave a delighted laugh.

  “Aunt Darcy? Is that you? … Yes, it’s me. I have some huge news to share, but you best be sitting down … no—no, nothing bad. Honest … Well, guess who’s standing here beside me?” She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “It’s Joel! He’s here at Herbert’s…. Yes, yes … all right.”

  Joel felt her prod him with the receiver. “She wants to talk with you.”

  Joel swallowed hard, fighting down the ridiculous impulse to cower or run. He felt like a boy reprimanded and sent to his guardian’s office.

  “Uh, hullo.”

  “Joel, bless me soul! As I live and breathe, it is you. What have you been doin’ with yourself all these years, ye naughty boy? Why give us such a scare?”

  Through the static it felt strangely good to hear Darcy’s no-nonsense words chastise him in her distinctive British accent.

  “It’s a long story. I, uh, was hoping to speak with Mr. Lyons.”

  “Not before you explain yourself, young man. Where have you been?”

  “Darcy, cease with all your fluttering and let the boy talk to Stewart.” Even over the static, Joel heard Brent admonish his wife. Apparently they were both listening in.

  “Uh, hi, Mr. Thomas.” Nearly thirty years old, Joel still felt like a school-boy talking with his teacher.

  “Are you conducting yourself in an appropriate manner, Joel? You haven’t blocked off any more pipes, have you?”

  He laughed. Trust his old schoolmaster to say such a thing. And to remember when Joel had been the culprit behind climbing the roof and stuffing rags in the pipe of the old wood-burning stove, in the hope of getting a day free from schooling.

  “No, sir. I’ve steered clear of all pipes.”

  “Good lad.”

  “Are you eating well?” Darcy wanted to know. “Are you getting enough to eat?”

  Joel reassured her his health was fine; yes, his eating habits were normal, and yes, he really was alive and kicking. Soon Clemmie’s mom came onto the line, demanding to know all of what Darcy had already asked. Finally the phone was handed to Clemmie’s father.
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br />   “Hello, sir.” Joel squelched the emotion that coated his throat at the familiarity of hearing so many special voices from the past. “I actually called because I have a favor to ask.”

  His hand still in Clemmie’s, he felt her give him an encouraging squeeze. As briefly as possible, he told his former guardian the basics of what had occurred and the reason for his call.

  “Whatever you need, son,” he said once Joel finished. “Just say the word. Do you remember when I first met you living in the streets, trying to con me by snagging my interest in that rigged shell game? Then that gentleman had you arrested for stealing from him, and I got the judge’s permission to take you with me as one of my first boys to help at the Refuge?”

  Joel remembered; he’d been almost nine. He couldn’t help the moisture that stung his eyes and closed them.

  “I told you then that I didn’t want you to think of me as just your guardian. That I wanted to be a father to you and would always be there when you needed me. You had only to ask.”

  “Yes, sir.” The evidence of tears coated his voice, making it gruff.

  “I meant it then, and I mean it now. Anything, Joel. We’re family. You’ll always be a son to me.”

  If he didn’t get off this phone soon, he would humiliate himself by breaking down into a binge of weeping. He couldn’t remember when he had last cried. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. This is only a loan. I’ll pay back every penny.”

  “I know you will, though it’s not necessary.”

  But it was to Joel. To clear his name of the criminal lifestyle his father had passed down to him, he was determined to stand on his own two feet, to prove that he could, and to never take another penny of charity.

  Clemmie’s father asked for details, and Joel answered as best he could, explaining he hadn’t yet been to see the doctor. The line filled with more static, the words fading out now and then and getting difficult to understand.

  “Before we lose connection completely, put Clemmie on, would you, son?”

  Joel gratefully handed the earpiece her way, needing a moment alone. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Once she took the phone, he moved back to the sofa and took a seat. He pulled his handkerchief from his suit pocket and wiped his damp lashes. Incredible. After all he’d done, after the lousy way he’d treated those at the Refuge, they still held their arms out to him and called him family.

  He realized then how much he had missed that … missed them.

  He wondered if part of the reason Clemmie was able to get through to him had to do with the familiarity he’d felt toward her before knowing she was Clemmie. Had he sensed the feeling of home in her presence? His “box of a home” didn’t feel the same without her there, and he knew if it weren’t for his pixie angel he would be in the same dark rut. He still had areas in which he wasn’t ready to move forward, still felt issues in resuming his former connection to God and issues all his own that stemmed from guilt. But he had come far in the past week alone, and Clemmie was responsible for the majority of his changed attitude.

  Once she ended the call and came back to sit beside him, he spoke.

  “I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

  “Of course, Joel. Anything. You know that.” She sounded like her father, and again he felt overwhelmed by the Lyons’ generosity. As a boy he’d never appreciated it, but as a man he could see the many sacrifices her father had made and the good heart that led him to those decisions.

  “Without you I wouldn’t be doing this, Clemmie. It’s a lot to ask, but I’d like you to go with me to the doc and”—he shrugged—”just be around through whatever happens.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of leaving your side at a time like this.”

  Her fervent admission encouraged him, but he shook his head. “There’s no telling how long this’ll take. I know your stay here is nearing an end. You mentioned you were only staying through the summer, and summer’s almost over.”

  “I … um …” She sounded nervous with the way she hedged. “Fact is, I already asked and received my parents’ permission to stay as long as you need me here, in case it came to that. I was, um, hoping you might ask.”

  He smiled at her shy admission and again reached for her hand. “Clemmie, you’re a true gem. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I’ll always be here for you, Joel.”

  Clemmie rushed for the exit door, feeling as if a clamp squeezed her lungs; she couldn’t breathe. Her excuse for needed air had been flimsy; she was sure Joel had seen through her guise and knew so when she heard the hospital door open and the taps of his cane.

  With unbelievable precision, he found her where she leaned against the brick wall of the building and put his hand to her arm. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was angrier with him for keeping such a dangerous fact hidden or for refusing to get help when he knew it was crucial.

  She whipped around to face him. “I can’t believe you, Joel. The doctor said you could have lost your life, that every day death is a possibility if something goes wrong. That whatever is causing this awful pressure to your cranium and optic nerve could push a little the wrong way and do severe damage—likely kill you. And you knew. All this time, you knew? Why didn’t you go through with the surgery before now? Why?”

  She felt frustrated with both him and the doctor, who’d so matter-of-factly stated that the medical profession still remained in the dark when it came to head traumas such as Joel had suffered. At the same time, he confirmed to Joel that his erratic mood swings and severe headaches were likely related to his condition but that the operation itself was extremely risky. He could die either way. It had been the first time she realized Joel still suffered any type of headache, though he’d told the doctor he hadn’t had one in over a month.

  “I told you.” Joel’s voice was grim and quiet. “That’s all I wanted at the time. To die.”

  Hearing him speak the words she’d just thought, Clemmie shuddered. She simply couldn’t believe it. Oh, she’d heard him say it before, but she’d never believed he would go to such extremes, to neglect the value of life and refuse the surgery. She had been under the mistaken impression that the operation was a recommendation to regain his sight, not a necessity to prevent probable death. Based on what the doctor had said during the lengthy consultation, Joel was extremely lucky to be alive.

  “Hey …” He slid his hand down her arm and found her hand, squeezing it. “If this is too much for you and you want to pull out, I’ll understand.”

  She blinked in disbelief, staring into his eyes, which were soft with remorse. Here he’d been told that his life was at risk with every day, every minute that passed, and he felt bad for her? Of course, he’d had over a year to deal with the doctor’s grim prognosis.

  “Just try and get rid of me, Joel Litton. I’m no quitter. And neither are you. I’ll be beside you every step of the way.”

  His answering smile helped to soothe the ache in her heart.

  “No, Clemmie, that’s one good thing that can be said about us. For all our stubborn natures, neither of us is willing to give in and concede defeat.”

  In the days that followed, she reminded herself of his words often.

  Now understanding the severity of his condition, she didn’t urge him to take part in social activities as before, but she wouldn’t allow him to stay confined in his box, either. In between tests and more tests she found a peaceful spot near the lake and encouraged Joel to go there with her. Soon it became a ritual. There, they picnicked and relaxed and laughed and talked about the old days and the present ones. At the lake, they never discussed the upcoming surgery or anything related to his condition, neither of them wanting to create a damper on the peace they’d both found and shared.

  Over the next two weeks Joel suffered two of his bad headaches when Clemmie came to do her usual cleaning. Her heart clenched with fear at the terrible pain he suffered. She did her best to help, puttin
g cold compresses on his forehead, massaging his temples, and making him hot, soothing beverages that helped when her own head ached. To her chagrin, very little she did took any pain away, but he thanked her and held on to her hand like a lifeline. Often she stayed until he managed to sleep and even past then, sitting beside his bed or quietly straightening his home.

  In her heart, she felt like his wife, and all she did was with the great love she felt for Joel, which only deepened as time passed. She hoped one day he might feel the same strong affection for her, though she doubted it. He hadn’t kissed her once since he discovered her identity, though he did accept her hugs and often held her hand. But she resigned herself to the idea that he’d gone back to thinking of her as a kid sister….

  And Sheridan Wallace clearly wanted him back.

  The woman had visited Joel four times since the picnic—that Clemmie knew of, because she’d been there when it happened. She wished she could loathe the elegant blond. But irony of ironies, she found herself liking Sheridan, even coming to regard her as a friend. That Sheridan and Joel got along well didn’t escape Clemmie’s notice, and she resolved to bury her dream once more, if she must, in order to help Joel realize his. And if that meant having Sheridan by his side, Clemmie would learn to accept his choice and only be to him what she’d always been—a friend.

  No matter her firm resolution, the idea of Joel belonging to any other woman made her heart feel as if it were breaking. Somehow, she would get through the long weeks.

  Somehow, she must.

  Chapter 17

  Hey, ole pal. What are you doing all alone? I would have thought Clemmie would be here the day before you go under the knife.” Herbert greeted Joel as he approached his porch. “As a matter of fact, with the way you two have been, I’m surprised not to find her glued to your side.”

  Joel took Herbert’s ribbing in stride. He didn’t want anyone to know he was worried he wouldn’t survive. That fear was uppermost in his mind.

  “She went with Hannah to the train station.”

  “Oh, right! Her parents are coming in today, and Darcy, too, from what I hear. It’ll be swell to see them again.”

 

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