It was mid-afternoon. The house was quiet, his last patient gone for the day. The quiet was all the more evident because of Susan’s absence. When she came home, she brought sunshine into the old house. Only Randolph knew how deeply her departure affected his wife.
He searched through the cool, modern living room that looked out over the patio and swimming pool they had built for Susan when she was a child. He searched in their bedroom with the massive canopy bed and dark heavy furniture chosen in Spain by his grandfather’s second wife. Lisa always intended to change it, but there always seemed to be some other project that took precedence. Perhaps a trip to Dallas to shop would cheer her up.
She wasn’t in the kitchen or dining room. A light supper sat on the counter covered in cheesecloth and no lights were on. Evidently Lisa had already dismissed Maggie for the day. The young woman was competent, but it wasn’t like having Tillie there. The elderly housekeeper, a fixture as long as Randolph could remember, had gone to live near her sister’s children in Austin only the previous fall and her rooms, off the kitchen were still vacant. This was the sixties now, finding a live-in housekeeper was nearly impossible. He and Lisa were completely unused to having the house to themselves.
He climbed the back stairs to the second floor and peered in one empty bedroom after another. The suite he and Lisa had occupied as a young couple was bare and vacant. Lisa had cleared out all the furniture ages ago, after his parents had both died and they had moved downstairs to the master suite. The guest room at the front of the house had already been put to rights, clean and impersonal, ready for any visitor of either sex to occupy.
Susan’s room was the same as always. It still contained all the flotsam of her childhood and teenage years. Several bottles of perfume or something was on the dressing table. A sweater lay forgotten on the wicker chair by the window and a pair of tennis shoes peaked from beneath the dust ruffle of the bed. He could almost imagine that at any minute she would dash up the stairs to claim the forgotten shoes with a bounce and a kiss for her old father.
He felt old today. It was hard to believe that his baby girl had grown up so fast. He moved to the narrow door in the hallway and opened it softly. The bare bulb at the top of the stairway betrayed Lisa’s location. He should have known. He climbed the narrow flight of stairs to the attic. Amid the ghosts of furniture past he found her curled up on the fainting couch clutching a damp handkerchief.
He reached in his pocket, checking to make sure he had a clean handkerchief for her and made his way around the family discards to Lisa’s side. He looked down at her for a moment, remembering the first time he had seen her on that couch. He smiled, in spite of her mood—a mood he certainly shared. He sat down at the foot of the couch. She bent her knees, silently giving him the opportunity to move closer, even if she wasn’t ready yet to allow him to comfort her. He slid closer and patted her hip. He felt her relax just a little, although she didn’t turn toward him.
“That Yankee is stealing my baby, Rannie.” She exclaimed through her tears.
“She’s growing up, Lise. We knew that someday…”
Lisa sat up, her temper taking precedence over her sorrow. “Yes, we knew she’d grow up, marry, start a family of her own, provide us with grandchildren to spoil! But not be stolen away by some… some… money-grubbing carpetbagger!”
“She seems to be in love with him, Lisa,” Randolph took her anger in stride. She’d always had a temper. “And I’m not so sure about the money-grubbing part. I think he’s in love with her.”
“Of course he’s in love with her. She’s a wonderful girl. She’s had every advantage. She’s intelligent, witty, vivacious. Everyone loves her. But he’s… low, Randolph. He’s going to bring her down. You just watch. We should never have allowed her to go off to school like that.”
Randolph had to chuckle at that. “Mrs. Miller, when have you ever told your daughter she couldn’t do something she wanted?”
“We should have. We should have put our foot down and told her that there were plenty of fine southern schools. She didn’t need to go someplace so… uncivilized. Randolph, this is no laughing matter.” Lisa moved off the sofa and roamed around the room wringing her hands. If she found something of handy size she would throw it. Randolph prepared to duck.
“I know it’s not, Sugar. But she’s been happy at that school, and I’m glad we’ve finally gotten a chance to meet this young man she’s been raving about.”
“Glad?! Well, I’m not. He controls her Randolph. Can’t you see that? He intends to take our little girl away from us. We’re going to lose her.”
“Oh, Lisa. Surely you’re exaggerating.”
“It disgusted me to see her oohing and aahing over that tiny pathetic little ring he gave her. And she just hangs on his every word.”
“They’re in love, Lisa. They seem to adore each other.”
“Exactly,” Lisa said. She moved to sit down beside him. “And she told me that his father abandoned him and his mother when he was little. Blood will tell, Randolph. Someday he’ll probably do the same thing.”
Randolph frowned. “He comes from a broken home? He seemed to be fairly well mannered.”
“That may be so, but I think he had plenty of coaching from Susan about how to behave. But she said his parents had been divorced since he was ten. Randolph, she should be marrying some nice boy from here. Not some low Yankee from a broken home.”
Lisa burst into tears and Randolph pulled her into his arms. “They’ll live way up there,” she sobbed. “We’ll never see her.”
“I’m sure she’ll come for visits,” he tried to comfort her, but she was inconsolable.
“It’ll never be the same. I’ve lost my little girl. She was my life, Rannie, my whole life.”
Randolph knew those words were completely true. Their daughter would never know just how precious she was to them. If she was bound and determined to marry this boy, there wasn’t much they could do, but it would break her mother’s heart completely.
Randolph stroked his wife’s hair and thought about their life together. Lisa was a strong-willed person. She knew what she wanted and she usually got it. The way she had gotten him. He could refuse her nothing, and she knew it. Not that Lisa was ever unreasonable. She was a wonderful homemaker, a pillar of respect in the community and he couldn’t have a more supportive wife. She could throw a party like no one else, or hold his patient’s hand while he cut off a gangrenous foot. She had the elegance and charm of a true southern belle. In private, she was the kind of wife every man dreamed about, capable of being a lover of wild abandon, a side of her that she kept only for him. But there was a hard core to Lisa that even he couldn’t penetrate. Their marriage worked on so many levels, but he was well aware that the only person in the world that Lisa had ever loved unconditionally was their daughter Susan.
He finally let her curl back up on the couch and sob. She pulled herself into a tight ball, but clung to his hand with a firm grip. She finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, worn out from the grief. He slid his hand from hers and left her to her misery. Sometimes Lisa simply needed time to herself. She would come down from the attic when she was ready.
As he made his way downstairs he noticed the portraits hanging on the stairway. The first was of him and Lisa on their wedding day. Lisa looked positively regal in her lace veil. Three steps down was another portrait of Lisa with Susan on her lap. Susan was an adorable toddler and Lisa practically glowed with happiness.
Randolph once again remembered seeing Lisa for the first time. It was 1935. He had returned from a round of housecalls and remembered thinking that it was a good thing the family had other means of income because being a country doctor during the depression certainly didn’t make any money. He left two dozen eggs in the kitchen with Tillie, their housekeeper and thought about the good old days when he was fresh out of medical school and always had plenty of cash and a brand new car.
Randolph Miller was a person who enjoyed life. He liked a good cigar, a good car, and the attention of a pretty girl. He had gone off to college in the early 1920’s with the goal to see more of the world and enjoy himself. New Orleans in the twenties had suited his style to a T. Even during prohibition, there were plenty of ways to slip into the underground and find a good party. Once out of school he had dutifully returned home and by day he was a young sincere country doctor. By night, he frequented the few local speak-easies, staggering home in the wee hours of each morning. His parents seemed to accept this lifestyle; he was a young man still sowing his wild oats. They might never have objected if he hadn’t found Esma and developed a … fascination for her. For nearly a year, they spent much of their time together. She wasn’t the kind of woman one married, and they both knew that. He had no intention of marrying her and she would never have considered marrying him. But his mother worried.
She also found an alternative and when he walked into the parlor he found Lisa sitting on the fainting couch. She wore a smart traveling outfit that spoke of old money. She was a petite blonde, exquisitely beautiful. Her mother introduced her as Melissa Miller, his third cousin twice removed. Their grandfathers were brothers. Melissa would be staying with them for a few months and wasn’t that nice?
Relatives came and went all the time. The Miller clan had distant cousins all over the south. But the visitors were seldom young and pretty. Randolph’s mother wanted him to make her feel welcome, and he had no problems obliging. For several nights he ate supper at home and spent the evening listening to the radio and playing canasta with his parents and their guest.
On the fifth day of Melissa’s visit, he arrived home to find that she had taken one of the horses out for a ride. Dinner was almost ready and his mother sent him out to let her know. When she approached him at a gallop and stopped in front of him, he stood his ground and marveled at the look of mischief in her eyes. He helped her dismount and delivered his mother’s message.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, taking the reins and leading the horse to the barn.
“Anything.”
“You just don’t seem to be anything like May Louise described you.”
“May Louise? May Louise Wilson? You know her?”
“Well, she’s May Louise Morton, now, but yes, I know her. She’s in the women’s circle at church in Dallas.”
Randolph tried to hide a grin. It was hard to imagine May Louise Wilson joining the women’s circle. “What did she say about me?”
Melissa cut her eyes up at him. “Oh… just… things. She said you were lots of fun.”
He remembered May Louise being lots of fun.
“She didn’t say a thing about you playing lots of canasta.”
“We… did… other things together when we were in school.”
“So I hear,” she drawled lazily. She handed the horse over to the stable man and they headed toward the house. “So, is there any place to … have fun around here?”
“Do you like to dance?” May Louise had been quite a dancer.
“I love to. And, sometimes, I work up quite a thirst,” she added suggestively.
Prohibition had ended a few years ago, but Mason County, like many counties across the south, was still dry. Randolph grinned. “I’m sure we could find some place that could provide both.”
She was ten years his junior, young, but not innocent. She danced like a dream and drank like a sailor. Randolph was fascinated and delighted. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. On the way home that evening, at a respectable hour, since he knew his mother would be waiting up for them, she asked him to pull over.
He parked the Packard convertible on the edge of a hill. Silver moonlight illuminated the valley below them and highlighted her blonde hair. She pulled out two pins and shook out her long blonde hair from the chignon that had constrained it. He smiled at her.
“What now, cousin?” he asked.
“For one thing, you can stop calling me ‘cousin’,” she said with a smile. “I take it you don’t know why I was sent for a visit.” She moved slightly closer to him, something he didn’t mind at all.
He shrugged. “Relatives visit all the time.”
“Your mother thinks it’s time you settled down.”
“Oh, she does?”
“Evidently, the nickname ‘Randy Rannie’ has gotten back to her.”
Randolph chuckled, but was glad the moonlight masked the color of his skin. He was blushing.
“According to the ‘mother grapevine’, you’ve been running with the wrong crowd.”
He looked straight ahead. “I expect that means Esma.”
“Was that the name of the pretty Mexican girl that was scowling at me all evening?”
He nodded. It surprised him. He hadn’t even talked to Esma this evening. He hadn’t even noticed her. Melissa Miller kept his attention focused on her.
“There’s a difference between being a naughty boy and crossing the bounds of social acceptability, you know.”
“In other words,” he said. “I shouldn’t be forming an ‘attachment’ to her.” He had already heard this from his father.
Melissa’s hand rested lightly on his arm. “I do understand, Rannie.” She ran a manicured fingernail up and down his arm. Even through his suit coat the trail felt like fire. “In fact, my parents have been similarly worried about me. I tend to be… a bit headstrong,” she said with a smile. “I see what I want, and I go after it.”
When he didn’t respond, she moved closer still. “Anyway, your mother talked to my mother and they decided we should meet.”
“So, they’re playing matchmaker.”
“And what’s so wrong with that?” Melissa asked. Her lips were moving dangerously close to his. “We’re both young and single, and could benefit from an … appropriate match.”
“You agreed to this?”
“I agreed to come visit and look you over.”
He could feel her breath on his cheek. “And your verdict?”
“Well… now that we’re no longer playing canasta, my opinion of you has gone up.” She moved back slightly, looking him up and down. “I think you just might do.”
It surprised him that his first thought was what could he do to improve that opinion, but he didn’t get a chance to ask. Melissa took over completely. Her kisses quickly turned hot and heavy. Her hands went wherever they wanted. Any longings he had for Esma quickly vanished. Melissa enthralled him.
She was in his lap, straddling him, her hands evoking urges that would quickly demand to be satisfied. She kissed his earlobe and asked, “Rannie?”
“Yes, Melissa?”
“You’re to call me ‘Lisa’,” she instructed. He would never be able to think of her any other way.
“Mmm, Lisa,” he practically gasped.
“I need to know one thing.”
“Anything.” He was certain he would explode soon.
“I know there have been others. But that has to stop, right now. You must be completely faithful to me and I have to be able to trust that, or we’ll end this right now.” She placed slight pressure on his private parts and he knew immediately that the ending would be painful.
He looked up at her. The full moon surrounded her like a halo. Her face was in shadow, but her hair seemed to glow. Her ministrations had turned gentle again, and he knew that she would now and forever be his fierce and demanding goddess. This first time took on more meaning that wedding vows ever could. “There is only you, Lisa. Forever.”
She melted to him, rewarding him with intimate entry. His reflexes took over and she welcomed his thrusts. He felt the shiver of her orgasm and the explosion of his own. He held her quietly, worshiping her, and knowing he would do so until the day he died. If a small part of him realized that she couldn’t have been a virgin, the rest of him didn’t care and he never ever asked her.
That night was the true beginning of their marriage. They still celebrated that day in their own private way. Their official wedding, nearly eight months later, was a huge societal affair in Dallas. Everyone who was anyone was there. There had been little time for them to be together before the wedding, but Randolph’s moonlight vows held. His love for her grew daily. It was some time before he realized that although she kept her wedding vows every bit as faithfully as he did, she did not love him the way he loved her.
Still, they were happy together. Children didn’t come right away, and certainly not from lack of trying. He couldn’t get enough of her. They sometimes slipped away at lunchtime and mornings and nighttimes were always joyous occasions.
Her first pregnancy came in their third year of marriage. They were both excited and his parents, already elderly, were beside themselves. They already had grandchildren from his older sisters, but this would be the first with the ‘Miller’ name. The miscarriage in her fourth month left them all devastated.
The next pregnancy didn’t last that long. By the third pregnancy, they were all on edge. It was 1940. A war with Germany seemed inevitable, although his father felt that the Germans had a lot of good points. As with the first World War, opinion on the war in Europe was divided. That was all trivial to Randolph. He was too busy trying to make sure that Lisa’s pregnancy was brought to term this time. He contacted a friend from Tulane who was now a specialist in New York. He had no intention of letting Lisa travel, but he convinced his old classmate to come to them.
By the third month of her pregnancy, the specialist recommended bed rest. An active person, Lisa chaffed at the notion, but she wanted this baby and was willing to do anything. They bought a radio for the bedroom. Randolph ordered as many magazines and books as they could find to interest her. Her mother came to visit and his mother sat with her every day. They embroidered and crocheted tiny clothes and toys for the baby. Her friends from the church’s women’s circle fixed a schedule and someone came every afternoon for a visit. It was the longest months of their life. Randolph’s specialist friend visited three times, costly cross country visits that were well worth the price.
In late June, Lisa went into labor. She was a month from the due date. Labor seemed to last forever. It started on a Saturday morning and by Sunday evening she was weak and exhausted. Randolph remained at her side, whispering encouragement and love to her. Mid day on Sunday she asked to speak to him alone, and told him she didn’t think she could survive this. Randolph was beside himself. She had to survive. He needed her; their baby needed her. He coaxed and cajoled her to remain with him, and when Baby Susan finally made her appearance, he was rewarded by the opportunity to see love consume Lisa completely.
Randolph usually retreated to his study when Lisa was in one of her moods, but today he headed for the living room. He pulled out the photo album that Lisa had carefully updated with every milestone in Susan’s young life. He reverently touched the picture of the tiny infant in her bassinette. He had no pictures of Lisa on Susan’s birth day. Lisa wouldn’t allow it. But at her first birthday party, Lisa was her elegant smiling self, seated next to Susan’s high chair. They had the same features, the same smile, and the same golden locks.
He looked on through the album. First steps, first pony, first day of school, first pool party, first dance. She had grown up overnight. He brushed aside a tear lest it fall on one of the pictures. If that Yankee boy hurt his baby, he wouldn’t live to gloat about it.
