Beverly Byrne Read online

  "I saw an old friend of yours today," Luke mentioned to his aunt. "Father Clement at St. Vincent's. He sends you a big hello."

  "How nice," Lil said. Then, to Amy, "I knew him years ago before he was a Dominican. Joe Devereaux he was in those days. How did you happen to see him?" she asked Luke. "I'd heard he was sent to the missions."

  "He was. Caught some tropical disease and had to come home. He's ok now. He was hearing confessions. Just coming out of the box when I got to church. "

  Amy had a mental image of a man stepping out of a coffin. Catholics certainly had some weird ideas. "What are confessions?" she asked.

  Luke laughed and patted her hand. "The sacrament of penance," he said. He was off on a long explanation, but she only half heard. She was watching his face. The way his mouth moved, the smile in his deep blue eyes. He was happy and peaceful. She could tell by the way he looked and sounded. It did not occur to her that his calm was related to his visit to church and this thing called confession. Luke, she told herself, was beginning to know what she knew.

  "I've got two tickets for the Saturday matinee of the new Cohan review," Lil announced over coffee. "I meant them as a surprise for Amy. Now I don't see how I can go because I'm so busy with plans for the new house. Can you take her Luke?"

  Amy flushed. Lil made her sound like a child that needed a nurse. "It's all right if you've something else planned," she said hastily.

  Luke hesitated for only a fraction of a second. "Never too busy to be your escort, princess."

  He brought her chocolate truffles to eat at the theater and they had a box and the show was marvelous. Amy was excited and very happy. She kept casting sidelong glances at Luke and comparing him to all the other men in the audience and on stage. No one was as handsome or as wonderful. Luke moved with more elegance than the dancers, and there was something else that at first she couldn't put a name to. It was power, she decided. Luke was so tall and lean and self-assured. When he helped her off with her coat or conferred with her over the program his every move was perfect. Once she glanced up and caught sight of the two of them reflected in a gilt-framed mirror. Luke so blond, she so dark. We're a handsome couple, she told herself. Even when we're old we'll look beautiful together. Together, married . . . her blood was still singing that new and irrefutable truth.

  They were together almost daily for the next week. Errands to be done for Lil, meetings at lunchtime to go to the library and find a book he wanted Amy to read, dinner at the apartment. It was as if Luke somehow knew what she loved most in him and acted accordingly. He was more sure, more graceful, more Luke. His manner seemed to lose the trace of shyness and hesitancy he'd previously had with her. Amy decided that the day on the beach had confirmed things for him too. He knows, she told herself. Now it's just a matter of the right moment. When that moment came they would speak aloud their love. They would become engaged.

  The weather relinquished its pretence of spring and turned bitterly cold. Amy didn't mind; she was warm inside. Lil was deep in Christmas preparations. Amy debated about what she'd give Luke, and dreamed that he might present her with a ring. Christmas would be a lovely time to get engaged.

  Close to five one Monday evening Lil knocked on the door of Amy's room. "Darling, I've been such a fool. I saw a nice scarf for Warren at Macy's this afternoon, but there were so many people at the counter I didn't want to wait. Now I'm afraid it will be gone by tomorrow. They're open until six and I was wondering..."

  "Of course, Aunt Lil. I'll go right away."

  She was leaving the building just as Luke arrived. He was earlier than usual. "The heating in our office broke down," he explained, "so we closed early. Where are you off to?"

  "Macy's, Aunt Lil needs something." She saw the way he looked at her, and she was conscious of her hat. It was green velvet with a fur trim. She knew it made a ravishing frame for her face. "Care to come?" she asked.

  "I'd love to. I haven't seen Macy's window this year. "

  All the way to Herald Square he regaled her with stories of when he was a kid and he and Tommy were taken to see Macy's Christmas window. By the time they reached the store Amy was filled with anticipation. Mr. Macy didn't disappoint her. The window was a gold and white and red fantasy. The theme was Santa Claus's workshop complete with all the elves. Lots of the parts moved, and there was a clock that chimed every quarter hour and opened miniature doors to display within a group of dancing figurines.

  "It's gorgeous," she said with delight; turning her face up to Luke. "I've never seen anything like it."

  "Nothing like this in Africa, eh?" He grinned and tweaked her nose and added that they had to hurry or the store would close before they got the scarf.

  When they came out the streets were even more crowded and a few snowflakes had started to fall. "Let's be extravagant and take a cab," Luke said. "The streetcars are horrible at this hour."

  The taxi was warm and dark and snug, and it moved slowly because of the traffic. When it turned the corner of Forty-second Street it lurched slightly on the wet road, and Amy was thrown against Luke. She stayed there, loving the closeness of him and the smell of his damp overcoat mingling with the smell of him.

  Luke stiffened. Men could be difficult, just as Mummy used to say, and stupidly shy and blind. She reached up and laid her gloved hand on his cheek. He moaned and covered it with his and then he was kissing her again and it was as it had been on Long Island. The same urgency, the same rightness. They couldn't press together as they had on the beach, not in the back of a taxi, but his hands stroked her and his mouth moved against hers.

  "Oh, God, Amy," he muttered when the kiss ended.

  "It's all right, Luke," she whispered. The assertion was drawn out of her without her knowing how or why. "We're right."

  "I don't know. I just don't know."

  "Here you are sir, Seventy-sixth and Fifth," the cab driver said. His voice broke the mood.

  After that she didn't know how he'd be during dinner, but he was wonderful. He seemed almost euphoric. Gay and witty, and seeking opportunities to touch her hand or find her eyes when no one else was looking. Tonight, she thought. Tonight he's going to propose! If only Lil and Warren would leave us alone for a bit.

  But they didn't. They seemed almost to conspire to avoid the very thing Amy longed for. After dinner neither brother nor sister left the drawing room as they usually did. Finally it was eleven and Luke said good night and left. Bitterly disappointed, Amy didn't sleep well.

  That night she had a strange dream. She was in Africa in a grove of trees beside a river. She knew the place well; it wasn't far from Jericho. There was a waterfall and behind it a small cave. Amy knew that too. She'd explored it years before, when she was small. Luke was with her and he didn't believe the cave was there. "Come," she said in her dream, "I'll prove it to you."

  They took off their clothes, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and she felt no shyness because a white cloud enveloped them both. Then they plunged into the river and swam to the falls. The next instant they were in the cave, and the covering clouds had melted away. "Now we're clean," the dream Amy said. The dream Luke nodded and took her in his arms. His hips moved against hers the way they had on the beach, but when she looked over his shoulder she saw an enormous lion watching them from the other side of the river. It was distorted by the sheet of falling water, but she knew it was the biggest lion in the world. Amy waited for Luke to gasp the way he had before, but she awoke before it happened. She was shivering and a lump of tears choked her throat.

  The next evening Luke was entirely different. He was expected for dinner and he came, but he was withdrawn and almost cold. And now, when he was like this, Lil and Warren did what they hadn't done the night before, they left them alone.

  "I have to talk to you," Luke said.

  No, a voice shouted in her head. Not when he's in this mood. "I have a headache," she lied. "I think I'll go to bed."

  "Please," he said. "It won't take long."
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  She looked around for an escape or an interruption. She felt like an animal trapped in a pit. The hunters were waiting and their spears were sharp. "You're wonderful, Amy," Luke said. "I enjoy being with you so much. But. .."

  "I really don't feel well," she said. Her voice was too loud, and she forced herself to lower it. "I'm sorry, I must go to bed."

  "Sometimes I'm not sure," he continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Sometimes I think maybe I've been wrong all along, and you've been sent to prove it to me. Other times I know it's just a test."

  "Sent by whom?" she demanded. "A test of what?" As soon as she asked the questions, Amy knew that she'd made a terrible mistake. Now she really was ill. She would faint if she didn't get out of this room. She left him without another word, ran to her bedroom, and closed the door hard behind her. Then she stood leaning against it, trying to catch her breath and to hear what was happening in the apartment.

  There was the sound of low voices. Soon the outside door opened and shut. Luke had said good night to Lil and left. A minute passed and she began to feel a little calmer. Nothing irrevocable had been said. She would have to think and plan. Then she'd find a way to make it all right again. A light tap on the door intruded on her thoughts.

  "It's Aunt Lil, darling. Luke said you were ill."

  "I t's nothing really." Amy knew that she should be polite and open the door, but she couldn't make herself do it. "Just a headache. I'll be fine in the morning."

  Lil made sympathetic noises and offered her tea.

  "Nothing, thank you. I just want to sleep."

  Finally she heard Lil's footsteps moving away. She threw herself on the bed fully dressed. He doesn't love me, she thought. But she knew he did. She'd seen it in his eyes, felt it in his touch.

  She was young and inexperienced, but she couldn't be mistaken about that. Then why was he resisting her and his own desires? His religion perhaps. But that was mad! What did she care about religion? She would become a Catholic too, if that was what he wanted. She must find some way to let him know that. She'd ask questions about his church, and this time she'd really listen to his answers. And she'd stop telling him she didn't believe in God.

  Satisfied that she had some new insight into both the problem and the solution, Amy got up and undressed. She was glad that she'd managed to forestall tonight's conversation. At least she had gained time. She told herself that everything was going to be all right, and finally she slept. But she had the same dream, and this time the lion seemed closer and even more menacing.

  It was late when she woke. There was a message for her. Donald Varley wanted to see her as soon as possible, today if she could arrange it. She telephoned his secretary and made an appointment for the same afternoon. There was no word from Luke, and she was glad that he didn't arrive for lunch as he sometimes did. She needed more time.

  When Amy was seated by Varley's desk he told his secretary to bring tea. He insisted that Amy have a cup right away, as if she'd braved an exhausting and perilous ordeal to join him. She thought of telling him about riding alone through the African bush, but decided against it.

  "I understand you are very friendly with my nephew Luke," Varley said. "You like Tommy too, don't you?"

  Amy nodded at him over the rim of the teacup. Her large brown eyes grew wary.

  But Donald Varley didn't sound a warning. Instead he said, "I think it's a fine thing, considering how close your parents all were. Fine to see that kind of loyalty continued. Gives me hope for the modern world."

  She set down her cup and waited.

  "Amy, I must speak very frankly, and in a manner no gentleman likes. If your poor mother and father were alive, none of this would be necessary. But since they aren't and you're alone, I have no choice but to do my duty."

  She stiffened her spine. She was ready to flee or deny or fight back-whatever was required. There was a shining inside her, a fire of love and wanting. Nothing Donald Varley could say would extinguish it.

  He cleared his throat. "Before Charles died he made some unfortunate investments. My brother-in-law was brilliant, but on this occasion he was unlucky. It means that he died in straitened circumstances. Do you understand, my dear?"

  "You're referring to money," Amy said. Relief flooded up from her toes to end in a bright flush on her cheeks.

  Varley interpreted the blush as embarrassment. "I am. It pains me dreadfully to discuss such a matter with you. Please forgive me, but..."

  "Are Luke and Tommy in some difficulty?" she interrupted quickly. "You must tell me if there is any way I can help." She was thinking of her ring. She could give it to him to sell. It was only two carats, but it was perfect. She had thought of it as her own insurance against the dreaded debts at the bank.

  "How easy you make it, my dear child. Bless you. Yes, they're in a tight place, and yes, you can help. I want to make some investments for them. If I do, their future will be more secure. But there's simply no cash available in Charles's estate. I had to use the proceeds of the sale of Balmoral to payoff past debts." He poured another cup of tea while he spoke.

  "I've examined every option I can think of," he continued. "The only solution I see is to borrow funds to make these investments. I'm wondering if I dare ask to use your estate as collateral for such a loan."

  "But of course you can!" she said instantly. "That would be a splendid solution." She thought of Tommy's black mood at Thanksgiving and the fight about business matters Luke confessed. It must have been about their poverty. Now that source of friction could be eliminated. Then she remembered something else.

  "But you said my inheritance was uncertain. You said after the war I might not have anything."

  "Ah, yes, so I did. And how happy I am to say that things look much better on that score. The British have secured Dar es Salaam. Almost all German East is in their hands. The British can be relied on to deal honorably. Quite a different case from the Huns."

  "I knew lots of German people at home," she said softly. "They were all fair and honorable too."

  He patted her hand, and she noticed that he wore a large gold signet ring. "Don't you worry about any of that. Just leave it to me. Now, do I have your permission to go ahead? Good, then there are just a few things for you to sign."

  He pushed some documents across the desk. Amy scrawled her name hastily, without bothering to read them. She was conscious only of doing something to help Luke. Not until she was out of the office and descending the stairs did the true implication of the conversation dawn on her.

  How could she be so stupid! This was the explanation of everything, not just Tommy's bad temper. The rush of understanding made her dizzy. Amy put out a hand and steadied herself against the wall. Luke believed that he had limited prospects, and was in debt. No wonder he didn't think he could admit his feelings, much less take a wife. He was a man of honor, and more than a little stubborn. He must think he'd be asking her to wait for years. But it wasn't like that at all! Not now that Donald Varley believed her inheritance secure.

  By the time she reached the street Amy was laughing with excitement. A few passersby looked at her strangely, but she ignored them. No one in the whole world mattered except Luke. She wanted to shout his name aloud, to run and dance. She was alive to joy, every nerve in her body tingled and sang.

  Her mood hadn't changed when she let herself into the apartment.

  "There's a message for you, Miss Amy," Maureen said. "From Mr. Luke."

  "Oh, thank you! I'll call him back right away."

  "Ah, there's no need for that. Sure didn't he just say he hoped you were feeling better, and he'd be seeing you at dinner tonight."

  "Thank you," Amy repeated. Then, impulsively, she planted a large loud kiss on Maureen's cheek. "Thank you for everything. You'll make something specially good tonight, won't you? Something Mr. Luke likes. It's a sort of celebration," she added shyly. "

  And aren't all my dinners good?" Maureen demanded a trifle huffily, but she smiled at the girl.

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nbsp; Amy took a long bath before she dressed. The newly modernized bathroom adjoining her bedroom had a deep porcelain tub, and the walls were covered in shiny black paper splashed with pink lily pads. She gazed at the flowers through the haze of steam and hummed softly to herself. The tune was a Kikuyu lullaby. One of Amy's earliest memories was being rocked to its rhythm in the arms of a huge African woman.

  She seemed to see Jericho in the bubbles of the tub, and she lifted the shimmering mirage in her fingers and saw herself and Luke walking hand in hand up the avenue lined with flame trees. "This is my husband," she would tell the servants. "We've come home to stay. "

  She dressed with great care in a gown of ecru silk trimmed with brown velvet-Lil and the dressmaker confirmed what Mummy always said: Cream was her best color. She had few jewels except her ring, so she tied a brown velvet ribbon around her neck and pinned a gold locket to it. Amy knew she looked beautiful and she was glad. She wanted to be perfect for Luke.