Gaddis - Secret Honeymoon

Avon, Massachusetts

Going home! Going home! Going home!

To others aboard the train the wheels might go Clickety-clack, clickety-clack! but to Cathy Layne, perched on the edge of her seat, her eager eyes on the flying landscape outside, the wheels said, Going home!

How many long, weary months in Vietnam had she wondered if she would ever be going home again! Her too thin body in the smartly cut uniform of the Army Nurse Corps was almost rigid as she watched each beloved, once familiar, now strange scene flash past. Her brown-gold hair, tucked neatly beneath the provocative little overseas cap, topped a face that was still a lovely oval, despite hollows in her cheeks, the faint circles beneath her eyes. She had been very ill and she was desperately tired; but she had sixty blessed days of leave before she must report for another assignment, or for discharge. And she meant to spend those sixty days doing very little save resting, eating, sleepingand being with Bill.

The very thought of Bill, never far from her heart and mind even during the age-long months of horror and destruction, brought a lovely color to her face and lit a sparkle in her tired eyes.

When the train halted at the Cypressville station, Cathy looked about her, quick with delight at the loved familiarity of the old, dingy station. Nothing had changed; it was all as she remembered it.

Where was Bill? She had wired him the time of her arrival, taking it for granted he would be as eager to see her as she was to see himyet he was not here.

Behind her a warm, eager voice said, Well, bless you, child, here you areand Im that glad to see you!

Warm arms enfolded her, and Cathy laughed and cried as the woman patted her back and kissed her cheek.

Well, well, if it aint a sight for sore eyes to see you again! Cathy, Ive missed youand land alive, the way Ive worried about you!

It was Aunt Maggie Westbrook, big, kindly, warm-hearted; the woman who had taken a frightened, big-eyed ten-year-old girl, when her mother died, and given her a home. Aunt Maggie, who was not really a relative at all, but a neighbor who had known and loved Cathys mother and who had been unable to see the small Cathy go to an institution.

Scooping up Cathys bag in one strong, ample hand, her other arm about the girl, Aunt Maggie sailed across the platform. Sailed was a good word, Cathy told herself halfway between tears and laughter, for though Aunt Maggie was big and heavy she moved with an astonishing lightness; her unfashionably long skirts billowed a little with the energy of her movement and gave the impression of a sturdy, dependable sailing ship in a strong wind.

Aunt MaggieCathy paused beside the ancient car which Aunt Maggie alternately reviled and cajoled and abusedwhere is Bill?

Aunt Maggie looked unhappy, but she said casually, Hes out of town, chick. That old harridan sent him away yesterday on a business trip. Aunt Maggies tone put quotation marks about the last two words.

But he knew I was coming home, I wired him, protested Cathy.

Want to bet he never laid eyes on the message? Not if you sent it to the house. The old battle-ax would have hid it from him, said Aunt Maggie grimly, as she inserted her ample body behind the wheel of the little car that she fondly called the Betsy-Bug.

Oh, but surely she wouldnt do that!

Look, chick, that Edith Kendall would do anything if she thought she could get away with it! I wouldnt put anything past her! Shes so darned scared that her precious boy will snap her apron strings and find a life of his ownand a wifewhere she cant boss him around.

The Betsy-Bug made its sedate way at twenty-five miles an hour through a district that grew increasingly prosperous-looking until it came to a climax at an impressive yellow brick house that crowned a low hill, with a sweep of velvety lawn dotted with beautiful old trees. Beneath the warm touch of spring, the trees wore tiny leaves that were like curled baby fists, and there were borders of tulips and daffodils and hyacinths all along the graveled drive.

Look familiar? suggested Aunt Maggie wryly, and jerked an inelegant thumb toward the house.

Very impressive, said Cathy dryly.

What worries me, said Aunt Maggie as the Betsy-Bug scampered past the impressive fieldstone fence with its grilled iron gates, is how Bill stands living there. Like living in a jail Oh, of course, with all modern improvements. But a jail just the same.

Cathy laughed unsteadily.

Darling, Im beginning to suspect that you dont like Mrs. William Kendall too much, she said teasingly.

Like her? Does anybody? snorted Aunt Maggie. Anyway, shed resent it furiously if anybody dared to like her. Shes much too important to be liked. She wants to be known as the Lady Bountiful of the Manorprovided she doesnt have to spend more than a dollar and a quarter befriending the poor.

The Betsy-Bug had left the yellow brick with its imposing grounds and was progressing steadily, if not speedily, a mile or so beyond, to where several cottages faced each other along the highway, each with its own garden plot and half an acre or so of farm land.

A neat white picket fence enclosed one of these. It was a trim white cottage, freshly painted, hip-deep in blossoming shrubbery, its walk and drive blazing with spring flowers, the orchard at the back hung with scarves of palest pink and creamy white.

Aunt Maggie turned the Betsy-Bugs blunt nose through the gate, drove along to the back of the house, and heaved a sigh of relief as she pried herself from behind the wheel.

Im either going to have to diet or stop trying to drive, she said comfortably as she had said a thousand times before. I starve myself, drop a few poundsand then I laugh it back on again!

If you lose so much as an ounce, IllIll sue you, Cathy threatened. Youre just exactly the way I want you, darling!

Then Ill make an apple pie for supper, with lots of cinnamon and sugar, said Aunt Maggie cheerfully, and put her arm about the girl and held her close. Its good to have you home again, chick.

Its good to be here, darling. I used to dream of the placeand of you. Cathy kissed the plump cheek and looked about her. But youre terribly spruced up, darling. Fresh paint and the pickets all in place.

Well, what did you think I was going to do with all that money you sent homespend it in riotous living? demanded Aunt Maggie. I finished paying for the house, and then I put in some new furniture, and painted itand made a deed out in your name.

Tears were very close and she finished tartly, And now, for Petes sake, cut out the weeps and come on in. I know youre worn out.

Aunt Maggie took her proudly through the house, and Cathy was deeply touched at the shining order, the freshness and undeniable charm of the little place.

This is your room, said Aunt Maggie, and stood back to look at it. The cream-colored walls, the ivory woodwork, the honey-maple furniture, the glazed chintz draperies with the ruffled organdie looped back beneath them. If you dont like it, well heave it all out and start over again.

Like it? I love it! Youre a darling, said Cathy warmly.

Phooey! said Aunt Maggie, once more her brisk, vigorous self. Your clothes are in the closetthe stuff you left behind. Maybe youd like to get out of that uniform and into something cooler. Theres plenty of water for a hot bath. I cant get used to the fact that theres always plenty of water for a hot bath, with that new electric heater in there. And Ill fix us some supper.