Not My Will and The Light in My Window (46 page)

“I don’t want
any
of him,” said Billy desperately. “You all make me want to bite nails! Dr. Ben is all right in his place, but I hope he stays right there! If anyone says his name to me again, I’ll go out and hunt me a man!”

A half hour later she appeared to have done just that. As Eleanor and Hope worked together getting the big turkey ready for the next day’s roasting, Billy appeared in the kitchen door.

“Whoopee! Guess what! Oh, I could turn a cartwheel! Eleanor, guess who’s coming. Stan’s in town, and I invited him out. He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

“Stan Dykstra? Good!” cried Eleanor when she could be heard. “It will be nice to see him again.”

Philip had followed Billy’s excited voice, and now stood in the door. “So you did go out and hunt your man, did you, Wilhelmina? How did you know where to find him? Sounds like collusion to me.”

“I just wished him out of the ether,” said Billy, laughing excitedly. “I’m so happy I could squeal!”

“You’d better save your energies for something more practical,” rejoined Eleanor. “Where are you planning to have him sleep? There are two beds in the attic, but they lack mattresses. Does he like to sleep on the floor?”

“Oh, I don’t know. That’s a matter of small consequence. He will be willing to sleep any place. He can use the davenport.”

“Not very comfortably, unless he has shrunk several inches since I saw him,” said Philip. “I’ll bring that folding cot over from the nursery and set it up in one of the upstairs rooms.”

Billy giggled at the thought of a cot from the nursery being put to such use but was finally persuaded to get clean linens. By the time the doorbell proclaimed the guest’s arrival, the upstairs room was ready.

While they were talking, Hope had listened in uneasy wonder. Who was Stan Dykstra, anyway? Billy’s joy indicated that he was someone very dear to her, and Hope thought she understood at last why Billy was so cool to Dr. Ben. Right then Hope decided she would not like the newcomer. She was passing through the hall when the bell rang and could not help but see the greeting Billy gave the guest. Dr. Ben had never been so greeted,
and Hope’s heart grew heavy at the idea that this stranger might be the real reason for Billy’s failure to return Dr. Ben’s love.

Billy led her guest into the lighted hall, and the Kings hurried out to greet him. His arms were full of packages, and he distributed them before removing his overcoat. To Eleanor he handed a florist’s box that she opened to disclose a great sheaf of yellow chrysanthemums. For Chad there was a football, for Philip a book, and for Billy a mammoth box of chocolates. As Hope was introduced, the newcomer said apologetically, “I didn’t know there was another lady here or I’d have—oh, wait—Phil, bring back that coat!”

Phil had started toward the hall closet with the young man’s overcoat, and now turned in surprise as Stan leaped after him, grabbed the coat, hurriedly delved into one of the pockets and came up triumphantly holding a small gray object in his hand.

“I knew I’d have a use for this someday. Miss Thompson—with my compliments.” He deposited in Hope’s arms a very young, gray kitten.

“O—o—oh, a kitty!” cried Chad, while Hope stood in startled silence and the others crowded around.

“But—but—” stuttered Hope, “I don’t especially
want
a cat!”

“Neither do I,” solemnly answered Stan. “I never did want a cat. But I found that in a paper bag in the end of an alley I passed. I had no other gift for you.”

“I really don’t need a gift. Does anyone want a cat?”

“Oh, can I have it? Really?” Chad reached for it. “Oh, the poor litta kitty! Its eyes are all shutted up yet.”

He carried it tenderly away to a cushion on the window seat, and the others followed after him. Hope went back to the kitchen and finished the work there. She knew that the pleasure of tomorrow would be ruined for her by the advent of Billy’s friend. First, because he was Billy’s friend, and also because he was strikingly like Jerry Parnell, and his presence had stirred up the pain that she had begun to forget in these last busy weeks. When she had completed the last chore she could possibly think up, Hope turned out the kitchen light and went to her room. As she passed the Kings’ living room, she caught sight of Billy and
Stan sitting side by side on the love seat. She went to bed in the darkness and tossed for hours as the ghosts of the past came out of their graves and stirred into activity the old bitter feelings. When Billy came she lay quietly, feigning sleep, but it was a long time before she dropped into slumber.

The next morning when the alarm went off at six o’clock to remind them of the service at the church, Hope wished fervently that she dared crawl down under the blankets and stay there. There was in her heart no feeling of thanksgiving at all, and she did not want to go to the church. Yet if she stayed at home explanations would be necessary, for all week she had been anticipating the early morning service, about which the girls in her classes had been chattering enthusiastically. It apparently was a big day in their year. So Hope went with the others. She was more quiet than usual, and even the singing of the girls’ choir did not interest her, although it was composed of the very girls whom she had learned to love as she worked with and for them. A large group from Bethel College helped to fill the room.

In the absence of Dr. Cortland, who had been scheduled to speak, Dr. King gave the short address that followed the music and prayers. What he said Hope did not know, for her thoughts were all turned to self-commiseration. Beyond Billy’s red head at the other end of the seat in front of her she could see, silhouetted against the big window, the head of Stan Dykstra. In the dim light the profile looked amazingly like Jerry Parnell’s. So, instead of listening to Dr. King’s message, she spent the hour wondering why Jerry and Grace had not married and whether anyone back home ever thought of the girl Jerry had once loved.

Over in the big house later Hope went at once to the kitchen and began to prepare the vegetables. No one noticed her, for Dr. Ben had come home with them and they were all gathered in the living room where Chad had placed a box containing the wee kitten on the window seat. Dr. Ben produced an eye dropper and, with a bit of warm milk, showed Chad how to feed the motherless baby.

“It’s bad for such a
tiny
kitty not to have a mommy at all,” said Chad. “What would it do if Stan didn’t find it?”

“Someone else would have found it,” answered Eleanor quickly, not wanting Chad to dwell on that thought. “However, Stan did find it, and so it is his kitty.”

“Oh no, it’s not,” said Stan, laughing. “I gave it to Miss Thompson, and she gave it to Chad. So it’s his for keeps.”

“Thanks
so
much!” said Eleanor grimly. “All we needed to make life interesting was a cat, especially one that has to be fed with an eyedropper!”

“I’m sorry it was such a young one, but it will grow. It may grow up to be the joy of your old age. You will never regret your kindness, I’m sure. And in the meantime, my Wilhelmina will help feed it.”

“Sez you,” answered Billy. Yet she held the kitten while Chad offered the eyedropper. Stan, watching them, began to sing,

Hope, in the kitchen, heard the song and the laughter that followed but had no desire to join in the fun. She hoped that they did not notice her absence. She would
much
rather work here than be in with them. But someone did notice she was not there, for when she was out in the big kitchen assembling the materials for the pies she had promised to make, she turned to find Stan observing her from the doorway.

“Some layout here,” he said, gazing around him. “Was this place a private home before the Kings took it over, or was it a classy hotel from the gay days of Victoria?”

“It was a private home.”

“Well, I’m sure it was about as private as a cozy little room in the Smithsonian Institute!”

Hope said nothing, and her caller looked a bit abashed at her lack of friendliness. At that moment Eleanor and Billy arrived to help with dinner, and the conversation became general.

“Stan, my lad, get a knife and start peeling potatoes,” said Billy. “Here’s an apron to keep you clean and a stool to sit on so you’ll be on a level with the rest of us. Get busy!”

Stan made a wry face but did as he was told, singing softly as he worked,

“That verse is below standard, pal. And don’t cut your fingers. You’re too big a boy to do that.”

“If I do, will you kiss it?”

“Nope. Ben will take care of it.”

“Well, wouldn’t you even care?”

“Sure, I’d hold your hand while Ben sewed you up. Now get busy, I said. Eleanor, if you’ll tell me where your linens are, I’ll set the table.”

They all worked together, while Phil and Ben in the living room stretched out in easy chairs and enjoyed a time of fellowship that was a rare treat for them. The turkey proved too large for Eleanor’s little white stove, so it traded places with Hope’s pumpkin pies and was roasted in the oven of the old black range. Eleanor and Hope were the cooks, while Stan and Billy divided their time between the kitchen and the living room, where they romped with Chad, worked the crossword puzzle in the daily paper, and thumped out several duets on the piano. Wherever one of them was, the other could be found. Their pleasure in being together was obvious, and Hope’s heart ached for what she felt must be Dr. Ben’s hurt.

The meal was a merry one, for Billy and Stan were irrepressibly gay and the others were relaxed and carefree in their freedom from their daily responsibilities. The talk about the board gave Hope an opportunity to become better acquainted with the Kings and Dr. Ben than had been possible in all the weeks of working together.

Hope learned that the Kings had spent a week the preceding summer at a lake cottage, with Billy and Stan as their guests. She
heard of Eleanor’s family who lived on a farm near the north woods, of Stan’s father and sisters, of Phil’s brother and sister in California. Dr. Ben and Hope were the only ones who did not talk of dear ones from whom they were separated. Eleanor had said once that Ben’s parents were dead. Hope wondered if he felt as out of place and lonesome in this group as she did. It did not seem so, for he was talking and laughing with the others. Probably it was easier to lose one’s parents and be left entirely alone than to be a step-stepchild who wasn’t wanted.

When the pie was served Stan took one taste and rolled his eyes ecstatically.

“Who baked this pie?” he asked solemnly.

“Hope did,” said Chad promptly. “I helped her fix the pumpkin yesterday.”

“Oh—h, what a relief! I was afraid it was Mrs. King, and I don’t want to break up a happy home. I just
have
to marry the woman who made that pie!”

Hope’s face flamed, while Billy retorted, “Steady, pal. Don’t forget that you’re promised to me.”

“Oops! I forgot. Well, Miss Hope, will you be my second wife?”

Billy saved her from having to answer this nonsense by serving Stan a second piece of pie.

After dinner was over, the men and Chad went off to show Stan about the Institute while the women did the dishes. Then Hope slipped away to her room. She was depressed and lonely, and did not care to be a part of the circle that would gather around the piano later and sing, as Eleanor had planned. Her Thanksgiving Day had been spoiled, and she longed for the morrow when the interloper would be gone and the boys and girls would be back for their work and play. She spent the afternoon reading and writing.

Daddy and Mother Bess wrote every week—long letters about all that went on in the small town. Hope never admitted to herself that she enjoyed them but dutifully answered, telling only the most ordinary happenings of her life and omitting all the thoughts and reactions that would tell of the heart of the real Hope. So the home letters kept coming, and each week Mother Bess sent a bundle of newspapers that Hope read avidly. She always
turned first to the wedding column, and always she felt a bit of relief when she failed to find the account of Jerry and Grace’s marriage. Today, as she looked through the bundle, she found Grace’s name in the list of guests at a house party, but Jerry’s name was not there. She wondered if they had quarreled. She would not ask, not wanting anyone to think she was interested in Jerry, who could be planning a marriage with one girl and making love to another at the same time.

I’m not interested in that Jerry. I’m interested in the Jerry who used to help me with my geometry and go skating with me and do without Cokes and hot dogs so he could put more money in the fund for our dream house. That was another Jerry, a different one. Not the one who sneaked away with Grace. I guess that other Jerry was just in my mind. He never really existed. I just thought Jerry Parnell was that kind of fellow. But he wasn’t, really, any more than Daddy is my real father. I don’t think I can even dream about him anymore. Even my dreams are spoiled!

Hope curled up on her bed with a blanket over her, and cried herself to sleep. When she awoke, it was dark, and she was cramped and hungry. She did not want to join the family group for supper, so went quietly down the back hall into the deserted kitchen and got a piece of pie and some milk. Then back to bed again. Life was almost intolerable at times!

“What is the matter with Hope?” Eleanor asked Billy as they prepared sandwiches for a light supper.

“Search me! She has been a terrible grouch all day.”

“Perhaps she is ill.”

“I don’t think so. She went dopey all at once, about the time Stan came last night. I asked him if he knew her, for she certainly acted as if she loathed him. He said he never saw her before.”

“I’m sorry,” said Eleanor with a sigh. “She has changed so much for the better since she started teaching that I hoped her moodiness was gone. Today she has looked and acted like the girl who came here in August.”