Fortune Is a Woman - Elizabeth Adler [176]
It was Friday evening and he was on his way from San Francisco. She paced the shady front porch gazing hopefully down the driveway, sighing happily as she quickly counted her blessings: she had this beautiful ranch with her dairy cows and her cattle and her precious vines; she had her wonderful house in San Francisco, and her charity work; she had wealth and two good friends, Annie and the Mandarin; she had a man who loved her and now she was having his child.
Her face clouded as she thought about her beautiful Ollie; she would gladly have given everything she had if she could have brought him back, the circumstances of his death were too painful to bear and she kept them in the back of her memory, but he was always in her thoughts, and she and Annie often talked of him. She remembered the night he had been born, here at the ranch, with only Annie and Lai Tsin to help. And now she was to have another fatherless child.
Her happiness drained quickly away as she faced the facts. She would never have asked Buck to divorce Maryanne for her-own sake, but now there was his child to think of. She sank down into the porch swing, closing her eyes as the old familiar loneliness crept over her, wondering what to do.
Buck saw her as he turned the bend in the drive in the little Ford and he honked the horn, sending birds whirring excitedly from the trees and setting the dogs barking in the stables. He swung into the courtyard with a squeal of tires, leapt from the car and strode up the steps to the porch, marveling that his heart still gave a little lurch when he saw her. She stepped into his arms and they hugged each other tightly. “It’s been too long,” he murmured into her soft hair, “a month since I’ve seen you.” They walked hand in hand into the house and he glanced around appreciatively; the ranch was the one place he knew that never seemed to change. Oh sure, an extra room was added here and there, a new painting was hung on the parlor wall, maybe new curtains at the windows, but the heart of the place never changed. The polished elm floorboards shone, the windowpanes glittered in the sunlight, big bunches of wildflowers were crammed into innumerable vases and the house smelled of honeysuckle and lavender and Hattie’s cherry pies baking in the kitchen.
“God, I love this place,” he said, his voice full of yearning. “Every time I’m here I ask myself why I ever leave.” He poked his head in the kitchen door and called, “Hi, Hattie. What’s for dinner?”
“Hi, Mr. Buck. Why, it’s nothing but southern fried chicken and fried bananas, just your fav’rit, that’s all.”
Her face split in a wide grin and he grinned back. “That’s why I love ya, Hattie, you surely know the way to a man’s heart.”
“Some men’s hearts,” she sniffed, going back to her stove, but she was smiling. Hattie was Francie’s housekeeper and she approved of Mr. Buck, “Marry him, Miss Francie,” she said firmly and often. “He’s the best thing ever happen’d to you.”
“But he’s already married,” Francie protested, and Hattie would sniff disparagingly and say, “A man can get a divorce, cain’t he? And you’re as good as married right now—“cept in the eyes of the Lord.”
“You’re right, Hattie,” Francie had said wonderingly. “We are as good as married.” And she often consoled herself with that thought in the long days and nights when Buck was in Washington—with Maryanne.
He stripped off his clothes and headed into the shower, singing tunelessly at the top of his voice and Francie laughed. “Guess what?” he called.
“What?”
“I’ve got something for you. It’s in my bag.”
Her eyes lit up. “A present?”
“It’s special, very special.” He stepped into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his loins. “I hope you’re gonna like it.”
She