Christie (29 page)

"It means, dear, that you're being courted," he replied, grinning.

"Ah
knew
it!" shouted Lula. "Ah smelled it with them chicken feathers!"

"Oh, Lu! It's charming!" cried Christie, giving her a hug.

"Charming!" she spat. "What am ah going to do with a horse?"

"Well, you could return it," answered Jesse,
"but
then you should return all of the gifts. It would signify your rejection of the courtship."

"But ah
can't
return them. Ah
ate
them! And . . . ah'm not saying ah would have sent them back—or wouldn't have, mind you—but this horse is something else. He's
big!
And ah don't know how to sit a
horse or anything else about them."

"Then I shall have to teach you," came a low voice from the back door.

"Laughing Bear!" cried Christie.

"Oh, Lord," muttered Lula.

"Good day, Madam Randall," he said to Christie; and to Lula, "Come. You can learn about horses." And taking the astonished black woman's arm, he led her, speechless, out the door.

The days at Riverlea merged into weeks, the weeks into months, and still there was no word of Garrett. Christie viewed this with a curiously mixed sense of growing apprehension and quiet relief. She felt relieved to be free to bask in the warmth of her growing friendship and closeness with Jesse; yet she knew that at any moment, Carlisle would send word her husband had returned, and she must then somehow leave. But as to where she was to go, she was no clearer than she had been on the day she had left Charleston.

Jesse, she knew, quietly favored her reunion with Charles, if not a move to return to Windreach.

"At least let him know where you are," he had said one day after bringing her a letter from her father, this transmitted by way of Carlisle's office. "It's clear, from what you've been telling me of your correspondence, the man dotes on you and longs to be with you again, despite the careful tact he employs in trying not to pressure you in that direction."

"But that's just the point," she had argued. "After all the love Father has heaped on me all my life, how can I turn around and present him with this?" she
had added, indicating the well-rounded swell above her lap.

"And what, exactly is 'this'?" he questioned, gesturing in the same direction. "Is it a thing so terrible? A child duly conceived within the bounds of wedlock, fathered by a man you love? A tiny living thing you've already grown to love, even now, before it breathes the open air? Yes, Christie, for I have seen the look on your face whene'er your hands should chance to rest on your belly, whene'er you've felt the life stirring within it. I've seen how your face reflects what lies in your heart," he had said tenderly. "How, then, can you think your loving father so callous or beyond understanding as to do anything but love the babe as well?"

"But the disappointment he will suffer at my foolishness, disobeying him to run after Garrett, marrying under such questionable circumstances
—
"

"Your foolishness? Perhaps. But what child has not been foolish and then been forgiven by a loving parent? Even the
Bible
deals with this part of the human condition. Remember the prodigal son?" he had asked, taking her gently by both hands and then adding softly, "Little one, don't let your
pride
blind you in this, and stop fooling yourself into thinking you can keep
running away
from your problems!"

She had looked startled for a moment, as she heard him mention pride as a motivating factor in her actions. Pride! That selfsame pride she had disavowed in New York that day. Yes, it was pride that made her avoid Charles. She had been too proud to admit to her mistakes by facing them in full view of the father who had always held her fairly faultless.

Well, she had met that inner demon, thanks to Jesse, and she could exorcise it.
.

"Let me borrow your writing parchment again, Jesse," she had said. "I'm going to invite Father to Riverlea."

The shortening days and the cooler autumn weather also brought changes for others on the Randall plantation. The relationship between Lula and Laughing Bear did, indeed, blossom into a fullblown courtship, with much of the black woman's time spent astride her new horse. Having taken the lead from Christie, she wore castoff breeches of Jasper and, frequently, an exasperated expression. But when she would return from these excursions into equine management, Christie noted a subtle glow about her person, and an undeniable spring to her step. Lula was in love!

Commenting on this one late-November day as she and Jesse were sharing a lunch together in the informal parlor, before a glowing fire, Christie remarked, "It's amazing how love can transform a person. . . . Jesse? How is it you've never married? I can't believe you can be the warm, sensitive person you are without your ever having loved a woman yourself."

Jesse stared into the fire for a long while without answering. At last, he spoke.

"There was someone . . . once. I met her the summer I was twenty-five. . . . She had hair the color of a copper penny, and eyes like warm brown sherry. . . . When I met her on her parents' estate, I didn't realize she was merely sixteen. Too young to wed, her parents said—and I reluctantly agreed,
promising to wait at least a year. . . ."

He grew quiet, and Christie sensed this was difficult for him. At length, he continued.

"During the year, we exchanged letters, each more full of love than the last, and then, one day, a letter came, but in her father's hand, not hers. It was not in her hand because she could no longer write—or laugh, or cry, or breathe the sweet air. She had died that spring—of the smallpox."

The room grew very still, and except for the crackling of the wood in the fire, there was no sound until finally, some minutes later, Jesse turned to face her. His face still bore some traces of pain as he spoke.

"And so, Christie, if at times I seem to be a little overbearing in urging you to take life by the horns and contend with it, it is because I have felt the bite of those horns, that came from waiting when I should have acted."

"You would have taken just that one year with her?" she questioned softly.

"Yes! Or a month, even a week! At least we'd have given our love
some
life! Ah, Christie, that's why sometimes, when I see others, like Garrett, throwing their lives away when they should be tasting, relishing, every sacred minute, I want to reach out to them,
tell
them—"

"Like Garrett. And like me?" she asked soberly.

"Garrett, more than anyone. You? Not if you refuse to let it happen, Christie. You're very young yet. And I see in you someone capable of living life in all its varied depths and richness. You have that kind of a spirit. And I'm sure it was largely that which Garrett saw also, although he may not realize it yet.

So, grab hold of those horns, Christie, and don't let
go!"

With that, he gave her a quick hug about the shoulders, and saying he had something to attend to, left the room.

Charles reached Riverlea a few days before Christmas, arriving, unannounced, in the unusually warm, late afternoon, just as Jesse led Thunder up the path to visit with Christie in the garden. The two men introduced themselves to each other, and then, at Jesse's suggestion, Charles was given the big horse to take to his daughter.

So it was, that as Christie turned to pour tea, her back to the path as she heard Thunder's approach, she asked, "Would you like your tea now, Jesse?" And the low male baritone that answered said, "Jesse will be along shortly, darlin'', but you can fix me a cup with the usual two sugars." With a squeal, she dropped the cup she was holding, letting it crash to the ground, as she whirled and ran to her father's open arms; and for several minutes, there was only laughter, and embracing, and more than a few happy tears.

Finally, when they had each calmed sufficiently to speak, Charles withdrew a pace and looked at her, and his face grew very still.

"So this was your reason?" he asked softly. "Oh, thank God!" he breathed, again holding her in a tight embrace. "Christie, darlin', you had me so worried!-1 thought it must be something terrible! And now, to my complete delight, I find you are about to make me a grandfather!"

Christie's sigh of relief was blatantly audible, and
the tears that followed, a welcome release.

"Oh, Father, I love you so very much!" she cried. "You won't mind having a grandchild who might never see his father?"

"All the more reason he'll need his grandfather, love! As for his father, let's not go making assumptions before all our facts are in. But I don't want to talk about that just now. Let's talk about you!
When is the babe due? How do you feel? What's Jesse Randall like? Looks like a very likable fellow from what I've seen already. . . ."

And so, with a host of such questions to answer, and some of her own to ask, daughter sat down with father; more than an hour passed before Jesse joined them, and the three went happily to dinner.

Chapter Twenty One

A few nights later, on Christmas Eve, with the house a hubbub of merry activity, Jesse was in the large entry foyer, wrestling with a huge yule log he had just carried in. Having summoned Lula, he had just sent her to fetch Christie, who had asked that she be allowed to join him in helping to decorate the fireplace where it was to be installed. It had been raining, and Jesse was just wondering how long it might take for the wood to dry out again, when the front door swung open, and there, in the entryway, stood a wet and dripping Garrett Randall.

"Merry Christmas, Jess!" He grinned.

"Merry Christmas, yourself, you wretched nomad!" chuckled Jesse, after the second's recovery he had required to adjust to his brother's surprise arrival. "You might have let a man know you were coming. Wait'll I catch hold of Carlisle for not warning me I'd be saddled with your noble presence again!"

"I didn't stop at Carlisle's this time," said Garrett, removing the dripping coat he wore. "Took straight off for Riverlea so I could make it in time for—"

Lula was just making the bend in the staircase. "She says she'll be right along, Mr. Jesse. She just needs a minute to finish one last garland and—oh, Lord—"

Garrett's eyes narrowed, becoming green slits, and the muscles of his jaw went tight and rigid, but his voice remained frighteningly quiet as he asked, "Where is she?"

"Wait a minute, Garrett," said Jesse. "Before you see anybody, there are some things you ought to know—"

"I said, where
is
she? Where is my
wife?"

The last word was ground out between clenched jaws, its intonation ominous and threatening.

At that moment, her arms full of green garlands hung with clusters of red berries, Christie came sailing toward the top of the stairs, pausing in disbelief at the top step as she heard her brother-in-law speak.

"Look, Garrett, I think you ought to know Christie's here at my invitation and, as such, she enjoys my complete protection—" He paused as he saw the green eyes dart to the head of the stairs, the face go hard and colder than before.

As their eyes met, Christie froze, dropping the large armful of garlands she carried and leaving Garrett an unobstructed view of her protruding abdomen.

Taking a step forward, Garrett studied her for a long moment, turned to glance at his brother, then back at her, not speaking a word. Finally, turning toward Jesse again, a cruel, mirthless smile on his lips, he spoke, his voice bitterly icy.

"An appropriate term, 'protection,' brother. It
couldn't have taken you too long to become my wife's 'protector,' I see. The swelling of your mark of ownership is all too apparent."

"Garrett, for God's sake, what are you talking about?" asked Jesse, concern in his voice. "Christie is here because she—"

"Because she carries
your bastard!"
snarled Garrett.

At her husband's words, Christie had slumped with despair over the highly polished banister, and because his own eyes had followed her movements, eager to see the hurt she might show at his words, both missed the sudden movement at Garrett's side, as an angry fist shot through the air and connected with his jaw, sending his huge form toppling to the floor.

"There
are
limits, Brother," said a quiet voice as Jesse observed the unconscious body lying before him at the base of the stairs. But his attention was now on Christie as she silently pushed Lula away and ran for her room.

Bounding up the stairs after her, Jesse cried, "Lula, you attend to him if he needs it! I'll go after Christie!"

He caught up with her at the door to her room, and together they entered, whereupon Christie headed straight for the large highboy, opening a drawer to remove some of her clothes. Dry-eyed and silent, she took them to the bed and then turned to face Jesse.