The Roswell Legacy by Frances Statham (ebook pdf reader for pc .TXT) 📕

“But how will you ever go about finding a job?”

“That’s one good thing about Mr. Wells. I know he’ll help me when the proper time comes. That is, when I get my certificate for the course.”

“Ladies, it’s time for cleanup now,” a woman’s voice said from the other end of the long, barnlike cavern. “Just leave your china on the tables. It will be safe until tomorrow.”

The teacher began to circulate around the room, speaking to one and then another pupil. When she reached the space shared by Ginna and Martha, she beamed when she saw the teapot Ginna had been working on. “What a lovely work of art. I’m sure some young man will be most appreciative to have his morning tea poured from such an exquisitely painted teapot.”

“Thank you, Miss Radnick.”

In the same manner, she scrutinized the other pot beside it. But her smile became a little more fixed as her eyes turned from the china to Martha herself. “If I were you, my dear, I would work on some brilliant, scintillating breakfast conversation. Perhaps then your future husband will not be so disappointed in your lack of artistry.”

“Thank you, Miss Radnick,” Martha parroted, pretending not to notice the gentle insult.

As they walked out of the redbrick building, Ginna saw the family carriage. But instead of Barge, her father was waiting. “Oh, Papa has come for me,” Ginna said, pleased. “Can we give you a ride home, Martha?”

“No, thank you. I’ll just run along. And promise me, you won’t tell a soul what I told you in confidence, about the typewriter.”

“You have my word, Martha.”

The two parted company, with Martha hurrying up the street while Ginna rushed to the carriage.

“I thought you were still out of town, Papa.”

“I got home around noon,” Charles commented. “So I decided to take off the rest of the day.” He held out his hand to help Ginna up. And once she’d found her place beside him, he signaled the horses and began the leisurely drive toward home.

They had gone only a few hundred yards when Ginna, her parasol shading her face from the sun, said, “I’m glad you came for me, Papa. There’re so many things I need to talk about. And it’s much easier here than at home.”

“What things, Ginna?”

Her eyes became sad. “To start with … Why does Mummy hate me so much?”

“Ginna, darling, what makes you ask such a thing? We both love you very much.”

She reached over and touched her father’s hand. “I’ve never questioned your love—for either Nathan or me. Or even for Cassie. But while you were gone, Mummy sent me away when Jonathan’s mother came to call. And she won’t tell me anything at all about their visit. She doesn’t want me to marry Jonathan.” Her eyes pierced Charles. “You do like him, don’t you, Papa? If you didn’t … if something happened to keep me from marrying the man I love, I think I would die.”

Charles had wrestled with his own feelings all the way from the park. He was no stranger to the emotion his daughter was now confessing. But he knew that even though people might talk of a broken heart, the malady was seldom fatal. It was something one learned to live with, like a hair shirt, constantly chafing and reminding one of the hurt.

“Don’t worry, pet. Your mother just has to get used to the idea of losing you. And once the weather is cooler, she will more than likely be herself again.”

“The weather won’t help.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Oh, Papa, you’ve pretended for so long that things would get better with Mummy, with each change of season. And I’ve always loved you for it. But I’m an adult now. There’s no need for us to pretend anymore. She’ll never change. Mummy is Mummy. And that’s that.”

“But—”

“Several days ago, Nathan told me about Rudy.”

“Oh, Ginna, I’d hoped that you’d never find out.”

“I guess Nathan couldn’t keep the secret any longer. He wasn’t supposed to know, either. Poor little Rudy. He was such a sweet and gentle dog. He didn’t deserve to be chloroformed, Papa. I knew I couldn’t bring him with me to America. But I’d found such a wonderful home for him. Why did Mummy have him put to sleep instead?”

“Sometimes, Ginna, I think your mother wants to hurt people because she’s been hurt. She lost Cassie’s father in the war, for one thing.…”

“If she loved him so much, then why did she tell him that she hoped he’d get killed by the Yankees rather than come home after the war?”

“Who told you that?”

“Cassie. A long time ago.”

“Ginna, Cassie was terribly young when her father left. If she happened to overhear the two of them fussing, she must realize now that adults sometimes say things in anger, things they don’t really mean.”

Ginna sighed and tucked her hand under Charles’s arm. “Papa, I hope you’ll champion me just as strongly as you do Mummy.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have Jonathan Meadors wearing your colors instead of your tired old father?”

“You mean …”

“He’s a fine young man from an excellent family, and I see no reason why the marriage shouldn’t take place as planned.”

She laughed with delight. “I knew once you came home you could make things right again.”

Her confidence in him was too encompassing. Although he could wield a scalpel with unusual dexterity to help others, he was powerless to heal his own wound. As for his daughter Ginna, he might be able to persuade Araminta to behave herself for a short time. But he couldn’t guarantee that it would last.

“Don’t expect miracles of me, Ginna. I’ll do my best. That’s all I can promise.”

“Thank you, Papa.”

In the turreted white house where the ceiling fan on the side porch lazily turned with the slight evening breeze, Allison glanced over the freshly set table.

For the past hour she had been rehearsing her lines, as if she were an