Tessa McDermid - Family Stories (21 page)

She held her breath. Marian flipped the dough in the bowl, patting it into shape. "I'm glad you're doing so wel ,"

she said. Anne exhaled slowly.

"You have so many more choices than I did." Marian poured the dough onto the counter. "You need to enjoy life. I hope you do get married someday. But don't be in a rush. You can settle down after you've seen more of the world."

Anne swallowed guiltily. Her mother hadn't asked about dates this visit, no doubt stil believing Anne's Thanksgiving assertions.

On the day before she was to return to the campus, she drove to the bus station alone. Richard had suggested visiting earlier during the holiday but she wanted to spend only one night with her family and Richard together.

She told herself it wasn't because she felt worried about what her mother would say, just that she thought her family would adjust better to her coming marriage if she and Richard left right after they gave them the news.

Rather like ripping off a bandage, she mused. Quick. Less painful. It wasn't the way she should probably be thinking of her marriage but her mother would be hurt that she hadn't confided the news before.

Standing next to the car, she saw Richard hurry out of the building, the wind ruffling his dark hair. He grabbed her in a huge hug. "Miss me?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" She pul ed his face down for a long kiss.

"Wow! Remind me to take trips often when we're married. I like this greeting."

She laughed and tugged him over to the car. "Come on. I'm to show you off." Now that they were together, she couldn't believe she'd ever meant to keep him secret.

Frank was stil at the shop when they got to the house. Marian was in the kitchen with the girls, the preparations for supper underway.

"Mom, this is my friend Richard Sanders. Richard, this is my mother, Marian Robertson, and my sisters, Margaret and Alice."

Marian slowly wiped her hands on a dish towel. Margaret and Alice leaned against the counter, their eyes wide. No one had ever brought a boy into the house.

"This is your friend?" Marian final y asked.

Richard chuckled. "I'm more than a friend, Mrs. Robertson."

Marian swiveled from Richard to Anne and back again. "Anne?"

She wished her father was home or that she'd gone to the shop first. Dad was always easier to manage.

She took a deep breath and gradual y released it. "We're engaged, Mom."

The dish towel slipped from Marian's hand. "Engaged?"

"Engaged!" Margaret screamed, crossing the room, squeezing Anne in a tight hug. Alice joined them, their faces shining with excitement.

"Anne, may I speak to you?" Her mother was heading toward the hal way. "Alone," she added.

Richard turned to Anne. "I'll be right back." Embarrassment washed through her, and she frowned at her sisters. "You be nice to him while I'm gone."

"Oh, we will," Margaret promised. "We'll show him al your baby pictures."

Anne cringed, but she had bigger worries. Her mother was standing in her parents' bedroom door. "Come in, please."

She trailed Marian into the master bedroom and perched on the edge of a chair. She usual y came in here to borrow a pair of earrings or get Marian's help with her hair. The atmosphere tonight was vastly different.

"I thought you weren't even dating. And now you tel us you're engaged?"

Anne bit her lower hp, hands clasped between her knees.

"This wasn't news you could tel your mother before the young man showed up?"

"I—we—" She swal owed past the lump in her throat. On the other side of the closed door, she could hear Margaret and Alice giggling. "We were going to tel you together."

"I see." Marian paced around the room, trailing her fingers over the lace runner on the dresser, straightening the wedding portrait on the nightstand.

She sat down on the bed. "Annie, I'm sure he's a lovely man. But you're too young to get married."

"I'm not, Mama. I'm older than you were when you married Daddy."

Marian bit her lip. "And I was too young."

Anne's head jerked up. "But you and Daddy love each other. You work together, you like the same movies, you—"

"Is that what you're basing this engagement on? You like the same movies?"

"No, I—"Anne paused. How could she explain?

A straightforward answer was best. "I love him, Mom. He makes me laugh, he makes me think. I'm a better person when I'm with him."

She walked across the room and knelt in front of her mother, catching her hands between her own. "Mom, you and Dad gave me the best example of two people in love. You don't always get along, but you always make up. You respect each other, you tease each other. I want that for myself, Mom. And I can find it with Richard."

Her mother sniffed. "Oh, Annie, I hoped you wouldn't get married so young. You have the whole world ahead of you. And once you're married, have babies, it's so difficult to go anywhere."

"I don't want to go anywhere unless Richard's with me," she said simply.

Marian pul ed her hand out of Anne's grasp and wiped her eyes. "Oh, honey." She sniffed again, then squared her shoulders. "You know your father's going to gril this young man unmerciful y. He never intended for you to come back from that col ege engaged. And where does Richard live?"

"Chicago. We may not move there but we'll definitely visit his family. So, see, I will get to see more of the world."

"Chicago? Oh, that's so far away." She pushed to her feet. "Now see what you've done. You've turned me into a watering pot, and I stil have to meet this young man of yours."

Anne placed her arms around her mother's shoulders. "He'll love you, Mom, just like I do." She pressed a kiss on her mother's hair. "Thank you. You'll see. He's the right man for me."

Frank was quiet during the introductions and then excused himself to wash up for dinner. Marian fol owed him down the hal , tossing Anne a reassuring look.

Dinner was lively, with the girls asking Richard about his life in Chicago. He captivated them, just as he had Anne.

"Do you have a large family?" Marian asked.

"Two younger brothers and a sister," he said. "My parents probably have as many reservations about our engagement as you do, Mr. and Mrs. Robertson. But I love your daughter, I have big plans for my future and I'll do everything I can to make her life happy."

Frank leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. "Easy talk, Richard. I know Lincoln's a far cry from Chicago but that doesn't mean we have any smal er hopes for our daughter. We want her to see the world. We didn't expect her to come back from col ege her first semester engaged."

Anne didn't back down from her father's disappointed expression. "Neither did I, Dad. But then did you expect to find the love of your life when you knocked on that parsonage door in Winston?"

The room was silent, and she wondered if she'd gone too far. After a moment her father's chuckle echoed around the table. "You do see what you're getting yourself into, don't you, Richard? Her mother's the same way. Feisty and not willing to take a back seat to anyone."

"Taking a back seat—is that what you expect from your womenfolk?" Marian's words dripped with sarcasm.

He raised his eyebrows. "If it was, I'd be frustrated every day of my life." He kissed the back of her hand. "And I'm not."

After dessert, Anne borrowed the car and drove Richard to the one hotel in town. "I like your parents. "They stood on the carpet outside the entry doors, hands linked, reluctant to say goodbye.

"I think they like you."

"I've always been able to charm the parents."

She studied him. "How many parents have you charmed? And, more to the point, whose?"

He grinned, the lopsided grin that made her stomach tilt. "Oh, not many. My date for the prom and a few other girls over the years."

"Wel , my parents are the only ones you'll be charming from now on," she said, echoing the sentiments he'd voiced when he proposed.

They made plans for a June wedding. Letters flowed between her dorm and the house in Lincoln, fil ed with pictures of wedding gowns and decorations, ideas for flower arrangements and reception menus. Twice she went home for the weekend, trying on the wedding dress her mother was sewing and making final decisions about the ceremony that would herald the beginning of her life with Richard.

The day dawned sunny and warm, a propitious sign, Anne decided. In the smal chapel, the flowers sparkled in the afternoon sun that streamed through the stained-glass windows. Frank's grip was tight as he walked her down the aisle. Richard stood at the altar, his smile beckoning. It was bittersweet to let go of her father and her past life and move toward her new life with Richard.

She made her vows in a strong, clear voice, surrounded by family, her sisters standing as attendants, her parents seated in the front row.

Marian introduced Richard's family to the Robertson relatives. Becca had traveled from California to celebrate the wedding of her oldest niece. Clara and Sam had arrived that afternoon from Davenport with their four boys.

They'd spent the weekend with Frank's widowed mother, who had sent her good wishes and a set of towels.

Marian smiled and chatted with the close friends who'd been invited. Midway through the reception, she whispered something to Richard and kissed his cheek.

"What did Mom say?" Anne asked him as they danced to the final song.

"I'm family now. And she thanked me for not running off with her daughter." He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Was that an option?"

Anne grinned. "Could've become a family tradition." She'd heard the story over and over from her grandmother. Until her mother's parents had passed away, years earlier, they'd visited the house in Winston every year. The girls had been entranced by the window their mother had used for her elopement.

One day, when the newness of their marriage was a little less sparkly, she would tel him about her parents and the love they had for each other. The love that had begun in a smal town, led them to climb down a ladder and onto a train, and into an unknown future.

The love that had brought their oldest daughter here, standing next to the man she would love for the rest of her days.

*****

"What are you doing?" Preston wandered into her room and plopped down on the floor, scattering papers with his feet.

"Preston!"

"Sorry." He scooped the papers into a pile and picked up the top one. "What are these?"

"Some of Aunt Margaret's writings. I thought I'd read through them, see if I can figure out this mystery."

"What mystery?" He shifted around until he was leaning against her bed. "You mean, why G.G. doesn't want a party? It's not a mystery to anyone but you, Hannah. She'd rather just enjoy her last days in peace."

"Yeah, that's right." Hannah picked up a magazine and started leafing through it. "Al of a sudden, she's claiming she's old. Have you ever heard G.G. talk about being old before?"

"Wel , yeah, I have. When we got here this summer, she said her joints were hurting, that maybe it was time for her old bones to be carted off."

Hannah stared at him, her finger holding her place in the magazine. "Real y? She said that?"

He nodded, then shrugged. "Yeah, but I didn't think anything of it. I mean, she is ninety-three."

"Yeah." She bent back over her magazine.

Was she wrong, trying to figure out how to have a party over everyone's objections? Maybe just knowing that her great-grand- parents' marriage had survived for that many years was enough. None of the other relatives seemed interested in convincing G.G. and Grandpa Frank that they needed a party.

"So, have you found anything exciting?"

"Not real y. Except that Aunt Margaret probably wouldn't want her unpublished writing to be read by anybody else. I did find the newspaper articles about the sale of Grandpa Frank's business, though. Gave a lot of history."

She handed the article to Preston. "Too bad we weren't old enough to take over," he said.

"Yeah," she murmured, surprised again at how their minds ran on the same track. From the first shop, Robertson's Appliances had grown to five stores around the state. Grandpa Frank and G.G. had managed the one in Lincoln, hiring local managers for the other four. Grandma Anne had returned to Lincoln after Grandpa Richard died, taking over the shop there until she'd decided to retire. Grandpa Frank and G.G. had then checked with al the grandchildren before sel ing the entire chain.

Sometimes Hannah wished she'd been old enough to be part of the decision. She'd loved answering the phones when she was younger. The new owner had said she could work in the Lincoln shop whenever she was available and until this summer, she'd gone in a few afternoons every week.

Preston flopped down on his stomach, feet in the air, and scooped a magazine off the pile near the end of the bed. "Do these al have stories by Aunt Margaret?"

Hannah nodded. "I marked most of them. I also found some letters from G.G. that she wrote while Aunt Margaret was in England. You can see where she got her talent."

She'd started the search hoping to find some answers in her great-aunt's writing. Her English teachers had told the class that most authors included autobiographical information in their writing. She'd hoped that if she read the pages thoroughly, she would pick up some details about G.G. and Grandpa Frank's life.

Preston was absorbed in the story he'd chosen. Margaret's stories usual y had a happy ending and she knew that was something the critics had complained about when reviewing her work. But as Aunt Margaret had explained in various interviews, life was too short to be gloomy, too many bad things happened in real life and why shouldn't people escape for a few hours? If her stories weren't "literary" enough for the critics, they could read something else.

If only Hannah could find her own happy ending. One that would satisfy her and the rest of her family.