Chapter Eighteen My Three Dear Children
In which a mother hears the whole impossible truth, and gives her blessing anyway
?
The journey back to New York felt far too brief for two people whose lives had just been folded together so unexpectedly — every mile offering some fresh, small discovery of delight in one another that neither wanted to hurry past. And then, almost before they'd caught their breath, they were rushing in on Mrs. Hawthorne and an eager, waiting Jeff like two children with far too much news to know where to begin.
Mrs. Hawthorne settled the chaos at once by insisting on dinner first and explanations after, and with the household staff coming and going there was little real chance to say what each of them most wanted said.
But happiness has its own way of filling a room regardless, and no one watching the bright, easy smiles passing between mother and daughter, husband and wife, brother and sister could have doubted for a moment that all was well.
The moment the meal ended, Mrs. Hawthorne led the three of them up to her private sitting room and shut the door, turning to face them where they stood in a small, breathless row before her.
"My three dear children," she said softly, and something in Graham's chest lifted at being included, unquestioned, in that count. She crossed to him first, laid a gentle hand on his arm, and drew him down onto the couch beside her, Calie and Jeff settling close by.
"Now, Caleb, my new son," she said, studying his face with open approval, "you may tell me your story yourself. I can already see my girl has lost both her head and her heart to you, and I doubt she could tell it in any kind of order."
Calie and Jeff laughed at that, and Graham set himself, with real nerve gathering in his chest, to the task of winning over a mother — and, judging by Jeff's eager, half-committed expression, a brother who needed very little further convincing at all.
Calie watched, quietly proud, as her husband drew a small folder of papers from his coat.
"First, I should tell you plainly who I am — these will do it better than I can.
" He handed the folder to Mrs. Hawthorne.
"The papers on top show my father's and grandfather's positions with the government and the service, going back a good ways.
That letter is from a former Secretary of State, congratulating my father on his engagement to my mother.
The family tree with it will give you some sense of my mother's people — Virginia stock, well regarded in Washington in their day.
None of it says a word about what kind of man I actually am, I know — but it's the sort of thing you'd have known naturally if you'd known my family all along, and I thought it fair you should have it now. "
Mrs. Hawthorne paged through the documents, then looked up with sudden recognition.
"My dear — my own father knew your grandfather.
I believe I met him once, as a girl, when he visited our home.
A striking man — dark, sharp eyes, and a full head of iron-gray hair, even then.
" She studied Graham's face closely. "I wonder if your eyes aren't the same.
It was a very long time ago, of course."
"People used to say I favored him. I never knew him myself — he died when I was quite small."
She set the papers aside and laid a gentle hand over his. "Now tell me about yourself."
Color rose in Graham's face. "There's not a great deal to tell.
I've tried to live honestly, and I'd never once been in love before—" he glanced at Calie with a smile that lit his whole face "—until her.
I lost both my parents young, and grew up mostly in boarding schools, then college — Georgetown, and some time abroad afterward.
There was a little money from my father's estate, though not a great deal — I'm not a wealthy man.
I work for the government, and I love the work more than most men love their leisure.
I make a fair salary, and I was promoted just yesterday morning, so there'll be more coming.
I mean to see your daughter comfortable, and give her what I can of the life she's used to. "
"My dear boy, that's not remotely what concerns me," Mrs. Hawthorne said gently.
"I know it isn't," Graham said, "but it's a fact you had every right to hear from me plainly.
I understand perfectly that what matters to you is the man I am, not the money I make, and I promise you I mean to try, every day, to be exactly the husband you'd want for her.
If I can say only one true thing in my own defense, it's that I love her more than my own life, and her happiness is going to be the whole center of mine from now on. "
The look Mrs. Hawthorne gave him in answer said more than any words could have, and after a long moment she spoke again.
"But I still don't understand how the two of you could have known each other at all, when I never heard a whisper of it.
Calie doesn't often keep secrets from me — though these last three months she's carried some sadness I couldn't name, and I put it down to ordinary bridal nerves.
She was so determined to go through with the wedding exactly as Gregory arranged it, and I was so afraid she'd come to regret not waiting.
If you two truly cared for one another, why did Gregory Hostetler have any part in this at all?
How long have you actually known each other? "
Calie's eyes danced. "We hadn't met before the wedding, Mother. If we had, I promise you Gregory Hostetler would never have gotten anywhere near this — Caleb would have known exactly how to get me out of it."
"Then I'll have to tell the whole story from my end, and from the very beginning," Graham said, dread rising now that the moment had actually arrived.
"I wanted you to know first who I truly was, before you heard the rest, so you could judge whatever came next as fairly as possible — because whatever fault lies with me in this, none of it was ever intentional.
What I'm about to tell you is going to sound close to impossible.
I promise you, every word is true. May I hope you'll believe it? "
"I believe you may," Mrs. Hawthorne said, studying his face carefully. "Those aren't the eyes of a man who lies."
"Thank you," he said simply, and gathered himself to begin.
Mrs. Hawthorne listened with close, searching attention throughout.
Jeff had dragged his chair right up beside them and could barely contain himself, bursting out the moment Graham reached the part about his mission: "That's incredible!
I'd have given anything to go along with you on something like that — they must trust you enormously, to hand you a job like that. "
"Hush, Jeff, let the man finish," his mother said gently.
Calie sat listening with pride bright in her cheeks, hands clasped tight in her lap — much of this was new even to her. When Graham mentioned the Halifax dinner, Jeff broke in again.
"Halifax! Not old J. P. Halifax? We know him — Calie stood up in his daughter's wedding last spring. I always thought there was something crooked about that man. People whisper things—"
"Jeff, dear, the story," his mother said again, and it went on.
Graham kept his eyes down through most of the telling, dreading what he'd see on their faces once the truth caught up with them. When he finally reached the end, he lifted his eyes to Mrs. Hawthorne's pale, still face and pressed his case as gently as he knew how.
"I promise you — I had no idea at all, until they placed your daughter's hand in mine, that I was somehow the bridegroom.
I believed, right up until that instant, that her brother stood in that role.
If I'd been thinking clearly instead of half out of my mind planning an escape, I'm sure I'd have noticed how strange the whole arrangement was.
But I didn't. And once I understood what was actually happening — what should I have done?
Stopped the ceremony outright, made a scene in front of that entire church?
Is that what you'd have wanted, for her sake?
" He held her gaze steadily. "Truly — tell me.
What was the right thing to do, in that half a second I had to decide? "
When she hesitated, he pressed on, quieter now.
"I did think it through, as fast as a man can think anything in that kind of moment, and I honestly didn't know the right answer.
It seemed like it would be terrible for her, to make a spectacle of it right there.
And I'll tell you the plain truth — I was half in love with her the instant I saw her face.
There was something in the way she looked at me, so sad, so lost, that felt like it pledged my whole self to protect her from whatever was hurting her.
Tell me honestly — should I have stopped it, right then? "
Mrs. Hawthorne's face had softened steadily through his words, and she answered at last, gently.
"I'm not sure you should have — perhaps not.
It was an impossible thing to decide in a single breath.
I can't fault you for choosing silence in that moment, terrible as the alternative would have been for everyone.
I think — perhaps — you did the only thing you reasonably could.
And yet it grieves me to think you were forced into marrying my daughter that way. "
"Please don't say forced, Mother." Graham took both her hands in his, earnest. "I'll tell you honestly what held me back from speaking up, once I understood what was happening — it wasn't only fear of the scene.
Some part of me was already hoping, with everything in me, that what was happening might somehow prove real, and lasting.
I've never in my life met anyone like her.
I know for certain that if the mistake had been undone and she'd simply walked out of my life afterward, I would never have been the same man again.
I am glad — glad with my whole heart — that she's mine.
And Mother, I believe she's glad of it too. "
Mrs. Hawthorne turned toward her daughter, and Calie came and knelt before them both, laying her hands into her husband's, her voice ringing clear.
"Yes, dear Mother. I am happier right now than I have ever been in my whole life."
1 Peter 4:8 rose gently in the quiet that followed, as real to the room as if someone had spoken it aloud: "Charity shall cover the multitude of sins.
" Kneeling there, her husband's arm around her, her face turned into his shoulder, Calie told her mother, in halting pieces, the full horror of what Gregory Hostetler had put her through these past three months — until Mrs. Hawthorne went white with a mother's particular, helpless fury, and Jeff shot to his feet and paced the length of the room, swearing vengeance on Gregory Hostetler's luckless head with all the fierce, useless devotion of a younger brother.
When it was all finally told, Mrs. Hawthorne gave the two of them her blessing, and Jeff added a rather more original one of his own devising, and then there was still the whole strange, wonderful story of the wedding trip itself to tell — traded back and forth between them in solos and choruses until the hour had grown alarmingly late, and Mrs. Hawthorne finally, firmly, sent every one of them off to bed.