TWENTY-TWO
Adam had bathed early that morning and dressed in his better clothes to see Piper, even splashing on some Bay Rum. Percy was lounging on the settee when Adam came down the stairs.
"My, My," Percy had said. "You are a handsome devil, Adam. I take it this is all for Mrs. Jeffers. You never dress up for me." Percy stuck out his lower lip petulantly. "And I don't suppose that you'll take me with you to see her? I would so like to make her acquaintance again. I don't think I made the best impression on her the last time I had the pleasure."
Adam walked past Percy and went to put on his hat and to strap on his gun belt. "No," he said, "I won't take you." Percy sat up and sniffed the air, then turned to lean on the back of the settee to better watch Adam. "My goodness, you smell delicious-just like a French whore. How I do long for one-a French whore, that is. It has been my experience that they will do anything that's asked of them as long as one has enough money." Percy noticed that Adam was blatantly ignoring him. "Are you going to kiss the pretty Miss Piper? The amusing thing is that you could-right in front of her husband and he would never know. You could run your hands over her, crush her full breasts in your hands and unless she groaned in delight, her poor, blind husband would never know. Never. Just think of all you could do. Why you could lay with her and he wouldn't know unless he was feeling around trying to get somewhere. And what if his hands landed on you two as you rolled around-oh, wouldn't that be funny!"
"Shut up," Adam said. He wasn't going to let Percy sully his love for Piper.
"Did you read Chaucer" Percy asked. "Oh, of course you did. You are so well educated, aren't you, Adam? But if you had been raised in a boys' boarding school in England as I was, well, you would be educated in other ways, in other delights. It's amazing how a group of boys with growing urges manage to find satisfaction. But of course, you weren't raised that way. You are so decidedly masculine, Adam. But then that's what I like the most about you. I suppose that's what Mrs. Jeffers, the lovely, tasty little morsel that she is, likes about you as well."
Adam tried his best to ignore Percy; he wasn't going to fall into Percy's trap again. He just looked icily at Percy.
"Well, as I was saying, one of my favorite stories in The Canterbury Tales is "The Man of Law's Tale" with the old blind husband, January, and the young, lovely wife, May. Do you remember? In order to cuckold him, lascivious May takes her lover high in a pear tree in their garden and right in the middle of their eager copulation, the husband's sight is returned by godly powers and he is outraged by what he sees but May, clever and deceitful as most women are, claims that she was only doing the horrid deed to bring back January's eyesight and it worked! And instead of thanking her for her carnal sacrifice, he is ungrateful. But nevertheless, May manages to extricate herself from the adulterous situation. Perhaps you could use that as your precedent, Adam-should the two of you be caught in a compromising position. What do you say, Adam?"
"I say, you're an ass," and Adam walked out the front door but he could hear Percy laugh, delighted at succeeding in annoying him. But Adam was going to see Piper and he refused to let Percy ruin his mood. So he firmly closed the front door behind him and climbed into the hitched-up buckboard, took the reins and snapped them on the horse's back; he wasn't about to allow Percy to ruin his mood.
Piper answered the knock on her hotel room door and her heart rose when she saw Adam's face and his joyous smile. She had been pacing as she waited to hear his knock. In her mind she had been trying to phrase how she would tell him when he arrived-if he arrived, that they were going on to Sacramento; they had decided just that morning. But then there was another thing she had considered; what if he didn't visit today? What would she do? Leave without saying goodbye? Then Piper decided that if Adam didn't come to see her that day as he had promised, they would just leave. But then she countered, if his brother, Joe, was in a worse condition, perhaps he couldn't get to her so she decided they would stay. Perhaps she would ride out to the Ponderosa, hire someone to drive her. But Nash was watching their money since he was afraid that they would have to live the rest of their lives on what they now had after the sale of all their belongings and properties. So Piper whispered a little prayer and continued to pace.
"Good God, woman!" Nash called out from where he sat. "Stop that damnable pacing! All I can hear is the swishing of your skirts and petticoats and I can't bear it!" He stood up and turned to face her. Nash could tell where she was by the sounds of the rustling taffeta slips she wore. "You had said there was a set of rattan furniture on the hotel porch-take me there. You can see if your rescuing knight on his charger is coming then and perhaps you won't pace so much. You'll wear out this carpet and they'll charge us to replace it."
"I'm sorry, Nash," Piper said. She rarely became upset when Nash spoke to her in a rude manner; she tried to understand what he had endured and blamed that for his shortness of temper. Nash Jeffers had been starting a law career in Richmond, Virginia when the war started in earnest and he felt he should answer the call. Piper had begged him not to go. He quoted the poem by Lovelace:
"Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast, and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly…
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not honor more."
"Don't quote poetry to me," Piper railed. "There are no great ideals here in the south to be defended."
"That just shows how little you know about the state of this country's affairs. Don't you see that we must defend our way of life?"
"All I see," Piper said to her husband, "is that men are dying and children are being left fatherless. Mothers are losing their sons and women are left widows. Let's leave here. Let's go out west-to California or Arizona-Texas even-someplace, anyplace where there's no war. I have no one here anymore but you." Piper's aunt had died and left Piper the house and that is where they lived.
Nash went to her and held her face in his hands. Nash Jeffers loved his wife; she was gracious, kind and beautiful and if she didn't love him as much as he loved her, he could accept that as long as she loved no one else. But he felt that he had to enlist, had to defend the Confederacy and it's customs as this was his home, his way of life and he agreed with the secession of Virginia from the Union.
But that was then and now that Nash could no longer do anything but live out the rest of his life in a black void, he often became frustrated and angry and since he now knew-after Piper's tearful confession that night before-that Piper and Adam had been married, he believed that they looked at each other with a longing and desire he couldn't see but could only feel. Nash didn't understand how he, even before his wife confirmed it, knew about his wife and Adam-perhaps it was the cadence of their conversations, the few he had witnessed, or the tone of their voices, the slight tremulous timbre of Piper's voice and the husky throatiness of Adam Cartwright's, but Nash knew there was something. And then there was Piper's anxiety waiting for Adam to show. That in itself was a giveaway.
So Piper was just about to open the door, Nash holding onto her elbow, when there was the knock and her heart practically exploded; it was Adam-he had shown as he had said.
"Adam, you're here. How is your brother?" Piper tried to cover the relief and happiness in her voice at seeing Adam.
"Much better, thank you." He pulled off his hat and then he noticed that Nash had his hand on Piper; they were going somewhere. "Is this a bad time? It looks as if you were going somewhere. I can come back-there are other things I can do in town."
"No," Nash said, "we were going to wait for you on the hotel's porch sitting under the hanging geraniums. At least I think they're geraniums. Either that or they are growing carrots in the hanging pots. Have you ever noticed that geraniums smell like carrots-the oddest odor. But you, Adam, you smell like an expensive cologne." Nash sniffed in the hair.
"A weak attempt to cover up the smell of horse and work, I suppose." Adam looked at Piper who dropped her eyes. Adam upset her too much, made her quiver with desire to touch him, to caress his cheek and feel his arms around her again.
"Please come in, Adam," Piper said and she and Nash backed up. "I'm sorry but, well, as you can see, it's not a suite or I'd ask you to sit down. Here." Piper moved away from Nash who dropped his hand and stood staring blankly but listening, his head cocked toward them.
Nash could tell by the sound that Piper had taken her small valise off the chair and cleared the clothing off it for Adam to sit. She was fussing to distract herself-and him. Nash was familiar with Piper's habits.
"That's all right," Adam said, still holding his hat. "The house is ready for the two of you to move in. It's actually quite a simple floor plan so I'm sure that you two will find it comfortable. Nash, you'll be able to move cleanly from room to room." Neither said anything so Adam continued. "You are staying, aren't you?"
"Yes," Nash said decidedly.
"Nash, we had decided to go on to Sacramento."
"Well, I've changed my mind. Don't argue with me, Piper. I've had enough arguments with you over the past few days to last me years. And do you know what our arguments have been about, Adam?"
"No. How would I know?"
"About you." Nash stood waiting, Adam caught Piper's eye and she sighed and then spoke.
"I told him about our marriage. I told him that it was annulled after our one night."
Adam sighed deeply. "I'm glad that you did." And Adam realized that he actually was glad that Piper had told her husband-they weren't just empty words. He felt as if a burden had been lifted. He didn't like to deceive people, not anyone, and he found that he loved Piper even more for telling her husband. It must have taken a great deal of courage for her to tell Nash about them but Adam wanted to know exactly what she had told her husband. Had she told him how much she loved Adam? Had she told Nash how they had lain together in Adam's narrow bed and consummated their love? About their dreams? Their hopes? What had she told him?
"She told me that you two were young and very much in love but that she no longer felt that way about you. Now, let me get it right-I do hate to misquote her. She said she cared for you, that was how you phrased it, wasn't it, Piper?"
"Yes," Piper said, almost in a whisper.
"She cared for you but that the emotion had changed and matured from the early excitement of first love."
Adam's heart fell; Piper no longer loved him. But then, he quickly resolved, it was probably better that way.
"But I think she's lying," Nash added.
"Nash. I told you everything. I'm your wife now and will remain a good wife. I told you that. Why not just let it drop and we can pack for Sacramento."
"I told you, Piper, we're staying! If Adam means nothing more to you than…how did you put it—let's see. You said that he represents the happiness of your youth when your foolish heart led you to marry him. And when I asked you if you still loved Adam, you said-now let me remember your exact words…oh, yes, you said that it didn't matter if you did or not." Nash turned back to Adam "I suppose, now that I reconsider, Piper didn't say that she didn't love you. She left it vague. Shall I ask her again, Adam, and see what she says in front of you, what she says to your face?"
"Stop, Nash. Don't be so cruel. Adam has done nothing to deserve this."
Nash turned on her. "Nothing except win your heart! I married you despite the fact that you didn't really love me. I could see then, remember? I could see it in your eyes and knew it every time we laid together as husband and wife. And now I know why you were always so absent from the act. There are none so blind as those who will not see."
"I had better go," Adam said. He saw how upset Piper was and that she was near to collapsing in tears.
"No, no, Adam," Nash said. "We're almost all packed. Piper just has to finish up with a few things. I want to stay here-and not to torment Piper or you as you may think. I love my wife. I'm sure that you can understand that, but since you love her as well…you do love her, don't you, Adam?"
"Why are you asking him that?" Piper said in a fury. "Leave him alone. Let him go."
"She jumps to your defense immediately," Nash said. "Isn't she wonderful in her love for you? Do you love her, Adam?"
"I want to see Piper happy and if that translates in your understanding as love then, yes, I do. But I want to see her happy in her marriage. It couldn't be with me so I want her happy with you. Does that answer your question?"
"Yes," Nash said, becoming calm again. "You are, surprisingly noble. I have a begrudging respect for you, Adam. I wish I could hate you but I can't; since you love Piper, I suppose that I can rely on you to see we're well taken care of. It will take us a short time to finish packing but if you don't mind waiting, we'll meet you on the hotel porch. You can wait under the geraniums."
Adam nodded to Piper and then put his hat back on. "I'll meet the two of you in the lobby. I have the buckboard waiting." And Adam left to go down to the lobby where he sat nervously holding his hat in his hands, turning it. And as he sat, the people coming and going through the hotel lobby, talking and laughing, he played the scene in his mind of what had occurred again and again and still wasn't clear on how he felt.
When Adam drove them up to the house, Piper exclaimed that she loved it. She moved around the yard, pointing out where she would plant roses as she had in Virginia and where she would put a small kitchen garden and just seeing her happy gave Adam such joy that he felt his spirits rise. He stood grinning while Nash stood beside the buckboard, his cane in hand, waiting.
"It's just marvelous, Adam. Perfect." She looked around and admired the view. To the west were the mountains and Piper described them for Nash, how they stood up as Titans. She then took him up the stairs of the porch and Nash counted each one. Then she placed the key in his hand and he unlocked the door. Adam was touched to see how gentle she was with her husband, especially since he could be so snide and sarcastic with her.
Adam followed behind them and stood in the doorway while Nash felt his way around the room, swinging his cane in an arc before him so that he could feel and would know where the furniture was. Then Piper, walking before him, talked him toward the kitchen and the back door. Adam trailed behind and watched as Piper opened the kitchen door which led out to a barn and an empty yard with a bare chicken coop. Piper clapped her hands in excitement.
"Chickens! We'll be able to have chickens. Oh, Nash, that means fresh eggs!" Then Piper saw Adam, silently watching. She flew over to him and took his hand. "Oh, thank you, Adam. Thank you. It's wonderful." She tiptoed and kissed his cheek. "You don't know how much this means to me."
"I'll come out tomorrow and fix up the chicken coop. We have some rolls of chicken wire and I'll bring some over. We didn't bring a cow yet-didn't know if you knew how to milk one but I can show you. It's easy enough as long as you're not afraid of one. And the barn still needs some repairing and while I have time, I'll do that too."
"Oh, Adam, you've done so much already. I can learn to do those things."
"You forget," Adam said, "I'm the landlord. My responsibility is to maintain the property and unless it's in a good condition to start with, how can it be maintained?" He smiled at her and he ached to be alone with her, to talk to her but Nash stood alertly, listening to them talk, his head slightly cocked as a dog's does when he's alerted to an odd sound.
"There's food in the pantry and in the root cellar. You have coffee, flour and bacon and there's some bread to start you off." Adam tried to remember everything he had wanted to tell her.
Then Nash spoke. "We have to pay you. Piper, pay the man for the first month. How much was it?"
"We'll start the first of the month-in three days. I should have it in better condition by then. Just enjoy the house. That's payment enough."
"No," Nash said, "We'll pay you. Pro-rate it. How much are you asking? Fifteen a month, isn't it? You do the math-figure it out, Adam. I hear tell that you're quite the one with numbers."
"It's all right," Adam said. "We'll start the first of the month. I had better leave now. I'll bring in your luggage." Adam walked back through the house and out the front to the buckboard. He was angry-furious. Adam had watched Nash ruin Piper's joy at having a home. He had watched, stood by helplessly while Piper's face changed from happiness to worry and anxiety. Nash always managed to knock her off-balance, to keep her from being happy. And each time Nash hurt her, Adam hated him. He knew it was childish and foolish but he couldn't help how he felt.
Adam turned with a bag in each hand and Piper was coming toward him. She reached for one of the bags but he refused to surrender it to her.
"I can carry one-I'm not helpless."
"I'll put them inside the door," Adam said. "I won't go in again until he invites me. It's his and your home." And Adam walked up the stairs and placed the bags just inside the door.
"He doesn't mean what he says," Piper explained. "I'll talk to him. It'll be all right but, Adam, he has pride too. He wants to pay his way as any man would. He sees you as pitying him-I know him well enough to see that. He also sees you as the better man-not just because you can see and he can't, but…because of me. Because I loved you first and still…I still care for you."
Adam stood silent, thinking and considering the situation. "All right. I'll let him pay then." Adam still stood for a moment. "Tell Nash that he needs to pay me a dollar fifty now or I'll throw both of you out. Is that what he wants to hear?" Adam turned to retrieve the rest of the bags. When he swung around with one small bag under his arm and a bag in each hand, Piper was standing teary-eyed. "I didn't mean that part, about throwing you out."
"I know. I just realized how much you were hurt. I never really thought of it, I suppose, I was so wrapped up in my own misery. But you were hurt so long ago, weren't you?"
Adam swallowed before he spoke. The idea of his receiving sympathy, that she understood his pain somehow only made it more acute and he wanted to hold her and tell her how he had been hurt, how he had suffered without her-but he didn't, he couldn't.
"Yes," he said as he passed her on his way up the porch. "I was hurt." They said nothing more to each other as he passed her returning to the buckboard, but Piper sadly watched Adam as he climbed up to the driver's seat and turned the horse toward the Ponderosa, his face, expressionless.
