Land of a Thousand Dreams (23 page)

The faint twinkle that usually danced in her eyes returned and Sara responded with a smile of her own. “He's just fine, Grandy. Father
did
tell you about Michael's appointment to the new subcommission?”

Her grandmother nodded, smiling. “You must be very pleased. And I'm sure Michael will be a real asset. Perhaps he'll light a fire under some of those stuffed-shirt do-gooders.” She paused. “I don't mean your father, of course. Lewis is a fine man, if a bit hardheaded at times.”

She studied Sara for a moment. “You're still planning a Christmas wedding, I take it? A private ceremony?”

Sara nodded, but even her slight hesitation seemed to trigger Grandy Clares suspicions. “Sara? There's nothing wrong between you and Michael, surely?”

“No—oh no! Of course not!”

“Good! You know, for a time, I was afraid the two of you might allow the boy's injuries to change your plans. I'm glad to see you haven't.”

Sara looked at her. “Then you don't think we're wrong to go ahead with the marriage?”

“Wrong?” Grandy Clare lifted an eyebrow. “Certainly not! Your handsome Irishman is quite wonderful! I say, marry him, and Godspeed!” She stopped, her sharp gaze probing Sara's. After a moment she frowned and leaned forward on the chair. “You
are
thinking of delaying the wedding, aren't you? Why, Sara? Because of the boy?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said uncertainly. “I mean, I
was
…but not now. Michael is so determined…he won't hear of our postponing things—”

“Good for him! It would be altogether foolish to delay! I'm glad Michael is a strong man. Decisive. That's what you need, you know. Your father and I saw that years ago. Only a man as strong-willed as Michael could live with you.”

Sara managed only the feeblest of smiles. Still, her grandmother's confidence gave her a boost. Grandy Clare didn't lend her approval lightly. If she saw no harm in going on with the wedding, then surely it was the right thing to do.

Her grandmother moved to press her fingers over Sara's hand. “It will all work out, Sara. You'll see. God has a way of
making
things work when you follow His leading. Sometimes you can only do what you think is right, what your heart tells you is best. Michael is God's choice for you. You just concentrate on being a good wife to him—God will take care of the rest, in His own way.”

She straightened in her chair and released Sara's hand. “As a matter of fact, that's one reason I sent for you, to discuss your wedding plans. Or, more to the point, your plans for
after
the wedding.” She paused, lifting a hand to the ivory brooch at her throat. “Where have you decided to live after the wedding?”

With her grandmother's question came the reminder of still another problem. “Actually,” Sara said, giving a long sigh, “we haven't quite worked that out yet.”

Again her grandmother lifted an inquiring eyebrow.

A familiar knot of tension rose in Sara's throat. She and Michael had been over this same question countless times. “There's Michael's flat, of course,” she said weakly.

“But with those two boys underfoot—you said the apartment is small,” her grandmother pointed out.

Sara nodded. “It is. But Daniel will be moving in with Nora and Evan soon. Nora's eager to have him at home again, and he's agreed.”

“Still…there's Michael's son.”

“I could manage. It's
Michael
who's being difficult about where we live,” Sara said, frowning. “He has this foolish notion that the flat isn't…good enough for me, that I wouldn't be happy there after—”

“After growing up on Fifth Avenue?” her grandmother prompted gently.

Sara got to her feet. “But he's wrong, Grandy! He
is
! I could be happy
anywhere,
so long as Michael is there! But I can't convince
him
of that!”

“It would be awkward, Sara,” her grandmother said, reaching for Sara's hand. “With the boy being nearly a man, and this the second marriage for his father—”

“Marriage to a woman Tierney detests,” Sara finished miserably, feeling once again a painful clenching of her heart at the thought of the boy's resentment.

Her grandmother squeezed her hand.

“Father offered us rooms at home, of course.”

“But Michael wouldn't hear of it.”

Sara shook her head. “No. Michael's very proud, you know. There are the brownstones on Forty-ninth Street—one is empty, and Father says we could move right in. But Michael isn't keen on that either. What he's thinking of is renting a small house for a time if we can find one we can afford on his salary.”

“Will the boy live with you at all, do you think?” her grandmother asked.

Again Sara shook her head miserably. “Tierney insists he won't live with us for a day! Oh, Grandy—I don't know what we're going to do, I really don't!”

Only with her grandmother did Sara feel free enough to let out her pent-up frustration. “It's all so difficult! Michael refuses to accept help from Father, yet I don't see how we'll manage anything but the flat otherwise. Policemen are paid such pathetically low wages—even captains.”

Grandy Clare motioned for Sara to sit down. Neither spoke for a long time, and when her grandmother finally broke the silence, she seemed to choose her words with great care. “How do you think Michael would feel,” she asked slowly, “about living here?”

“Here?”
Sara repeated, sinking down onto the chair. “You mean here, with you?”

Her grandmother folded her hands in her lap and sighed, “This house is ridiculously large, Sara. Quite too large and too drafty for an old lady alone. Why, I seldom venture any farther than the dining room or the parlor these days. It's all a foolish waste, so much house for just me. Besides…” Her voice faltered, but only for an instant. Straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, she went on. “Besides, lately I find myself feeling…dissatisfied with living alone. Quite frankly, I'd like nothing better than to have some
people
in my house again! Some noise and bother! It's so insufferably—
quiet
!”

Astonished, Sara sat staring at the older woman. Was her grandmother
lonely?
She had never given the possibility a thought. “Why, Grandy, it never occurred to me—”

“Now don't misunderstand what I'm saying!” The firm little chin lifted still more. “I still like my solitude—a measure of it. And I'm certainly not helpless. Not yet. But this house needs some
life
!” She gave a sly smile. “Perhaps the noise of children again. And,” she hurried to add before Sara could interrupt, “it also needs far more care and supervision than I can manage these days. I wouldn't be doing you any favors, you know. It would mean a great deal of work on your part. But I'd see that you and Michael have all the privacy you need. We'd only keep company when you want. I wouldn't interfere.”

“Oh, Grandy! You could never interfere!” It struck Sara for the first time how very difficult this must be for her grandmother. She was asking for help, admitting her need, her loneliness—she, who had been the rock of the family for all these years. Even Father stood in awe of Grandy Clare's strength.

Sara reached to grip both her grandmother's hands. “I'd love being here with you, really I would.”

“Yes, but it wouldn't be just
you,”
her grandmother cautioned. “I wouldn't for a moment try to convince Michael of something against his will.”

She was right, of course. Still, it occurred to Sara that if Michael understood Grandy's need, he might not be entirely resistant to the idea. It was accepting something for nothing that seemed so repugnant to him.

For the first time in weeks Sara began to think there might be an answer to at least
one
of their problems. No matter how often she reassured Michael, she found it almost impossible to conceive of living in the small, cramped flat with the belligerent Tierney so near at hand. Privacy would be impossible, and there would be no getting away from Tierney's hostility. Yet she had grave doubts they'd be able to afford anything better.

Whether Grandy Clare realized it or not, she would be giving more, much more, to such an arrangement than she would receive. Overwhelmed with gratitude and excitement, Sara gave her grandmother a quick smile. “You needn't worry about convincing Michael to do something against his will. I doubt
anyone
could manage that.”

But if anyone can win him over,
Sara thought,
it's Grandy Clare.
The two of them had hit it off splendidly right from the start. Michael made no secret of the fact that he thought Sara's grandmother “a grand lady—a delight.” If he were ever going to compromise his pride for anyone, he might just do it for Grandy Clare.

“Michael's son would, of course, be welcome here,” her grandmother went on. “But if he refuses to come with you, perhaps Michael could afford to keep the flat, at least for a time, and let the boy stay there on his own.” She gave a thoughtful nod, then went on in her brisk, no-nonsense manner. “Let's do this: you and Michael come to dinner one evening this week. We'll talk about things together, openly. Perhaps if Michael understands that I'm not attempting to
give
you something, but instead asking
you
to help
me,
he'll take more kindly to the idea.”

Sara nodded eagerly. She couldn't for the life of her imagine anyone—even Michael—successfully resisting Grandy Clare. Even Father, who could be every bit as difficult and stubborn as Michael in his own way, invariably capitulated to Grandmother Platt's considerable charm.

Hope rose slowly in her like a distant beacon. Perhaps things
would
be all right, after all. Sara got up and wrapped her grandmother in a hug.

“You always could make things right with my world, Grandy! Somehow, I think you just did it again!”

Her grandmother patted her hand, then clung to it. “I'm afraid there's one thing I
can't
do for you, my dear. It's something only you can do—something you
must
do.
”

Still smiling, Sara gave her an inquisitive look. “What, Grandy?”

“I believe you should pay Michael's son a visit, either now or when he comes home. The two of you need to face each other alone.”

Sara's immediate response was denial. “I
couldn't!
He's still in bed, he was badly hurt—”

“I understood that he was doing very well, that he's recovering nicely.”

“Yes, but he's still—oh, Grandy, I don't think that's a good idea at all! Tierney is so…hostile toward me! And besides, I'm not at all sure how Michael would feel about it.”

Her grandmother caught her hand, and Sara was surprised by the strength of the thin fingers. “Have you and Michael's son ever actually
talked
to each other? Alone?”

“No, but—”

“I've always found it best to confront what's unpleasant, not avoid it. Even if the boy won't budge, you need to make the effort, don't you think? It seems to me that you've both danced around your differences quite long enough. Evasion is not the answer, Sara. Avoiding the issue won't make it go away.”

Apprehension swelled to a strangling knot inside Sara's throat. Still clinging to her grandmother's hand, she sat, thinking, Grandy Clare's wisdom had never failed her. She had always known the right thing to do, and had never been slow to make her opinion known. She had taught Sara not to avoid the difficult, the unpleasant, in life, but to meet it head on. Indeed, even Father often attributed what he called Sara's “boldness” to her grandmother's influence.

But this? Could she go through with it? What could she possibly say to Tierney that wouldn't make things worse? Would he even
see
her? And Michael—how would he feel about it?

As she stood there, unable to meet her grandmother's piercing gaze, Sara's mind played through any number of reasons why
this
time she could not heed Grandy Clare's advice. Yet even as she resisted, something deep inside her seemed to turn and acknowledge the fact that her grandmother was right.

And she knew then that, no matter how difficult she found the idea, she would go. God help her, she would go and confront Michael's son.