Beauty From Ashes (6 page)

My advanced age, Couper thought, when again he felt his eyes sting with tears as they did with almost every memory of the son-in-law who had left them in his late forties. “I loved John Fraser like a

son,” he said aloud. “And I’m talking too much aloud to myself these days. My beloved Rebecca would be teasing me unmercifully were she not gone from us. One good thing,” he went on conversing with himself: “I won’t have to wait much longer to see Becca again.” He reached for the corner of a lamp table in order to pull his stiff body up from the hard, wooden chair. “Aye, it’s been too long now without her. Four lonely years come April.”

Anne and the children couldn’t get there soon enough. Waiting tired him. His hands shook, his breath came harder. But dread seemed to wear him away more than did any other emotion. Dread today when Anne could arrive at any moment? Aye, he deeply dreaded what he’d be forced to tell Anne face-to-face.

“Lord, how many contradictory feelings can this old ram contain?” He was speaking aloud again— to God, his most frequent conversationalist. “Somehow I thought only You could find a way to encompass two such different emotions, Lord. When you look down in love and see us in cruelty, we expect You to know exactly how to deal with both contradictions at once. But I? Teach me how to manage the joy over the arrival

of my beloved visitors from St. 67 Simons along with the downright dread I feel at having to tell precious Anne the bad news about Lawrence. She loves that place so much, Lord, but You know my choices have been taken away—all gone with my money. All gone with James Hamilton’s money.”

Couper stopped for a moment before the tall, ornate mirror in the Hopeton entrance hall and studied his long, lined face, flicked at the gray in his still-red sideburns, and tried to laugh at the image he saw. “St-rather-raighten your shoulders, old goat! I vow you’ve shrunk a foot in height. Do you want to startle your adored Anne, who’s gone through her life believing her father has still-rather-rength for any vicissitude? Stand straight! Walk steadily across the veranda when you hear their happy voices! And don’t even think of telling her about Lawrence until well after the birthday dinner is fully enjoyed and past.”

Anne, Eve, and the children had just begun the walk from the Hopeton dock toward the house when she saw the handsome front door open and her father

shuffle slowly toward them across the veranda. Not once since so many of their loved ones had died had she failed to be stunned by how frail and shrunken Papa looked each time they met. He had been eighty when Anne’s dear ones began to leave, and, of course, he was showing his age then. But year after year the continuing deaths somehow magnified the frightening truth that one day she would lose Papa, too.

As though reading Anne’s thoughts again, Eve, who walked up the path on her right, Pete on her left, called over to Pete: “Yo’ gran’papa, he look good, don’t he, Pete?”

“To me, he’s even sprightlier than the last time we were here,” Pete said in her firm, decisive way. “Mama, I honestly think Grandpapa’s growing backward. Don’t you think he looks younger, stronger, more like himself? Almost as tall as he used to be!”

“No,” Anne said softly. “No, Pete, I think he looks older, more stooped—but sweeter, kinder than ever. How could he look anything but old? The man’s going to be ninety day after tomorrow!”

“But look at he smile, Miss 69 Anne,” Eve persisted. “That man so glad to see yo’ face, it show on his. He smile jus’ the same as always.”

“Eve, don’t say `he smile.` It’s his smile. But thank you both for trying. I’m doing the best I can to prepare myself for losing him someday. Neither of you helps, you know, by treating me as though I were Selina’s age. I’m going to lose—my papa. I need to be ready. I— I need at least to try to be ready.”

“You won’t ever be, though, Mama. I know that. I know just what you’re saying. Don’t pay any attention to Pete and Eve.” Normally shy, quiet Fanny took them all by surprise.

Eve would always try to protect Anne’s feelings. Pete would always find a way to speak the bald truth. Anne knew them both and trusted their instincts about her. Now, after Fanny’s surprising remark, she felt a touch of guilt because she’d honestly never thought one way or the other about the extent of Fanny’s wisdom or maturity. Just that Fanny was always there to help, however quietly, and at least almost always willingly.

Well, she would weigh her own reactions to her two older daughters later. She already knew what prompted Eve to protect her. Protecting her mistress, proving that their friendship went deeper than most such relationships, had come to be Eve’s mission in life. Perhaps had always been.

They had almost reached the veranda when James Hamilton hurried ahead to steady their father down the four front steps so that the old gentleman wouldn’t have to wait a second longer than necessary to embrace Anne. The instant Papa’s feet touched the ground, his arms opened to her, and as she’d done through her whole life, Anne rushed into them.

“Happy birthday, Papa! A blessed, blessed, happy birthday!”

“Anne, Anne, Anne,” he murmured. “How good it is to have you here where I can look at you—where my creaky old arms can hold you again!” In response to Selina’s jumping up and down and tugging at his jacket sleeve, he reached to pat her head, hung with the long curls everyone so admired. He gave Anne one more endearing embrace, then hugged Pete and Fanny and added a whimsical, exaggerated bow for Eve, whose

lovely face lit with her proudest 71 smile.

“Not every gentleman about to celebrate a birthday is honored by such a boatload of charming ladies, eh, Father?” James Hamilton asked with, for him, a surprisingly easy smile. “There’s more excitement to come, Sister,” he added, turning to Anne. “The plan is quite definite, in fact. You are all to follow Papa and me into the house with bated breath.”

“I expect detailed instructions from you, Brother mine,” Anne laughed, “but what more could there be inside your mansion? Where in the world is Caroline?”

“I’ve told you all I mean to right now.” James Hamilton said.

“But where’s my favorite, little William, Uncle James?” Selina, more and more attracted to younger children, looked genuinely disappointed.

“Now, no more questions, Selina. You’ll see my youngest son, William, in due time. His nurse, Polly, may be feeding him his noon meal now. I’m not sure. But everyone is inside the house and Father and I are in the process of carrying out our carefully laid plans.”

“What, what, Uncle James?” Selina wanted to know.

“Sh! I’ve told you there’s more excitement ahead, and for now, just quietly follow your grandfather and me.” Helping his parent again, James mounted the steps with Papa slowly, carefully, the others trooping after them.

“Now then,” Jock said, puffing from the short climb, “are we all here? And is everyone’s breath bated as my son James Hamilton decreed?”

“As bated as we can manage, knowing so little of these mysterious plans.” Pete grinned at her grandparent. “It’s your birthday we’re here to celebrate. Isn’t it peculiar for the two of you to be surprising us with some secret mischief?”

“No mischief at all,” the old fellow said innocently. “Can you believe Pete would conjure up such an accusation about us, Son?”

“She’s your granddaughter, Papa,” Anne teased. “What do you expect? Especially since no one but Pete inherited your red hair.” On the veranda just before entering the gracious entrance hall, Anne again threw both arms around her father. “Papa! Oh, Papa, your birthday party is

going to be glorious. If your namesake, 73 my son, could only be here, I think I’d be too happy to keep both feet on the ground.”

Returning her hug, Papa said, “But my dear Anne, the boy’s doing so well in his new position with my friends McCleskey and Norton in Savannah, we must only rejoice for him. McCleskey promised me in his latest letter that John Couper would be the very fir-rst new cler-rk to be given time off from his duties. Now, doesn’t that make you proud?”

Inside the elegant entrance hall, a slant of sunshine piercing the fanlight so that her mother’s face seemed lovelier than usual, Pete watched the lady—to her, the beautiful lady who was her mother. There was plainly something afoot. Grandpapa and Uncle James had hatched a scheme of some description, and Pete’s almost unfailing instinct told her it had to do with her mother. As usual, Eve stood just behind Mama and when Pete caught Eve’s eye, she knew the bright-skinned woman, who loved the very ground under Anne Fraser’s feet, was also aware that something unexpected was up. When Eve gave Pete her

knowing smile, Pete was sure they had both guessed the elaborately kept secret.

A clatter at the top of the graceful, winding stair announced the rehearsed arrival of Uncle James’s family. His always pretty wife, Aunt Caroline Wylly Couper, began to descend the stair ahead of her entire brood of children—all there except Pete’s oldest cousin, Hamilton, who was away at Yale College. Peering up the slightly shadowy stair, Pete looked for her only brother. They hadn’t exchanged one word, but she was sure she and Eve had guessed Grandpapa’s secret surprise: By some means, he’d arranged for John Couper to leave his new work in Savannah to attend the birthday celebration! Pete could see Eve looking for him, too. Eve’s instincts were even sharper than Pete’s. Both could not be wrong. But so far, no sign of her gentle, good-looking brother.

If this had been an ordinary visit, all seven younger Couper children would have come pushing and tumbling down the stair to hug every visitor. Not today. Pete’s sense of humor began to get the best of her, because despite Uncle James’s

noble efforts to enter into the spirit of the festive 75 occasion (she had never seen him smile so often), he had obviously given his usual precise instructions. Aunt Caroline was holding young William’s hand as he took the big steps required to stay even with his mother in the procession. Rebecca Isabella, nearing six, was all but marching down the carpeted steps, side by side with pretty ten-year-old Margaret, followed by James Maxwell, almost twelve, and John Lord, who must be close to fourteen by now. Bringing up the rear were Robert, eight, and Alexander, sixteen—a self-conscious age at best, Pete remembered.

When Aunt Caroline embraced Pete’s mother at the foot of the stairs, everyone began to chatter and laugh. Little William, who struck Mama as always shouting as much as Pete had when she was young, had to be shushed by his father’s hand over his mouth because the small boy was yelling to his Aunt Anne that he knew “a big, fat secret.”

“We will settle for shaking Aunt Anne’s hand and you may even try out the bow I’m teaching you,” Uncle James told the boy firmly, “but not one word. Do you understand, William? We

all made a promise—in fact, you and I made a gentleman’s agreement, remember? Not one word to Aunt Anne about—anything. Just be polite and silent.”

“Caroline, for heaven’s sake, what is going on in this house?” Pete’s mother demanded. “Don’t let my brother bully you! He and Papa both look terribly guilty to me—about something. What is it? What’s this strange behavior all about?”

Pete saw her aunt, smiling as she did it, make a locking gesture as though she’d inserted a key between her own lips and then pretended to toss the key into the corner of the entrance hall.

“No one’s going to give us even one clue, Mama,” Pete said. “We might just as well go along with the game. Somehow I think Grandpapa’s behind the whole thing. Look at his crinkled-up face. He’s having a dreadful time trying not to look too smug.”

“What is it we’re supposed to do, Grandpapa?” Selina asked. “We’ll play Grandpapa’s game, won’t we, Fanny?”

Fanny laughed sharply, then said, “Of course we will. What’s next, Grandpapa?”

The old man bowed as deeply as he 77 could while gesturing for everyone to follow him into Uncle James’s large, beautifully furnished parlor. “Follow me, all of you—that is, all of you except my daughter Anne.”

“And why, sir, am I being kept out of whatever this is you and James have cooked up? I don’t think I like it. You know I never like being left out of a game.”

A finger over his lips for Mama to say no more, Grandpapa took Pete’s arm, gesturing for the others to come too. They literally marched into the parlor, leaving poor Mama standing alone in the entrance hall.

“You don’t think you’re being mean, Grandpapa?” Pete asked, entering into his game fully by helping him herd all the younger ones inside the large room so that Uncle James could close the heavy mahogany sliding doors—of which he was so proud. Pete even pulled Eve inside the parlor a little against her will. Exchanging grins with Eve, Pete was now positive the faithful servant had also guessed the happy truth of the surprise planned for Mama.

For an undecided moment, as instructed, Anne stood alone in the entrance hall, not sure whether to laugh or compose a cross little speech to deliver to both her father and her brother. Actually, she felt almost embarrassed. “Being embarrassed after all the jokes Papa and I have played on each other is just plain silly,” she whispered to herself.

Then for no apparent reason, she went quickly to the tall looking glass to examine her hair. For goodness’ sake, why? she thought to herself. Everyone’s shut up in the parlor. Who’s going to see me who hasn’t already?

At first sure she’d only imagined she heard a voice, she turned quickly to peer up the stairway. No doubt that she’d heard a footstep in the upstairs hall—at least a floorboard creaked, then a shadow moved across the wall of the stairwell, and the sound of two or three steps came plainly from the second floor. Anne gasped.

“Hello, Mama!”

“Oh, darling boy, it’s really you! John

Couper, how did you—how did you manage 79 to leave your work?”

Halfway down the curving flight of stairs stood the slender, altogether handsome young man who was her only son. He was smiling at her. Then he began to laugh softly. How she’d always loved his laughter—so like his father’s.

He bounded lightly down the remaining steps, swept her entirely off her feet, and whirled her around until even her heavy dark blue travel skirt made circles of joy.