Morning Glory (28 page)

“Open the other one,” Donald Wade demanded, stuffing it into her hands.

“Two presents—my goodness gracious.”

“This one’s from Will.”

“From Will...” Her delighted eyes met her husband’s while her fingers sought the ties on the scroll-shaped package. Though his insides were jumping with impatience, Will forced himself to sit easy in the kitchen chair, an arm propped on the table edge with a finger hooked in a coffee cup.

Opening the gift, Eleanor gazed at him. With an ankle braced on a knee his leg formed a triangle. Thomas was draped through it. It suddenly occurred to Eleanor that she wouldn’t trade Will for ten Hopalong Cassidys. “He’s somethin’, isn’t he? Always givin’ me presents.”

“Hurry, Mama!”

“Oh... o’ course.” She turned her attention to opening the gift. Inside was a three-piece doily set—an oval and two crescents—of fine linen, all hemstitched and border stamped, ready for crochet hook and embroidery needle.

Eleanor’s heart swelled and words failed her. “Oh, Will...” She hid her trembling lips behind the fine, crisp linen. Her eyes stung.

“The sign called it a Madeira dresser set. I knew you liked to crochet.”

“Oh, Will...” Gazing at him, her eyes shimmered. “You do the nicest things.” She stretched a hand across the table, palm-up.

Placing his hand in hers, Will felt his pulse leap.

“Thank you, dear.”

He had never thought of himself as dear. The word sent a shaft of elation from his heart clear down to the seat of his chair. Their fingers tightened and for a moment they forgot about gifts and cakes and pregnancies and pasts and the two little boys who looked on impatiently.

“We got to have the cake now, Mama,” Donald Wade interrupted, and the moment of closeness receded. But everything was intensified after that, tingly, electric. As Eleanor moved about the kitchen, whipping cream, slicing chocolate cake, serving it, she felt Will’s eyes moving with her, following, questing. And she found herself hesitant to look at him.

Back at the table, she handed him his plate and he took it without touching so much as her fingertips. She sensed his distance as a cautious thing, an almost unwillingness to believe. And she understood, for in her craziest moments she’d never have believed anything as crazy as this could happen. Her heart thundered at merely being in the same room with him. And a sharp pain had settled between her shoulder blades. And she found it hard to draw a full breath.

“I’ll take Baby Thomas.” She tried to sound casual.

“He can stay on my lap. You enjoy your cake.”

They ate, afraid to look at each other, afraid they had somehow misread, afraid they wouldn’t know what to do when the plates were empty.

Before they were, Donald Wade looked out the window and pointed with his fork. “Who’s that?”

Will looked and leaped to his feet. “Lord a-mighty!”

Eleanor dropped her fork and said, “What’s she doing here?”

Before Will could conjure a guess, Gladys Beasley mounted the porch steps and knocked on the door.

Will opened it for her. “Miss Beasley, what a surprise.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Parker.”

“Come in.”

He had the feeling she would have, whether invited or not. He poked his head outside. “Did you
walk
clear out here from town?”

“I don’t own an automobile. I didn’t see any other way.”

Surprised, Will ushered her inside and turned to perform introductions. But Gladys took the matter out of his hands.

“Hello, Eleanor. My, haven’t you grown up.”

“Hello, Miss Beasley.” Eleanor stood behind a chair, nervously fingered her apron edge as if preparing to curtsy.

“And these are your sons, I suppose.”

“Yes, ma’am. Donald Wade and Baby Thomas.”

“And another one on the way. My, aren’t you a lucky child.”

“Yes’m,” Eleanor answered dutifully, her eyes flashing to Will’s.
What does she want?

He hadn’t an inkling and could only shrug. But he understood Eleanor’s panic. How long had it been since she’d engaged in polite conversation with anyone from town? In all likelihood Miss Beasley was the first outsider Eleanor had ever allowed in this house.

“I understand congratulations are in order, too, on your marriage to Mr. Parker.”

Again Eleanor’s eyes flashed to Will, then she colored and dropped her gaze to the chair, running a thumbnail along its backrest.

Miss Beasley glanced at the table. “It appears I’ve interrupted your meal. I’m—”

“No, no,” Will interjected. “We were just having cake.”

Donald Wade, who never spoke to strangers, inexplicably chose to speak to this one. “It’s Mama’s birthday. Will and me and Baby Thomas was givin’ her a party.”

“Won’t you sit down and have some?” Eleanor invited.

Will could scarcely believe his ears, but the next moment Miss Beasley settled her hard-packed bulk in one of the chairs and was served a piece of chocolate cake and whipped cream. Though Will hadn’t actually missed having outsiders around, he found their absence unhealthy. If there was ever the perfect person to draw Eleanor out of her reclusiveness, it was Miss Beasley. Not exactly the gayest person, but fair-minded
to a fault, and not at all the sort to dredge up painful past history.

Miss Beasley accepted a cup of coffee, laced it heavily with cream and sugar, sampled the cake and pursed her hairy lips. “Mmmm... quite delectable,” she proclaimed. “Quite as delectable as the honey you sent, Eleanor. I must say I’m not accustomed to receiving gifts from my library patrons. Thank you.”

Donald Wade piped up. “Wanna see the ones we give Mama today?”

Miss Beasley deferentially set down her fork and focused full attention on the child. “By all means.”

Donald Wade scrambled around the table, found the suet ball and brought it, couched in his hand, to the librarian. “This here’s for her birds. Me’n Will and Baby Thomas made it all ourselfs.”

“You made it... mmm.” She examined it minutely. “Now aren’t you clever. And a homemade gift is certainly one from the heart—the best kind, just like the honey your mother and Mr. Parker gave me. You’re a lucky child.” She patted him on the head in the way of an adult unused to palavering socially with children. “They’re teaching you the things that matter most.”

“And this here...” Donald Wade, excited at having someone new on whom to shower his enthusiasm, reached next for the doilies. “These’re from Will. He bought ‘em with the honey money and Mama she can embroidry on ‘em.”

Again Miss Beasley gave the items due attention. “Ah, your mother is lucky, too, isn’t she?”

It suddenly struck Donald Wade that the broad-beamed woman was a stranger, yet she seemed to know his mother. He looked up at Miss Beasley with wide, unblinking eyes. “How do you know ‘er?”

“She used to come into my library when she was a girl not much bigger than you. Occasionally I was her teacher, you might say.”

Donald Wade blinked. “Oh.” Then he inquired, “What’s a lie-bree?”

“A library? Why, one of the most wonderful places in the
world. Filled with books of all kinds. Picture books, story-books, books for everyone. You must come and visit it sometime, too. Ask Mr. Parker to bring you. I’ll show you a book about a boy who looks quite a bit like you, actually, named
Timothy Totter’s Tatters.
Mmmm...” Leaning back, she tapped an index finger on her lips and examined Donald Wade as if a decision hung in the balance. “Yes, I should say Timothy Totter is just the book for a boy... what? Five years old?”

Donald Wade made his hair bounce, nodding.

“Do you have a dog, Donald Wade?”

Mystified, he wagged his head slowly.

“You don’t? Well, Timothy Totter does. And his name is Tatters. When you come, I’ll introduce you to both Timothy and Tatters. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak to Mr. Parker a moment.”

Miss Beasley could not have chosen a gentler method of bringing Eleanor around to the idea of bumping up against the outside world again. If there was an ideal way to reach Eleanor it was through her children. By the time Miss Beasley’s interchange with Donald Wade ended, Eleanor was sitting, looking less as if she was preparing to bolt. Miss Beasley told her, “That’s the best chocolate cake I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t mind having the recipe,” then turned to Will without pause. “I’ve come bearing some sad news. Levander Sprague, who has cleaned my library for the past twenty-six years, dropped dead of a heart attack night before last.”

“Oh... I’m sorry.” He’d never heard of Levander Sprague. Why in the world had she brought the news clear out here?

“Mr. Sprague shall be sorely missed. However, he lived a long and fruitful life, and he leaves behind nine strapping boys to see their mother through her last years. I, however, am left without a custodian. The job pays twenty-five dollars a week. Would you like it, Mr. Parker?”

Will’s face flattened with surprise. His glance shot to Elly, then back to the librarian, as she hastened on. “Six nights a week, after the library closes. Caring for the floors, dusting the furniture, burning the trash, stoking the furnace in the
winters, occasionally carrying boxes of books to the basement, building additional shelves when we need them.”

“Well...” Will’s amazement modified into a crooked smile as he chuckled and ran a hand down the back of his head. “That’s quite an offer, Miss Beasley.”

“I thought about offering it to one of Mr. Sprague’s sons, but quite frankly, I’d rather have you. You have a certain respect for the library that I like. And I heard that you were summarily dismissed from the sawmill, which irritated my sense of fair play.”

Will was too surprised to be offended. His mind raced. What would Elly say? And should he be gone evenings when she was so close to due? But twenty-five dollars a week—every week—and his days still free!

“When would you want me to start?”

“Immediately. Tomorrow. Today if possible.”

“Today... well, I... I’d have to think it over,” he replied, realizing Elly ought to have a say.

“Very well. I’ll wait outside.”

Wait outside? But he needed time to feel Elly out. He should have guessed that Miss Beasley would tolerate no shilly-shallying. He was already scratching his jaw in consternation as the door closed. At the same moment Eleanor arose stiffly from her chair and began clearing away the cake plates.

“Elly?” he asked.

She wouldn’t look at him. “You take it, Will. I can see you want to.”

“But you don’t want me to, right?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I could buy fixtures for a bathroom and I’d still have days free to put it in for you.”

“I said, take it.”

“But you don’t like me hangin’ around town, do you?”

She set the dishes in the dishpan and did an about-face. “My feelings for town are mine. I got no right to keep you from it, if that’s what you want.”

“But Miss Beasley’s fair. She never put you down for anything, did she?”

“Take it.”

“And what about when the baby starts coming?”

“A woman has plenty of warning.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded, though he could see that it cost her dearly to let him go.

He crossed the room in four strides, grasped her jaw and planted a quick, hard kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, honey.” Then he slammed out the door.

Honey?
When he was gone she placed her palms where his had been. She was probably the most unhoney female within fifty miles, but the word had warmed her cheeks and tightened her chest. Before the thrill subsided, Will came slamming back inside.

“Elly? I’m giving Miss Beasley a ride back to town and she’ll show me around the library, then I’ll probably sweep up for her before I come back. Don’t wait supper for me.”

“All right.”

He was half out the door before he changed his mind and returned to her side. “Will you be all right?”

“Fine.”

Looking up into his eager face, she bit back all her misgivings. He’d never know from her how badly she wanted him here from now until the baby came. Of how she feared having him working in town where everyone called her crazy, where prettier and brighter women were bound to make him take a second look at what he’d married and regret it.

But how could she hold him back when he could scarcely stand still for excitement?

“I’ll be fine,” she repeated.

He squeezed her arm and was gone.

Will took the car, in deference to Miss Beasley. On the way into town they spoke of the boys, the birthday, and finally of Elly.

“She’s a stubborn woman, Miss Beasley. You might as well know, the reason I asked for that book on human birthing was because she refuses to have a doctor. She wants me to deliver the baby.”

“And will you?”

“Reckon I’ll have to. If I don’t she’ll do it alone. That’s how stubborn she is.”

“And you’re scared.”

“Damn right, I’m scared!” Will suddenly remembered himself. “Oh, sorry, ma’am—I mean, well, who wouldn’t be?”

“I’m not blaming you, Mr. Parker. But apparently her other two were born at home, weren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Without complications.”

“Now you sound like her.”

He told her about the book and how it had scared him. She told him about going off to college and how it had scared her, but how the experience had made her a stronger person. He told her about the boys and how awkward he’d felt around them at first. She told him she too had felt awkward
around them today. He told her how scared Elly was of the bees and how he himself loved working with them. She told him how she loved working among the books and that in time Elly would come to see he was cautious and industrious, but he must be patient with her. He asked her what kind of man Glendon Dinsmore had been and she answered, as different from you as air is from earth. He asked which he was, air or earth? She laughed and said, “That’s what I like about you—you really don’t know.”

They talked all the way to town—argued some—and neither of them considered what a queer combination they made—Will, with his prison record and slapdash education, Miss Beasley with her estimable position and college degree. Will with his long history of drifting, Miss Beasley with her long one of permanence. He with his family of near-three, she an old maid. Both had been lonely in their own way. Will, because of his orphaned past, Gladys because of her superior intellect. He was a man who rarely confided, she a woman in whom people rarely confided. He felt lucky to have her as a sounding board and she felt flattered to be chosen as such.