The Heavenly Fugitive Page 6

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Winslow Clan

  As Lola Winslow’s big Oldsmobile moved along the snow-packed streets of New York, Amelia and Phil sat in the roomy backseat staring out the windows at the pristine whiteness of the world. Snow had continued falling all night, leaving a dazzling whiteness on the city and countryside. Ugly brown-stone buildings had been converted to fluffy white palaces, their rounded tops pierced only by chimneys that sent clouds of dusky smoke into the air. Long dagger-shaped icicles hung from the eaves, giving the houses a sinister appearance despite their wintry beauty. The soft blanket of snow muffled the city noises, so that the usual clashing of cars and trucks was muted to a gentle humming of the tires.

  The driver, whom Lola Winslow had sent to pick up her grandchildren, steered the big car through the downtown area, into the quieter residential streets, and finally out to where buildings and houses gave way to snow-covered hills and trees. Turning onto a dirt road, he said, “Good thing the roads are frozen. When this thaws, the mud’s going to be ten inches deep. There won’t be any traffic until the sun bakes it out.”

  “How long have you been driving for my grandmother, Robert?”

  “Mr. Mark hired me fifteen years ago. I’ve been with them ever since. Driving and gardening and everything that needs doing around the place.”

  “I know you miss my grandfather,” Phil said, “but then, we all do.”

  Robert was a tall, lean man whose black hair was salted with white. “Yes, sir. He was the finest man I ever knew. How your grandmother manages without him is beyond me.”

  Phil and Amelia fell silent, taking in the beauty of the New York countryside. The trees were all soft now, their outlines smooth and rounded with white crystals. The sun reflected off of the snowy landscape, creating a luminous glow that blinded the eyes.

  Lowering her voice so that Robert could not hear over the roar of the powerful engine, Amelia leaned closer to Phil and whispered, “I wish I weren’t going.”

  Phil lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Why would you say a thing like that? You don’t want to sit alone in your room on Christmas, do you?”

  Amelia shook her head. The cold had permeated the car, and she kept her hands inside her coat pockets as she leaned against Phil. “I’m afraid I’m going to be uncomfortable because I didn’t stay with Grandmother like you did.”

  Indeed, when Phil and Amelia had arrived at their grandparents’ house the summer before last, Amelia had at first been excited. She had felt free to come and go as she pleased, finding friends in the city who loved to party and go to speakeasies, but when her grandparents tried to get her to stay at the estate and live more responsibly, she had rebelled at their restrictions and run away. Not telling them where she was going, she had simply left a note saying she loved them, but she had to try her wings. Her grandmother had only learned that she was still in the New York area when she showed up at her grandfather’s funeral in November 1922.

  “That was such a stupid note. I had to ‘try my wings,’ I said. It’s going to be very uncomfortable.”

  “Forget about it, sis.” Phil pulled his hand out of his pocket and put it around her shoulder. He drew her closer and turned and whispered, “It’s going to be great. You’re going to have a fine Christmas.”

  Amelia leaned closer and let herself enjoy the pressure of his arm. She needed a strong right arm, for her heart told her it had been wrong of her to leave. Now she looked up at Phil and said, “I’m just worried that Grandmother does not approve of me, Phil.”

  “Well, just stop worrying. Grandmother loves you. It’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

  Amelia shook her head and glanced up. “There’s the house.” She straightened up and watched as the car pulled into the long, curving driveway. “Why can’t I be good like you, Phil?”

  “That’s nonsense!” Phil snorted. “You’re just finding your way, that’s all.”

  The car came to a smooth stop at the front door. Robert hopped out and opened the door for Amelia. She climbed out and said, “Thank you, Robert. You’re a fine driver.”

  “Thank you, Miss Amelia. I do the best I can.” He turned to Phil. “It’s good to have both of you here for the holidays.”

  “We’re just glad to be able to spend some time with Grandmother, Robert.”

  The two turned and, leaving Robert to bring the small bags, walked up the steps. “Be careful. Don’t slip on the ice,” Phil cautioned. He took her arm, and the two slowly made their way up to the front door. It opened before they got there, and much to their surprise, they were greeted by their parents. “Mom! Dad!” Phil exclaimed. “We didn’t know you’d be here!”

  Smiling and laughing, Andrew and Dorothy came out to meet them. Phil shook his father’s hand, then gave him a hug. His mother had embraced Amelia and was holding her tightly. He heard her say, “It’s so good to see you, Amelia!”

  Amelia let go of her mother and lifted her arms to her father. Andrew put his arms around her, squeezed her, and kissed her on the cheek. “Come in by the fire, daughter,” he smiled. “That’s a long, cold trip from the city.”

  As the four of them went inside, Phil and Amelia plied them with questions. They hadn’t expected to see their parents again so soon, since they had just been to the States the previous year for their grandfather’s funeral. Dorothy explained that their church in Nairobi had taken up a collection to help them make a return trip this year, so they could spend Christmas with Andrew’s mother and their children. Another surprise was that their uncle Barney and aunt Katie and their daughter, Erin, and her husband, Quaid, had also made the trip with them while their son, Patrick, stayed in Africa to look after the mission station. The four of them were expected to arrive on Christmas Day.

  Now Dorothy said, “Let’s go see your grandmother. She’s waiting for you.”

  “How is she, Mom?” Amelia asked quickly.

  “Well, she doesn’t say much about how she’s feeling, but I know she misses your grandfather more than any of the rest of us.”

  The four of them made their way down the wide hallway and turned left into the big drawing room, which had been Mark Winslow’s favorite place to spend time. A freshly laid fire blazed cheerfully in a massive fireplace, showering sparks up the chimney from time to time. The flames licked eagerly at huge logs, releasing a pleasant woodsy odor into the room.

  “So, you’re here. Come and give your grandmother a kiss, both of you.”

  Lola Winslow, even at the age of seventy-six, retained traces of her youthful beauty. Her skin was not as smooth as it used to be, but the large dark eyes still dominated her face. She took the kisses of her grandchildren and then said briskly, “Sit down now. I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing.”

  There was a peace about her grandmother that amazed Amelia. She had seen firsthand the love that this woman had for her husband, Mark. If ever two people had been inextricably bound together, it was Lola and Mark Winslow. Amelia had seen how they could not get close without touching each other, and she had also seen how Lola’s eyes were always fondly fixed on him whenever Mark was in view. After he had died, Amelia had expected her grandmother to be marked by grief, but there remained a sweet serenity about Lola in the midst of her loss.

  I hope someday I can be like her, Amelia thought, and then she heard her mother saying, “Now, Lola, let me get our children settled in first. Then you can have all the talk you want.”

  “All right, but don’t take long. I get to see you so seldom.” Lola smiled.

  “We’ll hurry, Grandmother,” Phil said. “I’ll even let you beat me at a game of blackjack.”

  “You never beat me at blackjack in your life, Phillip,” Lola smiled, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I think we’ll play for money this time. You need to be humbled.”

  Phil laughed and moved across the room to lean down and kiss his grandmother on the cheek. “You’re right about that, but I’d rather lose to you than to anyone else I know
.”

  “Come along, Amelia, Phillip,” Dorothy said. “We’ll get you settled in. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  ****

  Later in the day, while Lola was napping, Amelia put on some boots and a heavy fur coat of her grandmother’s and went out to enjoy the crisp day. Amelia’s father and mother were talking with Phil, and Amelia felt a twinge of envy. They’re so proud of Phil. He’s doing so well at college and work. He can do anything! That thought brought another—a sense of shame that she had failed her parents. Although she did not often let it show, there was a sensitive side to Amelia that was softer, gentler, and more easily hurt than most people knew. She kept this carefully hidden, glossed over with an artificial hardness. Phil knew this tender side of her, but even her parents did not discern it as readily.

  Trying to dismiss her feelings, she wandered out onto the estate—some fifty acres, most of them covered by untouched first-growth timber. She loved being alone in the thick woods. The big trees towered over her now, their limbs rounded with snow. Her feet made no sound as she broke through the fluffy carpet that lay even underneath the trees. The snow fell gently on her shoulders and from time to time she would hear a clump as a dollop of snow fell from a branch. She liked being out alone, although it was different from the aloneness of her apartment. Here there was life. Winter birds called out from the treetops, and furry animals burrowed through the snow looking for food. She even spotted a six-point buck, which seeing her, leaped away, startled, in the most graceful of flights, making almost no sound on the carpet of snow.

  “Go on! I wouldn’t shoot you if I could. You’re too beautiful for that!” Amelia called out. Her voice disturbed the still air around her, and she turned and walked back toward the house. She went in the back door and stamped the snow off her feet. Stepping into the warmth of the kitchen, she saw her grandmother was up now, wearing a white apron and working alongside their cook. Cora had been with the family for years. She was a huge woman, tall and strong, not fat but just heavy in the way of some women. The cook shook her head as she said, “You gonna freeze yoself and get a pneumonia out there, Miss Amelia.”

  “No I won’t, Cora.” Amelia laughed. She took off the fur coat and hung it carefully on a peg beside the door. “That’s a beautiful coat, Grandmother. Have you had it long?”

  “Mark got it for me ten years ago. It’s mink, you know. He paid way too much for it, but I’ve always loved it.” The coat was indeed the softest and most comfortable thing Amelia had ever put on. “I expect it’ll be yours one day,” Lola said.

  Amelia blinked with surprise at this calm reference to Lola’s leaving the world.

  “That won’t be for a long time, Grandmother.”

  Lola simply smiled. “Maybe not, but in the meantime, I’m helping Cora cook.”

  “I tried to run her out of this here kitchen,” Cora said, “but she won’t go. Maybe you can make her mind, Miss Amelia.”

  Immediately Amelia went over and plucked an apron from a peg on the wall. “You’re talking to a professional cook.”

  “What you mean professional cook?” Cora sniffed.

  “I mean I’ve been cooking for a living at a restaurant. So, Grandmother, why don’t you sit on the stool and tell me about your misspent youth while I help Cora.”

  Lola protested, but Amelia led her to the stool and helped her down. “Now, you sit there.”

  She turned back to Cora and gave her a big hug. Amelia had spent time in the kitchen with Cora during her brief stay in the Winslow house last year. “You taught me enough about cooking to get me a job. Now, what are we cooking today?”

  “We’s gonna prepare the turkey so’s it’s ready for roasting tomorrow and make corn-bread stuffing.”

  Lola laughed. “You ought to hear Cora’s opinion of Yankee cooking.”

  “They cain’t cook nothin’!” Cora said vehemently. “Look what they do with dressin’. They put white bread in it! Now ain’t that a tragic shame? Ain’t nothin’ but corn-bread dressin’s gonna be any good!”

  “What can I do, Cora?”

  “Here, you work on this celery whilst I makes the corn bread.”

  Making the dressing was an exacting task under Cora’s tutelage. The celery had to be split first with a sharp knife and then cut into tiny fragments. Amelia obediently began cutting the stalks into small cubes, all the time listening as her grandmother spoke about the rest of the family. Cora went about mixing up the corn-bread batter, then scooped it into a pan and shoved it in the oven to bake. After this she measured out the remaining ingredients, which included butter, chicken broth, crumbled bacon, salt, pepper, and bacon drippings, and put them into a large bowl. The corn bread came out of the oven and was ready to be crumbled into the bowl at the same time Amelia had finished chopping an onion.

  When the corn-bread stuffing was finished, Cora said, “I gots to leave for a minute. You be sure you don’t mess up none of the cookin’, Miss Amelia.”

  “I won’t,” Amelia promised. She waited until Cora had left the room and then shook her head. “She’s an amazing woman.”

  “I don’t know what we would have done without her. She idolized your grandfather, and he was so fond of her.”

  Amelia moved over to the stove and picked up the kettle to fill it. “I think I’d like some hot tea.”

  “That would be good.”

  Amelia made the tea as she listened to her grandmother, then brought the teapot to the low counter, where she poured two small cups and sat down with her grandmother. The two sipped it gratefully.

  “Nothing like hot tea on a cold day,” Lola said. She looked out the window and saw the snow falling. For a time she sat there silently, and then she turned and put her dark eyes on Amelia. “Every time it snows like this, I think of the time your grandfather and I got snowed in, in a big blizzard down in Texas.”

  “Tell me about how you met Grandfather.”

  “But I’ve already told you.”

  “I know, but you always think of something different. Please tell me again.”

  Then Lola began speaking of how she had been raised in a saloon by her mother and felt helpless to escape her circumstances. When her brother-in-law forced his attentions on her, a young railroadman named Mark Winslow stopped her attacker. Lola later learned that Mark had been arrested for a shooting and was sentenced to a long term in a Texas prison. Grateful to him for saving her, she had helped him break jail, disguising herself as a young Mexican man and Mark as an old Mexican. The two had fled together, only to be trapped by a blizzard.

  Lola’s voice grew soft as she continued. “Mark was sick when we got him out of jail, and when we got shut in by that blizzard, the fever took him. I thought he would die. It was so cold, I couldn’t believe it. It was all I could do to keep a small fire going and keep us both alive.”

  “When did you fall in love with him, Grandmother?”

  “I think it was there in that little deserted cabin. I took care of him like he was a baby.” She smiled suddenly and said, “That’s a good way to fall in love. Baby a man.”

  “You’ve had such an exciting life, Grandmother.”

  “Too exciting at times, I’m afraid.”

  For a moment Amelia hesitated, then said, “It must be terrible for you to have lost Grandfather.”

  Lola did not seem to hear for a moment. She sat very still, her fine old hands cradling the teacup. She took a sip and then put the cup down. Turning to Amelia, she said gently, “We lose things a little bit at a time, I think. I haven’t really lost Mark. Something’s lost when you don’t know where it is, but I know where Mark is. He loved Jesus so fervently, and now he’s with Him. And soon I’ll be with them. I’ll see him very soon.”

  “No, not for a long time, Grandmother!” Amelia protested.

  “I can’t help feeling it won’t be long. You’re young and don’t want to think about such things, but I’ve got more to look forward to on the other side of death than I have on this side.” She
reached out and took Amelia’s hand and said, “It would be hard to leave, though, not being around to help you.”

  Tears came to Amelia’s eyes. “I’ve made such a mess of my life, Grandmother, and I’m so unhappy. I know I’ve broken Mom’s and Dad’s hearts. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve disappointed every one of you and done awful things.”

  Lola took both of Amelia’s hands in between hers. “You haven’t dealt blackjack in a saloon like I did.”

  Amelia bowed her head so that her grandmother would not see the tears, but Lola knew what was in her heart. She stood up and pulled Amelia’s head over against her. “You don’t know, Granddaughter, how often Mark and I prayed for you. Especially during his last days. He loved you so very much.”

  Amelia threw her arms around her grandmother. She felt so helpless and alone and confused. Two things pulled at her. She wanted to give up all ideas of being independent and just be what her parents and what everyone else seemed to want her to be. But there was a side of her that would not give in, and as she clung to her grandmother, she thought, What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be like Phil?

  ****

  Very early on Christmas morning Andrew and Dorothy rose, dressed, and went downstairs. They found Barney and Katie had arrived early and had let themselves in. After exchanging greetings, the women had made a quick breakfast while the rest of the house slept. Katie explained that Erin and Quaid were visiting old friends and planned to come in time for Christmas dinner. As the four sat around the table eating lightly—knowing that the big dinner was to come—the conversation turned to the condition of the country.

  “It’s been a bad year for America,” Andrew said, stirring his coffee and then sipping it. “I never admired President Harding much, but I hated that he had to be taken away at this time.”