Secret Honeymoon (8 page)

Cathy slid the car into the garage and got out. The door to the kitchen was open, and as she approached it, a tall figure suddenly blocked it, and her heart did the craziest possible acrobatics.

Mark, his shirt sleeves rolled well above his elbows, one of Maggie’s substantial gingham aprons tied about his lean middle, a kitchen fork in his hands, stood eyeing her severely.

“A fine thing!” he said sternly. “Here I’ve been standing over a hot stove all day, working my fingers down to the knuckles to get you an elegant dinner, and you come straggling in here at all hours—and don’t you dare tell me you’ve been working late at the office, for I telephoned the office.”

Cathy laughed, a small, shaken, breathless laugh.

“Mark, you idiot!” she managed. “I thought you’d gone fishing.”

Mark grinned at her warmly.

“I did,” he assured her cheerfully. “But it seems the fish in these parts have a very strict union and knock off biting along in the late afternoon. So we came back to town, and of course I wanted to prove to you and Maggie that I
had
been fishing, so I brought my catch out here. There was nobody home, so I cleaned them and got them all ready to fry. Maggie whipped in for a minute, announced that the baby had arrived and was a fine bouncing boy and she wouldn’t be back for supper but I could carry on. She seemed to think you’d arrive eventually.”

“Oh, so the Warrens have another boy—that’s nice,” said Cathy, idiotically, because she couldn’t, beneath the confusingly tender regard in Mark’s eyes, think of anything else to say.

“I was ever so pleased,” said Mark politely.

She laughed, and said, “Ummm—that smells good, whatever you’re cooking!”

“Whatever I’m cooking! Madam, those are fighting words to a man who has spent a broiling hot day luring little fishes out of their ancestral domain,” said Mark reprovingly. “Run along and wash your face and hands and be careful of your ears, or I’ll scrub ‘em! And then come back and set the table. Scoot now.”

Cathy “scooted” and when she came back, Mark eyed her contentedly.

“I love Maggie dearly,” he confided. “But this is something to dream about—just the two of us here like this. Can we eat in the kitchen?”

“I don’t know why not,” agreed Cathy. She spread a cloth on the small table beside the window and began setting it with the new peasant china of which Maggie was so proud.

Mark was in hilarious spirits, and Cathy was only too happy to note that. Their meal was simple, and seasoned with laughter and cheerful conversation; neither could remember one they had enjoyed more.

They dawdled over coffee and cigarettes before beginning to clear the dishes, and it was thus that Bill found them when he walked into the kitchen.

There was a startled moment when the three of them merely stared at one another. It was Bill who spoke first, with an edge of chill in his voice.

“How very cozy! I hope I’m intruding? I meant to.”

“You are,” said Mark firmly. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

Bill’s face was cold and set.

“I wouldn’t think you would,” he said angrily. “Though as a matter of fact I did; and then I heard sounds of merriment and followed them—naturally.”

Mark’s eyes were definitely hostile, but his tone was noncommittal.

“Naturally,” he agreed politely.

“Will you have coffee, Bill?” suggested Cathy faintly.

Bill flung her a glance as hostile as the look in Mark’s eyes
and said “No” very flatly. And then he turned back to Mark.

“You seem to be making yourself quite at home around here, Major,” he said, and his tone was insolent.

Mark smiled. “It’s a gift,” he said gently.

“One that’s likely to get you a sock in the jaw, don’t you think?” Bill’s tone was ugly.

“Bill!” gasped Cathy, outraged.

“You keep out of this,” snapped Bill.

“Don’t speak to her in that tone,” said Mark, on his feet now, his fists doubled.

“What business is it of yours how I speak to—
my wife?”
demanded Bill savagely.

For what seemed to Cathy a long, long time, the two words seemed to quiver in the air; words that could be seen and felt and heard.

Mark stared at Bill, thunderstruck, completely incredulous; and then his bewildered eyes turned to Cathy and he made a little gesture with one hand as though he would reach out to her. But before the gesture could be completed his hand dropped, and he said huskily, “Oh—
no—
Cathy, you wouldn’t fail to tell me—”

“We were married almost six weeks ago,” said Bill shortly. “Secretly.”

Mark looked swiftly at Cathy, his brows drawn together in a puzzled, unhappy frown.

“Is that on the level, Cathy?
Are
you married?” he demanded.

“I—yes, Mark—oh, I’m
terribly
sorry I couldn’t tell you before.”

Mark turned sharply on Bill, his eyes blazing.

“And who the hell are
you
that you had to marry a girl like Cathy secretly? Are you so damned important that your nuptials have to be arranged in secrecy? And how the hell did you ever get a girl like Cathy to consent to such an arrangement?” he demanded.

“Mark—
please!
You don’t understand,” Cathy wailed.

Mark turned to her and all the fury and the hostility vanished from his manner. His eyes were gentle—and a little sick.

“No, I don’t understand, Darling,” he said, and even Bill realized that the little endearment slipped out without his being aware of it. “But I want to understand, Cathy. I’ve got
to understand. It’s all so—so—well, tell me about it, Cathy.”

“It’s not your affair—” began Bill, blustering.

Mark’s eyes slued around to him, but Mark did not turn his head.

“Well, maybe I intend to make it my affair,” he said. “Cathy has no male relative to look out for her interests.”

“She has a husband,” said Bill.

“And what a husband—a secret one!”

“
Will
you behave—both of you!” said Cathy. Her voice trembled and tears threatened. “Bill and I are keeping our marriage a secret until—until we can persuade Bill’s aunt to be decent.”

Mark’s eyebrows went up.

“And what in blazes has Bill’s aunt got to do with it? You’re twenty-one, aren’t you?” he asked Bill.

“Bill’s aunt controls the Kendall estate,” Cathy explained rapidly. “It should be Bill’s, but she
can
disinherit him, if he marries against her wishes.”

Her voice died beneath the look of simple astonishment in Mark’s eyes. “And
that’s
the reason for this secrecy?” he demanded incredulously.

Bill’s face tightened. “I wouldn’t expect a man who’s always had a great deal of money to consider it very important,” he said tightly.

“I’m glad you wouldn’t—because I’ll admit frankly that it seems to me very unimportant indeed, compared to having Cathy as one’s wife,” said Mark flatly.

“It happens that I love Cathy well enough to want to be able to take care of her decently.”

Mark nodded. “Some fellows like to work to take care of their wives,” he pointed out.

“Why, you—” snarled Bill.

Cathy pushed him back, using both hands to do it, now that Mark seemed willing to stay put.

“Stop it, Bill. This is disgraceful,” she said. “After all, Mark, this—this really doesn’t concern you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my pet,” said Mark quickly. “It concerns me a hell of a lot, because I love you, too…. You might have given a fellow a hint, Cathy,” Mark flung at her then.

“I’d—promised Bill—” Her voice stuck in her throat.

“And anyway, you’ve known all along that she was engaged to me,” Bill pointed out unpleasantly.

“Engaged—sure. But not married,” stated Mark. “And the fact that you and Cathy were engaged didn’t seem to slow you up with Elaine, so why should I give it any more importance than you did?”

“Cathy understood about Elaine.”

“I don’t think I did, Bill. I’m not quite sure I do now,” Cathy cut in swiftly. Bill looked at her, annoyed.

“You knew Elaine and I were not in love with each other and that we were just stringing along together because of Aunt Edith.”

Mark spoke with a restrained violence.

“It seems to me, Kendall, that this Aunt Edith of yours is having a hell of a lot more to say about your and Cathy’s lives than either of you, yourselves.”

“I think Cathy and I could work this out without your interference, Major—and I think we could both bear it if you took yourself off, don’t you?” said Bill, his tone mild, but his jaw hard and his eyes blazing.

Mark snatched up his cap, became conscious of the apron, ripped it off and flung it violently from him.

“Now there, I think, you’ve got something,” he said.

As he started toward the door, Cathy said swiftly, “Oh, Mark—I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Skip it,” said Mark roughly, and the door banged shut behind him.

Cathy drew a long, hard breath and turned to Bill. Her head was high and her chin was tilted at a defiant angle.

“I don’t seem to care very much for the way you have behaved tonight, Bill,” she told him.

“Oh, come off it, sweetheart,” Bill coaxed, coming closer to her, his hands out, obviously meaning to take her into his arms; but she avoided him. “Of course I was jealous. You are my wife, and no man is going to sit idly by and let some other fellow make time with his wife. You should have told the guy, Cathy.”

“I promised, remember? You said when two people hold a secret, it is still a secret; but once the third person knows it, it stops being a secret—remember, Bill?”

“Sure, of course I remember, only I never thought anything like this would develop.”

“Nor did I,” Cathy said unsteadily. “I originally thought that once we came back to Cypressville, we would announce that we were married and everything would be all right. Then you never did apologize for the scene in New York, and I forgave you anyway.”

He looked at her. “I’ll tell Edith, Cathy—I’ll have it out with her in the morning. I’ll make her see it my way, and we’ll announce it—”

And Cathy, to her own surprise, heard herself saying quietly, but very firmly, “No, Bill!”

Bill stared at her, puzzled.

“What do you mean—no?” he asked sharply.

“Just what I say—that I don’t want our marriage announced. I don’t care whether Mrs. Kendall is pleased or not; all I want, Bill, is a divorce.”

“Oh, come now, sweet, I don’t blame you for being upset and peeved with me—I’ve got it coming to me. But I’ll make it up to you—I swear I will, Cathy. Just trust me.”

“No, Bill!”

“Look, sweet,” he said coaxingly, “you’re all upset and twisted in your mind and I don’t blame you. It’s been a worrisome business, but it’s all over now. I’ll tell Aunt Edith about us, and if she doesn’t like it, she can lump it! But tomorrow morning, I am going to announce to the world at large that you’re my wife.”

“And that I’m asking a divorce? I wouldn’t, Bill. Maybe we can keep our divorce as much of a secret as we’ve kept our marriage.”

Bill said gently, “Don’t worry any more about it tonight, darling. You’re all upset and confused. Just get some sleep and don’t worry any more. I’ll call you in the morning, after I’ve talked to Aunt Edith.”

“It’s no use, Bill.”

“Nonsense, of course it is! Poor little Cathy! It’s been a rotten leave, hasn’t it? But never mind, we’ll make up for it. We’ll go somewhere on a slap-up honeymoon—a public one this time—just as soon as I can get things straight at the plant so I can take a few days off.”

She shook her head, but before she could speak, he had kissed her again and was gone.

She stood where he had left her, and almost absently her hand went up to touch her lips, as though to wipe away some tangible evidence of his kiss. And at the realization of what she had done, she drew a long, shuddering breath and put both hands over her face.

When Maggie came home much later, Cathy was in bed but as far from sleep as she had ever been in her life. She heard Maggie tiptoe into the house, gently close and lock the outer door, and come quietly along the hall toward her own room.

Cathy called, “Come on in, Maggie. I’m not asleep.”

She pulled on the bedside lamp as Maggie came in and dropped into the chintz-covered chair near the bed.

“My land, you still awake, child?” She sighed and rubbed her hand over her face and grinned. “I’m so tired it’s all I can do to keep from going to sleep here in this chair. Did you and Mark have fun?”

Cathy’s mouth twisted a little.

“Oh, yes, we had a lot of fun—until Bill arrived,” she said wryly.

Maggie looked at her, puzzled.

“What did Bill want? I mean, you probably had a date with him—” she wondered aloud.

“No, my guess is that
Miss Stovall
probably thought if Bill came in unannounced, he might step into a—er—situation,” said Cathy. Then suddenly, to her own surprise, she heard herself saying quietly, “You see, Maggie, Bill and I are married.”

Maggie sat very still for a moment, and some of the warm, healthy color went out of her good-humored, plump face. But her eyes still met Cathy’s. There was bewilderment and a deep hurt in them, but loyally she tried to conceal it, and her tone was gentle when she spoke.

“Well, Cathy, it’s your business and Bill’s. I always thought
I’d sort of like to see you married, but I don’t suppose when people elope there’s any time to invite wedding guests.”

Cathy’s eyes misted and her chin trembled.

“We’ve been married almost six weeks, Maggie,” she said shakily. “We had a secret wedding and a secret honeymoon, but when Bill thought Mark was beginning to like me, it stopped being a secret.”

“Secretly married!” Maggie whispered the words to herself. “Because of Edith Kendall, of course.”

And then she straightened and her eyes blazed with anger. “But, good grief, Cathy, what were you thinking of? Where was your pride—your self-respect? You’re as good as Edith Kendall—a darned sight better. How could you possibly marry a man who wasn’t willing to acknowledge you publicly? Cathy, you make me ashamed of you!”

Cathy cowered beneath the bitterest tone Maggie had ever used to her, but she met Maggie’s eyes humbly, and nodded.