Angel In The Saloon (Brides of Glory Gulch) (27 page)

“Hello there, Paul,” Beau called from the gate. “You’re
starting to get your color back I see. I brought your pretty little lady friend
here. She was a might anxious to be seeing you, I reckon.”

“Thanks for bringing her, Beau. I reckon I was a might
anxious to be seeing her, too.” Paul said, imitating Beau’s speech. They
laughed and shook hands and talked for a couple of minutes.

Amelia delighted herself by playing in the yard. She
scooped up the wondrous, cold matter and packed it, trying to form it into
recognizable shapes, but was having no luck. So she walked along the perimeter
of the porch, giggling at the difficulty of the simple task that caused her to
fall into a soft pillow of snow.

Beau finally said good-by and offered his services to
Amelia any time she needed something.

“Thank you. Beau,” she called to him as she lay in the
snow in a giggling heap. She pulled herself up, and in her silly state of mind,
managed to scoop up some snow with one hand and hid it behind her back. She
came around to the steps and climbed onto the porch to her awaiting fiancé. As
soon as he took hold of her, she flung her hand up and smashed the snow in his
face.

Paul let out a yell as she carefully slipped back down
the stairs out of his reach, laughing the whole time.

“I can’t believe you did that to me!” He took a
handkerchief out of his pocket and dried his face.

Amelia heard his footsteps heading down the stairs and
then into the yard, and she thought she had better flee. She turned and began
to run, but the thick snow tripped her up and she fell again. He was quickly
standing over her. Remembering how he had let her go instead of throwing her
into the river that fine summer’s day, she was certain he would extend the same
courtesy to her now. So she reached her hand up to him and he pulled her to her
feet.

He hugged her tenderly. Then he reached down, scooped
up a huge handful of snow and flung it directly at her face.

She shrieked and stood frozen while icy water droplets
dripping down her neck under her mackintosh, soaking the collar of her
shirtwaist.

Paul laughed and then wiped her face with his
handkerchief.

“I still owe you one more, you know.”

“Yeah, I suppose you do.”

Arm in arm they walked into the house, shed their
overcoats, and sat on the settee near the fire in the parlor to warm up, Paul
needing to rest awhile and Amelia needing to dry off.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” the man’s anemic voice hailed
Corrin as she washed glasses behind the bar. “I was told you would know where I
could find Miss Amelia Jackson.”

Corrin sized this man up quickly. He appeared to be
quite ill, was very pale and it seemed as if just standing was a chore. His
Southern accent was quite evident and something in the tone of his voice she
thought sounded familiar, but it was raspy and weak due to the evident illness
that had overcome his body. He was tall, very thin and looked old beyond his
years. His slightly graying beard and mustache were bushy and unkempt. And his
blue-gray eyes had a deep, hollow, haunting look to them.   

“Hello. I’m Miss Jackson’s aunt, Corrin Dannon. And to
whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?” She extended her hand in friendship,
but his handshake was meager and quick. His eyes shifted around the room, looking
everywhere but directly at her. 

“My name’s Jack Morrison, Ma’am. I am pleased to meet
you. Would you mind if I sat down for a moment. You see, I am not a well man,
Miss Dannon.”

“Of course. Please, sit here.” She led the man to a
nearby chair, and the two sat while the gentleman regained his strength.

“I came a long distance to see your niece, Miss Dannon.
You see, I have something I am compelled to give her. It belonged to her
father.”

“Amelia is at her fiancé’s house right now.” Corrin
was sure Amelia would appreciate receiving a memento from her father. Her own
disillusionment must be set aside for Amelia’s happiness.

“Miss Amelia is engaged to be married? But, she’s
blind!”

“Mr. Morrison, being blind doesn’t mean having to be
locked up in a dark room and never experiencing anything this wonderful world
has to offer. She accepted a proposal for marriage about ten days ago and is
nursing him back to health from an accident. I can see you’re not up to the
walk, but I’ll have Harry hitch up a buggy, or maybe a sleigh and I’ll take you
over there. Otherwise, you may not see her until quite late tonight.”

“If you do not mind the trouble, I would sincerely
appreciate it.”

Corrin made the necessary arrangements and prepared
herself to go out into the wintry day, readying herself for further memories
from her past that would no doubt be dredged up.

Soon they pulled up in front of the Strupel residence
and as they proceeded up the newly shoveled walkway, they heard wondrous piano
music coming from within.

“That’s Amelia playing the piano.” Corrin beamed
proudly at Mr. Morrison who looked stunned. She opened the door and escorted
him through the parlor and into the music room where Paul sat on a chair,
mesmerized by the angelic figure of a young woman playing the piano. Paul
motioned to them to sit down.

Sometimes when Amelia played she would almost feel
herself transcending her own abilities and became so absorbed in the music that
she would blot out everything going on around her, except the music. Whenever
this happened she played more perfectly, more beautifully, more intensely than
usual and would hold her captive audience spellbound. The look on Paul’s face
demonstrated that this was such a time, and he was thoroughly enthralled by her.

Corrin watcher her with the heart of a proud mother.

And Mr. Morrison looked stunned. As he watched Amelia,
Corrin noticed he was studying her intently, looking her over from head to toe and
trying to follow the movement of her fingers, trying to look into her eyes. Corrin
grew uneasy about him.

Amelia finished with a grand finale, and her audience
rose to their feet, generously applauding in appreciation. She curtsied like
royalty.

“Who’s here, now?”

“It’s me, Sweetie,” Corrin said as she walked over to
the piano. “That was exquisite. I’m so proud of you.” Corrin hugged her niece
and then began introductions, gesturing to Paul first.

“Mr. Morrison, this is one of my dearest friends and
Amelia’s fiancé, Mr. Paul Strupel. Paul, this is Mr. Jack Morrison, from...” she
stopped to allow Mr. Morrison finish the sentence.

“Georgia. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.
Strupel. And may I offer you my sincere congratulations at your recent
engagement.” Mr. Morrison was definitely sizing Paul up as they shook hands.

“Thank you, Mr. Morrison. I’m pleased to meet you
also.”

“Mr. Morrison, this is my beautiful niece, Miss Amelia
Jackson. Amelia, Mr. Morrison has come from Georgia to see you.  He says he has
something special to give you.”

Corrin watched the gentleman walked over to Amelia,
and as she held her hand out to him, he reluctantly reached for it as if it
were a piece of priceless crystal. He trembled as he held her hand in both of
his. He studied her face, gazing into her steady eyes and finally said in a
quiet, raspy, quaking voice, “Miss Jackson. I...” He cleared his throat and
continued in the grand fashion of a true Southern gentleman.

“I can scarcely believe my good fortune that the Lord has
seen fit for me to gaze into your lovely face before I pass over to the other
side.”

The look on Amelia’s face told Corrin that her niece
wasn’t quite sure what to say or do, so Corrin took charge.

“Shall we all go into the parlor and sit down.” She took
Mr. Morrison by the arm and led him into the other room.

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As Paul took Amelia’s hand to escort her to the
parlor, she caught him by the arm, leaned over and whispered to him. “Please,
don’t leave my side.”

“Don’t worry, Angel. I’ll never leave your side.”  He
patted her hand. “Is everything okay? Is there something about this man that
worries you?”

She shook her head and walked in silence into the
parlor.

Mr. Morrison and Corrin had already found comfortable
chairs and Amelia was grateful when Paul escorted her to the settee and sat
beside her. She moved very close to him and grasped his hand firmly in hers.

She knew that voice. It sounded old and raspy, the
voice of someone who may be ill, but there was the unmistakable distinction in
it that was firmly ingrained in her mind. She didn’t know when or how, but she
had always felt this day would come---ever since that night when she was
thirteen. She had to be sure, but how?

“Miss Jackson. I have not seen you since you were a
very young child. I am so impressed with the beautiful, talented young lady you
have become as I am also sure your father would be. I am also sure that you are
curious as to why I have come here today. It is simply this, I knew your father
well and on his deathbed, he gave me something and asked that I give it to you,
his last request.”

Amelia waited a moment as she felt Paul lean forward
and then place something into her hand. She felt the round, cold, metal object
and recognized it as a pocket watch. She opened the delicate cover and the
music that stirred memories rang lightly through the silent room. Her breath
caught in her throat.

“That is the very watch your mother gave to your
father on their wedding day. There is an inscription.
To my precious Alister
on our wedding day, with all my love, Grace.
”

Amelia touched and petted the watch. She said nothing
and tried hard to not show signs of any emotion.

“I am sorry I took so long in getting it to you,” Mr.
Morrison continued. “But a man’s life takes many turns, and in the course of
events, I simply went about the business of life and put it out of my mind. However,
my dear Miss Jackson, I am not a well man. Without wishing to offend you,
frankly, I am now dying myself. In fact, the doctors have said that I have
robbed death by remaining alive this long. But I had a quest. I simply could
not leave this world without fulfilling my dear friend’s last dying wishes.”

Corrin sniffled from a chair near the fireplace. Paul
squeezed her hand.

Amelia’s jaw remained firm and unwavering, unfeeling,
almost cold, but she squeezed Paul’s hand so tightly that her fingers hurt.

“Mr. Morrison, do you remember what my father used to
call me?” Amelia spoke for the first time, very softly, very wistfully.

“Yes, Miss Jackson, I do.”

“What was it, Mr. Morrison?”

“He used to call you his Baby Girl.”

Amelia squeezed Paul’s hand again. “Mr. Morrison, I do
believe I remember you from my childhood years.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I do. I wish my father were here right now. There
are so many things I would like to say to him.”

“Sweetie,” Corrin spoke quietly. “If he were here,
what would you say to him?”

Amelia smiled. “I would tell him that I love him, Aunt
Corrin. And that I missed growing up with him. I would tell him that I wished
he didn’t have to go away. That I forgive him for going away.”

The visitor cleared his throat and shifted his stance
on the other side of the room while Amelia now remained the pinnacle of
composure.

“And there’s more, Mr. Morrison. If my father were
here right now, I would also tell him that I forgave him a long time ago for
the way he always shouted at my mother.”

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›

Corrin’s face became flushed. Her beloved Alister
shouted at Grace? Why? Should she be glad that he hadn’t married her? Questions,
questions.

“And I would tell him that I also forgave him long ago,”
Amelia continued with a slow, even voice, “for throwing the coal oil lamp that
night.”

Mr. Morrison’s face waxed pale; his mouth fell open as
he gasped and glared at Amelia.  Corrin thought he was going to go to his grave
right then and there. She didn’t understand what Amelia’s last statement meant,
but their visitor unmistakably did.

“Why, you---you couldn’t possibly remember that! You
were only three years old!” A tear fell down his sickly face.

“True, Mr. Morrison, I was very young. But some events
are imprinted so heavily in our minds that they remain there to remind how they
altered our lives forever.”

“How much . . . do you actually remember?” he asked
incredulously.

“I remember Mother and Father always arguing and shouting.
I would hide in the farthest corner of the house, but their cruel words were
loud, and I couldn’t shut them out.”

Corrin noticed that Amelia was beginning to tremble,
but she still held her jaw firm. Paul reached around her shoulder with his good
arm and took her hand with his left. It must have hurt to be pulled across his
body like that, but he only winced slightly.