[Desert Roses 02] - Across the Years (16 page)

“Here we are,” Ashley said, putting a bowl heaping with blackberry cobbler and cream in front of E. J. “I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will. It smells wonderful.”

Ashley took a smaller portion with her and sat opposite E. J. once again. “I do appreciate the kindness you’ve extended Natalie. She’s quite enthusiastic about the new Harvey resort.”

“Yes, I can see that. She studies it with an architect’s eye.” E. J. tasted the dessert and knew he’d never had anything so wonderful. Natalie’s comments about Ashley’s inability to cook in her early days of marriage were true. Ashley had been a pampered child, the youngest of four, if Ethan remembered correctly. She’d lived with cooks and maids prior
to their marriage, never needing to arrange meals for herself. Her early kitchen concoctions had nearly killed them. She’d even gone through several kettles, burning them one after another when she’d forget them on the stove and go off to do something else. The thought made him grin, and he quickly ducked his head so that Ashley wouldn’t question him on it.

“This is really very good,” he murmured. “As for Natalie, I’m sure she’ll one day be a great architect herself. If that’s her dream, she strikes me as the kind of person who will make it happen.”

“She takes that from her father,” Ashley admitted.

“She must have been very small when he died.”

Ashley shook her head. “She wasn’t even born. Ethan never knew about her. He was killed before I could get word to him. That hurt almost as much as losing him. I wanted very much for him to know about the baby. I know it sounds silly, but I suppose that was the romantic girl in me.”

E. J. felt the cobbler stick in his throat. So Natalie was his daughter. But then, hadn’t he known it all along? The ease with which they communicated, their passion for building and design, her natural talent with drawing—it all made perfect sense.

He swallowed hard and lifted the coffee cup to his mouth, hoping to push the cobbler on down.

“Natalie adores her father,” Ashley continued. “I’ve tried to keep his memory alive, but it hasn’t been easy. Ethan and I had so little time prior to his going off to war. Natalie knows he was a great hero. You might even have heard about him—he saved an entire unit of men by sacrificing himself. I don’t know a lot about what happened. I tried to find out, but no one talks much to young widows.” She bowed her head and picked at the cobbler with her spoon.

E. J. grew uneasy. To sit there and say nothing about the truth of who he was made him the worst sort of cad. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Just as Ashley had confessed her inability to love another man, E. J. knew confidently
that he couldn’t impose the man he’d become on this sweet woman and her child. He struggled with his emotions for several moments. Finally the urge to tell her the truth was overcome once and for all with the fear of what the truth might mean to them both.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to go,” he said, pushing the cobbler back. “This meal has been most delightful, and the food has been incredible. I thank you for having me.”

Ashley seemed relieved more than upset. She got to her feet even as he did. “I’m glad we could share our meal with you.”

He looked into her eyes, knowing the mistake in doing so. He wanted to lose himself in their depths but knew he had no right.

She walked behind him to the door. He could hear her light steps clicking on the hardwood floor and then silenced as she joined him on the entryway rug.

“Thank you again. I’m sure I’ve never had anything quite so delicious. Will you tell Natalie good-bye for me?”

He barely waited for her assuring response before opening the door. With long-legged strides, he hurried from the house and the memory of what he’d left behind. Ashley’s soft voice echoed in his mind.
“I loved my husband and will love no other.”

The words were an embrace, a kiss, and a curse—all at the same time.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

With Natalie in school and Mrs. Breck sitting with Grandpa, Ashley stood on the depot platform waiting for the Santa Fe eastbound passengers to disembark. Her aunt Lavelle was to be among the travelers, as stated in her last telegram. Ashley looked at the message one final time to make sure this was the right train.

When Lavelle Guzman stepped from the train, Ashley had little doubt as to her identity. Although it had been half a lifetime since Ashley had seen her, Lavelle looked strikingly similar to Ashley’s mother. There was a difference, however. Lavelle smiled in greeting. Ashley couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother smile—if ever.

“Aunt Lavelle?” she questioned, skipping to greet the dark-haired woman. Moving closer, Ashley could see a shock of silver-streaked hair peeking out from her cloche brim.

“Ashley!” the woman gasped her name, reaching out to embrace her tightly. “I can’t believe it’s you.” She held Ashley at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.”

Ashley endured her study momentarily. “I hope you had a good trip.”

“It was a wonderful trip. I only wish I could have come the very moment you sent the telegram. I pray I’m not too late.” She frowned and added, “Is Father . . .”

Ashley nodded. “He’s still alive. Grandpa is in great pain and he’s slipping away fast. I wish I could say that he was better. He takes very little of his morphine because he longs to see you and to have his head clear. He longs to renew the relationship between you.”

“Oh, my poor father. How he must have suffered these long years.” Lavelle looked at the ground. “I feel so awful for the past.”

Ashley felt uncomfortable with the topic and looked down
the track to where they were unloading the baggage. “I’ve arranged for a friend, Pastor McGuire, to pick up your luggage. He’s going to drive us home. Usually I just walk, but I didn’t want you to have to do that.”

Lavelle reached out again and touched Ashley’s shoulder. “Have you heard from your mother?”

Ashley shook her head. “Not a word.”

Lavelle’s expression hardened. “Leticia is a difficult woman. She’s very opinionated and harsh. I know what she did to you. Mind you, I didn’t know about it until years after the fact. She never wrote me with much of any detail. When Father disappeared from Los Angeles, I’m sorry to say I was caught up in my own problems. I never even tried to see him—and all because your mother convinced me it was for the best.”

Ashley wanted nothing to do with talking about her mother, but her aunt was insistent on bringing the past to light. “Mother always seemed to believe she knew what was for the best. Frankly, I try to put it from my mind. Grandpa has been good to me, and we’ve had a wonderful life here.”

“He’s a good man,” Lavelle replied. “I wish I’d seen that sooner. It might have saved me years of pain.”

Ashley was surprised at her aunt’s words. “I thought you hated him, as Mother did.”

Lavelle’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose I did at first. Leticia convinced me to do so.”

The passengers around them cleared out, some heading to the Harvey restaurant to partake of lunch, while others were eager to reach their destinations.

“There’s Pastor McGuire,” Ashley said, spotting the man as he worked his way through the crowd. “We can continue our conversation at home where you can relax, and I’ll fix us some tea or coffee.”

****

With Lavelle’s suitcases put in the spare bedroom, Ashley bid the pastor and Mrs. Breck good-bye, then set out some
refreshments for her aunt. Grandpa was in a deep sleep, so Lavelle and Ashley both thought it best to let him rest. Ashley wondered if she would find it difficult to communicate with her aunt. The woman seemed nothing like Ashley’s mother and yet she, too, had just as easily turned her back on her father.

“This is such a sweet little house,” Lavelle said, coming into the kitchen where Ashley worked. “I love this flowered wallpaper. I’d like to have something like this in my kitchen. It makes everything so bright.”

“It does at that. I used to have it painted a light yellow and that was nice, too, but I found this paper and thought it rather charming,” Ashley admitted, studying the delicate rosebud print. She drew her thoughts back to the task at hand and smiled. “I’ve made some tea and have some cookies, if you’d like.”

“The tea alone is fine, my dear.” Lavelle smiled. “I just can’t believe this is you all grown-up. What have you done with yourself all these years?”

Ashley brought the cups of tea and motioned to the dining room. “We can either sit at the table or we can go to the living room.”

“Wherever you’re most comfortable.”

Ashley led the way to the living room, knowing she could pick up her crocheting between sips of tea. Once they were settled, Ashley answered Lavelle’s question. “You wanted to know what I’ve done with myself. Well, I have a daughter.”

“You do? Why, that’s marvelous. I didn’t even know you’d married. Well, I mean, I knew about the man your mother hated.”

“Yes, Ethan. He’s my daughter’s father. He didn’t know I was expecting when he went to war. He never knew.”

Lavelle’s expression changed to one of genuine sorrow. “Oh, my child, how awful for you.”

“Mother wanted nothing to do with me, since I wouldn’t cooperate with her plans. I never even had a chance to tell
her about Natalie. I contacted Grandpa, knowing that you and mother had rejected him, and figured we’d make each other good company.”

“So you came to Los Angeles?”

Ashley nodded. “He was just finishing the last of his business dealings. I told him my situation, and he took me under his wing. We came here to Winslow because he’d heard the climate was very good and the life-style simple. He bought this house and let me furnish it the way I wanted to. It’s been a good life these eleven years.”

“I can tell. You’re beautiful and gracious.” Lavelle sipped her tea for a moment, then asked, “Would you tell me about him?”

“Grandpa?” Ashley grinned. “I’ve never known anyone with a more pleasant and contented disposition. Grandpa says that becoming a Christian changed his entire outlook and that the things that seemed important to him so long ago were no longer as valuable to him.”

“I know what he means.”

Ashley looked at her aunt oddly. “You do? You’re a believer?”

Lavelle nodded. “You see, not long after your mother forced me to break ties with our father, my husband became ill. It was only after he died that I learned he’d squandered a good portion of my inheritance. He owned several businesses, none of which was all that profitable. I sold those off. Sold the lavish home we’d built and managed to put aside what money I made in those sales. I dismissed all my servants, with exception to one dear sweet old woman, Eva, who had been with me since I’d married Bryce.”

“I’m so sorry about Uncle Bryce. I had no idea he was gone.”

Lavelle opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Ashley couldn’t imagine what had stopped her from speaking her mind, but she let it go.

“I hope you don’t mind if I work on this while we visit,”
Ashley said, picking up her crocheting. She gazed at her aunt, who looked ever so elegant and refined in her camel-colored traveling dress. Her hair, now free of the hat, was shaped in soft waves of brown with silver highlights.

“I don’t mind at all,” she said, offering Ashley a weary smile. She took up the tea again and grew very thoughtful. “My housemaid, Eva, led me to an understanding of what my father had found. She shared the Bible with me, and it changed my life.”

Ashley nodded, not wanting her to give any detail to the matter. She was already feeling conviction enough from Natalie and Grandpa. “Grandpa will be glad to hear that. He puts great store in his faith. All of Winslow esteems him for his generosity and kindness. He’s a great man—they’ll be sad to see him go.”

“I could have guessed that. My father was always a charismatic soul. He could have made friends with the enemy in any war,” Lavelle said, laughing. Then she sobered rather suddenly. “I would give any amount of money to turn back the hands of time so that I could spend more days with him. I hope that while I’m here you’ll allow me to take over his care—or at least help.”

Ashley smiled and worked at the stitches of the sweater’s collar. “I’m glad for the help. Frankly, it’s been hard to watch him deteriorate. Some days he seems to rally a bit. He’ll get out of bed and sometimes even join us for a brief time in the living room, but most of the time he stays in bed, weakened by the cancer.”

“I want to spend whatever time we have together. I want to talk to him and have him talk to me. I hope your mother will feel the same way.”

“Don’t count on that.” Ashley’s snide tone drew her aunt’s stare. “As I mentioned, I haven’t had a response from the telegram I sent her. I sent it at the same time I sent yours.”

“Well, I’ll see to that. I’ll send her one myself and get her to at least explain why she isn’t here.”

Ashley put down the crochet hook. “Have you been in touch with my mother over these years?”

Lavelle looked away as if uncomfortable with the question. “I have had some contact. Your mother and I are hardly close anymore. She doesn’t share my feelings about faith or God.”

“I could have guessed that,” Ashley said, still unwilling to admit she didn’t share them either. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Ashley picked up her cup.

“We’ve exchanged a few letters—a very few. Your mother seems to think that unless a person can profit her in some way, they are useless.”

Ashley nodded. “I know that well enough. It’s the reason I came here. But I’m not sorry I came. I’ve had a good life here. I’ve worked as a Harvey Girl at the station for most of those years. I’m the top waitress now, although I’ve taken a leave of absence to be here for Grandpa.”

“Will you go back to it now that I’m here?” Lavelle asked.

Ashley finished her tea before answering. “I might. It couldn’t hurt to have the income.” She didn’t want to let even her aunt know about the bank account the lawyer had set up.

“I intend to earn my keep while I’m here,” Lavelle stated. “I will buy groceries as well. I’m not wealthy by my previous standards, but I’m certainly not destitute. You needn’t worry about the extra mouths to feed.”