A Groom to Come Home To. Irene Brand
“I wanted to see you graduate.”
“But how did you know?”
“Ray Gordon and I are friends. I ask him how you are and what you’re up to.”
Had Ray told Clark that she’d been dating Alex?
“He’s never mentioned your name to me.”
“I figured you didn’t want to hear about me, so I asked him not to say anything.”
Apparently Clark had come straight from the coal mine because he was dressed in jeans that were none too clean, and his brown hair was long and tousled. His hands still had the sheen of coal on them. Looking over Clark’s shoulder, Beth saw Alex heading in her direction. She just couldn’t introduce him to Clark, who reminded her of things she was determined to forget.
“Thanks for coming, Clark. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve made plans for a graduation party.”
Perhaps it wasn’t only her words, but the careless, unfeeling way she had spoken, that made Clark gasp, and left Beth with a memory of the hurt, reproachful look in his brown eyes that had haunted her dreams and waking hours for years afterward. The evening that she had anticipated with so much pleasure turned into a great disappointment, and even now she couldn’t look back on it without inward agony. Coming on the heels of her humiliating treatment of Clark, Alex had told her that he had been assigned to overseas duty, making it obvious that he didn’t intend to make any commitment to her. But the crushing blow of the evening came when she looked more closely at the scholarship she’d been awarded and found that she would be obligated to return to Kentucky after she received her college degree.
Beth was startled when Clark laid his hand on her shoulder. “Beth, are you feeling any better yet?”
With difficulty, she returned to the present and shook her head.
He reached for his cell phone and dialed.
“Stephanie, this is Clark. Please tell Mr. Shriver that Miss Warner and I will not return to the office this afternoon. She will see him tomorrow morning.”
He dialed again. “This is Clark Randolph, Shriver Mining Company. Please make a reservation for the next two nights for Beth Warner, at our expense. She will check in later on this evening.”
After he finished his phone calls, Clark drove for several miles in silence. “Beth,” he said at last, “we must go somewhere and talk. We can go to a restaurant but it won’t be very private. Do you have any objections to going to my apartment?”
“Your apartment will be fine. I’m too upset to be seen in public right now.”
Clark turned the vehicle and started toward Lexington. Beth looked out the window rather than face him. When he entered the parking garage of a high-rise apartment building, she needed no more proof that Clark’s economic situation had improved greatly. She had refused to many him because she wanted someone to take her away from eastern Kentucky, and now here he was, ensconced in a city, and she was going back to Harlan County. Beth could have cried over the ironic twist of fate, but she didn’t have any more tears left. She’d shed them all in his luxury vehicle.
“I live on the eighth floor,” he said. “I like it up there. I can look out over most of the other buildings and pretend I see the mountains, even if I can’t.”
“Then you don’t like living here?” Beth asked in some surprise, as they entered the heavily carpeted building and waited for the elevator.
“It isn’t home.”
Beth hadn’t looked at Clark since she’d first seen him in Shriver’s office, but she sensed that his tender, compassionate eyes watched her intently.
“It’s just a small apartment,” he said, as he opened the door into a combination living room and kitchenette, with a door to the left leading to a bedroom. Clark took her coat and hung it in the closet, then shrugged out of his topcoat.
“I’ll make something to drink. Tea or coffee?”
“Tea with some sugar, please. If I may, I’ll go to the bathroom and rinse my face.”
He pointed toward the bedroom door, turned on the gas burner, and ran water into a teakettle. Beth took her purse and went into the bathroom. Her makeup was streaked, her eyes were red, and her skin felt dry and parched. She drenched a washcloth with hot water and soaked up the warmth from it into her face. With the small amount of makeup she had in her purse, she was able to repair some of the damage from her crying jag.
As she walked through Clark’s bedroom, she stopped abruptly and stared at the picture in a gilded heart-shaped frame on the nightstand beside his bed. It was her ninth-grade picture—the one she had once given him for Christmas. Beth clutched her throat, hardly able to breathe, and a sob escaped her lips. “Oh, Clark,” she whispered.
So Clark was still harboring the unfailing love he’d once declared for her. She had assumed that by now he had found someone else. Dared she admit that she had feared he might have forgotten her? And she certainly wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.
Returning to the kitchen, she found Clark had set two cups and two small plates on the table. Water was boiling, and she smelled scrambled eggs and toast. She didn’t mention the picture.
He held a chair for her, put a tea bag in her cup and poured hot water over it. He placed a slice of toast and a portion of eggs on each plate, then pushed the butter plate to where she could reach it.
“Do you realize that this is the first time we’ve ever eaten a meal together?” he asked.
She lowered her eyes and fiddled with the spoon beside her plate.
“Sorry I can’t do any better with the menu, but I don’t eat here except for breakfast I’m either at a business dinner or bring in takeout.”
Beth could tell that Clark was chatting to give her time to regain her composure, but at last he said, “I’m sorry that meeting me gave you such a jolt. I didn’t realize it would be a complete surprise to you.”
“It wasn’t only that. I’ve been wallowing in sentiment for the past two days, and encountering you was just the last straw. You see, I made the mistake yesterday of going back to Randolph Mountain, and all the memories that I’d kept bottled up for seven years exploded.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “I’d rather hear about you. The last time I saw you, you were working in the mine. Today, you’re an executive in the company. How did it happen?”
“I thought perhaps you’d heard.”
“Nothing. My grandmother died a tew weeks before I went to Pennsylvania, and I didn’t correspond with anyone in Kentucky while I was away.”
They ate in silence. Beth felt ill at ease in Clark’s presence, and she had never been that way before. It was a strange sensation.
“Let’s take our tea into the living room where we can be more comfortable.” He poured some more hot water into their cups, replaced the tea bags in the liquid, and carried them to a table in front of the couch. She sat on the couch, and he took the chair opposite her.
“Didn’t you know that my mother’s maiden name was Shriver?”
Beth shook her head, wonderingly. The way he had occupied her mind for seven years, it was amazing how little she knew about him and his family.
“She’s Milton Shriver’s sister, but her father disowned her when she married Daddy, who was a poor coal miner. My mother is proud, and she never contacted any of her family—not even after Daddy was hurt and we lived in dire circumstances. Nor was she notified when