Authors: Perfect
"How's
Mary holding up with all the wedding plans under way?" the butcher asked, handing Zack a package of chicken wrapped in white paper. "She's looking after her blood pressure, isn't she?"
The owner of the dry cleaners handed Zack an armful of table linens that he'd cleaned. "No charge,"
he
said. "We're all doing our part for the wedding, and we're happy to do it. You're marrying into a great family, Mr. Benedict."
"The best," Zack said and he felt that way.
Now, he hid a concerned frown when he saw the worry that Mary Mathison was trying to conceal as she smoothed her apron and looked at him. "What favor did you want?" he prodded. Teasingly, he added, "If it's peeling more onions like yesterday, it'll cost you an extra batch of cookies."
She perched on the edge of a chair. "It's nothing like that. I need some advice—well, reassurance actually."
"About what?" Zack asked, prepared to reassure her about anything at all.
"About something Julie did and that I encouraged her to do. I need to ask you a hypothetical question—as a man."
Zack leaned back in the chair, giving her his undivided attention. "Go ahead."
"Let's say that a man—my husband, for example,"
she said guiltily, and Zack instantly assumed the male
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under discussion was definitely Jim Mathison, "let's say that he had an elderly relative who he'd quarreled
with a very long time ago, and I knew for a fact that this elderly relative very much wanted to make up with him before it was too late. If we—Julie and I—
also knew that Julie's wedding might be the last—and best—opportunity for that, would we be wrong or right to invite that relative here without telling him?"
Zack suppressed the uncharitable and amusing thought that this was his opportunity to repay his father-in-law for his insufferable bargain. He did not, however, think Julie and Mrs. Mathison's scheme was a good one, and he was about to say that, when she added meekly, "The problem is, we've already done it."
"I see," Zack said, smiling a little. "In that case, there's nothing to do but hope for the best."
She nodded and stood up, retying her apron. "That's what we thought. The important thing to
remember," she added in a meaningful voice as she started to leave, "is that it's wrong to carry grudges.
The Bible warns us to forgive those who trespass against us. The Lord made that very,
very
clear."
Zack looked suitably grave as he replied, "Yes, ma'am, that's what I've heard."
"Call me Mom," she corrected him, then she walked forward and put her arm around his shoulder for a hug of maternal approval that made him feel very young. And very special. "You're a fine man, Zack.
A
very fine man. Jim and I are proud to have you join our family."
An hour later, he looked up again as Julie returned from her classes and peered over his shoulder.
"What's that?" she asked kissing his cheek, her hands on his shoulders.
"The script for a film I think I'd like to do. It's called
Last Interlude,
but it has some major problems that need a lot of work."
He told her a little about the story and the problems and she listened attentively. When they'd exhausted the subject, she said hesitantly. "I'd like to ask you for an important favor. Tomorrow isn't just my last day of teaching regular classes, it's also my last night with the women I've been teaching to read. It would mean a great deal if they thought you made a special effort just to meet them. I'd especially like you to meet Debby Sue Cassidy. She's so smart, and she's so down on herself because she thinks the fact she can't read like a college grad after a few months proves she's hopeless. She's very well read—from books on tape," Julie clarified when he looked blank,
"and she has a wonderful way of saying things very simply and yet making you
feel
what she's saying.
She wants to write a book someday."
"Doesn't everyone?" he teased.
She gave him an odd, guilty look, then she nodded.
"Probably. But don't discount her. With a little encouragement from someone she particularly admires—"
"Like me?"
Julie laughed and kissed his forehead. "How'd you guess?"
"What time do you want me to appear tomorrow?"
"Around seven. That will still give us plenty of time to be at the rehearsal."
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"It's a date. By the way, one of the twin ladies stopped me when I was in town and made me come into
her shop to see their needlework. I'm no expert, but it looked really good."
"You city fellers are all alike," she teased. "You think talent only flourishes in big cities. Our local florist gets selected by the Florists Association to head up a team that decorates the White House for the Inaugural Ball! Just wait until you see how your wedding reception turns out. All the women who are working on it are also going to be guests, too, so they're doubly eager to make it wonderful for us."
"As long as you're there and we're married, it will be wonderful," Zack said, cautiously refraining from venturing an opinion on the competence of the ladies working on the reception.
Without warning, she turned somber and a little anxious. "I'll be there. Right now, the important thing is
that you love me enough to forgive me if I were to do something that might seem foolish or even very wrong to you."
"This doesn't involve another man does it?"
"Of course not!"
"In that case," Zack said magnanimously, "you'll find me the most forgiving of men. Where you and other men are concerned, however, I seem to have a streak of possessive jealousy a foot wide," he added, thinking of Richardson. "Now, what have you done that's either foolish or wrong?"
"Oh, I didn't say I'd actually done anything like that," she evaded. "It was just a rhetorical question. I have to help Mother with dinner," she added, beating a sudden retreat.
"Are you certain nothing's wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong yet," she said unanswerably and vanished.
* * *
Julie and her parents. As soon as the dishes were cleared away, Reverend and Mrs. Mathison
announced their intention to visit friends and took themselves off with an abrupt haste that added to Zack's growing sense that something was odd, then Julie declined his offer to help in the kitchen, which was also unusual, so he returned to the study, pondering their strange behavior. He was looking over
some legal documents his lawyer had sent him when she reappeared in the doorway a half hour later.
"Zack," she said, her smile a little too bright, "there's someone here to see you."
Zack got up, walked into the living room, and stopped dead, his gaze riveting on the elderly woman who
was standing in the center of the room, a cane in her hand. Her voice sounded exactly as he remembered it—forceful, cool, and arrogant. With a regal nod of her head, she said, "It's been a long time, Zachary."
"Not long enough," he snapped. Turning the freezing blast of his gaze on Julie, he demanded, "What the hell is the idea?"
"The idea," Julie said calmly, "is for you to listen to what your grandmother needs to tell you." Zack started to turn his back and walk out, but Julie put her hand on his sleeve. "Please, darling. For my sake.
Make it my wedding present. I'll go into the kitchen and make some tea."
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Zack yanked his gaze from her face and passed a contemptuous glance over the old woman. "Say whatever it is you came to say and then get the hell out of my life and stay out!"
Instead of slashing at him verbally, she nodded and said in a halting voice, "I came to tell you how …
how grievously sorry I am for the things I have done to you."
"Fine," Zack said sarcastically. "Now get out."
"I also came to ask you to forgive me."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"And to tell you that I—I…" Her voice trailed off and she looked helplessly to Julie for assistance, but Julie had already gone to the kitchen. Holding out her hand in a gesture of appeal, she whispered,
"Zachary, please."
Zack looked down at the aristocratic hand held out to him; it was older now and too thin, her gold wedding band the only adornment on it. When he refused to take it, she dropped her hand to her side and said with a proud lift of her chin, "I will not beg you." Turning toward the windows, she straightened her shoulders and, looking out at the quiet street, said, "However, I came to explain things to you, and I
shall do it." She was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, there was an uncertainty in her voice that Zack had never heard before. "Shortly before Justin died, I had gone upstairs to put a vase of fresh flowers on the table near the landing. I heard the two of you quarreling in his room. You were quarreling about who should take Amy Price to the dance at the country club…" She drew a shaky breath and then said, "A few minutes later there was a gunshot, and Justin was dead."
Glancing over her shoulder, she said bitterly, "I knew you were lying when you told the police you'd fired
the gun accidentally, I could see it in your eyes. Only I—I thought you were lying about killing him accidentally."
Zack looked at the bleak sorrow on her face and steeled himself not to react, but he was amazed that she'd heard him quarreling with Justin and belatedly aware of how damning that must have seemed to her.
He'd actually quarreled with Justin for trying to back out of taking Amy Price to the dance and insisting he was doing it for Zack's sake.
"Please," she said hoarsely, "say something!"
Standing off to the side, Julie gently interceded when Zack would not. "Mrs. Stanhope, why didn't you
tell the police about Zack's quarrel with Justin?"
Margaret Stanhope looked down at her folded hands atop the cane as if ashamed of her weakness. "I couldn't," she said. "I couldn't bear the sight of Zachary, but neither could I bear the thought of his being
sent to prison. And so," she finished, raising her gaze to Zack's impassive face, "I sent you away, out of my sight. Away from your home and your brother and sister. I knew you would survive very well," she added, her voice gruff with emotion. "You see … I knew you were the strongest of my grandchildren, Zachary." She drew another harsh breath and continued, "And the smartest. And the proudest."
When
Zack still didn't react, she said, "Your grandfather made you and Foster promise never to tell me that Justin killed himself or why he did. Foster broke that promise the day you were let out of prison. He felt too many injustices had already been done you, and he couldn't bear the burden of his promise anymore.
Now it is I who must bear the burden for all the wrongs I've done you. It was I who robbed you of your
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brother and sister, I who cast you out of your rightful home, I who made Julie believe you were truly capable of murder. And it was I who frightened her into betraying you to the authorities."
Finished, she waited for him to say something, and when he didn't, she looked helplessly to Julie. "I told you he would not forgive. He is too much like me to accept a mere apology for the unforgivable." She turned and stepped toward the door, then stopped and looked at Zack with an anguished laugh. "How pathetic I must seem to you now. And how blind!
I've wasted my whole life steeling myself against loving
your grandfather and then you. And now Julie tells me that you both loved me more than I ever imagined.
Now, I shall spend the rest of my life regretting all my wasted years and my stupidity, cruelty, and blindness. A fitting penance for me, don't you agree, Zachary?"
"No," Julie burst out, sensing Zack's internal struggle as she watched his jaw clench and relax. "It is not a
fitting penance at all, and he doesn't think it is!"
Reaching out, she touched his rigid jaw, refusing to back
down from the chill in his eyes. "Zack," she said softly, "don't let this happen. You can end it now. I know
you loved your grandmother, I know you did! I could hear it in your voice when you talked about her in
Colorado. She heard you quarreling with Justin right before he died, did you know that before tonight?"
"No," he clipped.
Tightening her hand on his arm, Julie pleaded desperately, "You've forgiven me for much worse."
Mrs. Stanhope turned to leave, then she stopped and reached into her purse for a small velvet box. "I brought this to give to you," she said, holding it out to him. When Zack refused to reach for it, she handed
it to Julie and said to him, "It was your grandfather's watch." Straightening her shoulders she nodded at Julie and said with a wan smile, "Thank you for what you tried to do today. You are a remarkable, warm,
courageous young woman—a fitting wife for my grandson." Her voice broke on the last word and she reached for the doorknob.
Behind her, Zack said curtly, "Julie made tea. She would probably like you to stay for it." It was the closest thing to a declaration of a truce he was able to make, but both women knew exactly what it meant. Mrs. Stanhope looked at the tall, proud, handsome man who had survived and triumphed in the
face of enormous odds and then at the courageous young woman he loved. "Your sister and brother are waiting in the car," she told him in a husky voice.
"They would like to see you if you're willing."
Julie held her breath while Zack hesitated, then he walked slowly out onto the front porch. He stopped there, looking at the limousine pulled up at the curb, his hands shoved into his pockets. He would not go to the car, Julie realized, or even meet them halfway, but he was giving them an opening.
They took it.
The back door of the limo was flung open and a young boy wearing a dark suit and tie sprinted out, followed more slowly by his mother and his uncle who walked up the sidewalk. He bolted up the steps of
the porch and stopped in, front of Zack, his head tipped back, studying the man's face. "Are you really my Uncle Zack?" he demanded.