To Love and Honor. Irene Brand

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      Not least among the debts that Violet owed to Aunt Ruth was the blessing of living in a Christian home. Church attendance had been a part of Violet’s upbringing, instilling a dependence upon God in her that had often been the only consolation she had during her maturing years.

      Reluctantly, Violet left the cozy chair and went to the bedroom to dress for the evening. She was flattered that Larry Holland, Maitland’s most eligible bachelor, had singled her out for his attention, but still she dreaded this evening. When she was alone with Larry, Violet was content, but she was always uncomfortable in Olivia Holland’s company. The Hollands were rich and very influential in the state, and Mrs. Holland never let one forget the fact. Her own family had impeccable lineage, or so she insisted, and she didn’t let anyone forget that, either. When they first started dating, Violet had expected Mrs. Holland to check her ancestry, but apparently she hadn’t, for Violet was convinced that if the aristocratic Olivia Holland had even looked into Violet’s family background, she would have heard about it.

      Larry wasn’t like his mother, else Violet wouldn’t have given him a second glance, although he had subtly suggested a few times that Violet should buy more expensive clothes, a hint she had ignored. By the time she made payments on her house and car, she didn’t have enough money to buy designer clothing.

      So, what was she going to wear tonight? She soon decided on a navy, ankle-length silk skirt and long-sleeved lace blouse that matched her violet eyes—a striking feature that had resulted in her name.

      Violet showered quickly, wearing a cap over her head, because she didn’t have time for a shampoo and styling. Fortunately, Violet’s naturally curly hair was easily managed. She visited the hairdresser to have it cut and shaped every two months, but the rest of the time a few strokes with a brush left her short hair in black soft curls all over her head.

      She applied makeup sparingly. Her fine features and smooth skin, rich and deep in texture, needed little enhancement. She left off eye makeup completely, because her violet eyes fringed by long, up-curling black lashes were naturally distinctive. Violet was above average height and well proportioned. With her graceful form, even inexpensive garments set well on her.

      She knew that Larry would arrive promptly at six o’clock, so she was surprised when the doorbell rang twenty minutes before that. She pulled a lightweight evening jacket from the closet and rushed to the door.

      Her friend, Roger Gibson, stood on the porch. “Oh, hello,” she said. “Come in.”

      He whistled. “Wow! You are really dolled up this evening. If you’re going out, I’ll come back later.”

      “Larry won’t pick me up for fifteen minutes. Come on in.”

      Roger, a lieutenant in the Illinois State Police, and his family attended the same church as Violet, and he had been her friend since she had moved to Maitland. He stepped inside the living room, which seemed to shrink with the presence of his tall, powerful build. Roger was off duty now, and in casual dress, but in his policeman’s uniform, Violet had often thought he looked awesome.

      “Actually, I’m begging,” he said. “The church youth group are sponsoring a garage sale next month, and we’re looking for donations. We’ll take anything that’s salable.”

      “I’m sure I can scrounge up some good items, but you’ll have to wait for it until after the Social Studies Fair is over.”

      Roger was the father of Misty Gibson, one of Violet’s pupils so he knew about the fair. “Oh, yes, I’ll be happy when that event is over, so I can take possession of our dining room table again. Misty has been struggling for several days to make a papier-mâché model of the White House. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you that.”

      His generous mouth with rather full lips broke into a smile, causing attractive crinkles at the corners of his dark eyes. Roger Gibson had thick dark hair, curled close to his head, with touches of silver at the temples. His dusky skin hinted of a Middle East ancestry far in the past. With his warm, open nature Roger possessed an air of decency and strong character. Violet always felt elevated to a higher spiritual and moral level when she was in his presence.

      “It doesn’t matter, for I won’t be one of the judges. I’ll give them a grade for turning in the project, but I won’t have to decide which is the best one, thank goodness.”

      Roger’s brown eyes resembled deep dark pools when he smiled again. “Artistic ability isn’t one of Misty’s strong points. I’m not concerned about having to escort her to the regional competition in Missouri.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll go now. I see Larry driving down the street. See you at church on Sunday.”

      Rather than observing Larry’s approach, Violet admired Roger’s energetic walk toward his truck. His step was fast and springy, an unusual gait in such a large man. A widower when Violet first met him, he bore well the responsibility of rearing two children by himself.

      She turned to greet Larry when he stepped up on the porch.

      “Ready on time, as usual,” Larry said. Roger waved to them as he drove his pickup down the street.

      “Are you in trouble?” Larry asked, smiling, but with a hint of worry in his eyes.

      Pulling the door shut behind her, and taking Larry’s arm as they left the porch and walked to his car, Violet said, “Oh, you mean Roger. He directs the youth activities at our church, and he was soliciting items for the group’s garage sale. Roger was one of the first people I met when I moved to Maitland. He nearly gave me a ticket for neglecting to signal a right-hand turn.” She laughed at the memory. “And after he let me off with a stern warning, he invited me to attend his church. We’ve been friends ever since.”

      “Not the usual way to make friends, I’d say.”

      “Perhaps not, but I couldn’t ask for a better friend. In fact, he tries to befriend everyone.”

      “Have you ever considered leaving that church, Violet? It’s too conservative and folksy for me. You would be welcome at the church we attend.”

      “But I’m welcome at First Community Church, too. The large church family I’ve gained there makes up for the small natural family I have.”

      Violet tried to keep her voice from reflecting the irritation she felt, for she suspected that Mrs. Holland was behind Larry’s comments. She was ready to take issue with him, but he dropped the subject and looked at her approvingly. “May I say that you’re looking fantastic tonight? Mother will be pleased.”

      “You look pretty sharp, too. Perhaps I’m not the one to say this, but we do make a good-looking couple,” she said, eyeing, with appreciation, his black suit, snow-white shirt, and expensive silk tie, its rich burgundy and gray pattern a perfect contrast to his dark suit.

      One couldn’t help admire Larry Holland. With the family wealth, he wouldn’t have to work at all, yet at thirty, he had already earned his doctorate in education, and had been the principal at Maitland High for five years. His brown hair swept back from his forehead in deep waves, and his eyes were hazel colored. A square, jutted jaw that he’d inherited from his mother, kept him from being handsome, and in Violet’s opinion, the well-trimmed mustache didn’t enhance his appearance a great deal, but overall his looks were certainly worthy of notice. In height, he stood eye-level with Violet, his body slender. He was a man to be admired, and he had earned Violet’s regard both because of his personality and his proficiency СКАЧАТЬ