Pages of Promise (32 page)
He watched, laughing at the three bumping along as the mare plodded around the corral, led by Tiny. When that grew tiresome, Carmen said, “You now, Stephen.”
She slipped off the horse, and carefully Stephen got up on the block and then straddled the horse, with the children in front. He took the reins from Tiny and said, “Get up, horse!” The children squealed, and Enrique was allowed to hold the reins.
After the children had their ride, Consuela said, “Now you, Mama. You and Stephen.”
Stephen slid off and lifted Consuela down, while Enrique got down himself.
Stephen winked and said, “How about it, Dale?”
“All right, Roy,” Carmen said. She climbed the chopping block, straddled the horse, and Stephen mounted behind her. “You do the steering,” Stephen said cheerfully. “I’ll do the kicking.” He kicked the mare in the flanks sharply, and she broke out into a fairly brisk canter. Carmen squealed and began to slip from side to side. “Here, you’re going to fall off of this critter!” Stephen reached around her waist and locked his hands in front, holding her tightly. The horse continued her speed, but Stephen did not notice it, for even though he and Carmen wore heavy winter coats, he became aware that he was holding a very shapely woman in his arms. He could not let go for fear of her falling—and he was not inclined to do so anyway.
Carmen was likewise aware of Stephen’s arms around her. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone since her husband had died, and Stephen’s closeness and his warm breath on her cheek were both alarming and exciting. Stephen said in a tight voice, “I guess you better slow this mare down.”
“All right.” Carmen pulled awkwardly at the reins, and the mare settled to a walk. Carmen expected Stephen to release his grip, but he still held her close. “You can let go now,” she said.
“I will in a minute.”
Carmen waited, and when his embrace if anything grew tighter, she said, “You’re hugging me.”
“I think so.”
“Well—don’t do it.”
“I can’t help it,” Stephen said. Her hair was in his face, and it smelled sweet of shampoo. “I think I’m having a relapse,” he whispered in her ear. “I have to hold onto my nurse, or I’ll fall off this horse and hurt myself.”
Carmen did not know what to do. She whispered, “You must stop! The children will see.”
“Well, all right then,” Stephen said. As they rode back, he said innocently, “You know, I’ve just discovered I really like horseback riding. We’ll have to do it more often.”
In the evening, Stephen helped Enrique with his schoolwork while Carmen and some of the others cleaned up from supper. Then he read to Consuela—and she read to him—until Carmen came to take the children for their baths. Consuela said, “Come and say good night when I’m ready for bed, Stephen.”
Later when he went to their room, he wrestled with Enrique a little, laughed at him, and then moved over to Consuela’s bed. She got up on her knees and put her arms around his neck. She was very light and seemed so fragile to him, and she whispered, “I love you, Stephen,” in his ear. It moved him greatly. He kissed her on the cheek, and said, “Good night, sweetheart.”
Stephen sat talking with Morgan about the Vine’s book-work—with the end of the year approaching, Morgan was getting things in order for taxes. Stephen offered to show him some bookkeeping shortcuts. Morgan grinned, knowing why Stephen had been in prison. Stephen smiled himself. “Don’t worry. These are
legal
shortcuts.” After Morgan turned in, Stephen went into the kitchen. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and everyone else had gone to bed, too. Taking a quart bottle of milk out of the refrigerator, he poured himself a glass, and when Carmen came in from the hall, he said, “Come and join me.”
She got a glass, and he poured it full of milk. They stood drinking it, and she said, “I’m as wide awake as an owl.”
“So am I. Let’s fix some coffee and stay up and watch TV.”
“There’s nothing on at this time of night.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go to bed. I might miss something.”
He fixed a pot of coffee, then the two of them went in and sat down on the couch in front of the small black and white TV. The movie turned out to be something called
Horrors of
Dracula
. When it had been on for ten minutes, Carmen laughed. “It’s hard to be afraid of that Dracula. He looks so silly!”
“You’re right, he’s about as scary as a bowl of oatmeal.” They watched the movie, laughing and poking fun at it.
Stephen started to speak, but he heard a sound and cocked his head. “What’s that?” he said.
“The chickens!” Carmen said with alarm. “Something’s after them!” She got up and started out the door, and he said, “Wait a minute! Get your coat on!” He got their coats, and the two of them moved out into the darkness. They heard a dog barking in the distance. There was as yet no moon so it was very dark and their eyes were not accustomed to it. “Can you see your way?” Stephen asked.
“I can’t see a thing.”
“Here, take my hand.” He reached out, and she took his hand, and the two made their way toward the chicken roost. Suddenly she stopped and squeezed his hand hard. “Look!” she said.
By staring hard, Stephen saw a large gray fox trot across the yard. The fox appeared unhurried, and there was a chicken in its mouth.
“Why, you varmint! I’ll get a shotgun and break you of that habit.”
“He’ll be gone by the time you get back.”
“I never saw a fox take a chicken before.”
“They’ve been doing it since Tom sold his hounds. We ought to have a big wire fence around the chicken house.”
They stood silently in the cold air, and Carmen said, “Look at the stars. That one over there.”
“I think that’s Arcturus.”
“Is it? It must be nice to know all their names.”
“I don’t know the names of many. I know sailors steer by that one sometimes.”
They stood looking up at the stars, and her hand was still in his. He murmured quietly, “I envy those sailors. All they have to do is look up at the stars, find one to steer by, and then they know where to go.”
“That would be nice.”
Her voice was soft, and he turned. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he was able to make out her features. “You’ll find your way, Carmen,” he said gently.
“I don’t know, Stephen. I’m like a ship that doesn’t have any star to steer by. I just float from one day to the next. I don’t have any goal.”
“I guess we’re mostly like that, ships without stars.”
From far off they heard the cry of a coyote, always a lonesome sound to Stephen. “I feel about like he sounds. All alone and don’t know what to do.”
“Your family’s not like that.”
“No, they’re not. You take Uncle Logan. He knows exactly where he’s going. He’s going to heaven, and I think he’s a little bit anxious to get there.”
“That’s the way it is with Granny. She talks about heaven like it’s, well, like it’s Fort Smith or someplace so close by that one day she just might move over there. It doesn’t bother her a bit to think about dying—but it bothers me.”
“I know. It bothers me, too.”
“You believe in God, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, but not like my parents. I don’t know what I believe, but what they’ve got, I need.”
Carmen was silent for a long time. The air was cold, and her hand was warm in his. “So do I,” she whispered finally.
He bent closer to see into her face. “I wish things were better for you, Carmen.” She did not speak, and he kissed her. It was brief, and then he put his arms around her, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. “We’ll make it,” he said. “Somehow we’ll make it.”
Carmen rested in his arms. She did not know what was in his heart, but she knew what was in hers. She was lonely and needed exactly what he gave her, the warmth of his arms, his lips, a word of encouragement, and the approval she longed for. She looked up at him and said, “Let’s pray to God right now. We both know what we need to do. Let’s just do it!”
Stephen smiled at her. He took her hands, and they both knelt before God, finding the perfect star to steer by.
T
he Stuart family’s most precious tradition was the reunion on Christmas at the Delight Hotel. It was not the food, the gaily wrapped packages, or the Christmas tree; it was the family itself that gave meaning to it. They lived scattered all over America, but when December came and Christmas drew near, they all began to speak about the reunion. It was a fixed point in their lives.
Peter and Leslie came happily in 1958, happy over what God had been doing in the lives of their children. Their son-in-law, Tom, was writing another book. The movie
Bride of
Quietness
had received both critical and popular acclaim. It did for Mona what she had hoped
The Soldier
would do—brought her offers of some good parts in good movies. But, at thirty-five, Mona decided to leave Hollywood a success. She had new and different goals. In September, Tom had taken a teaching position at his old college in Kentucky, and Mona was working there as a teaching assistant in the drama department while she finished her college degree.
Peter and Leslie were in their room at the old homestead speaking of this. Leslie went over and put her arm around Peter as he stood by the window. They looked out at the snow, which was falling again, and she said, “It’s nice to have a white Christmas.”
“It would be nicer if Stephen would come to the reunion.”
“I don’t think he will,” Leslie said quietly. “He was polite and nice about it, but he says he just can’t do it.”
“
Why
can’t he do it? What’s such a big deal about coming to his own family reunion?”
“You ought to know, Pete. He’s the only failure. He sees his sister who’s a successful movie star, he sees his cousins doing well in business, his uncles’ and aunts’ successes at what they do. And he’s ashamed of what he did to us and of being what he calls an ‘ex-con.’ That’s a lot to overcome.”
“That’s foolish!”
“It’s exactly,” she said sprightly, “the sort of thing
you
would do if you were in his place! He’s very like you in that respect.”
“Is he? Well, I wish he were more like you.” They stood in a half embrace, and Leslie said heavily, “He’s got to make his own decision, Pete. No one can make it for him. I just thank God that he is out of prison and doing better than he has been. That’s enough for me—for now.”
Jake had driven Rose and Lenora down from Chicago. Stephanie was in Germany. She had been in Lebanon covering the crisis there from July to October, had taken a brief vacation at home with Jake, then in November was sent to Berlin, where tensions were building with the Soviet Union. “I just got a letter. She’s starting with the Associated Press the first of the year,” he told Jerry as soon as they met at the Delight. “She’s thrilled because this is the first job she’s gotten on her own merit rather than on your dad’s influence. And,” he continued, smiling, “since the AP is based in New York, she and I will at least be on the same continent more often—I hope.”
Laurel and Richard and Johnny had come with Jake, too, and were staying on at the Vine until it was time to go back to school in January. Johnny, at eight, was growing like a weed. Richard had adopted him as soon as he and Laurel were married. When Johnny asked about his father, they told him he had died, but they discussed between themselves at what point they should tell him—
if
they should tell him—that his parents had not been married. Mona spoke of this to Adam, who sought out Richard.
“I don’t know if you’re aware that I was born out of wedlock,” Adam said. Richard was startled—it had never crossed his mind and he had never heard anyone in the family mention it. “I think the sooner your boy knows the truth the better. Otherwise when he does find out—and he will—he may feel lied to, even if you’ve just omitted a fact.”
“Yes,” said Richard, “we’ve pretty much decided we do have to tell him, but when is the time right? He’s not concerned about anything like that now.”
“I think maybe that’s the best time. He can sort of get used to the idea before it becomes important. I was older when I found out about my father, and I went into a tailspin for a while.” Richard didn’t comment—he didn’t want to pry and ask for details. Adam continued, “I was about Johnny’s age when my mother married my real father—your uncle Jesse.” Adam smiled. “I loved Jesse, and he loved me, but he never adopted me even though I called him Dad. Aside from all the Stuart pride, I think you’ve done a good thing for Johnny by giving him your name. You and Laurel have to decide what’s best to tell him, but I thought I’d give you my ideas as one who’s been through it.”
“Thanks, Adam. You’ve given me a lot to think about. And you’ve set me wondering—what other family secrets am I missing out on?”
“Well, you know your mother practically raised me, don’t you?”
“I always had the impression that she’d had a lot to do with you, that she met my dad while she was your nanny.”
“Yeah. I remember some of it. Your dad was sort of wild back then,” Adam said.
“I’ve heard that. What do you remember?”
“Maybe you should ask him about it.”
“Another family secret, I guess,” Richard said, smiling.
Bobby didn’t come to the reunion because he had a concert date. Jerry and Bonnie were deeply concerned about his lifestyle. But they had a lot to be happy about in Laurel and Richard. They had given them a wedding, “since,” Jerry told Bonnie, “we didn’t have to pay for a wedding for Stephanie.”
“Well, I finally get a grandchild out of it at least,” Bonnie sighed. “But they live so far away, it’s not fair—I hardly get to spoil Johnny at all. I suppose it’s a good thing I stopped counting on having my grandchildren around.” She had gone to work as a volunteer for the Salvation Army in Los Angeles, so she and Lenora had to compare notes about operations in their respective cities.
Mona and Tom, too, were staying at the Vine instead of the crowded hotel. Mona was excited to see how Stephen had improved in health and how his whole attitude had changed. She whispered to Tom, “There’s something about this place. It makes people different.”
