Page 36 of Silver Lining
"I've been thinking, too, and I've got a few things to say. If I have to do this, then I want to do it right. I'll try my damnedest to be a good husband to Philadelphia and a good father to her child. But I can't succeed if you get in the way, Max. As far as you're concerned, you and Philadelphia never happened.
You walk away and don't look back. You give me a chance to make this marriage successful. Second, I want your promise that you won't come between me and the child I'm going to raise. You give up any claim, and you agree that the child is mine and will never know that I'm not his or her father."
Each word was a knife to the heart. Each request was necessary and fair. When he could, Max unclenched his jaw and spoke in a thick voice. "You have my word. And my gratitude."
He stayed on the range after Wally rode back to the main house, sitting slumped in the saddle, thinking about Wally's optimism. Somehow his brother had been able to set aside any bitterness or resentment, turn his attitude around, and talk about his intention to make a success out of a marriage to the wrong woman and about raising a child that wasn't his.
Max hoped to God that he could live up to his promise.
What Wally asked was not unreasonable. For the circumstances to be bearable, both Max and Philadelphia had to pretend there had never been anything between them. They had to forget that she carried Max's child. Anything less would be unfair to Wally and would generate deep resentment and trouble.
He leaned a hand on his thigh, feeling the bump of the marble in his pocket. What hurt most was knowing he'd given up all rights to the child he and Philadelphia had created together.
*
Low Down, or rather Louise, as she was now trying to think of herself, spent the morning down at the barn and corrals behind the main house. Preparations for the roundup were in full swing and were creating an air of anticipation and excitement that led to a lot of jokes that ended abruptly when the boys noticed her watching and listening. Then came a flurry of lifted hat brims and sheepish grins and a multitude of "sorry, ma'ams."
She didn't mind. This was the world she understood, the man's world of risqué jokes and pride and posturing. A world of clear-cut goals where success or failure wasn't open to interpretation. Where a person was judged by his deeds and his character, not by what he wore or how pretty he spoke.
When Livvy called to her from the back stoop, she left the corrals with reluctance. She would far rather have joined the boys in their roundup preparations than climb up on the wagon with Livvy, Gilly, and Sunshine to drive to her new home.
Livvy took the reins, then pointed her chin toward the wagon bed where Gilly and Sunshine sat on a mound of hay. "Judging from those saddlebags, you don't have many clothes."
"Just this dress and one other."
"That's what I guessed. I put together a few things to make do until you can get more clothes. The skirts will be short but that can't be helped." Livvy flapped the reins across the horses' backs and urged the team out of the yard. "Do you sew?"
"I can darn socks and mend a seam." But she knew that wasn't what Max's mother was asking.
Stamping down her pride, she looked at the short prairie grass running up to the wheel ruts. "Admitting this ain't going to make much of an impression, but I've never sewed a whole dress before. Didn't even wear dresses much until this week."
"I never met a grown-up lady who couldn't sew," Sunshine said.
"Well, now you have," Low Down said.
Gilly broke the following silence. "You'll need at least three everyday skirts and shirtwaists. A go-to-town skirt and jacket. Two good dresses and one party dress." She slid a glance toward Louise's hat. "Plus accessories."
"We'll have to go to town to buy material. Maybe while everyone's off on the roundup. Then we can get started. It might be easier and faster to send off for ready-made small clothes."
Louise was tempted to ask if Max had authorized them to spend his money left and right for new clothes for his temporary wife, but she kept silent, listening to the interplay between mother and daughter. She didn't understand what was meant when Gilly said, "Aunt Dilly was tall and braid looked smart on her. I think two spools." But Livvy nodded as if an entire discussion had preceded Gilly's comment.
When the conversation shifted to Wally and Philadelphia , her interest sharpened. But here, too, mother and daughter spoke in fragments and phrases that Louise didn't fully comprehend. But she understood the affection between them and was touched that neither questioned the decision to sew her some dresses. Nor did Livvy appear to object that Philadelphia would now be living with her in the main house instead of in Max's house. Louise wondered if all families absorbed blows like the McCords did.
"Mr. Houser seems to think hiding Philadelphia out here will avert most of the scandal." Livvy rolled her eyes toward a cloudless sky. "We're going to say that Philadelphia was engaged to one brother but loved the other and married him days before she should have married the first one. Then after she and Wally elope, she's coming out here to live on a ranch with both of them."
"Not both of them, Mama."
"Might as well be. Even with his own place, Max will still spend time up at the main house. He's been doing my accounts for years, no reason to change now. And there's Sunday dinner."
"Oh my." Gilly rubbed a gloved hand up and down on her forehead. "Sunday dinner."
"This misfortune is not going to break up my family," Livvy said fiercely. The quotation marks between her eyebrows deepened. "We'll continue to have Sunday dinner together."
Louise's heart sank, and she nodded when Gilly gave her a look of despair and rolled her eyes. In that instant, she and her new sister were in perfect accord. No one but Livvy was going to be happy about the whole family sharing Sunday dinner.
Livvy turned her head to look at Louise. "I don't think you've said three words since breakfast. Do you have an opinion about all this?"
"No, ma'am."
