Ruffling Society
Page 13
She shifted to the edge of the divan and turned so she could see his face. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“You must go. You will always be sorry if you don’t go. You need to leave this nest called Riverford, Texas, and spread your wings. You have defined yourself as a young woman who dares, who risks, who charts her own path. You must not renege on your own self-definition. You’ll be depressed the rest of your life if you do.”
Sarah gazed at her tightly clasped hands in her lap and did not respond.
“You didn’t expect me to say that, did you?” Lee asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Sarah took a deep breath, then plunged into the difficult subject. “I know the time is coming—I mean, I think the time is coming—I thought you might—”
“Ask you to marry me?”
Her eyes still on her clasped hands, Sarah nodded.
Lee said nothing, and Sarah held her breath while the whirring insects began a cacophonous symphony.
Lee sat forward and took her hands in his. “Sarah, I am going to ask you to marry me. I came here tonight to ask you.”
“No, don’t! I am already so confused.”
“I see that.”
“I just can’t deal with any more questions ...”
“I love you. I must say those words to you now. Much of what is disturbing you so much is disturbing me too. Richard Boyd’s death has made me aware of my own mortality, aware that the limited days of my life are slipping away. I must create the life I want now. I took the job at the bank. I left Fort Worth behind and moved to Riverford. Now I want a home and family. I want a wife. She must be you. No one else will do. No one.”
Sarah held up her hand. “Stop, Lee. You know I can’t marry anyone. You know I’m committed to teaching. You, more than anyone else, know why. You were up on that hill at the farm with me. You stood there next to Rose’s grave and held me while I struggled to regain control of myself, to go on with my dreams. It was you who insisted I come back to town and take the college entrance exams.”
“I remember.”
Sarah jumped up and turned toward him. “Your very words were, ‘Rose died, but other little girls were born and lived, and they will be stuck in hopeless situations if you don’t do what you are called to do.’”
“I said it. I meant it. I still mean it. You must teach; you are going to teach. But I can’t live without you, and somehow we can—we are—going to make it possible for you to be a teacher and my wife.”
“They ... won’t ... let ... me!” Sarah shook her hands at him as she emphasized every word.
“Things are changing, Sarah. These stupid notions will change too. Together we will make them change.”
“I can’t risk it.” She turned away. “Good night, Lee.” She hurried toward the door.
“Sarah!”
She wouldn’t allow herself to stop or even look back.
“Sarah, what you won’t risk is loving anybody!”
She stopped, and he came up behind her and turned her to face him. “People die. People you love die. Husbands die, and women as saintly as Christine suffer. Babies die. Babies like Rose die.”
“I know that!” Sarah stomped her foot. “Why are you saying these things to me?”
Lee took hold of both her shoulders and held her firmly. “There’s more than one thing bothering you. There’s more than one fear churning inside your head. Yes, you are driven to teach, and you don’t want to risk that. But things are changing, and there’s a good chance you can fix that problem. What you can’t fix is death. If you never marry, you’ll never suffer the pain of widowhood. If you never have children, you’ll never lose a child. You are afraid to love, Sarah!”
“What do you want from me?” Sarah demanded.
“I want you to agree to marry me. Not now, but next summer. I want us to work through all the problems of life together. I want us to share the joys of life.”
She wrenched herself free of his grip. “I knew you would do this to me! I knew your support of my dreams would eventually vanish!”
“Really? How did you know that?”
“Because—because you’re a man.”
“And every man is the same?”
“Yes!”
Lee threw his hands into the air, let them fall to his side, and walked past her. When he was several feet away, he turned back and locked his eyes onto hers. “Is every woman the same, Sarah?”
Then he turned and strode down the verandah steps.
Sarah watched him follow the long walk through the garden and let himself out of the gate. She watched him walk toward town, his figure growing smaller and dimmer as he put distance between the two of them.
She gasped when she could no longer see him and began to sob.
Moments later, strong arms gathered her into a hug. “Give it time, Sarah,” Hayden said. “He loves you. He’s already working behind the scenes to make it possible for all your dreams to come true.”
Sarah pulled away and looking down at the wide planks of the porch, recited in a dull voice, “I only have one dream. I want to be a teacher. I want to be like Maude.”
“No, you don’t.”
Sarah lifted her tear-stained face. “Don’t you see, Hayden? I’ve already invested so much—I’ve already defined myself at such great costs. Think of the sacrifices others have made. My mother …”
“Things are changing, Sarah. President Wiseman was right. This country is going to change. Texas will change. Even Riverford will change. You are just a little ahead of the times, but the times will catch up. I promise you.” He put his arms around her shoulders. “Now, you need to rest. You’re leaving town in a few days. I just want you to remember one thing: you are going with Lee Logan’s blessing. That’s how much the man loves you.”
CHAPTER 17
Sarah’s nerves tingled with excitement tinged with anxiety, and she could not bear to remain in bed another minute. She dressed in her new beige linen travel suit, and with quivering fingers, struggled to secure her hair in a neat topknot. Hearing no early movement from Victoria or Hayden, she wandered the now-familiar rooms, visiting the settings of remarkable changes in her life as if she expected never to see them again. The drawing room reminded her of her first intellectual foray into society, the day she had nervously delivered her paper on Wordsworth’s “Tintern Abbey” to the newly formed Riverford Ladies Literary Society. That memory burgeoned with useful information for her today because the poem reminded her of the power of nature to heal a person. And I so need emotional healing!
She swallowed the tears that threatened when she remembered her break with Lee several evenings ago, tears that had been her close companion since he had walked away. Six weeks of tent living in the Rocky Mountains will certainly bring me close to nature; maybe Wordsworth is right. Sarah whispered Wordsworth’s description of nature, “‘The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, the guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul of all my moral being.’” Surely those magnificent mountains will be all those things to me; surely I will return to begin my teaching career with my equilibrium restored.
Sarah remembered another promise that Wordsworth had made in “Tintern Abbey,” the promise that simply remembering places that rooted her, remembering kindred spirits, could pull her back from the precipice of anxiety. For Sarah, this house and Victoria and Hayden had become her anchoring roots. And Mama. Always Mama, my taproot. I will need them all in the next six weeks.
She brushed her fingers across the top of the silk-covered love seat and walked across the room to touch the mahogany piano Christine had played so magnificently at many musicales in Hodges House. I remember the first time she played publicly … with the world-famous violinist, Antonio Santoro. What courage!
Sarah wandered into the family parlor which had been converted into Victoria’s studio and smelled the paints, memorized the placement of the easel by the north-facing window, the paint-stained palette, the bouquet of brushes fanni
ng out of a clay pot. The accoutrements—no, more—the essence of the artist pervaded the room. Even though Victoria was asleep upstairs, her spirit lingered here, always here in this aura of creation. Here, Sarah had learned about the necessity of an artist’s defiance of tradition. Here she had witnessed the long, arduous hours of concentrated effort necessary not only to produce the art but also to satisfy the soul of the artist.
The sound of a violin playing the plaintive “Meditation from Thais” floated through Sarah’s memory. Handsome, exciting Antonio Santoro! How he loves Victoria, but she chose Hayden. Sarah lifted the cloth from Victoria’s painting in progress. Hayden’s handsome face, his kind eyes, the slight, good-humored smile looked back at her. Victoria had waited decades for the love of her life. She chose well.
Sarah returned to the main hall, remembering the many times she had seen it filled with a potpourri of swirling silks, satins, velvets. Oh, the many elegant entertainments Victoria had hosted for this town, while its stubborn citizens resisted her efforts to raise their cultural level. Sarah smiled. Slowly, but surely, Victoria had won them over, coaxed them to abandon their devotion to the provincial, their tenacious insistence on always looking backward to the lost War. She had convinced many that the world outside Texas offered much to admire, much to desire.
When Sarah entered the library, she entered the heart of the house for her. So elegantly organized now, it had been an empty shell, a chaos of crates when she had first seen it. But, oh, how thrilled I was! For surely so many shelves promised an enormous book collection, an endless treasure trove. She had not known it then, less than three years ago, but this room had also promised her an education, the education that would lead to today.
“To leaving Riverford,” Sarah whispered. “To leaving Lee.”
She spotted the fountain of the muses through the front window, gaily tossing myriads of rubies into the rosy dawn, and walked to the window to watch it. When she first stood in this spot, the fountain consisted of no more than a picture in Victoria’s mind and some stakes driven in the front garden.
“So naturally when it came time to dance with the man I love, the fountain would provide the setting.” She smiled as she remembered floating around the fountain in Lee’s arms, his admiring eyes adding to the light of the setting sun, but her mind pitched forward to Richard Boyd’s death and her refusal of Lee’s proposal.
“How fast it can all turn,” Sarah exclaimed.
“And turn again.”
Sarah whirled around. Victoria stood in the doorway, a tray in her hands. “I knew I’d find you here,” she said as she placed the tray on the massive mahogany desk and came to Sarah’s side.
“Life is motion, my dear.” She pulled Sarah into a hug. “Life is change.”
“I’ve been visiting the rooms of this house, memorizing them so I can flee to them when I’m far away and scared or lonely. Oh, Victoria! This morning I find I need to memorize your face and Christine’s and most of all, Mama’s.”
“I’m glad you had such an enjoyable Saturday with her, even if you two did work too hard.”
A soft, sad laugh escaped Sarah’s lips. “Just a typical day for Mama—nonstop work with so little appreciation from Pa or anyone else. I must take her with me … somehow … for her sake and for my sake. Oh, Victoria! I shall miss you all so much. I must memorize these rooms.”
“If it gives you comfort … But, Sarah, these rooms can be demolished. Our faces will disappear from this earth.”
“That’s why I must have my memories, like Wordsworth said.”
“Even your memories will go, my dear. Only God will remain. Only God goes with you into your darkest nights. If you feel homesick or afraid on your trip, by all means remember us, remember this house, the events that have occurred here. Remember all that has brought you joy. But if you find yourself in real trouble, remember who made and controls everything. Speak one word, Sarah, and all the powers of God will flow into your situation, whatever it may be.”
“Jesus.” Sarah breathed the word as she raised her fingers to her forehead to stamp the precious, powerful name on her memory.
Victoria hugged her close and buried her face in Sarah’s hair. “My darling girl. The truth has always been in you. Wordsworth is only a recent intellectual acquisition.”
“Is anyone planning to get dressed this morning?” Hayden asked as he popped his head in the doorway. “There’s a rumor going around that we need to catch the early train to Fort Worth.”
An hour later when Sarah climbed down from the buggy at the train station, she was stunned to find Christine, General Gibbes, and the girls waiting for her.
“Of course I am here,” Christine said as she pulled back her black veil and kissed Sarah on the cheek. “Do you think I would let anything keep me away?”
Victoria laughed as Hayden helped her down. “I hate to think what Mrs. Bellows and gang are going to say when they hear you are out in public, Christine. And they will hear!” She nodded toward other Riverford residents on the platform waiting for the train and seeing their loved ones off.
“We have ruffled society before, Victoria, and survived.”
“Besides, the old biddies need something to gossip about,” Hayden added as he shook General Gibbes’ hand. “With Sarah gone, the rumor mill of Riverford is going to be short on grist.”
Ceci and Juli buried their faces in Sarah’s skirt and clung to her. She kissed the tops of their heads as she tried to engage in the bantering, but every distant movement on the street distracted her. Will Lee come?
Finally Sarah saw the Logan carriage in the distance, and her heart flip-flopped. He came! She relaxed and found it infinitely easier to make conversation. The girls had made farewell cards for her, and she sat on her small trunk to open them. General Gibbes tucked an envelope into her carpet bag, but waved aside her movement to retrieve it.
“Later, my dear, when you have all those wearying travel hours to fill.”
The Logan carriage drew near enough for Sarah to realize that Lee was not driving, and only Lavinia and Mrs. Logan were riding in it. Tears stung her eyes so viciously she could not control them and had to resort to fumbling in her carpet bag, pretending to rearrange things, in order to hide her face. She heard the distant whistle of the approaching train.
“We made it,” Lavinia declared as she raced to Sarah’s side. “I declare I didn’t sleep a wink last night I was so excited for you.”
Sarah smiled through her tears.
“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Logan said. She hugged Sarah and whispered, “Things will all come out right in the end. You’ll see.”
The train whistle pierced the air, and a great “shooshing” sound silenced them as the steam-powered engine approached the platform. The rumbling wheels clang-clanged, then produced a deafening squeal, iron against iron, as they skidded to a stop on the rails. The sounds attacked Sarah’s ears and raced through her whole nervous system, making her quiver.
“What a racket,” Hayden declared. “But it won’t be as bad when you’re inside the car.” He turned to Victoria. “Are you sure we shouldn’t buy her a ticket in a first class carriage? She’d be so much more comfortable.”
“But she wouldn’t be with the other teachers. It’s important that she make friends immediately,” Victoria countered.
“Well, I’m going to pay the conductor to take special care of her in Fort Worth.” Hayden strode toward the train. “That’s a huge train station up there.” Sarah’s anxiety grew as she watched Hayden hurry off.
Lavinia put her arm around Sarah’s shoulder and whispered, “I think there’s something you may want to see over here.” She guided Sarah away from the group until they reached the end of the platform and the waiting carriages. Lee’s buggy flew toward them and was soon close enough for Sarah to see her mother sitting next to Lee.
She gasped. “Oh! He went after Mama.”
“That’s why he’s late,” Lavinia said. “He wanted to surprise you.”
“Never,” Sarah declared through her tears. “Oh, I’m so glad you came. I wanted to see you so much.” She turned to Lee, who was standing back. “Oh, thank you! You couldn’t have given me a better farewell gift.”
He stepped forward and put one arm around Sarah and the other around her mother. “We’ll all be back together soon. We’ll be counting the days and watching for your letters and—” The sudden halt of his words made Sarah look up into his face. “You are greatly loved, Sarah.”
Sarah looked at her mother and back at him. “I see that,” she managed to choke out in spite of the tightness in her throat.
He slipped an envelope into her hand. “Read it later,” he whispered.
“All aboard!” the conductor yelled.
Sarah hugged her mother hard, took one last long look at Lee’s face, and turned toward the train. She was caught up in the hubbub of farewells as she climbed the steps to the platform, waved one last time, and entered the car.
As Sarah chose her seat, she examined the other occupants. Most were strangers. Men reading newspapers, their crisp, white collars not yet wilted by the heat. A mother tried to corral three children, an infant on her lap and two toddlers clinging to her knees. A sharecropper, easily identified by his clothes and his demeanor, stared at the floor, his wide-brimmed hat clasped in both hands and held between his knees. Two men she did not know walked by her, tipping their hats before they found their seats. Riverford residents, Mr. and Mrs. Sharp, followed them, noses in the air, without speaking to Sarah. Mrs. Sharp made a point of pulling her skirt away from Sarah’s side of the car and clutching her husband’s arm.
Angered, Sarah needed air. She stood, jerked up the window, and stuck her head out. Her mother, Lee, and her beloved friends waved at her and called out their farewells. As Sarah waved back, Victoria hurried to the window, took her hand, and shouted above the train’s noise, “You are strong, Sarah. Never forget it!”