A Tangled Web Page 5

  Sifting through the pile of envelopes, she recognized the different handwriting. Her mother’s neat cursive, Auntie Sadie’s tilted, cramped style, Aunt Maude’s strong, bold strokes, and her friend Carly Hampton’s curlicued back-hand. Which should she read first?

  She decided she’d start with her mother’s, then read Aunt Maude’s, then Auntie Sadie’s, and save for last Carly’s, which she figured would be filled with the latest news of their crowd, along with Carly’s personal opinions. Maybe about Grady?

  She opened her mother’s first.

  My Dear Daughter,

  I have thought of you every day since we put you on the train to Kansas—and to Juniper Junction, of all places. It’s too late, I know, to say anything more about your foolhardy decision. I know you acted on impulse, on the spur of the moment, but I feel in my heart it was a mistake and you will live to regret it.

  Poor Grady has been here almost every day to ask about you and if we have heard anything. What can I tell him? Except that we received a telegram saying you had arrived safely and that you were checking out a change of teaching posts. I do hope the new one is to your liking. I never thought of you becoming a teacher, if the truth were known. I pictured you happily married and living just down the street. We all still think Grady is a fine young man, and without holding out false hope to him, I did try to comfort him by saying that distance and absence make the heart grow fonder. As your grandmother always says, running away from a problem never solves it. You only hurt yourself and everyone else concerned.

  I do pray that when your year’s contract is completed, you may have changed your mind about Grady and want to settle down here close to your folks, where you grew up. It is my belief that happiness lies close to home, where you have friends and family who care about you and are concerned about your future. Remember the sampler that your grandmother, our dear Mama, cross-stitched that hangs in the upstairs hall? “Seek home for rest, for home is best.” Do write soon and put all my fears at ease. I pray every day for your safety and well-being.

  Ever your devoted Mother

  Darcy put her mother’s letter aside with a sigh. There was no point in upsetting her with the real facts. Her mother had lived all her life in Willowdale, had never traveled or known any other people than her family and close friends. She would never understand Darcy’s taking such a risk as she had!

  Next she opened Aunt Maude’s letter. As she read it, she could almost hear her aunt’s strident voice.

  My Dear Niece,

  I do not need to tell you how dismayed we all are at your reckless decision. It was hardly a well-considered one.

  You and your mother have lived with us since you were a little girl, after your father died. We opened our home to you, and we have tried to be as parents to you, protecting, guiding, advising. As you know, we strongly objected to your impulsive rejection of the upstanding young man to whom you were promised, and then your going off on your own. It is something we cannot condone. Perhaps even now you regret what you did and are properly remorseful. I hope so. It is my sincere prayer that you have now seen the error of your ways and sincerely regret all the hurt you have caused those of us who have nurtured and cherished you all these years. We expected more of you than this.

  And if you are under the mistaken belief that Grady is dying of a broken heart over you, let me assure you that you have another thing coming. We saw him at the political rally and barbecue just this past Saturday, and he looked fit as a fiddle, spruced up and as good-looking as you could imagine. And don’t think all the girls in town didn’t let him know it. He was surrounded by admiring young women all day long. The applause he got after making a short speech was especially gratifying to your Uncle Henry, who as you know gave Grady his sponsorship in running for sheriff. You would have thought he was William Jennings Bryan or the president himself. Mark my words, some enterprising young lady is going to make off with him if you don’t come to your senses.

  In closing, I remind you that the members of your family are not getting any younger, and in the years to come you may weep bitter tears over what you have done.

  We know you have signed a contract to remain in your position for a year. But you can write a letter expressing your remorse, admit you were wrong, and apologize to all of us. Grady certainly deserves that much. That’s the least you can do.

  Your concerned and caring Aunt Maude

  Darcy suppressed a groan. Aunt Maude certainly was an expert in pouring on the guilt, rubbing salt in the wound. She folded the thin stationery pages and replaced them in the envelope. If Aunt Maude hoped the result would be a penitent Darcy’s return of a letter thick with apologies, she was wrong. In fact, it spurred Darcy’s intention to write the most enthusiastic letter she could compose about her new life—of course, leaving out the basic fact that she was actually waitressing instead of teaching.

  Auntie Sadie’s note was typical of the childlike, sweet-natured creature she was, the exact opposite of her older sister Maude.

  Oh, my darling Darcy, how we do miss you! The house seems so empty without the sounds of your laughter, your footsteps running up the stairs, your singing when you were happy—which was most of the time, until that last week and your tiff with Grady. Well, I guess it was more than a tiff, wasn’t it? I wept many times recalling how I tried to get you to forgive him, not burn all your bridges behind you. But it was of no use. You wouldn’t listen; your mind was made up. And I understand that. Believe me, nobody could convince me that I was wrong when I broke my engagement. Looking back long years ago, it was over as simple a thing as seeing Milford kissing Lucyanne McCall under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. But I was young and he was my first love, and we had made each other all sorts of promises, and most of all I had kissed him! And allowed him to kiss me! Many times! And in those days that was serious business, let me tell you. Anyway, I did regret it, and I wanted to save you those same feelings of wishing you had it to do over.

  No matter what Maude may tell you, Grady is moping around town with a woebegone expression. I’m sure he’s wishing he’d never agreed to run for sheriff, for all the attention he’s getting.

  If you can, try to remember, “The course of true love never runs smooth,” and maybe when you’ve both had time enough to think about it, you might change your mind and somehow get back together when you come home to Willowdale. Oh my, a year seems so long, darling, but remember, nothing is forever. Take care and stay well and remember, your doting Auntie Sadie keeps you in her loving thoughts and prayers always.

  Darcy had to brush away a few tears after reading this. Auntie Sadie was such a dear.

  Last of all she opened her friend Carly’s letter with anticipation.

  The first part was full of comments about social events Darcy was missing—a graduation, a square dance, and a church box supper—and what Carly had worn to these occasions. Then she began telling Darcy how she admired her for the daring adventure she had undertaken.

  You always were so brave. I remember how you always took a dare. Even from the boys when we were in grammar school. Like the time you jumped off the toolshed roof, and the other time you climbed old Mr. Sander’s tree to shake down apples for the rest of us, and he came out with his pitchfork, shaking his fist and yelling. You never blinked an eyelash. Just stood there, hands on your hips, sweet-talking him. I think you told him everyone said he grew the best apples in the county, ought to win first prize at the fair! You always got away with whatever you did. I guess that’s what I envy about you most.

  I guess you want to know what everybody in Willowdale is saying about you. It’s plenty, let me tell you. The thing most of the girls say is that you were a fool to break your engagement to Grady. He is really the center of attention now. You have to admit, he’s really good-looking. And lately he’s been dressing up. Somebody must be buying his clothes for him at Taber’s Dry Goods and Clothing Store. He’s wearing Texasstyle boots and a wide-brimmed Stetson hat. I hope that doesn’t make
you mad to hear. He doesn’t look a bit down in the mouth. How could he? Someone’s always clinging on his arm, looking up at him adoringly, hanging on his every word. Maybe that’s what it takes to get to be sheriff? I don’t know what you’re feeling right now, but I still admire you for having the gumption to leave Willowdale and see the world. I can’t much see you as a teacher, but there must be some social life where you are. I always read in western romances that a schoolmarm is popular and has lots of ranchers, cowboys, and such courting her. I know you’ll have lots to tell me when you write. So please do write. You must have some time of your own after correcting papers and paddling kids (I’m teasing; you probably are the nicest teacher in the world). Good luck anyhow. I’ll try to keep you posted on our town’s doings—and the outcome of the election, for sure.

  Darcy smiled as she finished Carly’s letter. If her friend knew the truth, she would know that there was not much social life here. At least for Harvey Girls, since they were discouraged from socializing with restaurant customers or members of the staff.

  Mostly Darcy was too busy to think much about or miss the active social life she had enjoyed in Willowdale.

  No one here knew or cared about the privileged place she and her family had in Willowdale. She was accepted as one of them. It was nice not to be valued by a small town’s measuring stick. She knew her friends, like Carly, would be astonished if they knew what she was doing. No amount of explaining would make them understand how well-thought-of the Harvey Girls were. For the time being, heavy as it lay on her heart, Darcy felt it was better to keep it secret.

  “Good news from home?” Clemmie asked as Darcy gathered up her letters and started to put them in the drawer of her bedside table.

  Darcy shrugged. “Nothing special.”

  “I got a letter from my mom,” Clemmie said. “Mostly telling me about what the boys are doing. Makes me kinda homesick. But not very. Thinking about my chores back there makes our job here at Harvey House seem a snap.” Clemmie laughed. “Mom isn’t much for writing, but she sent the new copy of the Ladies’ Home Gazette. There are some good stories in it this time. Can’t wait to read the next installment of ‘The Ghost of Highland Castle.’”

  Both girls were avid fans of the romantic mystery serial that was published in the weekly women’s magazine.

  “When I finish, I’ll give it to you to read,” Clemmie promised and settled back against her pillows with the issue.

  Much as Darcy tried to deny it, the letters from home had their effect. Her conscience pinched hard. No matter that her days were so full, from the minute she and Clemmie got up in the morning, served the first trainload of passengers, cleaned up their stations, and got ready for the next, until they dropped into bed at night, that she didn’t seem to have a spare moment. Writing such a complicated letter of explanation became harder and harder.

  Sometimes she lay sleepless at night, asking herself how she had ever got into this mess. Where along the way had not telling the truth become an easy habit so that keeping this big secret had seemed justifiable? All the dozens of little white lies she had told through the years came back to disturb her. Excuses for being late, forgetting an errand, not turning in homework, not accepting an invitation—all mounted up to dishonesty. A habit of fudging on the truth built up over the years. Darcy’s cheeks burned in the dark of their dormitory bedroom. She felt so guilty, while in the next bed Clemmie slept the sleep of the innocent. She wanted to change; she was trying. But how to undo what she had already done?

  NINE

  Most of the time Darcy was too busy to give much thought to what might have been had she not left Willowdale so impulsively.

  However, sometimes unwarranted thoughts about Grady floated into her mind just before she fell asleep. She still couldn’t believe how he could have broken his promise. She knew him so well. Or thought she did. After all, they had grown up together. Since grammar school days, when he had been the class cutup and relentless tease. When they got to high school, he was too tall, too self-conscious and bashful to show his feelings. However, by the time he came back to Willowdale after two years at the state agricultural college, the rest of him had caught up with his height. His lean build fit his six-foot frame, his features had become strong, and his shy manner had a boyish charm that was very appealing.

  It was then he earnestly started courting Darcy, with everyone’s approval. Not that the course of their romance had all gone smoothly. They were both strong-willed. But more often than not their conflicts ended in laughter, not acrimony.

  Darcy couldn’t help remembering that year with some nostalgia. So many happy memories of things they had done together. That first summer had been filled with fun. Attending the county fair, cotton candy and carousel music, Ferris wheel rides and square dances. Church box suppers where Grady always knew which one to bid on so that together they could eat Aunt Maude’s fried chicken and Auntie Sadie’s caramel cake. Walks along woodland paths in autumn, holding hands, their boots crunching on the fallen leaves. In the winter, sledding down the hill behind the Sanders’ barn, skating when Mallard’s Pond froze over. Taffy pulls and popcorn parties. And at Christmastime, the frosty snow-filled air, going caroling with the youth choir, and kisses under the mistletoe…

  Funny how the slightest thing could send Darcy down memory lane. A whiff of scent, a snatch of a certain melody, an arriving customer who for a minute reminded her of Grady.

  It is said that a woman never forgets her first love. Grady had been hers. No matter what, she knew she would never forget him.

  Everyone expected them to get married. The fact that they hadn’t was, in Darcy’s opinion, Grady’s fault. Why had he listened to all those well-meaning folks, with their own axes to grind, urging him to run for sheriff? Maybe he thought she would come around. Well, he had been wrong.

  Darcy remembered the day of their terrible quarrel vividly. She was having a last fitting of her wedding dress in Auntie Sadie’s upstairs sewing room and from the window saw Grady coming across the street to the house.

  “Get me out of this,” Darcy urged her aunt, shaking her arms out of the sleeves. “Grady’s coming. I’ve got to go.”

  “Hold on a minute, honey—you’ll pull out those pins! Grady’s not going anywhere. He came to see you, didn’t he?” Auntie Sadie teased as she carefully held the dress so Darcy could step out of the trailing gown.

  Hurriedly Darcy slipped on her blouse and fastened the waistband on her skirt and ran down the hall. She had just reached the landing at the top of the stairs when she heard Uncle Henry greeting Grady.

  “Well, howdy, young fellow. So, you’ve thrown your hat in the ring and are in the sheriff’s race? They told me at the courthouse you’d just signed your filing papers.”

  “Yes, sir,” Grady said.

  “Well, that’s good. I think you’ll do fine.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Grady sounded pleased.

  Overhearing this exchange, Darcy felt her heart chill. Her hand tightened on the banister rail as Uncle Henry spoke again.

  “Should be a fairly easy race. Don’t think you’ll have any trouble—”

  “Oh, no? He doesn’t know what trouble is yet!” Darcy’s harsh tone of voice startled even her. Both Grady and her uncle looked up at her as she came down the steps.

  Darcy’s heart was pumping. A pulse in her temple pounded. She stared at Grady accusingly.

  “How could you? Without even talking to me. You promised. You gave me your word.”

  Grady shifted from one foot to the other. He looked at her uncle for support.

  Taken aback by his niece’s outburst, Uncle Henry began, “Now look here, young lady—”

  “You look here, Uncle Henry. This is between me and Grady.”

  Uncle Henry turned red in the face. Darcy had never spoken to him that way. She was trembling. Involuntarily Henry took a few steps away.

  Darcy turned back to Grady. “Knowing how I feel about being in politics, you went behind
my back and—” At a loss for words at his betrayal, she halted. Grady started to say something but she cut him off. She tugged at her engagement ring and held it out to him. “Here, take this back. How can I marry someone I can’t trust?”

  Grady looked shaken. “Aw, honey, please. I can explain.”

  “There’s nothing to explain. You broke your solemn promise to me. That’s it.” Darcy spun around and moved toward the stairs. She caught a glimpse of Aunt Maude standing frozen in the doorway of the parlor and saw the shocked faces of her mother and Auntie Sadie leaning over the balcony above. They all must have witnessed the scene.

  “Wait, Darcy, please—,” Grady pleaded.

  Darcy shook her head and started up the steps. His voice followed her. “Darcy, we gotta talk. Honey, please.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s over.”

  Darcy remembered rushing up the steps, brushing by her mother and Auntie Sadie, who both held out restraining hands to her as she went past. Ignoring them, tears streaming down her cheeks, she had half run, half stumbled down the hall to her bedroom. She slammed the door and flung herself down on the bed, sobbing.

  Of course, she had had to talk to Grady again. There had been endless talks, but she had remained stubborn. And so had he. It was a tug of war between them—Grady asserting his manhood right to choose his own profession, Darcy determined not to budge from her ultimatum.

  In the end she had answered the ad for a teacher in Juniper Junction.

  There were moments, even now, when Darcy recalled how falling in love had been. That summer she was nineteen and first noticed the grown-up Grady newly returned home from college. It was like summer lightning. Swift, sudden, stunning. She remembered the thrill of their first kiss, the first faltering words of love, the promises made…

  That’s what had done it. If he had really loved her, he wouldn’t have broken his promise.