GI Brides (18 page)

As she turned the corner into her own street she began to wonder what Cinda had had to meet. Would she have had sense enough to evade Elaine’s questioning, or had she let a small tempest arise that would make the night intolerable? Well, as she was just arriving Elaine would not likely blame her with the loss of the book—at least not tonight. Not unless Cinda had been tricked into admitting too much. But she felt pretty sure Cinda could be counted on to keep a secret what she knew.

Lexie entered breezily, and found the three children noisily eating a very pleasant-looking meal of corn meal, glasses of rich milk, and big dishes of applesauce peppered with cinnamon. It looked very nice, and the children were going into it with zest. The little group at the table seemed very calm, and not as if there had been any kind of an emotional upheaval in the house lately. Lexie wondered if Elaine could still be asleep, or what had happened.

But a twinkle in Cinda’s eye assured her that everything was all right so far, and a slight wave of Cinda’s hand with a little grin sent her into the other room.

Elaine had wakened late in the afternoon after a refreshing sleep, probably made possible by the talk she had had that morning with her lawyer, and his assurance that a little writing in a good imitation of the rest of the diary would work wonders. But when she awoke and found herself rested, and came around in due course to the train of thought that had put her to sleep, she rose. She spent a few minutes in beautifying herself just in case her lawyer changed his mind and decided to return that afternoon, and then sauntered into the living room. She went over to the desk, intending to practice writing the lines the lawyer had suggested and then finish them off so they would be ready for him when he came tomorrow. But when she sat down there was no book on the desk where she thought she had left it, and after pulling out the desk drawers and poking around in the cubbyholes to find it, thinking she herself had put it away out of sight, she grew a bit frantic. She rose and went to the door, her hand on the knob, thinking to ask Cinda if she had seen it, but her natural caution warned her. Perhaps she had carried it into the bedroom with her and slipped it under her pillow. But why should she do that? There was nobody in the house who would be interested, or know what significance that special book could have. But she went into the bedroom and searched the bed and surroundings most thoroughly without result. Then Elaine went back to the desk and searched the whole room more thoroughly than she had ever looked for anything in her life before. At last, utterly exhausted, she dropped herself down on the couch and wondered just what she should do about it. Was it at all possible that Mr. Thomas could have taken it with him, put it in his pocket absentmindedly? She tried to visualize him doing it, and yet wasn’t sure at all. If they only had a telephone! If she could only call him up and ask if he had taken the book without knowing it! Would she dare go across the street herself and try to telephone? Of course if that should get to Lexie’s ears, she would not be able to carry out this idea of being an invalid and needing not only care and nursing but also money. Finally, after due thought, she called Cinda.

Cinda appeared promptly and cheerfully with the most innocent expression on her face.

“Cinda, were any of the children in the living room while I was asleep?”

“Oh no, ma’am. I didn’t see none of them in there.”

“Has my sister been home?”

“No ma’am, she’s not been in the house.”

“Well, I don’t understand it, Cinda. There’s an important little book of mine gone. I had it there on the desk. I’m positive I left it there, and I can’t find it anywhere. It’s just the kind of thing Gerry or even Bluebell might take a fancy to and carry off. I wish you’d call them and we’ll ask them.”

So Cinda marshaled the children over from across the street, and their mother conducted an almost thorough examination, but they all declared they hadn’t seen any little book at all.

“Didn’t
you
see it here, Cinda? You didn’t put it away or anything, did you? It’s very important that I find it at once!”

“No ma’am, I never monkey with
your
papers. I never took notice of anything at all of
yours,
my lady! Too bad you lost something important. But mebbe it’ll turn up in good time. Aren’t you getin’ hungry, Miss ‘Laine? I got a nice supper planned. Go an’ read awhile, an’ I’ll be bringing in your tray after a bit.”

If Lexie could have heard her she would have stood in awe of Cinda’s histrionic ability, for she certainly was playing her part well and really getting away with it. Her innocent air and her willingness to please threw Elaine entirely off her guard. Elaine loved to be served in this spirit. Perhaps Lexie was too honest-hearted to try to gain her end by subtlety, although she had had years of suffering under Elaine’s selfishness and greed. She watched her own dear mother suffer also. When she had thought it over honestly she knew that one should not always yield to such greedy demands.

Well, Lexie wasn’t there to see it all but was greatly relieved when she reached home to find a comparative calm in the house and Elaine quietly reading a magazine that Cinda had cannily brought and left around to further her own purposes.

It was after supper that Elaine tried a new line with her sister: “Lexie, I suppose you are tired and I hate to ask you to do anything more tonight, but
would
you run across the road to one of the neighbors and phone Mr. Thomas? I have something very important to tell him, and I think he would come out tonight and see me if he knew. Would you just say that I have a matter of importance to tell him that he ought to know tonight?”

Lexie looked at her aghast for an instant, and then a sudden remembrance came to her that she was not alone. God was with her. His Presence was there, even if Elaine couldn’t see it. But
she
knew He was there, and she would be strong in
His
strength.

Then Lexie smiled pleasantly, but her lips took on a new firmness, her voice an assurance that was not too natural to her.

“No, Elaine, I’m sorry to seem unaccommodating, but I cannot have anything to do with that man!”

“Now, Lexie, don’t be silly. You will just be carrying a message for me, your sister. He needn’t even know who you are.”

“No,” said Lexie. “I do not care to approach him in any way, even as an unknown.”

“But that is silly! It’s childish!”

“No, it’s not silly. I do not like the way he speaks to me, and I do not intend to give him another chance to insult me. It’s useless to argue, Elaine, I simply
won’t
do it. If you want to have dealings with him, you’ll have to do it without me. And now, would you like me to help you to get ready for bed, or shall I wait till the children are in?”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself!” said Elaine coldly. “I’ll get to bed somehow. Though I’m not going yet. But if you can’t do the one thing I want, I shall have to hire somebody to do it for me or else go myself.”

“Sorry,” said Lexie briefly, “but what you ask is out of the question for me.” Lexie went quietly out of the room and upstairs to get the beds ready for the children.

Cinda was Elaine’s next choice of a messenger. She called Cinda in and endeavored to wangle her into carrying the message to the telephone across the street, but Cinda had been listening to the conversation between the sisters and was prepared with her answer.

“Now, you know, Miss ‘Laine, I’d like to accommodate you, but I’m that shy of a telephome, I just couldn’t do it. No ma’am. I can’t get over it. I’m what they call mikerphome-shy, only with me it’s telephome-shy. Besides, those folks across the street have all gone to the movies. I heard ’em go, an’ their house is locked up. I saw ’em lock it. An’ no ma’am, I wouldn’t care to go down to the drugstore this evenin’. I’m that tired I thought I’d go right to bed an’ get rested up for tomorrow. Don’t wantta play out on you. You can ast me most anythin’ to do fer you but phome. I jest can’t learn to phome.”

So Elaine had to resign herself to writing a letter to her lawyer asking him if he carried the little book away with him. While Lexie was putting Bluebell to bed and Cinda was clattering the dishes in the kitchen, Elaine snuck out herself and went down to the corner where there was a mailbox. She mailed her letter, but she took pains when she got back to see that both Lexie and Cinda knew that she had gone to the mailbox, that she was worn out in consequence and was sure she was going to be sick that night from the exertion and the chill, damp air. She also complained of having twisted her ankle crossing the street.

Lexie went to bed early that night. She didn’t want to enter into any more discussions. She lay in her quiet room with little Bluebell by her side and wondered how long this sort of thing was to go on. She felt almost like a criminal, not telling her sister that the little book was in safekeeping where she would not find it again, but she knew this was the wise way. It was her book, not Elaine’s, and she had a right to put it beyond use against her.

But in the dark room, as one by one the noises of the street toned down, the neighbors came home and went to bed, and the light around went out, somehow she had a stronger feeling than ever that the Presence of the Lord was in the room and that He was going to watch over her and guide her. If it had not been for this, it seemed to her she could not have gone on into days that would of necessity be filled with bickering and strife. Yet she must, and if He was there, was it true that His Presence could protect her? She would see.

A
bout the middle of the next morning there came a telegram from Lawyer Thomas.

Cinda found the telegram in the wastebasket when she took it out to empty it, and she relayed the contents to Lexie, which caused her to sigh heavily and finally run down to the drugstore and call up Judge Foster’s office again.

When the secretary answered, she said: “This is Lexie Kendall again. Am I troubling you very much if I ask how Judge Foster is this morning?”

She was thrilled to hear the answer:

“Oh, you are Lexie! I was about to write you a letter since you have no telephone listed. Judge Foster is quite better this morning, and he has been asking for you—at least he has several times murmured your name with a worried look in his eyes. The doctor wondered if you would care to come down to the hospital and see him for a minute or two. He seems to be worried about you in some way.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you to tell me. Of course I’ll come. Just when and where should I come?”

The secretary gave the necessary directions, and Lexie hurried back to get ready to go. As she passed through the dining room she caught a glimpse of Elaine at the desk nibbling the end of her pen and looking perplexedly at the paper before her. Ah! Elaine was taking her lawyer’s advice!

All the way to the bus line she was puzzling to know if there wasn’t some way she could stop Elaine from doing this preposterous thing. Oh, if only Judge Foster was able to talk and she could ask him what to do! But of course they wouldn’t let her do anything but just step into the room and say she was so glad he was better.

She trod the marble halls of the hospital with her heart beating wildly, because in spite of her desire to see Judge Foster she was frightened at the idea of visiting a very sick man. She was afraid she might do or say something that would make him worse, and she read herself a great many warnings as she walked sedately toward the room to which she had been directed.

She tapped at the door and waited. The nurse opened the door and she asked in a soft voice if that was Judge Foster’s room, and the nurse’s face brightened.

“Oh, are you Lexie Kendall?” asked the nurse. “He’s been asking for you. I’m glad you’ve come!”

It was nice to be welcomed. She went in shyly, and there was the judge looking every bit as friendly and judgelike as when he was sitting in his office. But his face was white, and there were worn lines that gave him a gaunt appearance. Her heart smote her that she had come hoping to get help from him, but of course that was impossible. She must be very careful with what she said.

She approached shyly and put her hand in the big white one he held out to her.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come, little Lexie,” he said, his voice almost natural in its cordiality.

“Oh, I was so glad to be allowed to come. I was terribly worried when I heard you were in the hospital.”

“Well, they’re fixing me all up fine here,” he said with a smile. “I think I’ll be ready to go home pretty soon.” He smiled.

“Oh, I hope so, Judge Foster!” said Lexie earnestly.

“But how about you, child? As soon as I came to myself I began to think about you, and to worry lest I wouldn’t be able to help you as I had planned. How has your affair come out? Did you go to college?”

“Yes, I went back,” said Lexie cheerfully, “and they were very nice. They said if I found I had to return here that they would arrange for me to take my examination here at the university, and they gave me papers, credits, and letters to people of the university. I went there today and it’s all to be arranged next week.”

“But why did you come back, child? I thought you were planning to stay away from that lawyer.”

“Yes, I was, but—well, Cinda telephoned me I
ought
to come back.”

Lexie hesitated, and looked worried.

“But I oughtn’t to trouble you with my small worries,” she said, trying to look exaggeratedly cheerful. “It’s nothing, I’m sure, and I guess it will be all right. But I thought I ought to return.”

“Child, you needn’t be afraid to tell me. They won’t let you stay long, I know that, for I heard what the doctor said, but it’s best that I should know all, for I’ve been worrying about you, and if there have been any new developments I want to know them.”