The Heavenly Fugitive (7 page)

“It’s Phil,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you. Are you . . . all right?”

“Sure. I’m fine now. I got your gift.” He pulled the billfold out and said, “Nothing much in it yet, but it’s a beautiful piece of work. Thanks so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I brought you something too—if it’s all right, Mr. Morino.”

“A present? What is it?” Rosa asked.

“The wrapping’s not much, but then, I’m not much of a
wrapper either.” He handed her the package, and her parents watched as she took off the bow and paper.

“Why, it’s a book!”

“A very special book,” Phil said. “That cover was made by a Masai war chieftain out of lion skin. He killed the lion himself and made the cover for me.”

“Killed it with a spear?”

“That’s right. Every Masai warrior has to kill a lion.” Rosa ran the tips of her finger over the book cover. “This was a real lion!” she breathed.

“Sure was. Black mane. They’re frightening creatures. I wouldn’t want to tackle one with a cannon much less a spear. But my uncle killed one once with his bare hands.”

“Oh, come on!” Tony protested.

“It’s a fact. His name’s Barney Winslow. He’s been in Africa for years. They call him the lion killer there, the Masai do.”

Rosa opened the book and then lifted her head with a puzzled light in her dark eyes. “It’s a Bible.”

“Not a new one. It’s one my father gave me when I was twelve years old. It’s pretty badly marked up. I just got a new one myself. I thought you might like this one.”

Maria moved closer and glanced over her daughter’s shoulders. The two turned the pages, and together they saw that the margins were indeed filled with tiny notes written in a very clear hand.

“That’s just some of my thoughts I had when I was reading through. You may not want to read all of them. I was kind of a drip at times.”

Rosa looked up, a smile wreathing her face. “We’re Catholic. I’ve never read the Bible.”

“Well, Catholic or not, I thought you might like it. At least the cover.” He shifted his feet uncomfortably, for Rosa was looking at him with lips parted and eyes bright. “I guess I’d better get going.”

“You say you’re going to be with your family?” Maria said.

“Yes. My sister and I will be with my grandmother.”

“Is that the pistol-packin’ sister Dom told me about?” Tony grinned.

“That’s the one.”

“Where does your grandmother live?”

“A little ways north of here in a residential area. She lost my grandfather, Mark Winslow, just over a year ago and is rather lonely.”

“Wait a minute! Wasn’t he that railroad bigwig?”

“He was vice-president of the Union Pacific.”

“Hey, I knew him! I met him at least. He was a real straight shooter.”

“Yes, he was actually a straight shooter when he was a young man. He had to keep peace on the railroad. He could whip any man with his fists or with a gun, so they say about him. And my grandmother dealt blackjack in the saloons along the right-of-way.”

“You don’t say,” Tony said with interest. “I’d like to meet that lady.”

“You’d like her, Mr. Morino. She’s right up front, just like my grandfather was. Well, I’d better go.”

“Hey, how’d you get out here?”

“I took a cab.”

“Well, you can’t walk back. I’ll have Dom take you back.”

“I can call for another cab, sir. You needn’t go to any trouble,” Phil said.

“Nonsense, my boy,” Tony bellowed. “We’ll see that you get safely home.”

Rosa piped up, “I’ll take him out to the garage, Daddy. Maybe I could ride out with him and Dom.”

“Sure, sweetheart, you do that. Let me see that gift while you’re gone.”

Rosa ran to get her coat, and then she led Phil outside to the garage. Dom lived over it, and as they climbed up an outer stairway to his room, she exclaimed, “It was nice of you to give me such a personal gift, Phil.”

“Well, it was nice of you to give me a billfold. Someday,”
he laughed, “I’ll have some money to put in it. It is a beautiful billfold, though, and I appreciate it, Rosa.”

Dom met them at the door, and Rosa told him her father’s instructions. “I’m going along,” she said. “Drive through the city so we can see it. It ought to be pretty with all this snow and the Christmas lights.”

“Not as pretty as the woods, I’ll bet,” Phil said. “As Jefferson once said, ‘God made the country, and man made the town.’ ”

“Jefferson who?” Dom asked.

“Why, Thomas Jefferson, the former president.” Phil grinned.

As they got into the car Rosa said, “You’ve got to come back and see Boadicea.” She laughed at his expression. “You see, I did learn to pronounce it right.”

“You sure did. I’ll do that come spring.”

They made the trip too quickly for Rosa. She found out a great deal about Africa and was fascinated by it all. When they reached Phil’s apartment building, she said, “I’d love to go to Africa someday.”

“Get your folks to take you. They can stay with my father and mother there. They love having visitors.”

“Will you be going back?”

“Maybe when I finish college. Thanks again, Rosa, and merry Christmas! Merry Christmas to you too, Dom.”

Phil climbed out of the car and headed for the front door of the building as Dom drove off slowly. Rosa craned her neck to watch Phil out the window as long as she could, then settled back down, thinking about the handsome young man.

Dom interrupted her thoughts. “I wonder what a smart kid like that’s doin’ workin’ at a stable. From what I hear, his grandmother is loaded. She’d probably help him.”

“I think he has too much pride for that,” Rosa said softly.

After they arrived back home, she took the Bible up to her room. She lay flat across her bed and opened it to page one and studied the first note:
“I give my heart to Jesus Christ.
He will ever be Lord of my life, and I will be obedient to Him no matter what it costs.”
For a long time she lay there turning the pages slowly, and somehow she got a sense of the life of Phillip Winslow. The notes were very personal, intimate even, and there were times when he cried out almost in panic. Finally she closed the Bible, sat up, and held it on her lap. She rubbed the cover and murmured, “A real lion-skin cover! I’m going to read it all the way through!”

CHAPTER FOUR

The Winslow Clan

As Lola Winslow’s big Oldsmobile moved along the snow-packed streets of New York, Amelia and Phil sat in the roomy backseat staring out the windows at the pristine whiteness of the world. Snow had continued falling all night, leaving a dazzling whiteness on the city and countryside. Ugly brown-stone buildings had been converted to fluffy white palaces, their rounded tops pierced only by chimneys that sent clouds of dusky smoke into the air. Long dagger-shaped icicles hung from the eaves, giving the houses a sinister appearance despite their wintry beauty. The soft blanket of snow muffled the city noises, so that the usual clashing of cars and trucks was muted to a gentle humming of the tires.

The driver, whom Lola Winslow had sent to pick up her grandchildren, steered the big car through the downtown area, into the quieter residential streets, and finally out to where buildings and houses gave way to snow-covered hills and trees. Turning onto a dirt road, he said, “Good thing the roads are frozen. When this thaws, the mud’s going to be ten inches deep. There won’t be any traffic until the sun bakes it out.”

“How long have you been driving for my grandmother, Robert?”

“Mr. Mark hired me fifteen years ago. I’ve been with them ever since. Driving and gardening and everything that needs doing around the place.”

“I know you miss my grandfather,” Phil said, “but then, we all do.”

Robert was a tall, lean man whose black hair was salted with white. “Yes, sir. He was the finest man I ever knew. How your grandmother manages without him is beyond me.”

Phil and Amelia fell silent, taking in the beauty of the New York countryside. The trees were all soft now, their outlines smooth and rounded with white crystals. The sun reflected off of the snowy landscape, creating a luminous glow that blinded the eyes.

Lowering her voice so that Robert could not hear over the roar of the powerful engine, Amelia leaned closer to Phil and whispered, “I wish I weren’t going.”

Phil lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Why would you say a thing like that? You don’t want to sit alone in your room on Christmas, do you?”

Amelia shook her head. The cold had permeated the car, and she kept her hands inside her coat pockets as she leaned against Phil. “I’m afraid I’m going to be uncomfortable because I didn’t stay with Grandmother like you did.”

Indeed, when Phil and Amelia had arrived at their grandparents’ house the summer before last, Amelia had at first been excited. She had felt free to come and go as she pleased, finding friends in the city who loved to party and go to speakeasies, but when her grandparents tried to get her to stay at the estate and live more responsibly, she had rebelled at their restrictions and run away. Not telling them where she was going, she had simply left a note saying she loved them, but she had to try her wings. Her grandmother had only learned that she was still in the New York area when she showed up at her grandfather’s funeral in November 1922.

“That was such a stupid note. I had to ‘try my wings,’ I said. It’s going to be very uncomfortable.”

“Forget about it, sis.” Phil pulled his hand out of his pocket and put it around her shoulder. He drew her closer and turned
and whispered, “It’s going to be great. You’re going to have a fine Christmas.”

Amelia leaned closer and let herself enjoy the pressure of his arm. She needed a strong right arm, for her heart told her it had been wrong of her to leave. Now she looked up at Phil and said, “I’m just worried that Grandmother does not approve of me, Phil.”

“Well, just stop worrying. Grandmother loves you. It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

Amelia shook her head and glanced up. “There’s the house.” She straightened up and watched as the car pulled into the long, curving driveway. “Why can’t I be good like you, Phil?”

“That’s nonsense!” Phil snorted. “You’re just finding your way, that’s all.”

The car came to a smooth stop at the front door. Robert hopped out and opened the door for Amelia. She climbed out and said, “Thank you, Robert. You’re a fine driver.”

“Thank you, Miss Amelia. I do the best I can.” He turned to Phil. “It’s good to have both of you here for the holidays.”

“We’re just glad to be able to spend some time with Grandmother, Robert.”

The two turned and, leaving Robert to bring the small bags, walked up the steps. “Be careful. Don’t slip on the ice,” Phil cautioned. He took her arm, and the two slowly made their way up to the front door. It opened before they got there, and much to their surprise, they were greeted by their parents. “Mom! Dad!” Phil exclaimed. “We didn’t know you’d be here!”

Smiling and laughing, Andrew and Dorothy came out to meet them. Phil shook his father’s hand, then gave him a hug. His mother had embraced Amelia and was holding her tightly. He heard her say, “It’s so good to see you, Amelia!”

Amelia let go of her mother and lifted her arms to her father. Andrew put his arms around her, squeezed her, and
kissed her on the cheek. “Come in by the fire, daughter,” he smiled. “That’s a long, cold trip from the city.”

As the four of them went inside, Phil and Amelia plied them with questions. They hadn’t expected to see their parents again so soon, since they had just been to the States the previous year for their grandfather’s funeral. Dorothy explained that their church in Nairobi had taken up a collection to help them make a return trip this year, so they could spend Christmas with Andrew’s mother and their children. Another surprise was that their uncle Barney and aunt Katie and their daughter, Erin, and her husband, Quaid, had also made the trip with them while their son, Patrick, stayed in Africa to look after the mission station. The four of them were expected to arrive on Christmas Day.

Now Dorothy said, “Let’s go see your grandmother. She’s waiting for you.”

“How is she, Mom?” Amelia asked quickly.

“Well, she doesn’t say much about how she’s feeling, but I know she misses your grandfather more than any of the rest of us.”

The four of them made their way down the wide hallway and turned left into the big drawing room, which had been Mark Winslow’s favorite place to spend time. A freshly laid fire blazed cheerfully in a massive fireplace, showering sparks up the chimney from time to time. The flames licked eagerly at huge logs, releasing a pleasant woodsy odor into the room.

“So, you’re here. Come and give your grandmother a kiss, both of you.”

Lola Winslow, even at the age of seventy-six, retained traces of her youthful beauty. Her skin was not as smooth as it used to be, but the large dark eyes still dominated her face. She took the kisses of her grandchildren and then said briskly, “Sit down now. I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing.”

There was a peace about her grandmother that amazed Amelia. She had seen firsthand the love that this woman had for her husband, Mark. If ever two people had been
inextricably bound together, it was Lola and Mark Winslow. Amelia had seen how they could not get close without touching each other, and she had also seen how Lola’s eyes were always fondly fixed on him whenever Mark was in view. After he had died, Amelia had expected her grandmother to be marked by grief, but there remained a sweet serenity about Lola in the midst of her loss.

I hope someday I can be like her,
Amelia thought, and then she heard her mother saying, “Now, Lola, let me get our children settled in first. Then you can have all the talk you want.”

“All right, but don’t take long. I get to see you so seldom.” Lola smiled.

“We’ll hurry, Grandmother,” Phil said. “I’ll even let you beat me at a game of blackjack.”

“You never beat me at blackjack in your life, Phillip,” Lola smiled, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I think we’ll play for money this time. You need to be humbled.”

Phil laughed and moved across the room to lean down and kiss his grandmother on the cheek. “You’re right about that, but I’d rather lose to you than to anyone else I know.”