Runaway Heart Read online

  I can't think about all that now, Holly told herself firmly. I've got to make the best of it, even if it was a mistake to come

  She started undressing, undoing the tiny satin-covered buttons of her Basque jacket, unfastening the tiered skirt, loosening the strings of her petticoats, and letting them drop to the floor. She unlaced the stays of her little corset, and took off her stockings and high-heeled bronze boots.

  From her purse she got out the key to her trunk and unlocked it. As she lifted the lid, the faint fragrance of roses recalled the day she was packing to come to Oregon. A picture of her mother tucking the little net sachet bags of crushed, dried rose petals from their garden in among her freshly washed and ironed chemises and nighties floated into her mind, and she was overcome with a wave of homesickness.

  Quickly she checked the urge to cry and determinedly took out a white cambric nightgown, frilled and edged with tatting. For a moment she held it to her breast, closing her eyes, relishing its scent. Then she put it on, slipped into her pink-flowered flannel wrapper, took the lamp, and went down the hall and outside to the "necessary."

  The summer darkness was velvety; a starless, dense blue sky enveloped her; the grass between the flagstone path was wet with evening dew; the air spicy with the smell of cedar and evergreens. In a breath, Holly was swept back thousands of miles to where a soft Kentucky twilight lingered and fireflies darted among the wisteria—suddenly, although it wasn't cold, Holly shivered.

  When Holly went back inside, Aurelia was in her nightie sitting up in the big bed. "If I crowd you, Holly, just give me a shove, all right?" she said. Stifling a yawn, she slid down into the covers. Holly blew out the lamp and got in beside the little girl. She smiled in the darkness.

  In spite of Hetty's attitude, at least she had one ally in this house. Of course, Ned was kindness itself, but he had to be cautious for fear of provoking Hetty. Holly was sure she could soon win over little Teddy. She had always loved children, and they loved her.

  But what was she to do about Hetty? Hetty was the real challenge. She yawned, sighed; tomorrow she'd figure out some way to win over Hetty, she decided drowsily. She had always been able to make friends easily, hadn't she?

  She turned, spoon-fashion, around Aurelia's small warm body. Immediately Aurelia cuddled close.

  Holly began drifting off to sleep when suddenly something jerked her awake again—it was the memory of the stage driver's voice shouting "end of the line"—

  Chapter 3

  Holly opened her eyes slowly, then snuggled deeper into the quilts, delaying until the last possible minute getting up and facing another day of Hetty's questionable hospitality.

  From the kitchen she could hear movement, voices. She knew Hetty was already bustling about, frying bacon, whisking a pan of biscuits out of the oven, while at the same time fussing at the children and nagging Ned about something or other. In the two weeks Holly had been here, she'd been appalled at Hetty's constant picking at Ned. She should be grateful she had such a kind, patient, caring husband. Ned was also a wonderful father. Hetty was luckier than she seemed to realize. But, of course, there was no way she could tell her cousin that.

  Holly lay there a little longer, dreading the moment when she would have to toss the covers aside, knowing, since there was no stove in the bedroom, how cold it would be. She would have loved a cup of coffee and dreamily remembered how her mother sometimes brought her one in the morning—especially if she had been out at a party or dance the night before. Holly sighed; those days were certainly gone forever.

  She also knew if she went out to the kitchen now, Hetty would make her feel she was just in the way. Her offers to help were usually turned down, brushed aside curtly, making her feel generally useless and inadequate. If it hadn't seemed so deliberate, it would be almost funny. Whenever Holly had insisted that there must be something she could do to help, Hetty always seemed to pick the worst and most menial of tasks.

  Like the day Hetty handed her the wire brush and said she could beat the rugs. With the best of intentions Holly had gone outside where the rugs were hung on a clothes line stretched between two poles in the backyard and started beating them. Dust flew out at once, enveloping her and causing her to sneeze and cough. Teddy, who had slipped out of the house and was sitting on the steps of the back porch watching her, started to giggle. Catching him, Holly began to play "peek-a-boo" with her shy little cousin behind the flapping rugs. It ended up in riotous hilarity. When Aurelia heard the laughter she, too, came outside to join the fun. Of course, Hetty quickly followed and put a stop to the game. Marching over to Holly, she snatched the beater out of her hand, saying curtly, "If you can't do it right, don't bother doing it at all."

  Covered with dust, Holly stood aghast watching her stiff-shouldered cousin go back inside the house, holding on to the protesting Teddy with one hand and pushing Aurelia in front of her.

  There was just no pleasing Hetty! Smothering a groan, Holly burrowed her head into the pillow, remembering another unpleasant incident that had happened the very same day.

  Not having thought to cover her head while in the process of rug-beating, Holly had decided to wash her hair to get rid of the dust. While Hetty had gone to the store, Holly heated her own water and got out her shampoo. Aurelia, as usual, was her interested audience.

  Impulsively Holly had asked the little girl if she wanted her hair done, too. Of course Aurelia did. She also wanted it put up in curling rags. They were in the process of doing that, sitting out in the warm September sunshine, when Hetty returned. With one look she took in the scene and halted it.

  "I thought I told you I don't want Aurelia growing up vain and silly. Her hair's worn in plaits, and that's that."

  "Oh, just this once, Hetty? Just for fun?" Holly persisted, not believing Hetty really meant to prevent the little girl's pleasure.

  "I wish you would just for once realize that I'm in charge here, not you, Holly." Hetty's voice was edged with sarcasm. "Come along, Aurelia, I'll braid your hair proper," she said, brushing past Holly and marching into the house.

  Holly had repressed a natural urge to argue with her. It was so stupid of Hetty to get into a tug of wills over something so harmless. She also kept herself from doing the spontaneous thing of hugging Aurelia, who was struggling not to burst into tears at her mother's dictum.

  That night when they were in bed together, Holly cuddled Aurelia and told her a long story to make up for her disappointment of no curls.

  Shortly after that, another incident occurred that put Holly even more at her wit's end. Again she had asked Hetty how she could help, and Hetty had pointed to the stove and said shortly, "It needs blacking." Then she added sarcastically, "But of course, you wouldn't want to get your hands dirty."

  At this, Holly had simply smiled. "Where's the polish?"

  Hetty looked startled but got out some rags and a jar of Queen's Mirror-black and set them down on the kitchen table before leaving for her Sewing Circle.

  Holly had never in her life before cleaned or shined a stove, but she was stubborn enough not to give Hetty the satisfaction of a job not well done. She was down on her knees, having already skinned two knuckles, when the children woke up from their naps and came out to the kitchen.

  "Your face is all smudge, Holly!" gasped Aurelia.

  "Just call me 'Cinderella'!" Holly laughed at the two stunned little faces as she blew some strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes. While she finished up on the stove, she regaled them with a fine dramatic version of the fairy tale while they sat cross-legged on the floor beside her. When Hetty got home, she was not only astonished, but Holly could see she even resented the fact that the stove shone with new brilliance.

  Recalling the uncomfortable moment, Holly thumped her pillow behind her head and stared gloomily out the window. She wished desperately she had never come to Oregon. If it weren't for the children—

  At least the children accepted and loved her. It had taken some time for Teddy to ge
t over his first shyness, but now he followed her around like a puppy. Aurelia would have become her shadow if Hetty allowed it. However, Hetty seemed to resent the little girl's uninhibited affection for Holly and restricted it as much as possible.

  Holly found this hard. One would think any busy mother would be grateful to someone who could entertain children. Both children were entranced by Holly's talent for storytelling. Aurelia would ask her questions like, "What did you do when you were a little girl?" and Holly would spin out stories from her vivid childhood memories. Although always within hearing during these times, Hetty kept a stony silence.

  But one day when Holly was holding them spellbound about her Shetland pony and describing her tree house in the big oak in the backyard, where her friends climbed up the little ladder to have tea parties, Hetty had cut in crossly, "I don't want you filling up my children with all those make-believe stories."

  Astonished, Holly exclaimed. "Make-believe! What do you mean, Hetty? Surely you remember the tree house Papa built— and Rags, the pony? Why, we all used to take turns riding him."

  Hetty's expression tightened. "It was a make-believe life. Not like life is out here in the West. My children have to learn to live in the real world; they aren't being reared pampered and sheltered and no good to anyone," she snapped. "Out here folks don't set much stock on silly birthday parties and making a fuss about things." To the children she said, "Come on, you two, instead of listening to a bunch of silly stories, you can help me get in the laundry." With that she picked up the oak-chip clothes basket and started toward the back door.

  Holly was too startled by Hetty's outburst to say anything. Was Hetty trying to erase everything about the life they both had lived in Willow Springs? And if so, why?

  With a sorrowful glance at Holly, Aurelia obeyed. Teddy started to howl saying he wanted to hear more about the pony, and Hetty gave him a smack on his bottom.

  Holly longed to give Hetty a piece of her mind. But, of course, she didn't. After all Aurelia and Teddy were Hetty's children, and she had no right to argue about any rules Hetty laid down for them.

  After that incident, Holly confined her storytelling to when she and Aurelia were in bed at night or other times when they happened to be alone—which wasn't often. Hetty kept both children busily occupied with little chores most of the day, so there wasn't much time for Holly to invent games or tell them stories.

  Holly could not help wondering if such enforced "busyness" was all that good. Shouldn't there be time for playing? Even for dreaming? Aurelia was bright and creative, loved pretending and make-believe. She loved it when Holly would leave off a story midway and let her finish it. Holly just hoped that when she left to go back to Willow Springs, Aurelia's active imagination wouldn't be stunted.

  Holly bunched up the pillow, flipped over onto her back, and stared moodily at the ceiling. She knew she should get up. She thought she knew exactly how the French aristocrats must have felt mounting to the guillotine, or even the early Christians going into the lions' den. Of course, that was an exaggeration, but Hetty was a formidable adversary. Nothing Holly did or said met with Hetty's approval.

  Hetty maintained a constant distance. She never initiated a conversation. Often she did not even reply to Holly's comments or concerted efforts to be companionable. But there was still another way Hetty made Holly feel unwelcome. She consistently excluded Holly from any of the social life that she had made for herself in Riverbend. Hetty had never invited any of her friends to meet her cousin, nor had she asked Holly to accompany her when she went to visit any of them.

  On several occasions after Ned returned to the store following the noon dinner, without a word to Holly, Hetty would simply gather up her sewing basket, put on her bonnet and shawl, button Aurelia and Teddy into their outdoor garments, and start to the front door. Then, as if an afterthought, she would call over her shoulder the brief announcement, "I'm going over to Selma Peterson's. She's got a pattern I want to trace," or "I'm going to my quilting group, something I know you wouldn't be interested in since you never enjoyed handiwork."

  Sometimes Aurelia would plead, "Can't Holly come with us?" but Hetty would ignore her and, without a backward look, leave.

  After the door closed behind them, Holly vented her indignation. True, she never had enjoyed needlework nor embroidery, but she might have enjoyed meeting some of the young women in town even if she did not share their interest in handiwork! Who knows, she might even enjoy learning how to quilt. What in the world did Hetty expect her to do with her time?

  Holly would have to be blind not to see. Hetty did not care if Holly was happy here or not. She was not going to lift a finger to introduce her to anyone, or try to make her life in Riverbend interesting. This was such a contrast to the way newcomers were treated in Willow Springs that Holly could not believe it.

  I must have been out of my mind to come here! In self-disgust Holly threw back the covers and got up. The day ahead held nothing but gloomy prospects. Back in Willow Springs she might be going shopping, making visits with her mother, having "gentlemen callers," or looking forward to an afternoon party. In the evening there may have been a play or a concert to attend or perhaps a buffet supper and dance. Well, thinking about all those things was like Alice's following the Red Queen's instructions and "imagining six impossible things before breakfast!" Holly thought with a sigh, I can't go back. Not now. Not until spring at least. I have to somehow make the best of things here.

  Holly had started taking long walks. Within days after her arrival in Riverbend she had discovered that the slightest thing seemed to cause Hetty to fly off the handle. Holly began watching her every word, remark, and gesture. Sometimes the only alternative to avoid an argument with her cousin was to get out of the house. On these walks Holly found that Riverbend was a pleasant enough little town with a wealth of natural beauty. Now in early September the weather was sunny, and along the roadside a profusion of wildflowers, golden poppies, and delicate purple-blue wild asters delighted the eye. Beautiful trees, tall firs, sweeping-boughed hemlocks, dark green cedars grew right to the edge of town. One day she had found a path that led right down to the river, and this became a favorite place for her to go when tension with Hetty became unbearable.

  In the town itself quite a lot of building was going on in anticipation, she supposed, of the coming of the new branch line of the railroad, which was to catapult Riverbend into unprecedented prosperity. There was a fine brick courthouse being constructed at one end of Main Street, and on some of the new roads fanning out from the center of town some houses were being built. Somewhat to her surprise, she saw several churches as well as saloons; the saloons, however, were winning about three to one.

  There were more settled areas of town; tree-lined streets forming small neighborhoods, nicely painted frame houses with neat fences, deep yards, and flower and vegetable gardens around the side. Wistfully she wondered if there might be people in those houses who could be acquaintances, perhaps even friends.

  One house she passed often and found particularly appealing was nestled under large trees at the end of a winding lane. It was a doll-sized yellow clapboard with a slanting roof and lacy white fretwork on the little porch. There was a painted sign on the gatepost, V. DODD, DRESSMAKING, FINE NEEDLEWORK.

  Often Holly had stood at the gate of that house, half-tempted to go up and knock on the blue-painted door, perhaps on the pretext of asking about alterations or to look at patterns or to discuss a new outfit?—to see for herself if "V. Dodd" matched the charm of the exterior. But, of course, she couldn't do that. Holly had always had girlfriends to go shopping with or simply to visit—she sadly missed the companionship, the camaraderie and fun. Of all her many Lambeth and Granville cousins, Hetty was the only one with whom she was not congenial.

  Holly got dressed slowly, unconsciously steeling herself for another prickly encounter with Hetty. No matter what, I must try to be cheerful and pleasant, Holly lectured her reflection in the mirror sternly.
Maybe, today will be different Maybe Hetty will be in a better mood. Maybe . . .

  But, of course, Hetty wasn't. Ned had already departed for the store when Holly came out to the kitchen. Hetty, who was stirring something in a big pot on the stove, turned her head and gave Holly a swift glance, then turned her back again. Holly gritted her teeth. Why couldn't Hetty at least be civil? With determined brightness Holly said, "Good morning."

  Aurelia, sitting at one end of the table cutting out little squares of calico from a huge pile of scraps beside her, looked up and smiled, "Morning, Holly. See what I'm doing? I'm cutting out patches for Mama." She held one up with pride.

  "That's wonderful," Holly nodded encouragingly.

  Teddy was sitting on the floor, struggling to get his high-topped shoes buttoned, his small pink tongue moving from one side of his mouth to the other as he concentrated, his chubby little hands fumbling at the task.

  On impulse, Holly asked him, "Want some help?" and dropped to her knees beside him.

  The words were hardly out of her mouth when Hetty swung around from the stove ordering, "No! You're not to help him. He's got to learn to do it himself. He's a big boy. I won't have you babying him!"

  Startled at the harsh command, Holly stared at Hetty whose face had turned red and mottled. Ugly. Slowly, Holly rose from the floor, but not before she saw tears well up in Teddy's eyes. She didn't say anything, just looked at Hetty speechlessly. Hetty's face got redder, but she didn't apologize. She turned back to the stove and started stirring again.

  "There's coffee still in the pot if you want some," she said in a muffled voice, "and biscuits."

  But Holly was too shaken by the anger bristling through her. Aurelia looked up at the sudden stillness in the room, a deadly quiet tingling with tension. Her eyes widened as she looked anxiously from Holly to her mother.