by Come Sunrise
"Ok, that's his lordship's body. Now we need another one."
In a while they had a smaller round on top of the first, and Luke put his bowler on the snowman's head. "He needs a face."
Amy plucked a couple of pine cones for eyes. Then she removed a tortoise shell comb from her hair and used it as a mouth. The snowman was grinning. "How's that?"
"Perfect." He took her hand. "Miss Norman, may I present Lord Frostbite. Seems a cold type at first, but he's warmhearted once you get to know him."
They laughed and suddenly he reached down and pelted her with a handful of snow. "I told you about snowball fights, didn't I?"
"Not fair! You have to give me time to make some!"
"Three minutes, not a second longer. Then you're fair game."
They stockpiled their efforts a few yards apart. "Time!" Luke called suddenly and hurled a snowball at her.
He'd made more than she, and his aim was better. "Give up?" he shouted after a few seconds.
"Not a chance!" She landed a hit.
He charged across the distance between them brandishing an enormous snowball and shouting lustily. She ducked and he tripped over her skirt, and they were rolling together in the soft snow, giggling like children in a tickling match.
Then he kissed her.
He'd done so before, in an avuncular fashion that bespoke the five years between them, little affectionate pecks on her forehead or her cheek. This was different. His mouth covered hers and remained so for a long time. When he lifted his head they stared at each other in silence. "Sorry," Luke said at last. "I'd no right to do that."
She didn't answer, because she didn't know what to say, and because her heart was pounding and her breath was coming in short hard gasps not caused by the exertion of the snowball fight.
He drew her to her feet and brushed the snow from her coat. It was of plumcolored wool, with a fox collar, and she wore a matching hat. Her face, surrounded by the silvery fur, was an ivory cameo flushed pink. Her large brown eyes looked at him questioningly. Luke leaned forward and kissed her again, on the forehead this time.
"Come along, little one," he said softly. "I'll take you to Schrafft's for hot chocolate and cookies. Good little girls always get a treat."
Warren Westerman had turned his study into a green-house. He nursed there the myriad cuttings taken from the garden at Balmoral. "I think this rose is going to root, Amy," he told her with enthusiasm. "I didn't think it would. Roses are difficult."
She looked carefully at the fragile stem. A tiny new shoot was emerging from the tip. "Yes, I'm sure it is. Congratulations, Uncle Warren. That takes skill."
He moved the plantlet closer to the light. He had abolished the drapes and pushed the furniture to one side to make room for a long table in front of the windows. It was covered with pots and jars and an assortment of kitchenware pressed into service as containers for greenery. "They will almost all be ready for planting out next spring."
Amy wondered where he intended to make his new garden. Perhaps he and Lil were buying a summer home of their own. Before she could ask he said, "Did you have roses in German East Africa?" It was the first time he'd ever asked her a direct question.
"No roses," she said. "Mummy tried, but they didn't thrive. Have you ever seen a flame tree?"
He admitted he hadn't, and she described the beautiful trees with scarlet blossoms lining the long avenue to Jericho. "You and Aunt Lil must come and visit as soon as I go home. You'll love it."
"Are you planning to go home after the war is over?" he asked, adjusting the position of a jam jar filled with privet sprays.
"Yes, of course." She was surprised that he didn't know. "Everyone at Jericho will be waiting for me. The servants have all been with us for years. And all Mummy's and Daddy's things are there."
"Your mother and father were happy in Africa, I believe."
"Oh yes, and so was I. You'll come and visit, won't you?" She was suddenly full of tenderness for this taciturn, sere old man.
"I don't travel much," he said softly. "It's kind of you to invite me, however."
"But I owe you both so much! I know you were Daddy's friends, and you've been such good friends to me. I want you to come."
He looked away. "I knew your father of course, for many years. I cannot claim to have been his friend. He and Charles were very close always. But I was older and ..."
"And what, Uncle Warren?" She wanted to hear more of her father's youth. The subject had begun to prick her curiosity of late.
"And less tolerant," he said.
It struck her as a strange remark. "I don't quite follow you."
He favored her with one of his rare smiles. "Never mind, it was all a long time ago. You get on well with Luke, don't you?" he said, changing the subject abruptly. "You see a lot of him."
"He's very kind to me." Amy fingered the velvet leaf of a clump of potted violets.
"Luke's a nice boy." Warren seemed to be forcing out the words, as if mentioning Luke's virtues was painful. "He's very religious you know. I think it's because he almost died when he was a small child."
"I didn't know that."
"No one ever mentions it now. But he was very ill. For many weeks. Cecily was beside herself. I remember it well."
"I'm glad he recovered." She didn't know what else to say.
"Yes. Such things have consequences though. You must realize that."
"Luke seems perfectly healthy to me."
"Oh, he is of course." Warren changed tack abruptly. "Tommy's coming home for Thanksgiving, isn't he?"
"I suppose so. I haven't heard from him lately."
"I'm sure he's coming home. Lil told me. This week I think. It will be nice to see him again."
Amy agreed and escaped to her own room. The atmosphere in the makeshift greenhouse had become disturbing.
She went with Luke to meet Tommy's train. He was reserved, and his limp was pronounced. "Did you hurt yourself?" Luke inquired anxiously.
"No, I bloody well didn't! I'm just tired that's all. Had to stand most of the way." He flung his case into the back of the taxi and sat up front with the driver so they had no further opportunity to talk.
That was on Tuesday. Amy didn't see either Luke or Tommy again until Thursday noon when they arrived at the apartment for Thanksgiving dinner. They seemed barely on speaking terms, and the conversation during the meal was strained, despite all Lil's efforts.
Later Lil played the piano. She had all the latest sheet music, Berlin's "Araby" and "When I Leave the World Behind," as well as Amy's favorite Cohan song, "Give My Regards to Broadway." Amy wanted very much to dance with Luke. In the past Tommy had always been good-natured about the things he couldn't do, but he looked surly and black this afternoon. Luke didn't ask her to dance.
They were expected at one of the other aunt's for a holiday tea. At the last minute Tommy refused to go, so they left him behind.
The tea party was crowded with relatives. Donald Varley was there, and Luke spent a long time talking to him. Amy was involved in a conversation with the girl who had recently become engaged. It centered on bridal dresses and honeymoon plans, and she felt stupid and young and tonguetied.
When they returned to the apartment Tommy was gone and the decanter of brandy on the table was almost empty. Luke left right away, without saying when he'd see her next.
The next day Amy felt guilty, as if she were to blame for Tommy's bad temper and the way it had spoiled the holiday. Lil was regretful too. "Why don't you ring up the boys," she said anxiously. "See if they'd like to come for supper and help eat the leftover turkey. It's always better the second day."
Amy tried the number, but there was no reply. "No one seems to be home," she reported. "Not even the maid. Isn't that odd?"
Lil fumbled with the fichu of lace at her throat. "Not really. I believe Luke manages with only a weekly cleaning woman now. He's on his own most of the time, and he has so many of his meals here," she added hastily.
They di
dn't mention the boys again. Amy went riding on Saturday afternoon. The rest of the time she kept to her room and read.
On Sunday morning Luke arrived alone. Only Amy was home. "Lil and Warren are at church," she explained. "How come you're not?"
"I couldn't sleep, so I went early. Lots of maids and bus drivers and people like that. Quite nice, really."
She knew that it was customary for all the Westermans to attend the eleven o'clock high mass at St. Ignatius. Tommy had once described it to her. "Mustering the forces for a full dress parade," he'd called it. She thought of that every Sunday when she saw Warren depart in his morning coat and striped trousers and spats. She had wondered if Luke wore the same formal attire on those occasions. He certainly wasn't dressed like that this morning. He was wearing trousers and a sweater. The casual clothes emphasized his long, lean body.
"Is Tommy coming here after Mass?" she asked. "I should tell Maureen if there's going to be extras for lunch. "
"Tommy's gone back to Washington. He left yesterday."
"But he didn't even come to say goodbye! Lil and Warren will be hurt."
"I know. He can be a sod sometimes. And we had a row, which made it worse."
She felt again that uncomfortable sensation of guilt. "I've never seen you and Tommy fight seriously."
"This was a humdinger. Don't look like that. It will blow over. Things are a little tense just now, that's all. And his leg was hurting, for all he denied it."
"What did you fight about?"
Luke flashed his incomparable sunny smile. Amy had begun to suspect that he used the smile and his good looks as a way of keeping others at arm's length. "We disagreed about some suggestions Uncle Donald has made about financial matters. That's all."
She moved closer to him. Luke hadn't kissed her since the day in the park three weeks before, not even a brotherly peck on the forehead. Now she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "You mustn't worry about anything," she said. "And you must never fight with Tommy about me."
"You! My dear girl, you're getting too big for your boots! Fight about a mere child, indeed." He laughed at her and tweaked her nose. "Maybe when you grow up. Certainly not now. Let's have some music."
He could play almost as well as Lil, and she sat next to him on the piano bench and turned the pages. Sometimes they broke off and practiced a dance step. Luke was a superb dancer. He held her masterfully and moved with the same effortless coordination he displayed on the tennis court.
6
SARAH, THE ENGAGED WESTERMAN COUSIN, WAS launched on a series of prenuptial festivities. Amy was usually invited. She listened to endless talk of weddings. Visions of white satin and filmy lace began to fill her mind.
Luke collected her from a tea party at the home of a relative on Sixty-first Street. "Shall we walk or take a cab?"
"Let's walk. It's early yet."
They strolled up Lexington Avenue in the wintery dusk, past St. Vincent Ferrer's Church where she had waited for him that summer's day when they came together to the city. The memory was unspoken, but acknowledged, between them. "I know you so much better now," she said. "It seems like we were strangers back then."
"Amy, listen. I want to tell you something. . . ."
She couldn't see him clearly in the half-light, but she turned her face expectantly.
He stopped walking. "You are a little beauty you know," he said softly. "You'd thwart the resolve of a saint. "
"I don't know what you mean."
"No, I know you don't." He was so much taller that she had to bend her head back to look into his eyes. He raised his gloved hands and trailed his fingers along her arched neck. It rose with a grace above the fur collar of her coat. "I know you don't understand," he said in a whisper. "That's what makes it so hard."
"You think I'm a child. I'm not. Girls grow up faster in Africa. Anyway, your cousin Sarah's not nineteen yet, and she's getting married in February. She said it had to be then or not until Easter."
"Yes, Catholics can't get married in Lent."
She didn't know what Lent was, but to ask would switch the subject from marriage. "I'm not a child," she repeated. "I'll be eighteen in May."
"Oh, Amy, precious little girl." He sounded as if he wanted to cry, and she didn't know what comfort to offer. Then he smiled, and she thought she must have imagined the incipient tears. "We'd better get moving. Aunt Lil will think I've kidnapped you."
Lil, however, was not conscious of the time they'd been out. She was instead pale and distraught, but offered no explanation. The apartment was heavy with tension. Warren too was weighed down with it, and Maureen looked baleful while she served dinner. Amy glanced questioningly at Luke, but he only shrugged his shoulders in puzzlement.
They had coffee in the drawing room. Suddenly Lit looked up, as if newly aware of her nephew.
"Shouldn't we ask Luke what he thinks, Warren?"
Lil's hands fluttered at her pearls, twisted an embroidered handkerchief, and finally spread in a gesture of appeal. Warren said nothing. He'd ignored his sister's rhetorical questions for so long that he no longer imagined any reply necessary.
"Luke must know about such things now that he's working," Lil added. Warren grunted. Lil took it as assent. Amy saw the way the older woman was readying herself to explain, and felt fear.
"Warren wants to buy a summer cottage on Long Island," Lil blurted out. "Of course, it wouldn't change anything here." This last was spoken with a look at Maureen's retreating back. The maid carried the coffee tray from the room with the air of a martyr.
Amy wanted to giggle, but she repressed her laughter. She'd expected disaster and it was only this. Instantly she felt herself on Warren's side. "What a nice idea! Does it have a garden, Uncle Warren?"
It was the one question guaranteed a response. "Not really, but there's a nice bit of ground out back."
So there would be a home for his tenderly nurtured cuttings from Balmoral. That explained his motive.
"Where on Long Island?" Luke asked.
"A little town, just a village, I guess," Lil stammered, "Atlantic Beach." When Luke looked blank she added, "It's out beyond Far Rockaway and Lawrence. Isn't that what you said, Warren?"
"Not beyond," Warren said. "Across from. They're separated by East Rockaway Inlet."
"There's no church in Atlantic Beach," Lil said. The words tumbled forth in a rush that was almost a wail. "And no permanent settlement. We'd never be able to find servants."
"Maureen can come with us when we go," Warren said.
Now Amy understood the cause of the maid's hostility. Customarily Maureen spent summers with her sister in the Bronx and returned to Manhattan when her employers did. A new arrangement wouldn't suit her at all, but that couldn't be Lil's main worry. "How far is the nearest church, Uncle Warren?" Amy asked.
"There's one in Far Rockaway. It's no problem."
Lil shook her head. "But you told me we would have to cross a bridge to get to the mainland. In bad weather we could be cut off." She looked close to tears.
Luke ignored her distress and turned to his uncle. "How much are they asking?"
Finally Warren took the initiative. "Not they. He. A builder. He's completed three houses, and he's working on a fourth. It's going to be a flourishing community some day. We're getting in on the ground floor."
"How much?" Luke repeated.
"Two thousand seven hundred," Warren said.
Luke looked thoughtful-and something else. Amy thought about it. Masterful. Yes, that was the word. Her heart gave a funny little thud. She kept watching his face. He said gravely, "It sounds reasonable. Depending on the house, of course. Why don't you go take a look at it, Aunt Lil? After that you can make up your mind."
Amy saw Warren shift in his chair and open his mouth as if to say something, then close it again. It was Lil who asked, "Would you come too, Luke? I'd feel better if you saw it."
Warren didn't react to the implication that his judgment was unreliable. Amy felt a twinge of
impatience at his placid acceptance of Lit's dominance.
"I'm rather busy just now," Luke said.
Obviously Luke didn't want to be in the middle of a feud between his aunt and uncle. Amy was annoyed with all of them for making such a fuss and at the same time hiding so much emotion. "We could go on a Sunday," she said. Nobody had invited her, but she included herself. It would mean a whole day with Luke.
Lil looked at her gratefully. "Oh, that would be nice! But Saturday, not Sunday. That way we wouldn't have to worry about Mass. You don't work on Saturday, do you, Luke?"
