The Glorious Prodigal (30 page)

Read The Glorious Prodigal Online

Authors: Gilbert Morris

BOOK: The Glorious Prodigal
9.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“I’ve got a present for each of you,” Stuart said suddenly. “They’re not wrapped up proper like. I didn’t have time for that, but let me get them.”

He disappeared and came back very quickly with three packages—two small boxes and one large long package. “This is for you, sweetheart.” He gave a very small package to Merry and watched as she opened it. Merry ripped the brown paper off and then suddenly cried out with delight.

“It’s a ring!” she cried. She put it on her finger, and the red stone glowed.

“That’s a very old ring, Merry. It belonged to Nellie Winslow, your great-grandmother. Your great-grandfather Henry gave it to her when they married.”

“Oh, it’s so pretty, but it’s too big.”

“You’ll have to grow into it, honey. I’m glad you like it.”

“This is for you, Leah.”

Leah looked at the small brown package and whispered, “You shouldn’t have done it, Stuart.”

He did not answer, and Merry was saying, “See what it is, Mama.”

Unwrapping the paper, Leah found a small box. When she opened it she gasped. “How beautiful!”

“What is it, Mom?” Raimey said. He crowded in along with Merry on the other side as Leah took out a necklace with a fine gold chain and a beautiful opal.

“That necklace belonged to another Winslow. Harriet Winslow, my great-grandmother.”

“It’s so beautiful, Stuart.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Stuart took the long box and said, “This is for you, Raimey.”

Raimey took the box and glanced at his mother, who nodded at him. He ripped the paper off and opened the box, and his eyes grew large. “Why, it’s a sword!”

“Be careful. It’s very sharp,” Stuart said. He watched with pleasure as the boy took the sword and held it up. “Did it belong to one of the Winslows, too?” Raimey asked.

“Yes, it did. It belonged to Henry Winslow, your great-grandfather. You know about him?”

“Yes,” Raimey said, his eyes fixed on the keen blade that still glistened after all the years. “He died fighting in the Battle of Gettysburg.”

“That’s right. And he fought his way with that very sword. He died fighting for freedom for all men. He was a very good man, Raimey. Hope you’ll grow up to be just like him.”

Raimey could not seem to take his eyes off the sword. “Did he really use it to fight with?”

“Yes, he did. He was a very strong, courageous man, and there have been many Winslows just like him. I hope you’ll always keep the name of Winslow clean and proud.” He hesitated and said, “Not like me.”

Leah turned her head quickly and saw that Stuart’s face was tense, and there was a deep grief in his eyes. “Where did you get all these things, Stuart?”

“From my parents. I hope you like them.”

“I’ll wear this ring every day when I get big enough,” Merry said. “Now, Daddy, play some more on your fiddle.”

“Oh, your mother’s too tired.”

“No, I’m not,” Leah said. “I’m tired of the bed.”

“After breakfast,” he said.

Stuart fixed a quick breakfast and fed the youngsters and brought a plate of soft-boiled eggs and buttered toast with jam for Leah. She ate it all and said, “Thank you, Stuart. That was good.”

“Now play, Daddy,” Merry said.

“All right, just a few. Then your mother’s got to go back to bed.”

Stuart took the fiddle out, ran the bow over the strings, and then began playing, “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” He sang along with it, and his rich baritone voice filled the room. He did not strain and Leah thought,
He has the most beautiful voice of any man I’ve ever heard.
She sat there listening as he played many of the old carols, and finally the fiddle was silent.
He looked at her and then played one more song. She listened and closed her eyes, and when it was over, Merry spoke up.

“I never heard that Christmas carol.”

“It’s not a Christmas carol,” Stuart said.

“What is it, Daddy?”

“Just an old song. Now it’s time to get your mother to bed.”

Stuart stood up, put the fiddle down, then came over and without asking simply reached down and scooped Leah into his arms. The youngsters called after her, “Merry Christmas!” and she called back, “Merry Christmas.”

When he reached the bed, he put her down carefully, turned the covers over her, and said, “You’re tired.”

“Yes, but it was wonderful.” She looked up and said, “Thank you, Stuart—for everything.”

He did not answer but turned and left without a word.

Leah lay there, and her mind was full of the song, the last one that he’d played. It was the one he had written for her the night they had married—the one he called “Leah’s Song.” He had played it for her often during the first few months of their marriage, and she had always loved it. Now as she lay there the thoughts of those happy times came to her, but it was mixed with sadness.

She thought of what it had been like to be young and in love with no doubt, and she blinked back the tears, wondering if she would ever know a time of happiness like that again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A New Arrangement

“You really shouldn’t have brought all these presents, Mott,” Leah protested. “It’s really too much.”

“Well, I don’t think so.” Mott was smiling broadly and watching as Merry paraded with a new doll buggy back and forth over the living room floor. The Christmas tree was still up, and over to one side, under the window where sunlight streamed in, Raimey was building a complicated construction out of something called “Tinker Toys.” Mott had come in two hours earlier carrying a huge box.

Now as Leah sat smiling at the children totally engrossed in their presents, she repeated again, “You really did more than you should have.”

Mott was wearing a navy blue suit with a pair of shiny patent leather shoes and a dark maroon bow tie. As always, he looked good in whatever he put on, and now he said, “I’m sorry you got sick over Christmas. If I had known that, I would have stayed.”

“You had to go see your mother, Mott. You hadn’t seen her in six months.”

“Yes. She’s not doing too well. I tried to persuade her to come and live with me, but she’s too tied up with her life there in Atlanta.”

“What all did you do in Atlanta?”

“Oh, just visited around. Took in a new movie there. It starred that woman Theda Bara, the one they call ‘The Vamp.’ ”

“I really don’t like her much, Mott. She looks so awful.”

“Well, a lot of people don’t think so. The theater was packed. Anyway,” he said, “I didn’t enjoy myself as much as I would if I’d been here with you. Maybe I could have taken better care of you.”

“We made out all right.”

Mott studied her thoughtfully, and now there was a trace of jealousy in his tone as he said, “I understand Stuart did all the nursing. Was that necessary?”

“Why, Mott, somebody had to. I was absolutely helpless.”

“You could have gotten a nurse.”

“We couldn’t afford that. And with Annie sick and Merle down, I was glad that Stuart was able to help.”

Mott pulled a box out of his inner coat pocket and said quickly, “I haven’t given you your gift yet. Here.”

“Why, Mott, you shouldn’t have spent money on me.”

“Who else would I spend it on?”

Opening the box, Leah stared down at the glittering diamond that flashed with a thousand lights as the light overhead caught it. “Mott, I can’t take this.”

“It’s an engagement ring.”

Leah shook her head and closed the box. “Mott, I’m married. We’ve talked about this before.”

Mott shook his head, refusing to take the box. “You’ve got to be reasonable, Leah. You don’t have any life, and things are only going to get worse. You can’t keep this place up by yourself. You’ve lost money the last two years. How long can that go on? And you won’t let your father-in-law help you, so that doesn’t leave you many options.” Mott reached over and took her free hand. “I don’t ask you to love me as I love you, but I can make you love me. I know I can. And we’d have a good life together.”

Leah shook her head, but before she could answer, the back door opened and closed, and she drew her hand back quickly. “You’ve got to give me time, Mott.”

Stuart suddenly appeared at the door and stopped abruptly.
He was carrying a bucket and said quickly, “I gathered all the eggs, Leah. I’ll leave some here and take some to Annie.”

“All right, Stuart.”

As soon as Stuart left, Mott said, “People are talking about you two.”

Leah suddenly laughed. “How can they be talking about us? We’re married.”

“Everybody knows you’re not really man and wife. He’s living out in the barn. You won’t let him in the house.”

“Well, let them talk,” Leah said. “Those who would say such things don’t really matter.”

Mott saw that he had pushed his case too far. He reluctantly took the box back and pushed it into his pocket. “This isn’t the end, Leah. I’m a stubborn fellow.” He rose and leaned forward, and when she stood up, he kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.” Turning, he said, “Kids, you have fun now.”

“Thank you, sir. Thanks for the Tinker Toys,” Raimey said. “Maybe you’ll help me make some things with it.”

“I’ll do that next time.” Turning to Merry, he said, “Good-bye, sweetheart. What are you going to name the doll?”

“Jezebel.”

Mott laughed suddenly. “You can’t name her that.”

“Why not? It’s in the Bible.”

“Well, she’s your doll.” Mott winked at Leah, put on his overcoat, and, clamping his hat down, left the room.

“Come and play with me some, Mom,” Raimey said. “Look. You can make a bridge or a castle or even an automobile with these Tinker Toys.”

“I don’t think I could ever get up once I sat on the floor,” Leah smiled.

Even though Leah did not have her strength back completely, she spent all morning doing what she could around the house. As she sat down in the kitchen mixing dough for biscuits, she thought about Stuart and his tender care of her throughout her sickness. She had never seen that side of him before, and it had shocked her. Her mind flickered back to
the times when he had brought her fever down covering her with cool wet sheets, how he had dressed her almost as if she were a doll, and had fed her soup when her hand trembled too much to hold the spoon. These thoughts troubled her, and from somewhere deep within, the thought rose,
Stuart always did well under pressure, but he always failed later. I still can’t trust him.

****

Late afternoon had turned out to be warm, and Leah, for the first time, stepped outside and inhaled the rich air. It was not really cold, and the snow had all melted, so there was a clean, earthy smell in the air. She sat down on the rocker and gazed out the window, taking in the farm. Five minutes later she saw Stuart ride in on Thunder, dismount, and lead him into the barn. He was gone for some time, and she knew he was brushing the horse that had become his favorite. Finally he came out and headed toward the house. His head was down, but he was whistling a song. He always knew all the latest songs, for listening to the radio, she knew, was perhaps his only entertainment. The one he was whistling now was, “When You Wore a Tulip and I Wore a Big Red Rose.” He would have passed by the house headed for the back when suddenly she called out, “Stuart!” whereupon he stopped and came over to the porch.

“Well, out for a little air. Good. It’ll put some color in your cheeks.”

“I haven’t really felt well enough to ask how things are going.”

Stuart sat down beside her and said, “Well, the stock is all healthy. The fences are getting pretty well mended. We’ll be ready for spring plowing, I guess.”

Leah sat there listening as he talked about the farm. She was thinking how little interest he had taken before, except for brief intervals, and finally without knowing why, she sighed deeply and spoke what was on her heart. “I don’t know what’s
going to happen, Stuart. We’ve lost money for two years running. There’s only one end to a thing like that.”

Stuart lifted his head sharply and studied Leah. Her illness had planed her down, but he still admired the clean-running physical lines that had always been hers. He also was pleased with the structure of her face that made a definite, appealing contour. Even as he studied her, he noted that her features showed the quick, swift changes of her mind, and he could not help but notice the self-possessed curve of her mouth and the richness of her lips. “I’ve been thinking about something, Leah,” he said finally.

She turned to him, and her lips made a small change at the corners. He thought again how she had a way that could charm a man or chill him to the bone.

“What is it?”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think lately.” He grinned wryly and said, “About seven years with nothing else to do, and a few things came to me about this place.”

“What sort of things?”

“Horses and mules will be around for a long time, but the tractor and the automobile—that’s where the future is.”

“Well, we can’t go into the tractor and automobile business.”

“No, we can’t, but we can, more or less, get out of the draft animal business.”

Leah studied him carefully, noting the clearness of his eyes and the strength of his neck. He had always been a strong man and he still was. It troubled her that she would think of him in this way, and she said quickly, “What else could we do?”

“We could become pig farmers.”

Leah suddenly laughed aloud. “Pig farmers! What an idea!”

“I’m serious.” Stuart pulled his chair around so that he could face her. “Look, Leah, America’s going to enter this war, and it’s going to get in with both feet. President Wilson got reelected on the campaign promise that he would keep us out of the war, but he’s not going to keep us out anymore.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. It’s going to happen. Now, I’ve been studying the market reports, and there’s going to be a tremendous call for meat for overseas as well as here at home. A lot of America will be going to work in factories. That’s going to leave the farms shorthanded.”

“But why pigs? Why not cattle?”

“Because it takes a long time to raise a beef critter,” Stuart said quickly. “But you can raise pigs almost like they were rabbits. You know how fast they grow and how big the litters are.”

Other books

Love Letters by Lori Brighton
Hamish Macbeth 12 (1996) - Death of a Macho Man by M.C. Beaton, Prefers to remain anonymous
Hold U Down by Keisha Ervin
Bad Bridesmaid by Siri Agrell
Why We Write by Meredith Maran
Finding Isadora by Fox, Susan
Ryder by Amy Davies
Death Times Two (The V V Inn, Book 3.5) by Ellisson, C.J., Brux, Boone