Carolina Love Song

by Peggy Gaddis

  She tucked her hand through Alison’s arm, her other hand through Sam’s, and drew them into the house with her.

  Beth was coming down the stairs as they entered the big reception hall, and Judy cried out gaily, “Guess what, Miz’ Beth?”

  Beth hesitated at the foot of the stairs and looked apprehensive.

  “I’m afraid to,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me they’ve come back! That I couldn’t endure.”

  “Golly, no,” Judy hastened to reassure her. “Mrs. Abbott is spending the summer in New England with Ellen, and Alison is going to stay on with us for a while. Isn’t that scrumptious?”

  Alison said hastily, “If you don’t find the idea appealing, Mrs. Ramsey, don’t hesitate to say so, and I’ll clear out.”

  “Don’t be a blessed idiot,” Beth protested. “My dear, I couldn’t be happier. It’s going to be wonderful to have you here for as long as you can stand us.”

  Alison managed a small, slightly unsteady laugh.

  “Be careful, Mrs. Ramsey! That might be a lifetime invitation!” she stammered, the mist of tears in her eyes, a small lump clogging her throat, making her voice unsteady.

  Beth said gently, “My dear, nothing would please me more than to have you here for years and years. And I’m sure Bix and Sam will join me in that, won’t you, Sam?”

  “Of course.” Sam’s tone was quite firm, and his eyes on Alison were warm.

  “I think,” Alison’s voice threatened to break as two crystal tears slipped against her will from her eyes, “you are the very kindest people I’ve ever been lucky enough to know.”

  Childishly uncomfortable at the emotion in Alison’s voice and the sight of tears, Judy said awkwardly, “Oh, hush up, honey! Be a good girl and stow the tears! We’re being kind to ourselves, not you! On account of because we like you, see?”

  “She’s right, Alison,” Beth said heartily. “We do like you a lot, and we’re very happy to have you stay with us as long as you like.”

  “Now what did I tell you?” Sam grinned at Alison, who was making a sincere effort to control the emotional outburst that threatened.

  A gay whistle sounded from the back of the house, and Bix came toward them, his eyes finding and clinging to Judy even before he discovered the signs of tears on Alison’s flushed face.

  “Hey, Alison, who’s been mean to you? Point him out to me and I’ll clobber him!” Bix offered handsomely.

  Alison managed a laugh, while Judy explained and Bix beamed at Alison happily.

  “Hey, are we in luck? The only staying guest we would accept, and she’s staying!”

  “Aren’t we lucky? Suppose it had been Marise? Or even Tony and Mimi?” Judy shuddered at the thought.

  Bix looked down at her with mock sternness.

  “Worst of all, suppose it had been Roger!”

  Judy grinned impishly at him.

  “Oh, Roger’s quite a nice lad! Might make an excellent house guest,” she drawled.

  “Over my dead body!” said Bix.

  Judy slid her hand into his and leaned close to him.

  “And just think, Alison was afraid you wouldn’t want her to stay,” she marveled.

  Bix scowled at her and then at Alison.

  “Oh, come on, Alison; you know better than that! Zounds, haven’t we been pals for a long time? You should know how very welcome you’ll always be at Oakhill!” he protested.

  Alison looked around at them and blinked, even while her mouth curled in a faintly tremulous smile.

  “You really are the kindest people in all the world.”

  “One more tear out of you, my girl, and you’ll get a paddling,” Judy threatened her.

  “Even if they are happy tears?”

  “Even so. I hate people who weep because they’re happy. Keeps you so uncertain. You never know whether they’re weeping because they are miserably unhappy or on tiptoe with happiness!”

  “I’d be the most ungrateful creature in the world if I wasn’t happy, after you’ve all been so kind and sweet!” Alison’s voice was stronger now, and the tremulous smile on her mouth deepened a little.

  “Andy Abbott wants to call on Alison, but she wasn’t sure that she should allow it without consulting all of you first,” Sam said pleasantly.

  Startled, Judy looked swiftly at him.

  “Do we want him to?” she asked softly, so that her voice did not reach the others.

  Pretending surprise, Sam’s brows went up slightly.

  “Don’t we?” he drawled.

  Judy gave a slight shrug.

  “Do we?” she insisted.

  Sam said brusquely, “If she wants him to, that’s all that’s important, isn’t it?”

  Judy’s eyes held his, and her voice was gentle when she said quietly, “If you think so.”

  For a long moment Sam’s eyes met hers. Then he looked away and his jaw clamped so that a small ridge of muscle leaped along it.

  “I really can’t see that I have any right at all to object to any of her callers,” he stated flatly.

  “But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” Judy persisted softly.

  Dark brick-red touched his jaw for a moment, barely visible beneath the sun-bronze, and his eyes flickered.

  “Look, Young ’Un, suppose you tend to your own knitting and let me handle mine,” he suggested.

  “Of course, Sammy dear,” she said. “It’s only that I am so happy I’d like everybody else in the world to be happy, too.”

  “Very generous of you, I’m sure. But there are those who would call it meddling,” he told her harshly.

  Not noticeably disturbed by his tone or his manner, Judy met his eyes and said softly, “I’m sorry, Sam dear. It’s only that I know how much you like her, and I wasn’t anxious for you to have any competition. Oh, not that Andy would really be competition for you; not if you really work at getting her to fall in love with you.”

  Sam growled angrily, raising his voice slightly so that the others glanced at them curiously, “Will you for the love of little green apples mind your own darned business?”

  Bix moved toward them, puzzled by the sudden heat in Sam’s voice, and Sam blurted, “See you folks later. I’ve some chores to attend to before dinner,” and stalked out.

  Judy watched him go. Then she turned and grinned at the others and said happily, “I guess I made him mad.”

  “Apparently you did, and you should be ashamed of yourself,” Bix told her. “What was it all about, anyway?”

  Judy gave him an impish, gamine grin and said airily, “Oh, you wouldn’t understand, darling.”

  And Bix eyed her warily, mildly suspicious yet with a wealth of tenderness and yearning in his eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a couple of days later, in the early dusk of the day, that Judy came to relieve the nurse and sit with the Old Gentleman for her usual hour or two with him. Her love for the Old Gentleman made her look forward to these intervals. Now she sat beside the bed, her hands warm and gentle on his that lay outside the covers.

  These days her heart was singing with happiness, and the only shadow on that happiness was that she could not share it with the dearly beloved man who lay there like something carved from stone.

  Bix spent the days with Sam, riding over the estate, learning something about the various duties and responsibilities of operating the place, admitting frankly to Sam and the others that he never expected to be able to take Sam’s place and that he hoped Sam would consent to stay on forever.

  Alison busied herself trying to be helpful to Beth and absorbing as much as she could of the vast complexities of housekeeping and taking care of the house. Mam’ Chloe had been prevailed on to give Alison some lessons in cooking, and Alison went around glowing as though there were twin candles behind her eyes.

  If only, Judy mourned as she sat beside the Old Gentleman, there were some way she could communicate with him; some way in which she could tell him of all that was going on at Oakhill; most of al
l, some way in which she could tell him about herself and Bix. He would be glad, she felt sure. He had always been fond of her; he had always seemed to want her to stay at Oakhill, as he had wanted Bix to. But now that Bix was going to be there permanently, there was no way she could tell the Old Gentleman.

  She bent her head suddenly and kissed the hand she held and closed her fingers about it, as though to transfer to him something of her own warmth and strength.

  She leaned forward and put her lips almost against his ear and spoke very softly, very earnestly, in the frail hope that her voice would get through the fog that gripped him.

  “Darling,” she murmured softly, “Bix and I are going to get married.”

  Just saying the words lifted her heart, but—was that a faint breath of sound from him, or a soft early summer breeze bringing the memory of bird song? It was a ghost of a sound. Could it possibly be that he had managed a word of speech?

  Still with her lips almost against his ear, her heart clamoring so hard she felt sure that it could be heard all over the room, she went on very slowly, “Did you hear me, darling? Bix and I are going to be married and always live at Oakhill.”

  And again came that ghost of sound, that word that was “Good!” but not as the Old Gentleman had been wont to say it. Now it was a sound so frail, so faint, that only because her ears were so near his flaccid lips could she be sure that he had really spoken.

  She had a wild desire to shriek for joy, to summon the others, to cry out that the Old Gentleman was recovering his speech. But she had to be very sure that he had really spoken.

  And then, to her amazed delight, his hand beneath the close, warm clasp of her own stirred so slightly that that, too, was something she scarcely dared believe.

  “Darling?” she whispered, so shaken that her own voice was little more than a gasp.

  “Always—wanted—it,” came the low words from those flaccid lips.

  “Oh, darling, darling.” She could not keep back the tears that fell warmly on that still, granite-like face. She bent her head and laid her tear-wet cheek against his and sobbed like a child. She had gotten through that fog that enveloped him, shutting him off from everything that he knew and loved. She had managed to get the message to him that Bix would be there always, and that she and Bix were going to be married so that she would be there always, too!

  It was the most perfect moment she had ever known, except, of course, for the moment in which she had learned that Bix loved her and wanted to marry her.

  She was still there when the nurse came back and said quickly, “Judy dear, you mustn’t weep over him. It’s just barely possible that he may be able to understand, to hear your weeping, and it would only worry him.”

  Judy lifted her tear-wet face, radiant despite the tears, and said shakily, “Oh, Mrs. Blanding, he spoke to me!”

  The nurse’s plump, good-natured face was touched with an expression of a startled protest.

  “Oh, no, Judy, you are mistaken. You just imagined it. He couldn’t have spoken.”

  “But he did, Mrs. Blanding, he did!” Judy insisted shakily. “I put my lips against his ear and told him Bix and I were going to be married, and he said, plain as anything, ‘Good!’ I couldn’t be sure for a moment I’d really heard him, and so I told him again. And he said, ‘Always wanted it.’ Oh, not clearly, of course; sort of faint and breathy. But I heard it! I did, I did! You’ve got to believe me. You’ve just got to! He’s going to get well. You hear me? He’s going to recover! Whether you or Dr. Dellinger believe it or not, he’s going to!”

  Mrs. Blanding put an arm about her and tried to draw her to her feet, but Judy clung to the bed and to the Old Gentleman’s hand.

  “Judy dear, you’re hysterical. This is very bad for him and not good for you,” she insisted.

  But as she would have released the Old Gentleman’s hand from the warm, tight clasp of Judy’s she felt the slightest possible stirring of the old hand and looked, startled and incredulous, at the man who lay against the pillows.

  “You see?” Judy was watching her, eyes bright behind the tears. “You felt it, too. His hand, his fingers, they moved. Oh, just a tiny bit, of course. But you must have felt it. I just know you did. And he spoke to me! He really did!”

  Mrs. Blanding straightened and said, “I’ll call Dr. Dellinger. This is more than either of us quite dared hope for. Stay right there, Judy. I’ll be back.”

  She went swiftly out of the room, and a moment or two later Bix stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, studying the graven figure on the bed, looking uncertainly at Judy.

  “Is it true, Judy, what the nurse just told me?” He seemed anxious for reassurance.

  “That he spoke to me? Oh, Bix, yes, it’s true. Isn’t it the most wonderful thing that ever happened? Isn’t it truly marvelous? Oh, Bix, he said, ‘Good,’ when I told him you and I were going to be married. I couldn’t believe I’d really heard him. And then I told him we were always going to be here at Oakhill, and he said, ‘Always wanted it.’”

  She was still clinging to the worn old hand, lifting a face radiant with joy, tear-stains still glimmering faintly in the dying light. Bix came and knelt beside her, one arm about her, the other hand covering hers that still clasped the old man’s hand. Bix bent above him and said with a vast tenderness, “I hope you can hear me, Grandfather. I’ve been a good-for-nothing heel, and I haven’t been much good to you. But I’m going to be, Grandfather, because Judy’s going to help me be what you’ve always wanted me to be.”

  Judy said softly, her voice shaken by the miracle that was being revealed before them, “He hears you, Bix. He hears you. And he’s happy because you’re going to stay on at Oakhill.’’

  Bix said awkwardly, ashamed and apologetic, “I never dreamed it meant so much to him to have me here. I’d never have stayed away if I had known. I hope he will forgive me. D’you think he will, honey?”

  “Of course he will,” Judy assured him radiantly. “He already has. He loves you, and when you love somebody you always forgive them, even when they do things that hurt you.”

  Bix tightened his arm about her and said huskily, “When I think that if I hadn’t come back, if he hadn’t been so ill, I might never have found you!”

  Judy laughed warmly, tight in the circle of his arm, joyous with the knowledge of his love for her, her heart on tiptoe because the Old Gentleman had managed to speak to her, knowing that here in this room, with these two men, all her life was locked.

  “Oh, you’d have found me, darling. I would have pursued you to the ends of the earth before I’d have let you escape me,” she told Bix. “All my life I’ve been in love with you. And I knew that you couldn’t forget me. Well, for a little while maybe; but sooner or later you’d realize that I was here and I was I and you’d love me, too.”

  He looked down at her lifted face, the glimmering tear-stains standing out against the soft carnation-color that flooded it, her eyes adoring him. He bent his head and kissed her, and when he spoke there was awe in his voice.

  “When I look back and think of the double-barreled, brass-bound fool that I’ve been—”

  “Don’t, honey. I won’t listen! You’re low-rating the man I love, and I won’t have it.” Judy was trying hard to bring a touch of lightness into the scene that was growing almost unbearably emotional. “We’re here, and we’re going to be married, and the Old Gentleman is going to get well, and life is going to be a glorious song of love! My mind is made up about that!”

  When Mrs. Blanding came back, they were side by side by the patient’s bed, their hands entwined, covering the Old Gentleman’s limp hand. One look at their faces told her that they were in a world all their own and that even to speak to them would be an unbearable intrusion. And so she went quietly away to wait for Dr. Dellinger, rejoicing as she realized that once more a miracle had happened in her profession. Oh, the Old Gentleman would never completely recover; she didn’t hope for that at his age. But he would get better, and he would be a
ble to talk, and he might even graduate to a wheel chair!

  She sighed happily at the thought of how such miracles made her work so rewarding and satisfying.

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  (From How to Wed an Earl by Ivory Lei)

  London, 1824

  Lucas Arthur Phillip Drake, fourth Earl of Ravenstone, sat across from his friend and grudgingly accepted the truth: The dead in his family had cunning ways of exacting revenge from beyond the grave. Their ghosts haunted the living, demanding justice. Demanding vengeance.

  And in this instance, they demanded a wedding.

  The earl fell silent after imparting this information to his friend and stared at the fireplace in moody contemplation, resigned to the untenable situation in which he found himself.

  “You’re looking very grim for an eager bridegroom.”

  Lucas’s gaze snapped back to his friend, the amiable Anthony Milthorpe, Viscount Westville, who sat opposite Lucas at their table near the grand marble fireplace in the opulently styled room of his gentlemen’s club while they savored the excellent brandy one expected to be served at Brooks’s.

  This afternoon, however, he had more than just the communal enjoyment of expensive spirits on his mind. One look at the empty mahogany tables and plush leather chairs confirmed that he’d chosen the best time of day for the meeting. Except for a small group of elegantly attired young gentlemen seated at the other end of the room, it was entirely vacant.

  Shifting his gaze back to Westville, Lucas realized his companion was waiting for him to explain why he was so “very grim.” He knew he appeared almost sinister compared to his childhood friend. Fair-haired, tall and lean, Anthony was his exact opposite in looks and temperament. Lucas had inherited his Spanish mother’s dark coloring and his father’s monstrous build.