The Shadow Portrait (41 page)

The whole incident of Clinton’s leaving grieved him, and as he had so often done to console himself, Oliver thought back to the days when he and Clinton had gone places together, when he had been in the first delights of his successful business career. Back then he had enjoyed taking his young children out, enjoying time together. He suddenly recalled when he had taken them to see a vaudeville performance. Clinton was no more than eight years old. The acrobats, the jugglers, and the singers had all delighted the boy. Then he thought again of the circus that Clinton had so enjoyed. “Why didn’t I take him back?” Oliver murmured, then shook his head. “Too late for that now,” he said gloomily.

Then he found himself thinking of Mary Ann and her determination to marry George Camrose.
Here I’m right,
he thought.
It would be terrible for her to languish away in some obscure African village.
Still, he had seen her determination. And that made him think of Cara, about whom he was most concerned. He thought he understood Cara, but now he was slowly discovering that his judgment was not as sound as he had supposed.

Lanier was startled when the carriage stopped and he looked up to see he was in front of his home. Getting out, he balanced on the cane and his good leg while he fished for
the money to pay the driver. Handing it up, he nodded briefly at the driver’s thanks and then moved painfully up the walk and climbed the steps. Stepping inside, he was greeted by Alice, who said with concern, “You’re having more trouble with your knee, aren’t you, Oliver?”

“It will pass.”

“Come in and sit down. I think we ought to have Doctor McKenzie in to take a look at it.”

“He can’t make a new knee,” Lanier said, but he followed her into the larger of the two parlors. He sank down with relief into a Morris chair, and Alice moved a hassock over and helped him to stretch his leg out. She fussed over him, bringing him a cup of tea, and insisting all the time that the doctor be called to examine his knee.

“Oliver, I’ve got to talk to you about something you may not like,” she said finally. She pulled up a chair and sat down across from him, leaning forward and lacing her fingers together over her knees. As she took a deep breath, she looked anxious but determined. “It’s about Bess’s birthday party.”

“I thought you had already made all the plans for that. It’s tomorrow night, right?”

“Yes, but I’ve got to tell you one thing about the guests.” She hesitated, then held herself straighter. “I’m going to insist on having Clinton—
and
George Camrose.”

Shocked by her bold announcement, Oliver shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. It would be bad for Mary Ann to be exposed to that young man, and as for Clinton, he knows he can come home anytime he pleases. All he has to do is agree to my terms.”

Alice Lanier stared at her husband for a moment, then said quietly, “Oliver, Clinton and George are coming to the party, whatever you say. You’re welcome to come, and I hope you will, but it wouldn’t be fair to exclude Clinton. He’s been at every birthday party Bess has ever had. You know how close they are. So, I’m sorry I have to speak to you like this, but that’s the way it’s going to be.”

Blank astonishment filled Oliver’s face, and he stared at his wife as if she had announced that she was going to move to India. “Why, Alice, I’ve never heard you speak like this!”

“I had hoped that I would never have to contradict you, but you’re wrong about Clinton, and you’re also terribly wrong about Mary Ann and George. I hope you’ll change your mind, but if you don’t, it will just have to be my way this time.” Alice rose, gave her husband a last firm look, then turned without a word and walked out of the room. Oliver stared after her, absolutely amazed and at a loss for words.

“No point arguing about it, Clinton, you’re going to the party!” George Camrose had appeared at Mrs. Mason’s boardinghouse just after Clinton had returned from work. Camrose stood in the middle of the floor with a determined light in his eye. Clinton had said he did not feel free to go to his home since he and his father had had an altercation, but Camrose had stood his ground. “You can argue all you want to, Clinton, but you’re going to that party. I know you and your father are upset with each other, but your mother sent word to me that I was to bring you, and I suppose you got a note, too.”

“Yes, I did, but I just didn’t think it would be right. After all, Father’s forbidden me to come home until I agree to his terms. And I can’t.”

“Well, your mother hasn’t forbidden you to come home. Besides, it’s important for Bess, so get dressed. We’re going.”

Clinton tried to resist, but he finally just had to laugh. “I never knew a preacher could be so pesky. All right. Let me change and I’ll go.” Quickly he put on a light brown suit and slipped his feet into a pair of brown high-topped shoes and laced them up. As he did so, he noticed his fingernails. “Look at this. I couldn’t get them clean no matter how hard I tried.”

Camrose stared at the fingernails that were broken and
had grease under them and grinned. “First time you ever got your hands dirty, but I don’t think you’re sorry, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Not about leaving home, at least. I’m sorry Father and I see things differently.” He rose and the two left the house. They arrived just before seven. Bess was almost beside herself. When Clinton walked in, she threw herself into his arms, and he spun her around, saying, “Happy Birthday!”

“Did you bring me a present?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You always give me a nice present on my birthday. What is it, Clinton?”

“You can open it with the rest of your presents. Come along.”

“All right, come on. Everybody’s already in the dining room. We’re going to open my presents in the parlor after dinner.”

Clinton gave George a despairing look, then shrugged. Camrose came closer as they moved toward the dining room, saying, “It’ll be all right. Don’t worry.”

When they entered the room, George immediately headed toward Mary Ann, who came to meet him halfway. “I’m so glad you brought him,” Mary Ann whispered. “Mother was afraid you wouldn’t be able to persuade him.”

“He’s a stubborn fellow, but I’m worse. You’ll find out about that soon enough.”

Everyone watched then as Clinton stood still, turning his glance toward his father. Oliver was seated at the table, his cane beside his chair. He had said almost nothing, and everyone was wondering exactly how he would greet Clinton. Mary Ann had said to her mother, “Father’s never changed his mind that I know of. I think he’ll give Clinton a hard time.”

Alice had said with determination, “No, I don’t think so. Not this time.”

As for Oliver, he felt the weight of all eyes in the room on him. His gaze shifted to meet those of his wife, who was sitting at his right hand. She smiled at him and put her hand
on his, saying nothing, but he knew what was on her heart. Looking up, he said, “Come in, Clinton, and you, too, Reverend Camrose. We’ve been waiting for you.”

A great relief rushed through Clinton. He had half expected to be ordered out of the house, but to his surprise, he sensed something different in his father. He went forward at once and put his hand out, saying, “Thank you, Father. It’s good to see you.”

“Why . . . it’s good to see you, too, Clinton.” There was a moment’s hesitation, and he said, “It’s very good.”

A great relief seemed to settle in the room as Clinton looked at his mother, who gave him a smile. They were soon seated and talking in a more relaxed manner than ever before. The party went on with great success. The dinner was excellent, as always, consisting of a rack of lamb with mint sauce, parslied potatoes, buttered peas, fresh baked bread, and salad. After a maid had removed the dinner dishes, a large cake with pink icing and white candles was ceremoniously carried in, along with homemade ice cream for a real birthday treat. Everyone clapped when Bess blew out every candle with one tremendous puff and then, relaxed and enjoying their Bess’s special night, waited to be served their desserts.

After dinner was over, everyone moved to the parlor for the opening of presents. Bess, of course, received a great many. As everyone was finding a seat, she leaned over to her mother and whispered, “I’ve never seen Clinton look so well.”

“No, I haven’t either. I think he was very worried about what his father would say. But your father did well, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did. I’m going to tell him so later.”

Clinton at first was constrained, but after the presents were opened he found himself in the parlor with his father, George Camrose, and Benjamin. The four men were very different, but it was finally Benjamin who opened the subject of Africa, and George spoke glowingly of his plans to go.

Oliver Lanier listened silently. He was, in truth, confused by what was happening in his life. He was surprised to find
out how very glad he was to see Clinton, and as he listened to George, his thoughts about him began to change. Until then, he had never really listened to George speak about his missionary goals. Suddenly, a new thought came to him, as he realized how he had misjudged the young preacher.
What a fine young man he is.

Finally George and Benjamin rose and left the room to join the others, and when Clinton stood, Oliver said with some effort, “I’ve got to tell you, son, how much I’ve missed you at the office.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, sir. I’ve missed you, too, but I’ve been very excited about the work I’m doing now.”

“It means a lot to you. I didn’t realize how much.”

“When you were a younger man, did you want to be a stockbroker?”

“I just wanted to be a success. I didn’t care what kind of work I did. I could have been as happy in something else, I suppose. Those were hard times, Clinton. I had a growing young family, I wanted to provide the best for them.”

“You did a fine job, Father. You had a fine career.”

It was a rare compliment from Clinton, and Oliver said, “I’ve been doing some serious thinking about our family lately.” He hesitated, then said, “I think a lot about when all of you were younger. I was so busy I neglected you. I know that now. I wish—” He paused for a moment, then dropped his head. “I wish I had spent more time with all of you when you were younger. That was my mistake.”

Clinton was astonished at his father’s admission, and the wall that was between them began to crumble.
His family is breaking apart. He’s having difficulty with all of us, and he doesn’t know how to handle it.
Aloud he said, “It’s not too late. We can still do things together.”

Oliver Lanier looked up quickly. “You mean that, Clinton?”

“Why, of course. Maybe we could go take in a baseball game.”

“Baseball? I don’t know anything about baseball.”

“I don’t know much, but it’s a start. How about it?”

Oliver had always ridiculed those who wasted their time at sports, but suddenly he found himself saying, “All right. I’ll feel like a fool at a thing like that, but we’ll try it.” He saw the warm light in his son’s eyes and then said, “Maybe we can find a circus to go to, like we did once before.”

“I’d like that very much,” Clinton replied and suddenly reached over and touched his father’s shoulder. “We’ll do it.”

The evening was almost over and the younger children had gone to bed, when Oliver stood beside Alice as Clinton and George were leaving. He was surprised when George stopped to say, “Mr. Lanier, Mary Ann and I need to talk to you and your wife.”

Instantly Oliver knew what the younger man’s intentions were. He glanced at Alice, who was staring at him with a strange expression in her eyes.
She knows too,
he thought. “All right,” he said. “Come back to the parlor.” He hobbled back, leaning heavily on his cane, for his knee seemed to have gotten worse. When they reached the large room, he did not sit down but watched Mary Ann and George as they came to stand before him. Mary Ann’s face was pale and her lips were drawn into a tight line as tension seemed to flow through her.

“I won’t take long, sir,” George said. “I know that what I have to say won’t please you, but it must be said.”

Alice stepped over and took Oliver’s arm. She said nothing but squeezed it. When he looked at her he could see the pleading look in her eyes. “Go ahead, George,” he said. “I think I can guess what it is.”

“You probably can. I love Mary Ann and she loves me. Both of us believe that God has called us to the African field to preach the Word of God. I know this is not what you want for your daughter, but I’m asking your permission for Mary Ann to join me.”

“And what if I don’t give it?” Oliver said.

It was Mary Ann who spoke up quickly. “Father, I hate to be put in this position. I’ve always honored you and tried to
obey you, but God has called me to be George’s wife and to serve with him in Africa.” Her lips trembled, and she whispered, “I must obey God.”

Oliver stood there and knew that his life could never be the same again. He looked into the clear eyes of the two young people and thought,
Why, I’ve never seen such love and such dedication. They love each other, and they love God.
He felt Alice tugging at his arm and turned to her.