Montgomery - The Awakening Part 4

"Two and a quarter miles," she answered.

"Somehow, I thought you'd know. I'll walk. I'll meet you at the Opera House."

Amanda felt a moment of panic. She just knew he'd never show up at the Opera House and she had a hideous vision of having to tell Taylor that she had "lost" Dr. Montgomery. "The driver can-" she began, then stopped because he was walking rapidly toward town. With a sigh, she told the driver where to meet them, then, holding her hat on, she hurried after Dr. Montgomery.

When the car went by and he saw she wasn't in it, he turned back to see her scurrying along after him. Impatiently, he waited. You'd think I'd want a beautiful young woman along, he thought. But Amanda was about as real as a magazine photo. "I don't guess I'm to be trusted alone, am I? Might meet with some union leaders and do something awful, right?"

Amanda suddenly felt very tired, tired from staying up most of the night trying to learn what she needed to know for this man, tired of missed meals, tired of his snide comments. "I am doing my best to make your stay pleasurable, Dr. Montgomery. I'm sorry if I'm failing." She kept her shoulders back in the posture Taylor had taught her-taught her with the help of a steel brace.

He relented. Maybe she couldn't help being a cold little prig any more than he could help being what he was. It wasn't right to be angry with her because she wasn't what he wanted her to be. So she walked as stiffly as a poker with two legs, so she pulled her hair back so tight her eyes were stretched, so she spoke only in facts, so she dressed like somebody's mother, so she had no humor, no warmth, no pa.s.sion about her. It wasn't his business.

"I apologize, Miss Caulden, I have been rude to you. It's just that I haven't had my days planned for me since I left my mother's house, and I'm afraid I'm too old to start over again. Look, there are some children playing. Couldn't we just sit still for a while and smell the roses, so to speak?"

"Roses?" she asked. "There are no roses in the schoolyard."

He groaned, then took her elbow and began to lead her toward the fenced schoolyard. School was out now, but there were three young children playing on the swings and seesaws, and a pretty young mother standing nearby. He left Amanda near a bench under a giant oak tree and walked toward the group. More than anything in the world, he wanted to see a friendly face.

"h.e.l.lo," he said, and the woman turned. She was indeed pretty and she smiled at him. It seemed to be ages since a woman had smiled at him.

"h.e.l.lo," she answered. "I'm-"

"No, don't tell me." She looked past him to Amanda sitting primly on the bench. "You must be the Cauldens' guest. Some teacher or something, right?"

"Close enough," he answered, holding out his hand, which she shook. "Hank Montgomery." He nodded toward the children. "Good-looking bunch. Father still alive?"

She laughed. "He was an hour ago."

"My loss," Hank said with a sigh.

She walked away toward the swings and her little girl and Hank followed her. "What's it like up there?" she asked softly, motioning her head toward Amanda. "The Cauldens treating you right? You here to teach Amanda?"

"It's all right, and Amanda seems to be teaching me." He paused a moment. "You know her?"

"I did. We went to elementary school together, but her father took her out of school just about the time she started liking boys, you know?"

Hank couldn't imagine Amanda liking anyone, but he nodded. "He hired her a tutor?"

"That man Driscoll. I've only seen him a couple of times. He doesn't come into Kingman, but I've seen him ride through in the back of a car. Not my type," she said, smiling more broadly at Hank.

Not mine either, Hank thought. So, Amanda was going to marry her tutor. That made sense, what with her little mind being nothing but a catalog of information.

The woman started to say more, but the little girl fell off the swing and started to scream and the woman picked her up. She didn't seem to be really hurt, just scared, and she kept peeping around her mother at Hank.

Hank put out his arms to her and the child went to him.

"Flirt!" her mother said, laughing.

Hank held the little girl and they studied each other. He liked children and hoped someday to have several of his own.

"Miss your kids?" the woman asked, prying for information.

"No kids; no wife."

"Are you and Amanda... ?"

"Heavens no!" he said before he thought. "I mean, she's engaged to her tutor, Taylor Driscoll. I figured everybody in town would know. Usually in small towns doesn't everybody know everybody else's business?"

"Not the Cauldens'," she said, again lowering her voice. "They may be rich as Croesus but there are some things that can't be bought. Not that I care, but to my mother's generation it mattered a lot."

"What did?" Hank asked.

The woman looked past him and he saw Amanda approaching. She took her child and stopped her confidences.

"h.e.l.lo, Amanda," she said.

"h.e.l.lo," Amanda answered, and by her blank face it was easy to tell that she had no idea who the woman was.

"Lily Webster. We went to school together."

"Yes, of course," Amanda said. "How are you?"

"Overworked. Well, I better be going. Nice to meet you, Hank."

"Same here," he said, and smiled as she walked away, all three children hovering around her. Hank turned back to Amanda. "You ready to go?" He paused, for she was staring after the woman as if she'd seen a ghost. "You all right?" he asked.

Amanda recovered herself. "Yes, I'm ready." She remembered Lily. When they were in the fourth grade together they had sneaked into the cloakroom and tied and b.u.t.toned every piece of clothing together. They had just finished when the teacher caught them and made them unfasten everything then stand for two hours with their noses in a circle on the chalkboard. When her father heard of it he had been horrified but her mother had laughed delightedly.

But that had happened before Taylor came. Sometimes she didn't seem to remember anything that existed before Taylor came. It was as if his presence blotted out everything that had happened before his arrival.

Now her fellow prankster, Lily, was married and had three little children and Amanda didn't even know when her own wedding was to be.

She frowned at Dr. Montgomery's back. His questions were beginning to bother her. He was making her wonder what Taylor had planned for them. She knew when the wedding was to be-when Taylor felt she was ready and not before. And at the rate she was going in doing what he wanted her to do with Dr. Montgomery, she was never going to be ready to be married.

She walked just behind him the rest of the way into town and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the limousine waiting in front of the Opera House. But to her chagrin, Dr. Montgomery turned away from the car. "Here it is," she called, hoping that perhaps he just hadn't seen it.

He ignored her and kept walking toward a restaurant. Amanda dodged two old Ford pickups and crossed the street after him. He had to go back to the ranch for luncheon because she had to pick up the schedule for the afternoon.

At the restaurant, he held the door open for her.

"Luncheon will be waiting for us at home," she said.

"Why drive all the way back there? Besides, it might do you good to eat somewhere else." He firmly took her arm and led her inside the cool restaurant, where the smell of years of meals permeated the place.

Amanda couldn't remember the last time she had eaten out. It had been here with her mother and she had been wearing white gloves. A waitress handed them menus and Amanda read of rolled fillets of veal, rib roasts, leg of lamb and stuffed chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The selection made her mouth water, but she knew there was nothing of which Taylor would approve.

She put the menu down.

"Made up your mind already?" Hank asked.

"I'm not eating here."

Angrily, he slapped his menu down on the table. "What is it you have against food with flavor? Or is it that you're too good to eat in a public place?"

Again, that little feeling of anger rose in her. "It is neither. It is just that I do not wish to get fat."

He gaped at her, openmouthed. "Fat? You'd have to gain twenty pounds to be considered thin. "He picked up her menu and handed it to her. "I'm your guest and you're supposed to keep me happy, remember? I want you to eat."

She felt very frustrated. She wasn't supposed to get fat; Taylor didn't like fat women. But, too, Taylor wanted her to entertain Dr. Montgomery. Only Dr. Montgomery didn't like museums or tours of the ranch or healthy food. He liked to talk to women in parks and hold children, and walk, and eat. He seemed to like eating best of all.

Amanda tried to choose the least fattening thing on the menu, but when the waitress came, Dr. Montgomery chose for her: chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s stuffed with creamed spinach, spiced peaches, sage dressing, watercress salad, yeast rolls and b.u.t.ter.

"Miss Caulden," he said, "if I swear not to run away or interfere in your father's business, tomorrow could we spare each other our company?"

"I... I don't know," she answered. What would Taylor say? She was to go with Dr. Montgomery to see where he went. But she was also supposed to make him like the Cauldens and she wasn't doing very well at that, was she? Taylor said he would be in awe of their house and ranch, but so far nothing seemed to awe him. She didn't know what to do. "Do you have any plans of your own?" she asked. Maybe he meant to stay at the house.

"I want to get in my car and drive. After that, I have no idea what I want to do." Except get away from this woman who unsettled him and made him alternately nervous and angry.

Amanda felt a moment of panic. Taylor would be angry if he went away by himself. "Would you possibly like to read tomorrow? If I repulse you I'm sure I could occupy myself elsewhere."

d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, he thought. Honey, you don't repulse me. You drive me crazy. That hair of yours. Those big, sad eyes. That body that would be real nice with some meat on it. How could the interior of such a beautiful package be so awful?

"I do have some essays to grade and some letters to write," he said at last. "I'll stick around the house tomorrow."

She looked so relieved that he thought she might cry, and just for an instant he thought that she might get into trouble if he didn't do what she wanted. But that couldn't be. She was an ice lady or she wouldn't have fallen for stone-faced Driscoll. They were a perfect match. Maybe they made love to each other by reading love sonnets aloud.

The waitress put their plates of food on the table, and the expression on Amanda's face made Hank smile.

"You look like you're about to worship it rather than eat it. Dig in. Enjoy."

It had been years since Amanda had eaten food like this. Taylor said the body was a temple and must be treated with reverence, therefore it was not to be filled with unhealthy, greasy food.

Her first bite was heaven, absolute, sheer heaven. She closed her eyes and chewed and let the flavor roll about in her mouth.

Hank looked up from his plate to see Amanda with her eyes closed and wearing an expression that he had only seen on a woman's face when he was making love to her. He dropped his fork and her eyes flew open.

"Like"-his voice broke-"like the food?"

"Yes, thank you, I do."

She went back to eating, her eyes open, thank G.o.d, but Hank had a little trouble swallowing. Calm down, Montgomery, he told himself. She's just a pretty girl, that's all. You came here to talk to the union leaders, not get yourself in trouble like you did with Blythe Woodley.

"Miss Caulden, could you tell me a little about Kingman?"

Like a little box that you put a nickel in, she began to spout facts. She told about the five railroad tracks (one main one and four sidings) and the seven mail deliveries a day. She told about the Digger Indians, the Spanish land grants, the copper mines. She told about the Donner Party arriving just east of Kingman at the Johnson Ranch and she rattled off facts and dates about the rescue parties and the number of survivors and deaths. She told of dates when the town flooded and when it was burned down.

She told of dams built, bridges built. She gave numbers of population, dates schools built, dates- "Stop!" he said, gasping for air. She was a wind-up toy that never ran down, but at least his ardor was cooled. Taylor Driscoll could have her. She was all looks and nothing else. "Eat your cherry pie," he said, pushing the plate toward her. He smiled at the way she cleaned her plate. For someone who was worried about getting fat, she sure could pack it away.

Chapter Five.

Taylor Driscoll stood behind the desk in the library staring intently out the window toward the front of the house. He looked at his watch again.

2:13. Where was she? He had given her a schedule this morning and she was to return by noon, so why was she over two hours late?

He looked at his watch again. 2:14. Still no sign of the car. d.a.m.n her! he thought. d.a.m.n her for making him feel like this. He cursed her and he cursed himself for caring so much. He'd sworn long ago that he'd never love another woman-women were too untrustworthy. They said they loved you and then they deserted you.

As he stared out the window he seemed to be transported back to his childhood when he used to stand by the window and wait for his mother to come home. She'd come staggering up the steps, two young men holding her up, her red-dyed hair frothy about her face, her big b.r.e.a.s.t.s heaving, her fat hips swaying, with a man now and then squeezing an ample b.u.t.tock and making her laugh raucously. Young Taylor used to watch as his father, who always waited up for his wife, came out the front door and helped her inside. The young men would make taunting remarks to Mr. Driscoll but he never seemed to hear them.

Taylor would leave the window and go back to bed, but he'd lie there, his little fists clenched at his sides, and hate both his parents: her for being the fat, loud, stupid, uncaring woman she was and him for being refined, educated, and for stupidly loving this unworthy woman.

Taylor spent every moment he had reading and studying, trying to get away from his mother, who lolled about on a sofa and ate chocolates and never lifted a finger to help manage the household servants or even to talk to the child who was her son. Sometimes Taylor would stand in the doorway and glare at his mother, but this would make her laugh at him, so mainly he stayed in his room. His books came to represent love to him, for there was no love anywhere else in his house. His mother openly admitted she had married his father for his money, and her main concern was rich food, revealing dresses covered with flounces, and "having a good time," which involved whiskey and good-looking young men.

Taylor's father's only concern was suffering and feeling miserable because he loved a woman like his wife. He seemed to regard loving her as an incurable disease that he'd contracted.

When Taylor was twelve his father had died, and within a year his mother had spent every penny he'd left to both of them. Without regret, Taylor had packed a bag of dirty clothes-all the servants had left months ago-and had taken a hundred dollars he'd managed to steal when his mother was drunk and gone in search of his father's relatives.

For years he'd begged for an education. He had developed a strong sense of pride when he was living in his parents' house-he needed it to survive the abuse, shame and degradation-but he put his pride aside as he asked for a little from this relative, a little from that one. After a few years, they began to regard him as an obligation, and they knew that if they didn't send money or letters of introduction, or whatever Taylor was requesting, they would be bombarded with letters from Taylor and from other relatives who he had asked to intercede.

By the time he was twenty and was graduating summa c.u.m laude, each relative was taking full credit for having put him through school and having encouraged him when Taylor would have given up.

After college, he tried one job after another, but nothing appealed to him and he was considering going back to school to get his Ph.D. and teach when he got a letter from a distant cousin-by-marriage, J. Harker Caulden. Caulden said he had a wayward daughter who he was afraid was getting out of control. Her mother was useless at discipline and he hadn't the time. He wanted Taylor to come and privately tutor the girl until she was of marriageable age.

Taylor had immediately visualized his mother and had imagined a fourteen-year-old harridan who sneaked out the window at night to go to parties. Taylor hoped he could save her, and, if he were strict enough, he might be able to prevent another being such as his mother from developing.

He accepted J. Harker's offer and went to California and the huge Caulden Ranch to start his taming of young Miss Amanda.

Taylor almost laughed when he saw Amanda. He had expected a young version of his mother and instead he saw a tall, gangly, almost-pretty girl who looked at him with big, eager eyes. And it took only two days to find out that she had an excellent brain-a brain empty of learning but stuffed full of clothes and boys and gossip and other frivolous things.

At once he saw the potential. She was as malleable as a piece of clay. He could make Amanda into a lady, into the exact opposite of his mother. He could teach her so that she could converse on something besides the latest dances. He could dress her in a refined, sedate style. She would never be fat under his guidance.

She was an excellent pupil, so eager to learn, so eager to please. He didn't mind the hours he spent writing out her daily schedules because then he knew where she was. Amanda would never have time to leave him.

As the years pa.s.sed, Amanda grew into a very pretty young lady who wasn't remotely like his mother. And he began to fall in love with her. He didn't want to and fought it at first, because women were unfaithful creatures who used you when they knew you loved them. So he had kept his love for her to himself but he had bound her to him so she couldn't get away, and someday, when the idea didn't frighten him so much, he planned to marry her. Right now he feared that if he married her, she might change, she might become his drunken, fat, stupid mother.

He looked at his watch again. 2:18. Still no sign of her. He hated allowing her to go out with that barbarian Montgomery but he had no choice. Montgomery could cause a great deal of trouble on the ranch and he needed to be kept away, and Amanda was the only one available to do it. The ranch had come to be very important to Taylor, for J. Harker had said it was someday to be his. Amanda was Harker's only child and he meant to leave everything to Taylor through her. The security of money was something Taylor needed. His childhood, especially after his. father died, had been one long time of begging for money, books, tuition, shoes, clothes. The years of begging for even necessities had deeply hurt his pride.

So now he was torn between doing what he could for the ranch and keeping Amanda isolated.

He almost allowed himself to smile when he remembered Amanda saying she thought Dr. Montgomery didn't like her. Didn't like Amanda? A woman who could converse on nearly any intellectual subject in four languages? Not likely. But then perhaps he was one of those lower-natured men who preferred scullery maids and night-club floozies.

It was 2:22 now and still no sign of Amanda.

He stared out the window so hard his head began to ache.