At Last (The Idle Point, Maine Stories) - By Barbara Bretton Page 0,56
him spell it out for her.
"I have friends in Portland," he said. "One of them called me this morning. Do you know which department she works in?"
Gracie still said nothing.
He leaned forward and reached into the breast pocket of his navy blazer. She watched as he withdrew a sheet of paper and unfolded it.
"I have a copy of a marriage license," he said, "for Graciela Marie Taylor and Noah Marlow Chase, three day waiting period, valid for ninety days in the state of Maine."
"I love Noah," she said quietly. What else was there to say to a man she barely knew who was about to become her father-in-law.
His expression seemed equal parts sorrow and dislike. She wasn't sure which part worried her more.
"This is, of course, a terrible mistake."
"We don't think so."
"You're both very young." He gestured with large elegant hands, tanned from the sun and spotted by age. "Much too young to marry."
"We disagree."
"Of course you would," he said, favoring her with a smile. "That is why I'm here, Graciela, to explain it to you."
She stood up. "I think you should go now."
He stayed seated. "I have more to say."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Chase, but I don't want to hear it. If you have something to say, you should say it to Noah and me together."
"You're an intelligent young woman," he said. "You seem to have your life planned out."
"I'm ambitious, if that's what you mean."
"My son isn't."
"I know that."
"If you two run off and get married, I'll cut him off without a cent."
She forced a laugh. "Look around you, Mr. Chase. Being poor is hardly something new for me."
"It would be something new for Noah."
"I think you underestimate him, Mr. Chase."
"You don't sound confident."
"You should go now. I don't want to have this conversation."
"Neither do I, Graciela, but it's necessary."
She watched as he again reached into the inside pocket of his blazer. This time he withdrew an envelope.
"Here," he said. "This is for you." Her name was written across the front in thick black ink.
She wrapped her arms around her chest. "No, thank you."
"Ten thousand dollars," he said. "In cash."
"A wedding gift?"
"You have a sense of humor. A thank-you for calling off the wedding."
"You're trying to buy me off."
"Yes," he said, "I am. Take the money and go back to school. I'll take care of the rest."
"And what about Noah," she asked. "Doesn't he have a say in this?"
"Not in this. This, Graciela, is between you and me."
She took a step back. She hadn't meant to; that step betrayed too much. She had the sense of being at the edge of a cliff and the only way was down.
"I really think you should leave now."
"I haven't finished what I came here to say."
"Yes, you have, Mr. Chase. I shouldn't have let you say as much as you did."
He was sweating. My God, the cool, calm Yankee patriarch had broken into a sweat around his hairline. Somehow that scared Gracie more than anything he had said so far.
"There are things you don't know about the past."
"I know everything I need to know."
"You don't know about your mother."
Her breath caught. "Noah told me you dated my mother in high school."
"I loved her." His voice sounded different, softer and laced with pain. For a moment he almost sounded human to Gracie.
"D-did she love you?"
He smiled but the smile wasn't meant for Gracie. It was meant for someone long gone, never forgotten. It was meant for the love of his life. He didn't have to say a word for Gracie to know that and more and she turned away.
"She loved me," he said, his words finding her as she walked toward the kitchen. "She loved me the way a man dreams of being loved: heart, soul, and mind." His footsteps followed her. "Is that the way you love my son? Would you follow him anywhere, do anything, be all that he needed you to be?"
"Yes," she whispered, keeping her back turned to him.
"I see Mona in you," he said. "Your walk, the way you carry yourself."
"I look nothing like her."
"I didn't say you did. Your mother was beautiful—"
"Thanks," she snapped. "How kind of you to remind me."
"You have your own charm, Graciela. More subtle, perhaps, but it's there."
The need to slap back at him was undeniable. "She left you, didn't she. She fell in love with my father and dumped you." She felt dizzy, disoriented, as if bits and pieces of her essential self were being torn from her.