Romance Classics (75 page)
“Very generous of you, I’m sure. But there are those who would call it meddling,” he told her harshly.
Not noticeably disturbed by his tone or his manner, Judy met his eyes and said softly, “I’m sorry, Sam dear. It’s only that I know how much you like her, and I wasn’t anxious for you to have any competition. Oh, not that Andy would really be competition for
you
; not if you really work at getting her to fall in love with you.”
Sam growled angrily, raising his voice slightly so that the others glanced at them curiously, “Will you for the love of little green apples mind your own darned business?”
Bix moved toward them, puzzled by the sudden heat in Sam’s voice, and Sam blurted, “See you folks later. I’ve some chores to attend to before dinner,” and stalked out.
Judy watched him go. Then she turned and grinned at the others and said happily, “I guess I made him mad.”
“Apparently you did, and you should be ashamed of yourself,” Bix told her. “What was it all about, anyway?”
Judy gave him an impish, gamine grin and said airily, “Oh, you wouldn’t understand, darling.”
And Bix eyed her warily, mildly suspicious yet with a wealth of tenderness and yearning in his eyes.
It was a couple of days later, in the early dusk of the day, that Judy came to relieve the nurse and sit with the Old Gentleman for her usual hour or two with him. Her love for the Old Gentleman made her look forward to these intervals. Now she sat beside the bed, her hands warm and gentle on his that lay outside the covers.
These days her heart was singing with happiness, and the only shadow on that happiness was that she could not share it with the dearly beloved man who lay there like something carved from stone.
Bix spent the days with Sam, riding over the estate, learning something about the various duties and responsibilities of operating the place, admitting frankly to Sam and the others that he never expected to be able to take Sam’s place and that he hoped Sam would consent to stay on forever.
Alison busied herself trying to be helpful to Beth and absorbing as much as she could of the vast complexities of housekeeping and taking care of the house. Mam’ Chloe had been prevailed on to give Alison some lessons in cooking, and Alison went around glowing as though there were twin candles behind her eyes.
If only, Judy mourned as she sat beside the Old Gentleman, there were some way she could communicate with him; some way in which she could tell him of all that was going on at Oakhill; most of all, some way in which she could tell him about herself and Bix. He would be glad, she felt sure. He had always been fond of her; he had always seemed to want her to stay at Oakhill, as he had wanted Bix to. But now that Bix was going to be there permanently, there was no way she could tell the Old Gentleman.
She bent her head suddenly and kissed the hand she held and closed her fingers about it, as though to transfer to him something of her own warmth and strength.
She leaned forward and put her lips almost against his ear and spoke very softly, very earnestly, in the frail hope that her voice would get through the fog that gripped him.
“Darling,” she murmured softly, “Bix and I are going to get married.”
Just saying the words lifted her heart, but—was that a faint breath of sound from him, or a soft early summer breeze bringing the memory of bird song? It was a ghost of a sound. Could it possibly be that he had managed a word of speech?
Still with her lips almost against his ear, her heart clamoring so hard she felt sure that it could be heard all over the room, she went on very slowly, “Did you hear me, darling? Bix and I are going to be married and always live at Oakhill.”
And again came that ghost of sound, that word that was “Good!” but not as the Old Gentleman had been wont to say it. Now it was a sound so frail, so faint, that only because her ears were so near his flaccid lips could she be sure that he had really spoken.
She had a wild desire to shriek for joy, to summon the others, to cry out that the Old Gentleman was recovering his speech. But she had to be very sure that he had really spoken.
And then, to her amazed delight, his hand beneath the close, warm clasp of her own stirred so slightly that that, too, was something she scarcely dared believe.
“Darling?” she whispered, so shaken that her own voice was little more than a gasp.
“Always—wanted—it,” came the low words from those flaccid lips.
“Oh, darling, darling.” She could not keep back the tears that fell warmly on that still, granite-like face. She bent her head and laid her tear-wet cheek against his and sobbed like a child. She
had
gotten through that fog that enveloped him, shutting him off from everything that he knew and loved. She had managed to get the message to him that Bix would be there always, and that she and Bix were going to be married so that she would be there always, too!
It was the most perfect moment she had ever known, except, of course, for the moment in which she had learned that Bix loved her and wanted to marry her.
She was still there when the nurse came back and said quickly, “Judy dear, you mustn’t weep over him. It’s just barely possible that he may be able to understand, to hear your weeping, and it would only worry him.”
Judy lifted her tear-wet face, radiant despite the tears, and said shakily, “Oh, Mrs. Blanding, he
spoke
to me!”
The nurse’s plump, good-natured face was touched with an expression of a startled protest.
“Oh, no, Judy, you are mistaken. You just imagined it. He couldn’t have spoken.”
“But he did, Mrs. Blanding, he did!” Judy insisted shakily. “I put my lips against his ear and told him Bix and I were going to be married, and he said, plain as anything, ‘Good!’ I couldn’t be sure for a moment I’d really heard him, and so I told him again. And he said, ‘Always wanted it.’ Oh, not clearly, of course; sort of faint and breathy. But I heard it! I did, I did! You’ve got to believe me. You’ve just got to! He’s going to get well. You hear me? He’s going to recover! Whether you or Dr. Dellinger believe it or not, he’s going to!”
Mrs. Blanding put an arm about her and tried to draw her to her feet, but Judy clung to the bed and to the Old Gentleman’s hand.
“Judy dear, you’re hysterical. This is very bad for him and not good for you,” she insisted.
But as she would have released the Old Gentleman’s hand from the warm, tight clasp of Judy’s she felt the slightest possible stirring of the old hand and looked, startled and incredulous, at the man who lay against the pillows.
“You see?” Judy was watching her, eyes bright behind the tears. “You felt it, too. His hand, his fingers, they
moved.
Oh, just a tiny bit, of course. But you must have felt it. I just know you did. And he spoke to me! He really did!”
Mrs. Blanding straightened and said, “I’ll call Dr. Dellinger. This is more than either of us quite dared hope for. Stay right there, Judy. I’ll be back.”
She went swiftly out of the room, and a moment or two later Bix stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, studying the graven figure on the bed, looking uncertainly at Judy.
“Is it true, Judy, what the nurse just told me?” He seemed anxious for reassurance.
“That he spoke to me? Oh, Bix, yes, it’s true. Isn’t it the most wonderful thing that ever happened? Isn’t it truly marvelous? Oh, Bix, he said, ‘Good,’ when I told him you and I were going to be married. I couldn’t believe I’d really heard him. And then I told him we were always going to be here at Oakhill, and he said, ‘Always wanted it.’”
She was still clinging to the worn old hand, lifting a face radiant with joy, tear-stains still glimmering faintly in the dying light. Bix came and knelt beside her, one arm about her, the other hand covering hers that still clasped the old man’s hand. Bix bent above him and said with a vast tenderness, “I hope you can hear me, Grandfather. I’ve been a good-for-nothing heel, and I haven’t been much good to you. But I’m going to be, Grandfather, because Judy’s going to help me be what you’ve always wanted me to be.”
Judy said softly, her voice shaken by the miracle that was being revealed before them, “He hears you, Bix. He
hears
you. And he’s happy because you’re going to stay on at Oakhill.’’
Bix said awkwardly, ashamed and apologetic, “I never dreamed it meant so much to him to have me here. I’d never have stayed away if I had known. I hope he will forgive me. D’you think he will, honey?”
“Of course he will,” Judy assured him radiantly. “He already has. He loves you, and when you love somebody you always forgive them, even when they do things that hurt you.”
Bix tightened his arm about her and said huskily, “When I think that if I hadn’t come back, if he hadn’t been so ill, I might never have found you!”
Judy laughed warmly, tight in the circle of his arm, joyous with the knowledge of his love for her, her heart on tiptoe because the Old Gentleman had managed to speak to her, knowing that here in this room, with these two men, all her life was locked.
“Oh, you’d have found me, darling. I would have pursued you to the ends of the earth before I’d have let you escape me,” she told Bix. “All my life I’ve been in love with you. And I knew that you couldn’t forget me. Well, for a little while maybe; but sooner or later you’d realize that I was here and I was I and you’d love me, too.”
He looked down at her lifted face, the glimmering tear-stains standing out against the soft carnation-color that flooded it, her eyes adoring him. He bent his head and kissed her, and when he spoke there was awe in his voice.
“When I look back and think of the double-barreled, brass-bound fool that I’ve been—”
“Don’t, honey. I won’t listen! You’re low-rating the man I love, and I won’t have it.” Judy was trying hard to bring a touch of lightness into the scene that was growing almost unbearably emotional. “We’re here, and we’re going to be married, and the Old Gentleman is going to get well, and life is going to be a glorious song of love! My mind is made up about that!”
When Mrs. Blanding came back, they were side by side by the patient’s bed, their hands entwined, covering the Old Gentleman’s limp hand. One look at their faces told her that they were in a world all their own and that even to speak to them would be an unbearable intrusion. And so she went quietly away to wait for Dr. Dellinger, rejoicing as she realized that once more a miracle had happened in her profession. Oh, the Old Gentleman would never completely recover; she didn’t hope for that at his age. But he would get better, and he would be able to talk, and he might even graduate to a wheel chair!
She sighed happily at the thought of how such miracles made her work so rewarding and satisfying.
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 1966 by Peggy Gaddis
ISBN 10: 1-4405-7420-0
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7420-7
eISBN 10: 1-4405-7419-7
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7419-1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © istock.com/Ridofranz
Peggy Gaddis
Avon, Massachusetts
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Kate heard the sound of the car on the road as she trotted down the bridle path and shook her head in stern disapproval. The driver was coming much too fast on a narrow, winding, unpaved road. Almost as the thought crossed her mind she heard the crash. She touched her spurless heels to the satiny side of her horse and trotted out into the road.