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About Vernonia eagle. (Vernonia, Or.) 1922-1974 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 16, 1936)
VERNONIA EAGLE, VERNONIA, OREGON MAIDEN V O Y A G E Copyright, Kathleen Norria. KATHLEEN NORRIS CHAPTER XXIV—Continued —21— The babies being comfortably asleep by this time, and Brenda not too protestant, Tony bad bun dled. herself up for the ten-mlle drive, and had thrown herself wholeheartedly, upon arriving, Into preparations for Joe's guests. He and she had built up the fire, bad swept and straightened, had fried the fat little chickens and rubbed garlic in the salad bowl of gay painted Russian wood. And then the telephone had brought the ex pected message: the Unger party would not come down in this pour ing rain, but If it cleared they would arrive Immediately after lunch. “And clear It will,” said Tony. "This Is a clearing shower. Look, It’s hail! So we’ll simply hold this meal over until night. The chicken will be even better, the asparagus we haven’t done, the rolls I’ll put In the icebox and bake them to night!” Rain beating furiously down out side its windows, the kitchen seemed comfortably warm and bright on the wild spring morn ing. Tony had put her gown and her velvet slippers Into Joe’s spare room; she wore old white shoes and a crisp checked gray apron with a frivolous ruffle of white about the throat that made her blue eyes and dark hair look baby ish. Her cneeks were flushed with heat, laughter, excitement; It was always like playing house at Joe’s, and it made her feel like a happy little girl again. “What a nice little wife you would make for me, Tony,” Joe bad said. “And what a heaven this place would be for me,” the girl had an swered, serious for the moment “There’s no place In the world to me like this one. When you bring me here to our garden, and our Scotty and our sea, some sort of mood comes over me—simple and happy and—and good, Joe. You’re so darned good, Joe. Did you ever do anything rotten or mean or small In your whole life?” “I’ve done plenty, my girl.” “I Imagine. It’s so extraordinary, being twenty-eight, and loving you so—” Scrubbing new potatoes at the sink, she had turned at these words to look at him over her shoulder. Joe, seated at the table busily Btemmlng strawberries, had looked up with his round fair face completely devoid of expression. “Yes, I know just how you love me. But then everyone wants you, Tony; I don’t blame you for tak ing your time.” “Everyone doesn’t want me, Joe. And it Isn’t that. You know,” Tony had said, her cheeks suddenly scar let, “you know that it isn’t that.” And it was then, after a long pause, that he said: “Have you beard from Larry?” “No,” the girl said, rubbing the little pink and brown potatoes in a bowl. “What d’you expect, Tony?” “Well, nothing and everything— I suppose!” Tony answered, laugh ing confusedly, after a moment. She came over to the table and sat down, her brown hands busy as his were with the big firm berries. "Him, for one thing,” she said in genuously, with a smile. "Him, of course. My grandmoth er may go off in her sleep any night." “Any time now. At least, from what Caroline wrote. They all reached Baltimore ten days ago, you said?” “That was the last I heard. Car oline's wire said that Oran bad not minded the trip at all and was com fortable, and that the end might be ’at any time.’ But there’s poor Aunt Ruth’s estate to settle, you know. It was a remarkable will. She left more than a dozen lega cies.” “A beautiful thing to do,” Tony said. “Ruth had some—some qual ity; I don’t know what to call It. Dignity, bigness; one didn’t see It In the little things. But In big things—” She looked at a ring on her brown finger; two great pearls flanking a deep green emer ald. “To send me that—” she said slowly. “That was my grandmother’s. So, if you ever liked me, Tony, it could be handed on to our little Bertha Beatrice1” “Her name wouldn’t be Bertha Beatrice 1” “Her name would be Antoinette.” Tony, looking at him, bit into a great berry. She said nothing. "Suppose Larry was out of it, would I have a chance?” "Joe, dear, even with Larry In It, you’d always have a chance! You’re one of the finest men I ever knew; you’re the sweetest-tempered. I didn’t know there was such a thing as a sweet-tempered man un til I knew you. My father was very excitable and exacting, sometimes, and so’s Clift. And Larry’s—well, he’s not even-tempered.” “But still It’s no one but Larry?” “No one but Larry.” He was silent for a while. Pres ently he said: "Well, you’ve never fooled me. You’ve never let me think there was any chance.” “I’m going to put all these papers Into the box; they’ll have read the papers!” Tony called, from the ad joining sitting room. “What did you say, Joe? I didn’t hear you.” “Nothing,” he said, opening the kitchen door to take great drafts of the delicious wet air and watch the little trees swaying In the rain. They had scrambled eggs, Irish bacon, jelly, and toast for lunch, He and She Had Built Up the Fire. and then Tony belted herself into an old coat of Joe's and pulled a knitted cap tightly down over her dark hair, and they went down to the beach. The rain curled her hair, and the wind drove a bright color into her cheeks. Tony shouted like a child to be heard above the waves that came In on a shallow level rush, tumbled Into foam on the rocks, slid away again. Joe steadied her. She laughed as she stumbled help lessly against him, or when a pur suing wave drove them Into a wild hnddle of escape together; the wet blown strands of her hair almost touched his face; the youth and WNÜ Service. sweetness and vitality of her were almost in his arms. Presently, suddenly, the sun was out hot between showers, and then again a soft fall of rain was blown warmly against their faces. Again came the sparkle and shine and steaming heat of the sun, and Tony asked, wrinkling her face: “Will they come?” “Who?” “The smarties. Your friends.” "Oh,” Joe said ruefully, "they may. It may be clear up in the city. They may be on their way now.” “It's three. Maybe we ought to go back and clean up and be ready for 'em. And I'll tell you,” Tony said In her animated way, as he gave her his hand for the last hard steps up the cliff, "If they aren’t coming, let's telephone Bendy and Alvin and have them come over for supper. All that chicken, you know, and the delicious asparagus.” “Must we?” he said, as they walked along on the soaked new grass of the cliff. “Well—” "It’s so nice when It’s you and me and the dog.” Shedding their wet outer gar ments and leaving their soaked shoes at the door, they went Into lifeless warmth, to sudden almost stunning silence after the riot of the winds and the sea. “There’s a telegram there, Joe. Probably they’re not coming, and we might have finished our walk! Dibs on the shower!” Not waiting until he opened the yellow envelope, she ran upstairs to the chilly spare room, changed Into her velvet frock, and came down decorously 20 minutes later with her still damp hair brushed Into shining rings. The sitting room was deserted and the fire burning, the guests just descending from a big parked car at the door. With a call upstairs to inform Joe of their arrival, Tony went to the door and did the honors. The world was one wide glitter of hot sweet light now, and the young garden and the red-flagged terrace and the backdrop of blue sea looked their loveliest Tony Introduced herself to Professor and Mrs. Un ger, and Doctor Herrmann, and Frau Dr. Knecht. "You had lunch all ready for us!” lamented quiet little Mrs. Unger. “We only turned It into dinner,” Tony explained. “And then we went off on a bunt. It’s all here, waiting for you. We could sit out here on the terrace,’ she added, “If it weren’t so horribly wet underfoot I’ll tell you—” And she went quite simply for a broom, and quite simply surrendered It to young Doctor Herrmann when he offered to take It "Yes, swish all that water off,” she said, “and all those leaves, and we’ll move the chairs back—that one. Professor Unger—and those two, that’s it.” When Joe presently came hurry ing down, with his round face moon- ler than ever and his fair hair very sleek, she took the women upstairs. “No, I live In San Francisco with a brother and aunt,” she explained to them. “I'm a newspaper woman. But my sister lives in Monterey, about ten miles from here—you must have passed through it on your way down—and I come to her nearly every Saturday, and manage usually to be with Joe on Sundays. Usually there's Sunday company,” Tony went on, laying ont a comb and powder and wondering what they thought of her, “but today was so stormy—” When It began to grow cold on the terrace they went In to the fire, and Joe propped the kitchen door open so that they could all talk together. He looked tired, somehow, and Tony stole a moment to ask him In an undertone If he felt well. “Fine 1” be assured her cheer fully. The chicken was bubbling again In its rich creamy gravy now. and Tony’s fluffy biscuits were in the oven. The whole house was filled with the pleasant smell of baking, of asparagus, of wood smoke. Brenda telephoned; had the company come? If not, she and Alvin were going to suggest— Oh, they had come? Was Tony coming back that night? Yes, Tony would sleep at Bendy’s. Joe'd bring her back early. And had the cuff link shown up? “Yes, he didn’t eat it after all, the darling,” Brenda reported of her first born. Tony went back to dinner preparations. Dinner was a succession of com pliments for the cook. They were all hungry ; they had never tasted such a salad, such chicken, such new potatoes. The German woman spoke, and Tony turned to Joe. "What did she say?” "She asked If you could auch bread machen,” said Joe. “Ach, ya-a-ah !” Tony laughed, and Doctor Knecht said “Gut!” ap provingly. When they were putting on their wraps upstairs at nine o'clock for the long run home, Mrs. Unger said shyly to Tony : “May I hear it. if it’s gOOû news?” The look in her kind brown eyes. the Inflection In her voice, told Tony what it was she asked. The girl flushed as she answered re gretfully : “No, it isn't Doctor Vanderwall I wish It were. We like each other so much! But—but It happens there's somebody else.” "Does he know It?” the other woman asked In quick concern. "Oh, yes. He knows the man.” “Oh-h-h?” Mrs. Unger murmured in disappointment “I'm glad you would have liked it, for I know you like Doctor Van derwall,” Tony said. "I love him, of course; there’s no one like him. But—but it so happens that I’m not—” "Heart whole and fancy free?” Ellen Unger finished It with a lit tle philosophical shrug of her shoul ders. “Well, never mind, my dear. We have to take these things as they come.” Then the guests had gone and Tony was alone with Joe. The sit ting room, where they had had so good a dinner and so satisfying a talk, looked somewhat disordered, and the fire had burned low. Joe returning from farewells at the door, threw on another log—two or three logs. The flame started up again, and Tony said: “Ah, don’t let me get warm and lazy 1 We have to go right out Into it again.” Joe had seated himself In a low fireside chair of shabby leather; he seemed to be paying no atten tion to her, and for the first time in the course of their friendship Tony bad a moment's uneasiness about him. What did this abstract ed, unsmiling manner mean? Sure ly Joe wasn’t going to frighten her, to make her feel that this constant coming to his house, this easy in timacy, was not quite as safe as she tried to persuade Brenda It wac? “Sit down a minute,” he said. “Nine-twenty, dear. And you know my big sister. She'll telephone in a few minutes.” “No, sit down,” he said. And then suddenly: “That telegram that was here when we came In. It wasn’t from the Ungers.” “Wasn’t?” “No.” “Oh—?” She looked at him ex pectantly. “And am I to know what it was?” she asked. In the tone of a good little girl. "I have to tell you,” Joe said, looking at the fire, his voice de void of expression. “It was from Larry.” "Larry!” Her voice was only a whisper; the quick blood came up Into her suddenly radiant face. “Tell me—" she said with an effort, "he’s here?” “No, it was from Baltimore. I said it was from Larry,” Joe said; “it was signed by them both. It was signed *Carollue and Law rence.' ” For a long minute Tony looked it him steadily. The color slowly drained from her face, leaving it drawn. “How—d’you mean?" “I mean—there!" He stretched a long arm, and she took the folded yellow paper from him as if she were afraid to touch it “What is It? What does it says?” she said thickly. Her eyes fell on the printed words, but the message made no sense to her, it danced about crazily and she could only see the signatures: “Caroline and Law rence." "He says that they were married today,” Joe said flatly. Tony put the telegram down unread, leaning “Sit Down a Minute,” He Said. over to the table to shove It well on; sat back and looked at Joe. “I don't know what that means,” she said faintly. “I don't blame you,” said Joe. “I think it’s rotten. I’m sorry.” He crossed the floor, and knelt down beside her chair, and she laid one hand on his shoulder and stared Into his eyes in puzzled questioning. Her look was a child's pleading look. "Oh, no—” she breathed. “It doesn’t—let me see It—" The crumpled telegram lay on the floor. Joe made no move to get it. “That’s what it says.” “That Larry—” she whispered. “They were married today.” “I don’t believe ltl” Tony said suddenly, panting. Her cheeks flamed. “It’s hard to believe.” “Oh, but Joe, no! Not without a letter—not without a line— “Caroline!” she said, breathing fast. “She's—she's beautiful, yes. But she's older than be—much old er. He told me so!” “No, she's not as old as Larry. She’s about thirty or thirty-one, Caroline. She's only two years younger than I am.” “She’s older than you are I She’s had two husbands! She wanted him because she knew I—she knew I— “I hate her,” Tony said weakly, bending forward to rest her bead against his own, as he knelt beside her, with one arm about her. "I hate her. I do.” Her voice broke into wretched tears. Weeping she got to her feet and began to pace the room, her knotted fingers at her lips. “Oh, why didn’t I think of this! It would have made it easier—it would have made It easier! Oh, Joe, I have no shame, to let you know I love him, when he loves her— and they’re happy—they're going somewhere together in his car— they’re having their wonderful time—!” She sat down on the fireside set tle and put her rocking bead into her hands. (TO BE CONTINUED)
