Thurston House Read online

  “How’ve you been, Mary Ellen?”

  “Missing you.” Her eyes searched his face and she looked desperately happy to see him as they sat down in the tiny room. They seldom spent any time there, and it made her a little uncomfortable to do so now, as though he were new to her. There was always a little awkwardness when he returned, but she knew that once they went to bed, the familiar feelings would return and things would be as they always had been. “I’m glad you’re back, Jeremiah.” And as she said it, there was an undeniable tug at his heart. It was pain and regret and guilt. Her eyes looked imploringly at him, and he could feel his stomach churn. Suddenly the visions of Camille leapt into his head, and he could hear Amelia’s words again … get married … and she was right, but where did that leave Mary Ellen now?

  “I’m glad I’m home too.” He didn’t know what else to say. “How are the children?”

  “Fine.” She smiled almost shyly. “I took them to my mother’s in case you came by. I heard you were coming home tonight.” He felt like a beast now. What could he say? There’s a seventeen-year-old girl in Atlanta … “You look tired, Jeremiah. Do you want something to eat?” She didn’t say the words “before we go to bed,” but she might as well have. He heard them loud and clear, and he shook his head.

  “No, no … I’m fine.… You been all right?”

  “Fine.” And then, without saying another word, she slipped a hand inside his shirt and gently kissed his neck. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” He took her in his arms and held her tight, as though to soothe her from the pain he was about to inflict, and suddenly he wasn’t even sure why he should. Why did he have to say anything? Yet he did. And he knew it. And it was almost as if she knew it too. “Mary Ellen”—slowly he pulled away—“we have to talk.”

  “Not now, Jeremiah.” She sounded scared, and he could feel the pounding of his heart.

  “Yes, we do … I … I have some things to say.…”

  “Why?” Her eyes were big and round and sad. She knew what was coming. She was sure. “There’s nothing I need to know. You’re home now.”

  “Yes, but …” And then suddenly she looked at him with genuine fear. Was it more than just the confession of an indiscretion on the trip? Suddenly she sensed that he was going to change her life.

  “Jeremiah.…” She had sensed it before he left, feared it. She always did. “What happened?” Maybe she did need to know.

  “I’m not sure.” That was worse still. And she saw easily now how confused he was.

  “Is there someone else?” Her words were terse, her eyes sad, and looking at her was like putting a knife in his heart. How could he say the words to her?

  His voice was gruff when he spoke. “I think so, Mary Ellen. I don’t really know.” He tried desperately not to think of Camille, and in spite of that the visions of her filled his head. “I’m just not sure. In the last three weeks, my whole life turned upside down.”

  “Oh.” She sat back against the little settee, pretending to be calm. “Who’s the girl?”

  “She’s very young. Much too young.” Those were words that hurt. “Barely more than a child. And I don’t even know what I feel for her.…” His words trailed off and Mary Ellen sprang to life, leaning forward toward him, her hand on his.

  “Then what difference does it make? You don’t have to tell me something like that.” Maybe nothing was going to change after all, but he shook his head.

  “Yes, I do. A lot could come of it. I told her father I wanted six months to think. And then … I might be going back.…”

  “For good?” Mary Ellen looked shocked. She didn’t understand, but he shook his head again.

  “No.” There was nothing to say except the truth. “For her.”

  Mary Ellen reeled back as though she had been slapped. “You’d marry the girl?”

  “I might.”

  There was a long pause as they both sat side by side, numb, and men Mary Ellen looked sadly up at him. “Jeremiah, why didn’t we ever get married?”

  “It wasn’t the right time for either of us, I guess.” They were wise words and his voice was soft in the small room. “I don’t know. It was so comfortable like this.” He sat back with a tired sigh. He was suddenly exhausted. “Maybe I’m just not a marrying man. That’s part of what I want to think out.”

  “Is it kids? Is that what you want?”

  “I might. I stopped thinking about that a long time ago, but lately …” He looked unhappily at her. “Mary Ellen … I just don’t know.”

  “I could try again, you know.”

  He was so deeply touched that it hurt as he touched her hand. “You’d be crazy to do that. You told me you almost died the last time.”

  “Maybe this time would be different.” But her eyes didn’t hold much hope.

  “You’re older now, and you already have three fine children.”

  “But not yours.” Her voice was a caress. “I’d try, Jeremiah … I would.…”

  “I know you would.” And then, because he didn’t know what else to say, he silenced her with a kiss, and she pressed her body against his, until they lay breathless in the small, airless room. It was Jeremiah who finally pulled away. “Mary Ellen … don’t …”

  “Why not?” There were tears in her eyes now.… “Why the hell not.… I love you, don’t you know that?” Her voice rang out with a passion that cut him to the quick. He loved her too, with a friendship and compassion born of seven years. But he had never wanted to marry her, to live with her, be with her … the way he wanted to be with Camille. He held her close and let her cry.

  “Mary Ellen, please …”

  “Please what? Please good-bye? That’s what you came here to say, isn’t it?” With tears in his own eyes now, he nodded his head. “But that’s crazy, you don’t even know this other girl … this … child!… And all you want to do is think about it for six months. If you have to think about it, it can’t be right.” She was fighting for her life, but she sounded more strident than crushed. He stood up, and looked down at her ravaged face as she began to sob, and he scooped her up in his arms again. There was nothing left for him to say. He walked slowly upstairs and laid her down on her bed, stroking her hair, and soothing her like a small child.

  “Mary Ellen, don’t … you’re going to be all right.” But she only looked at him with heartbroken eyes. For her, nothing would ever be the same again. Empty Saturday nights without him stretched ahead of her like a long, lonely road. And what would people say? That he’d cast her aside? She cringed as she imagined her own mother’s words … “I told you he’d do that, you little whore” … and that was all she was now. Jeremiah Thurston’s Saturday night whore. All those years of pride and now he’d be gone. She should have grabbed him years before, she told herself, but even she knew that she’d never really even come close. They had both been too comfortable with things as they were.

  He sat beside her in the room’s only chair as she lay on her bed and sobbed, and at last she looked at him with her big sorrowful green eyes. “I never wanted it to end like this.”

  “Neither did I. And I didn’t have to say anything to you tonight, but that wouldn’t have been fair to you. I didn’t want to tell you in six months, and I really do have to think.”

  “What about?…” and then with a tiny choked sob, “What’s she like?”

  “I’m not really sure. She’s very young, and bright,” and then he told a lie for Mary Ellen’s sake. “She’s not as pretty as you.”

  Mary Ellen smiled. He had always been kind. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

  “But it’s true. You’re a beautiful woman. And there will be other men. You deserve more than just Saturday nights, Mary Ellen. I’ve thought that for a long time. It was selfish of me.”

  “I didn’t mind.” But he suspected that she did, and she had held her tongue. And then slowly the tears began to flow again, and it hurt him so to see her cry that he kissed her eyes and drank a
way her tears with his lips. And slowly her arms reached out to him again, and she pulled him close, and this time, he was unable to resist her. He held her tight and they lay on the bed, and suddenly he was as desperately hungry for her as he had always been. And tonight, as he fell asleep, his head beside hers, she wore a tiny smile, and kissed him on the cheek as she turned out the light.

  9

  “JEREMIAH!” When Mary Ellen awoke the next morning, he was gone, and she leapt from the bed with a look of fear. “Jeremiah!” She ran down the stairs, trailing her pink satin robe on the stairs, her lush figure making him turn to stare at her as she stood in the kitchen doorway.

  “Good morning, Mary Ellen.” He looked businesslike as he set down two full mugs. “I made coffee so it would be ready when you got up.” She nodded, and looked frightened again. The night before she had been sure that she had changed his mind, and now suddenly she was no longer sure. Her voice was frightened and soft.

  “Are we going to church?” They sometimes did. But now nothing was the same anymore. He nodded slowly at her, took a sip of the coffee, and then set it down.

  “Yes, we are.” There was a pregnant pause. “And then I’m going home.” And they both knew that it was for the last time, but she hadn’t given up the fight yet.

  “Jeremiah.…” She took a deep breath as she set down her cup. “You don’t have to change anything. I understand. You were decent to tell me about it last night … about … about her.…” She almost choked on the word, but she didn’t want to lose this man.

  “It was the only thing I could do.” He looked hardened now. He knew he was going to cause her pain, and it was the only thing he could do. He felt stronger than last night, and that frightened her most. “I care about you. I couldn’t lie to you about what was in my thoughts.”

  “But you’re not sure.” Her voice was almost a whine, and a muscle grew taut in his cheek.

  “Do you want to wait until I am? Sleep with me until my wedding night? Is that what you want?” He stood up, and his voice had grown loud. “Let me do the decent thing, for God’s sake, it’s hard enough as it is.”

  “And if you don’t marry her in the end?” It was a pathetic plea, and he shook his head.

  “I don’t know. Don’t ask me that. If I don’t marry her, do you really want me back? He turned away, and she watched his back. “You’ll hate me after this.”

  “I could never do that. You’ve been nothing but decent to me for all these years.” But just hearing her words made him feel worse, and when he turned to her again, his eyes were damp, and suddenly he went to her and held her in his arms.

  “I’m sorry, Mary Ellen. I didn’t mean it to end like this. I never thought it would.”

  “Neither did I.” She smiled through her own tears as they held each other tight, and that morning they did not go to church, instead they went back to bed again, and made love until that afternoon when he finally saddled Big Joe, pulled himself up into the saddle, and sat looking at her on the front porch in her pink robe.

  “Take care, pretty one.”

  There were tears running slowly down her face as she stood there. “Come back … I’ll be here.…” She was barely able to speak and lifted a hand, as his eyes reached out to her for a last time as he rode off toward home, without her, without Camille, without anyone. Alone. As he had always been.

  10

  Summer in the Napa Valley was rich, and ripe, and hot that year. The flasks of quicksilver went out to the South as had been arranged in spring, the mines prospered, the grapes grew, and Jeremiah was more restless every day. Time and again he thought of stopping in to see Mary Ellen in Calistoga, and he was lonelier than he had ever been on Saturday nights, but he did not go back again. Instead, he went to San Francisco several times, and visited the brothel he preferred there. But there was an ache that no one seemed able to reach, and Hannah watched him come and go, with little to say, and that sudden look of relief he wore whenever he went to get his mail, and found a letter from Camille.

  Camille had been writing to him since his return, funny letters about the people she met, the balls she attended, and the parties her parents gave, several trips to Savannah and Charleston and New Orleans, and a hopelessly ugly girl Hubert had met and was chasing because her father had the best stables in the South. The letters were rich and funny and perceptive, and it amused him to read the pirouettes of her pen, and always at the bottom were a few crumbs she left there for him … as though to dangle him along … to give him hope … to bring him back. There was no evidence of real passion now, and she let him know that he would have to pursue her when he returned. By August he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he made reservations on the train. It had only been four months since he’d seen her, but he knew his mind now, and Hannah knew it too when he left St. Helena. She was still sorry for Mary Ellen, the girl had been grieving for months, but she was glad too that Jeremiah would be bringing a young bride home, the house would soon be filled with the sounds of his children and a laughing young bride.

  Jeremiah had cabled Orville Beauchamp to warn him of his arrival, but he had also asked that nothing be said to Camille. He wanted to surprise her, to see what her reaction would be. Four months was a long time in a young girl’s life, maybe she had changed her mind after all. He could do nothing but think of that on the long trip into the South, and this time there was no Amelia on the train. He barely spoke to anyone at all, and he was nervous and exhausted when he arrived and saw the Beauchamp carriage waiting to take him to his hotel.

  He checked into a beautiful suite of rooms, and sent a note to the Beauchamps, and an answer was quickly returned. The pleasure of his company was requested for dinner, and Orville Beauchamp assured him that Camille had still not been told of his arrival. And now suddenly it began to amuse Jeremiah to think of her surprise at seeing him again. It was odd though, he felt a ripple of fear at the same time, and by the time he climbed into the Beauchamp coach at eight o’clock that night, his hands were damp, and he could feel his heart jolt as he saw her house again.

  He was ushered into the small, lavishly decorated parlor at the front to wait, and Orville Beauchamp himself was quick to enter the room and pump Jeremiah’s hand. He had known when he’d gotten the cable from the West Coast, that Jeremiah’s trip meant good news.

  “How’ve you been … good to see you here, man!” He looked genuinely thrilled, and Jeremiah hoped that his daughter would be as pleased.

  “Very well.”

  “I didn’t think we’d see you for another two months.” There was a question in the father’s eyes. And at this, Jeremiah smiled.

  “I couldn’t stay away for another two months, Mr. Beauchamp.” His voice was soft and the swarthy little man beamed.

  “I thought it would be like that … I hoped it would.…”

  “How is she? She still doesn’t know I’m here?”

  “No. But you came at just the right time. ’Lizabeth is in South Carolina visiting friends, Hubert is off buying some damn horse. We’re alone, Camille and I, and there’s precious little going on in town. Everyone’s away for the summer months, but she’s been kind of peevish this year,” he grinned, “she waits for the mail a lot, and talks about you to all her friends.” He didn’t tell Jeremiah that she referred to him as “the richest man in the West, my Daddy’s friend.” He didn’t need to know that, only that she talked about him to her friends.

  “She may change her mind when she sees me again.” He had worried about that all the way east. She was young after all, and he was a much older man. Maybe he would seem too old to her now.

  “Why would she do that?” Beauchamp looked surprised.

  “Girls do, you know.” Jeremiah smiled, but Beauchamp laughed.

  “Not Camille. That child has known her own mind since she was born. Stubborn as a mule, and headstrong too,” he laughed again, proud of his only girl child, “though I don’t suppose I should tell you that, but you’ll manage her all right. She�
��s a good girl, Thurston, she’ll make you a fine wife.” And then his eyes narrowed as he looked at the other man. “That’s still what you have in mind?” He assumed that was why Jeremiah had traveled all the way to Atlanta again, and he was right.

  Jeremiah spoke softly from his great height. “Yes, it is. And you haven’t changed your mind, sir?”

  “On the contrary. I think it will be a perfect match for you both.” He toasted Jeremiah with his glass, and Jeremiah smiled. Now all that remained was to convince Camille.

  It was another ten minutes before she entered the room, the door swung open quickly, and in floated a vision in the palest yellow silk, there were ropes of topazes strung with pearls dancing at her throat, and her hair was loose in a cascade of dark curls, with one perfect yellow rose pinned behind her ear. She sailed into the room looking at her father, and then glanced uninterestedly at his friend. It was terribly hot, and she’d been lying for hours in her room. And as she saw him she stopped, and he could hear her breath catch as she stood there, and then just as suddenly she flew across the room and hurled herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest, and when she pulled away again there were tears in her eyes and a huge smile, and she looked more than ever like a beautiful child as his heart went out to her and held fast for good. He had never felt that way for any living being before, and he was breathless as he looked at her.

  “You came back!” It was a squeal of joy as her father laughed. They were a lovely sight to see, the huge man, and the delicate girl, so obviously in love, their age mattering not at all. What mattered was the delight one saw in her eyes, the appreciation in his. The passion barely reined in.