The Roswell Legacy by Frances Statham (parable of the sower read online .TXT) 📗

She was glad now that Peggy had insisted on her being their house-guest. For, more than likely, if she were in her own house, she would have had a cold supper and then gone to bed.

“I told you we had it all planned,” Lila said, smiling. “We’re going to postpone our European trip until Rad is able to travel. And then we’ll lease a villa in Italy for the winter.”

“And Tripp and I will join the four of you for Christmas in Paris,” Peggy added.

“But I have no idea what Rad wants to do,” Allison said. “He may not want to go to Italy.”

“Well, it’s not as if he’ll be bogged down with all those hearings,” Lila said. “Or the business of the railroads …”

Richard cautioned his wife with a glance. “What Lila means is that Rad deserves a nice long vacation. Besides, sitting in the golden Italian sun will put the bloom back in the man’s cheeks, after all he’s been through.”

Richard’s words made sense to Allison. “Rad always talked about going back to Europe someday.”

“And this is as fine a time as any,” Tripp said. “While he’s recuperating, it’ll give him a few months to think about what he wants to do for the rest of his life.”

And give Jonathan and Ginna a few months to be alone, too, Allison thought.

“Would you like to go into the parlor?” Peggy inquired, rising from the table. “We can have our coffee in there while Richard and Tripp stay here and smoke their cigars.”

The evening ended early, and a grateful Allison, tired from the trip, went to bed and slept soundly until the next morning.

By nine o’clock, Allison was in her own bedroom, with Crete and Browne helping her to pack the personal things to be shipped back to Kentucky.

Packing at the end of a long journey was somehow different from the initial planning and the excitement of first starting out, Allison decided. Now, after all the time spent in Washington, it was a chore, to be done as quickly as possible.

“Mr. Awbrey came yesterday and brought Mr. Rad’s personal papers from the office,” Crete said as she took several suits from Rad’s closet and placed them on the bed.

“Where did you put them, Crete?”

“On the floor in the library.”

“Well, keep on folding the clothes, Crete. And I’ll go downstairs and take a look, to see how much space we’ll need for them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Allison never intended to read any of the personal correspondence. The letters and papers belonged to Rad and would have to be attended to by him. It would be his decision as to what should be kept and what should be destroyed. But Allison’s name leaped from one of the pages, and on seeing the signature of Cassie’s husband, Stanley, she was baffled. Why would he be writing to Rad concerning her?

Her frown deepened as she read the letter to the end. She shouldn’t be surprised that Stanley had used her visit with Charles in the park for a little leverage—if not outright blackmail—against Rad. After all, things like that happened frequently in Washington.

Seeing Charles after all those years had been traumatic enough without having her reactions monitored by some stranger and then passed on to Rad’s political opponents. Even now she felt an uneasiness, as if her privacy had been violated.

An overwhelming urge to talk with Rad sent her to the telephone. “Operator,” she said, “I’d like to place a long-distance call to the home of Mr. Andrew Lachlan in Chicago, Illinois.…”

Twenty minutes later, the telephone in Washington rang. And the long-distance operator said, “I have your call for you, Mrs. Meadors.”

“Rad? How are you?”

“I’m fine. Is anything wrong, Allison?”

“No, everything is fine here, too.”

Allison did not want to confess her need to hear his voice. Instead, she said, “Lila and Richard are taking a villa in Italy for the winter and they want us to go with them. How do you feel about that?”

There was a hesitation at the other end of the line. Finally, Rad said, “Do you want to go, Allison?”

“Yes, Rad. Very much.”

“You realize, of course, that I won’t be able to do much sightseeing for a while.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’ll have a lovely place to rest and relax and really get your strength back. I think it would be good for both of us.”

In the end, Rad agreed to the plan. And with a sense of relief, Allison finished packing. She was more than ready to leave Washington and politics behind.

As the days swept by, time became a personal commodity for Allison—to be spent at leisure with Rad or to be squandered unashamedly in a lazy afternoon, doing nothing but strolling with David on the shore and stopping at intervals to watch the birds. Sometimes the hours were used in a modicum of social exchange, given to the poor in her hours of service with Morrow at the settlement house. And then the calendar pronounced a change of seasons, putting an end to the hiatus in Chicago and propelling Allison and Rad toward New York and the planned trip to Italy with Lila and Richard.

“It’s such a long time until next July,” Allison said, finally kissing her daughter good-bye. “I hope we haven’t made a mistake embarking on this extended trip.”

Morrow laughed as she hugged her mother. “You and Papa will have so much fun that the time will pass quickly, I know. And don’t worry about us. We’ll all get along quite well while you’re away.”

Andrew helped Rad to his compartment on the train, where the porter took over, elevating his injured leg onto the cushioned stool.

As the train pulled out, Rad turned to Allison. “This trip isn’t exactly the way I planned it to be. But promise me you won’t let me slow you down. Any time you want to go off with Lila and Richard to see the sights, you must do so.”

“You’ll be walking without the cane in no time, Rad.” Allison smiled. “And then I’ll