Entangled Hearts

Chapter 28

Laura Mae would never guess how Phil Dreyer had been overpowered by his mad jealousy and had again opened mail unlawfully. Three days after she had written to her mother, she received a letter from him. She opened it and read his cleverly designed lies.

"Dear Laura Mae, I have had a long talk with your father, and he has told me everything. Please say that I can come for you. I am willing to marry you to shield your name and take the blame for what has happened. I do not think your mother ever saw the letter you sent to her. Write to me, and I will pass news on to her. Your father has not forgiven you, but I will if you will come back and marry me. He has always planned for our wedding. I was sure you were not married the night I was at your house for dinner; you have no marriage certificate to prove that you are. I would like to get my hands on the fellow who stole your virtue, for I am sure it was not Gene Whitmer, someone in Denver perhaps. Your mother is very unhappy without you, and I love you so, won't you please come back to us?

Your anxious lover, Phil.

P.S. No letter has come from Gene to Everett Whitmer or anyone else. I know, for I sort all the mail that comes into the post office."

She had never had a reason before to actually hate Phil Dreyer. She had disliked him just because her father tried to force him on her, but now she hated him with a bitter hatred. He believed that she had lied to him about her marriage and had dared to infer that she had fallen for someone other than her husband. "The skunk," she thought. "Marry him, indeed, I would rather die first!" She ignored his letter as far as answering it was concerned and she threw it into the fire, refusing to answer.

She thought that Phil had meant that her father had kept her letter from her mother. It spoiled her hopes of hearing from home, so she would not write again, just to spite her father and Phil Dreyer. How she hated them both! She loved everybody else in the world she could think of, except perhaps the German Kaiser? She blamed him for the horrible war that had taken Gene away from her. She could only pray and hope in silence that her lover would be kept safe so he could come back to her.

Laura Mae soon became adjusted to the routine of the Chatterton home. She had spent enough time with Aunt Laura Mae in Denver that she had already gained a good understanding of life in the wealthier class. She proved to be a very pleasing companion for the lonesome rich lady. They shopped together and attended theaters and operas.

One day at home, Mrs. Chatterton brought out some skeins of khaki-colored yarn that she had gotten at the Red Cross headquarters.

"They have asked for more sweaters and socks for the soldiers, so I am going to start knitting again," she explained to Laura Mae. "Would you like me to teach you how?"

"I know how to knit the plain and purl stitches," the girl answered with pride.

"You know how? Well, bless you, child. I did not have any idea that girls of today ever took the time to learn the arts that were common when I was a girl."

"I like to knit," Laura Mae assured her, so together they spent much of their spare time each day, working their strong wooden needles back and forth until the skeins of yarn took the shape of sweaters and socks.

Later, they planned a layette together. Laura Mae appreciated all of the advice that the older lady had to give, for it was all so new to her. They spent hours sewing dainty little white things. On some, they added embroidery and crocheting; on others, they sewed dainty narrow lace. Each little garment that was finished was laid away to be used later.

They were busily working on tiny white dresses one Friday afternoon when the doorbell rang. It was Mrs. Randall.

"Well, Edith, come in," Mrs. Chatterton greeted her neighbor. "How are you?"

"I am all right, but Mother has a miserable headache and does not feel a bit well. She sent me over to see if you, by any chance, have some Senna leaves. If she could make some Senna tea, she is sure it would make her well in no time."

"I am sorry, Edith, but I am sure that I do not have any now. I used to always keep it on hand. Have her try an aspirin; that will help her headache."

"Maybe I can get her to take one, but she is afraid they will affect her heart," Edith Randall explained. Then her eyes fell upon the articles the women were sewing. "What in the world are you making now? Are those for the soldiers too?" she laughed and went on talking. "Who are they for, me or the Charity bazaar?"

"For you, of course," Mrs. Chatterton laughed too. "What would you do with them?"

"You would be surprised. Wait until about the middle of February, and you will find out."

"You don't say! Well, you two girls have a great deal in common, then. That is May's date too."

Thus, a friendship started between Edith Randall and "May Elison." It was the first time either of them had experienced this ordeal, and the fact that their days were the same made it even more interesting. They went out for walks together and then they would smile through their tears of lonesomeness, for each missed her mate, and jokily say that a great race was on.

"Do you play the piano?" Mrs. Chatterton asked Laura Mae one day when they were in the conservatory.

"I play a little," the girl answered shyly. She had never been permitted to take music lessons, but she played beautifully, using the gift of music that God had given her, and when she sang, her voice was sweet, and the notes came perfectly.

"Come and play for me, please, May. I never learned how myself, but John plays very well. I miss hearing him at the piano."

Laura Mae sat on the highly polished bench and ran her fingers numbly over the keys of the stately Grand. The notes to "Keep the Home Fires Burning" came out softly from the instrument. When she finished, her hostess patted her gently on the back and said, "It was lovely. Play more. I would say that you play very well and without a note before you to read."

The girl played more tunes she had learned by having heard them on the phonograph, singing the words as she played. "There's a Long Long Trail a-Winding into the Land of my Dreams" and "Smile the While I Kiss You Sad Adieu" came out clearly. The words to the songs made both women have to dry their eyes, but they both knew they would have to be brave. Thus, they grew to love each other and to understand each other's joys and sorrows. There was never a cross word spoken. Everything in the beautiful home seemed harmonious. If Laura Mae could only get letters from Gene and her mother, she would be perfectly happy.