The Pattern Page 6

  For that reason alone, knowing Ross had been included in the guest list, Johanna was particularly looking forward to the evening. Without being closely observed by chaperones, there was a real possibility of having another private conversation with Ross.

  She was thrilled he’d confided in her about his family, his life, his hopes, his ideas of being a doctor. None of the other young men she knew had ever talked to her that way; as if she were an equal, as if she had intelligence to understand serious things.

  As Johanna was about to leave on the afternoon of the party, Rebecca had a moment’s uneasiness. Johanna had been to dozens of taffy pulls, and Liddy had been her friend since childhood. Why was she acting so excited, so eager to be on her way?

  Although, ever since gaining permission not to return to Miss Pomoroy’s, Johanna had been a shining example of obedience, cheerfulness, and helpfulness. She did her chores without complaining, was tolerant of Cissy and kind to Elly. Then, why did Rebecca feel troubled? It was the dreamy look she sometimes saw in Johanna’s eyes, how she went about smiling as if she were listening to music. Instead of the volumes of history her father had assigned for her to study in order to continue her education in lieu of going back to school, Rebecca had found an open book of poetry on Johanna’s bedside table! Poetry, indeed! Still, she did not see any tangible evidence that there was anything to chastise Johanna about.

  Of course, Rebecca had no idea of how many “happenstance” meetings there had been with the young doctor on the days Johanna had eagerly volunteered to do errands for her mother.

  So Johanna kissed her mother’s cheek and went gaily off in the buggy that had been sent for her, neither of them dreaming that this evening would be a turning point in both their lives.

  A big iron pot filled with sorghum was already boiling and bubbling on the stove in the Chalmerses’ kitchen when Johanna arrived. She knew almost everyone there, and there was much chatter, everyone exchanging news and telling each other about their Christmases. They gathered around the stove, waiting for when the sugary mixture reached the proper consistency, while Liddy’s father, red-faced, perspiring, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, kept stirring. Suddenly he bellowed, “Get your plates buttered, folks!”

  Mrs. Chalmers and the other mothers in attendance stood by the kitchen table, handing out solid white ironstone plates on which butter had been slathered. One by one, people filed up to the stove, and Mr. Chalmers ladled out dipperfuls of the syrupy liquid onto the greased plates, where it had to cool. When it was cool enough to be lifted off with the hands, the fun of pulling began.

  With much laughter and conversation, everyone rubbed their hands with lard. Then the boys selected a partner and the pulling started. At first the molasses was stiff and hard to handle, but once it got started, it was easier to work, and it would be stretched into a kind of rope. The boy would grab the rope in the middle and pass the end on to his girl partner. Of course, sooner or later a few of the girls managed to get all mixed up in the rope of taffy. When this happened, the boy had to get his arms around the girl, standing behind her to free her hands from a wad of taffy. The point of the pulling was supposed to be to make the taffy more brittle and tasty. The longer it was pulled, the whiter it got. This was done with a great deal of giggling, squealing, and laughter, the hilarious “shenanigans” all taking place under tolerant chaperonal surveillance.

  When Mrs. Chalmers felt the “tomfoolery” had gone as far as it should, she called for the taffy to be coiled onto the buttered plates. There was provided a second round of fun as people twirled and swirled the candy, making designs of hearts and links, and fashioning a fancy final assortment of the hardening taffy. When the taffy was ready for breaking up, couples took their pieces and, pairing off, went to find a place to chat, eat, and enjoy.

  As it turned out, Johanna didn’t have the worry of wondering how Ross would get into all the playing around. For the first part of the evening, she kept watching for him. Her distraction annoyed her partner, Burton Lassiter. “Pay attention, Johanna! Pull! Stretch it before it hardens,” he told her in vain.

  Johanna was finally rewarded when Ross arrived. She saw him before he saw her. He stood in the doorway with Liddy, appearing to listen to whatever she was saying while his gaze searched the room. When he saw Johanna, he distractedly excused himself from their hostess and came straight across the room to her. Suddenly everyone else in the crowded room simply disappeared for her. He was standing right in front of her, his thick hair and his shoulders glistened with raindrops. Had he come out in this storm without a coat, forgotten his hat? Johanna wondered.

  “Good evening, Johanna. I’m sorry to be late and I cannot stay, but I must speak to you.” Ross held out his hand and she put hers into it. He looked around and, seeing an unoccupied corner in the crowded room, led her over to it.

  They sat down. Still holding her hand, he said, “I have to leave soon. The Barlow children are pretty sick. I saw them earlier today, but I’m uneasy about them. I want to check on them again.”

  “I understand,” Johanna said, nodding her head.

  Neither of them cared if curious eyes were upon them as Ross covered both her hands with his and leaned toward her, saying earnestly, “But even if it were only for a few minutes, I didn’t want to miss the chance of seeing you. You see, Johanna, there is something I must say to you. Something important. In fact, I can’t think of anything else.” He paused.

  “I know this isn’t the proper time or place—could you possibly meet me tomorrow? Say about two in the afternoon? I should be finished with office hours by then—”

  “Yes. Where? You didn’t say.”

  Ross’s heavy brows drew together. “Someplace where we can talk without—what about the bandstand in the park near the skating pond past the stone bridge? You know where I mean?” His hands tightened on hers. “And if anything should delay me, will you wait?”

  “Of course I’ll wait,” she said. “No matter how long.” She was already planning what excuse she’d use to get out of the house that time of day. She felt wildly happy. Secret meetings, the stuff of romance novels. Johanna reveled in the excitement of it.

  For a full minute they simply gazed into each other’s eyes. What she saw in his told her what she had longed to know.

  Johanna was suddenly breathless.

  Reluctantly Ross said, “I have to go. It may seem impolite to Liddy, but I don’t want to disturb the Barlows by coming by too late.”

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Johanna offered, rising. She waited while he made his apologies to Liddy, then, ignoring Liddy’s puzzled glance and Mrs. Chalmers’s soaring eyebrows, she followed Ross out the front door.

  They came out onto the porch. It had stopped raining but the night was cold and damp. Johanna shivered. Immediately Ross was concerned. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’ll get chilled.”

  “I wanted to come.”

  They moved closer to each other. She half turned toward him, and the moment was vibrant with all that was between them yet undeclared. Then, in a low voice, Ross spoke.

  “I love you, Johanna.”

  That was what she had hoped, wished for in her heart, but now that it had been said, it startled her. She drew in her breath, then with something like relief whispered, “I love you, too, Ross.”

  “Oh, Johanna.” He held out his arms and she went into them. He drew her close, held her tight. Her cheek rubbed against the scratchy texture of his rough wool coat. Her ear was pressed hard against his chest so that she could hear his pounding heart. “Oh Johanna, I love you so much—” Then, almost in a groan, he said, “But it’s impossible.”

  She pulled back, looked up at him. “Impossible? What do you mean, impossible?”

  “How can I make you happy?”

  “You already have.”

  “I mean—what have I to offer someone like you?”

  “Yourself. That’s all I’ll ever want,” she replied softly.

  Ross pu
t his hands on either side of her face, raising it so he could look deeply into her eyes. Then he gently lifted her chin, leaned down, and kissed her mouth. His lips were warm in the cold air and the kiss was sweet. There was a kind of desperation in his voice when he asked, “What are we going to do, Johanna?”

  When Ross left, Johanna went back into the party. For the rest of the evening, Johanna moved as if in a daze. She spoke to others, laughed, pulled taffy, and chatted merrily with everyone. She felt as if she were in a puppet show, mouthing lines spoken by someone else, with somebody pulling the strings. She didn’t remember what she said once the words were out of her mouth. Liddy kept glancing at her curiously, Burton sulked, and Mrs. Chalmers gave her several disapproving looks. It didn’t matter. Johanna knew now that what was between her and Ross was no mere flirtation. It wasn’t only her own dreams and fantasies about him. Ross Davison was in love with her.

  Ross had asked, “What are we going to do, Johanna?”

  Do? What did he mean, do?

  In the Chalmerses’ guest room, Johanna propped the lavender-scented pillows behind her and sat up in bed. She was not the least sleepy, even though, with an exaggerated yawn, she had discouraged Liddy from coming in to gossip and chitchat as they usually did after a party. Liddy had gone away miffed, and although Johanna was sorry about that, she needed to be alone. Something important had happened between her and Ross tonight, and she wanted to think about it, sort out her feelings.

  Everything she felt was so new. Yet there was a sweet familiarity about Ross. The odd feeling that they had known each other for a long time lingered. It was as if she had been waiting for him all her life.

  She heard the steady patter of rain on the windowpanes. Where was Ross? Was he home yet? Or driving back to town along some country road? Or was he still with those sick children? Her heart felt tender as she thought of what a good doctor he must be. Was he thinking of her, as she was of him?

  How conscientious Ross was. Her heart softened further as she contemplated his innate nobility. Yes, nobility. That best described him.

  It made her feel humble that such a man loved her! She still couldn’t quite believe it. She must change, become worthy of his love. She needed to mold herself into something better, stronger. Johanna closed her eyes in remembered delight of his kiss. She hugged her knees and smiled. Being in love was so wonderful!

  Again Ross’s question came into her mind.

  “What are we going to do, Johanna?”

  Do? Although she wanted to keep this happy secret to herself for a little while, of course in time they would tell everyone, share their happiness. That’s all they would do. She couldn’t imagine what else Ross meant.

  Johanna slid down into the pillows, shutting her eyes at last and, with a happy sigh, went to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Hurrying through the blustery January afternoon, Johanna hugged her happiness close. Oh, how wonderful it was to at last be free to say “I love you” and mean it! Ross was everything she had ever dreamed of in a lover—more, even! How had she been so lucky? She had never been so happy in her life. She had gone to meet him today from Liddy’s house, where she had stayed overnight after the taffy pull party. She had invented an errand so that she could go alone. Liddy had seemed suspicious. Johanna could not share her secret—at least, not yet. Promising she would return so that she would be there when Mr. Chalmers arrived from town to drive her back to Holly Grove, she had rushed out without further explanation.

  Ross was waiting for her at the appointed place. Johanna rushed toward him, but instead of looking happy, Ross looked worried. He hadn’t slept, he told her. He had been wrong to speak of love to her as he had last night, he began. But she would not let him finish.

  “No, no, it wasn’t! I love you, too, Ross. And I know it’s right.”

  “But what can we do, Johanna?” The words seemed wrung from the depths of his heart.

  His question puzzled her. What would they do? What did any two people in love do? They got married.

  He acted as if there were insurmountable problems. She wouldn’t listen to any he tried to tell her about. He had house calls to make, and nothing was really settled as he hurried away.

  She was so happy, she felt her heart might burst. She couldn’t wait to tell her parents. Of course, they did not know Ross very well, but they knew Dr. Murrison. He was an old family friend. They certainly knew and respected Dr. Murrison and must realize he would not have chosen Ross from among all the medical students he could have brought in as his assistant, if he had not been convinced of his character and ability.

  And of course, her parents would probably be surprised, call theirs a whirlwind romance, but what was wrong with that? After their first surprise, they would be happy for her. She was sure.

  Johanna could not have been more wrong.

  The minute the words were out of her mouth, Johanna knew she had made a mistake. She saw the stricken expression on her mother’s face. Immediately Johanna was contrite. She was furious with herself for having upset her mother so much. But even though she realized she had not picked the right moment, she hadn’t expected this intense opposition.

  “It’s out of the question. You’re much too young and I won’t hear of it.”

  Her mother’s reaction chilled Johanna with its cold vehemence. Perhaps it was mostly because she would be the first one to leave the nest. At first Johanna did not realize that the real problem regarded her choice.

  Though her father was surprised, his objections were milder. “Well, Johanna, I thought it was young Burton Lassiter you were interested in. He certainly has hung about here looking at you with calves’ eyes long enough. What’s wrong with Burton? Good family, nice fellow.”

  “Oh, Burton!” Johanna scoffed. “I don’t love Burton. I never could. You can’t make me love someone I don’t. You certainly can’t make me marry someone I don’t love.”

  “Who was talking marrying?” Tennant protested. “Anyway, I agree with your mother. You’re far too young to be thinking about marrying anyone.”

  “Mama was seventeen when she married you, Papa. And I’m eighteen and will soon be nineteen.”

  “That’s quite enough, Johanna,” her mother interrupted sharply. “We’ll speak no more about it. And we will certainly make our wishes plainly known to Dr. Murrison that we do not appreciate Dr. Davison’s attentions to our daughter without our permission.”

  Johanna turned pale. “Oh Mama, you wouldn’t! That would humiliate Ross, and he is so sensitive.”

  Rebecca looked at her coldly. “He should have had the good manners to address your father before he spoke to you of love, Johanna—assuredly before he spoke of marriage. It is just more evidence that he has neither the breeding nor background that we would accept in a prospective husband for our daughter—any of our daughters. And as I have told you many times, as the oldest it is up to you to set the example for your younger sisters. Now, that is all. I suggest you go to your room and give some thought to your rash, reckless behavior and the upset you have caused your parents.”

  Mute with misery, speechless with frustration and resentment, Johanna turned and went out of the room, ran upstairs and into her bedroom, letting the door slam behind her. She flung herself down and, in a torrent of tears, wept into her pillow for some time.

  She knew she had done everything wrong, had approached her parents in the worst way. She’d ruined everything! She had foolishly hoped they would be happy for her. She had not thought of all the objections her mother had listed. It seemed so petty, so cruel, to judge Ross on such shallow measurements. What could she now do to put things right? To make Ross acceptable to her parents?

  She woke the next morning with a blotched complexion, eyelids puffy from her frequent bursts of tears during the sleepless night. When her mother sent Cissy to call her down for breakfast, she pleaded a headache and said that she was going to stay in bed. When her mother peeked in the door later in the day, Johanna pretend
ed to be asleep. She had lain there through the hours trying to come up with a new way to present Ross to her parents, to ask them to try to get to know him, to discover his fine qualities. If they did, she knew they could not help but be impressed with the same things she saw and loved in him.

  The winter afternoon darkened, and Johanna knew her father would soon be home. When she heard the front door open and her father call out “Rebecca!” as he always did when he entered the house, she tiptoed out of her bedroom, leaned over the banister, and heard the murmur of her parents’ voices. She felt sure they were discussing her. She crept downstairs, in her nightie and barefooted, and huddled on the steps, straining to hear what her father and mother were talking about.

  She heard her mother say, “She’s buried herself in her room all the day, won’t eat a bite, determined to be stubborn. She has upset the whole household over this foolish thing. She won’t listen to me. She won’t listen to anybody!”

  “It’s her fondness for melodrama, that’s all. It will all be over in a few weeks, I’m sure.”

  At her father’s rejoinder, Johanna stiffened indignantly. If there was anything that infuriated her, it was indulgent amusement, that her earnest pleading could be dismissed as a whim not worth considering.

  Her father was always inclined to be amused at whatever Johanna did. All her life, when she had popped up with something she had just discovered or thought, he had looked at her indulgently. She could remember numerous times when he had done exactly the same as he had last night when she broke her news about Ross. He had smiled at her, stood up, and patted her on the head as if she were a recalcitrant child who needed to be pacified and reassured that somehow, in time, she would get over her silly notion.