Shadow's on the Mountain

ONE

Northern California, April 1997

K
athryn gave the painting a last couple of strokes and laid down her brush. She stood up, stretched, and strolled over to the window to stare at the river that ran past her mountain home.
Tell her.
She sighed. Perhaps it was time. Allison was grown now; the danger was over. Had she been silent too long?
When the thoughts pressed in on her that morning, Kathryn felt herself balking. She didn’t want to open up old wounds.
She needs to know.
How should she go about telling her daughter about her grandparents? After all these years she still battled with the old resentment that threatened to rise like bile in her throat. Once again she gave those feelings over to the Lord. She knew she was not to carry those things any longer.
Kathryn sighed and returned to her painting. The whimsical rabbit stared back at her with his lopsided smile. At least her gift of artistry had provided a home and paid the bills over the years as she raised her daughter alone.
She bowed her head. ”All right, Lord, I’ll tell her, but it won’t be easy. What happens from there on is up to You.”
Just then the tires of a car made a crunching sound on the gravel driveway, and her heart lifted as she hurried down the stairs to greet her family.
Her daughter, Allison, stepped into the hall, holding her small son, Joshua and Kathryn hurried towards her.

“Honey, it’s so good to see you.” She hugged Allison with one arm and then reached for her three-month old grandson. She tucked him gently into the crook of her arm, marveling again at the wonder this precious new life had brought their family. She reached out and touched Allison on the cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Great, except for little or no sleep. I’ll sure be glad when he’s sleeping through the night.”
Jason stood grinning at his mother-in-law. “He’s a pretty big eater, Mom, almost every two hours.”
Kathryn beamed at her handsome son-in-law. His dark, almost black hair and brows framed incredible blue eyes. As she glanced down at her grandson, it was obvious that Joshua was the spitting image of his father.
She led them into the dining room where she’d placed a vase of summer daffodils on a table spread with a soft green tablecloth and green and white striped napkins. She enjoyed making every part of her home look like a still life painting.
They sat down to lasagna, salad and garlic bread and Kathryn nodded to Jason to ask the blessing. During dinner he regaled them with stories from his recent stint at summer camp with the junior high school kids from their church.
Kathryn shook her head. “How in the world did you manage them all?”
He grinned and waggled his fork. “I kept them very busy.”
“Oh,” Allison turned to Kathryn, “By the way, Mom, Jason’s parents are having their annual barbeque on the 4th of July.”
Jason reached for another piece of garlic bread. “And if there isn’t anyone in Lewiston who hasn’t seen pictures of my folk’s first grandchild, I’m sure they’ll get the opportunity.”
When there was a pause in the conversation and Kathryn looked at her daughter. “Darling, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Allison looked up, quizzically. “What is it?”
Kathryn gave her a wistful smile. “Why don’t you come up to my studio after dinner and we’ll talk.”
Allison glanced at Jason. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be up after Joshua is settled.”
Kathryn started up the stairs to her studio, gathering her thoughts. What should she tell Allison? The Thornwells were her grandparents. How much of what they did should she share? How should she begin her story? Thoughts spun in her mind like a hamster in a spinning wheel. She finally took some quiet moments to pray for wisdom, then waited for Allison’s footsteps. They weren’t long in coming.
“Mom?”
“Come in Allison. Is Joshua asleep?”
“Yes, I fed him and he’s out for the time being.”
“Is Jason coming?”
“He said he’d stay with the baby. I think he felt you and I needed to talk alone.”
“That’s very thoughtful of him, honey. You can share what you want to with him later.”
Allison sat down on the edge of the small settee and waited expectantly.
Kathryn turned and stared out the window a moment, thinking back.
“I think it’s time I told you about your paternal grandparents.”
“The Thornwells? I thought they were dead.”
Kathryn shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid I gave you that impression. I didn’t want you to contact them.”
“But why?”
I didn’t know what they would do. There is more to the story of the loss of your father --”

TWO

“I
t was spring, 1972. I couldn’t put my finger on when I knew. Maybe it was the way he strode next to George as they crossed the lawn. I was standing in the rose garden at the home of my roommate, Gloria Horton, as I watched him approach. Gloria was going on about her mother’s prize roses…”
“Your brother George is coming with someone.”
Gloria turned to look and her face lit up.
“Kathryn, he’s invited Oliver Thornwell! We can be a foursome. Ollie’s not only handsome, he’s fun. His father owns a huge law firm.”
As Oliver came towards her with George, they seemed to move in slow motion.
George spread his arms expansively. “Hey sis, look who’s here.”
Oliver nodded to Gloria. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You too, Ollie.”
Kathryn felt a nudge at her back. “This is my roommate, Kathryn Hilliard. Kathryn, this is Oliver Thornwell, Ollie to most of his friends.”
She looked up at his six feet two frame and his reddish auburn hair seemed to pick up flecks of sunshine as he acknowledged her. Gloria was right. He was handsome.
“I’m glad to meet you, Oliver.”
He took her outstretched hand in his and smiled. It was a warm smile that made crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“Kathryn.” He drew her name out. “I’m delighted to meet you.”
He didn’t let go of her hand.
George interrupted the moment. “Say, you two, we just came down to tell you lunch is ready. I’m starved.” He took Oliver’s arm. “Lunch, old man, lunch. The girls are joining us, so you can let go of her.”
Embarrassed, Kathryn withdrew her hand. George steered Oliver towards the house as Kathryn and Gloria hurried behind them.
“Well you certainly made an impression on Ollie,” Gloria whispered. “I’ve never seen him look at a girl that way.” She gave Kathryn a sideways glance. “Hey, you like him don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word was woefully inadequate.
“Well don’t go getting too serious. You haven’t met his parents. From what George tells me, they’re pretty controlling. I mean, they have his whole life planned, the girl too, if you know what I mean.”
Kathryn, still mentally processing her reaction to Oliver, just nodded.
During lunch, Kathryn glanced at Oliver’s profile when he turned to speak to someone else at the table. It was a good thing Mrs. Horton loved to talk, for the conversation seemed to flow over and around them.
“--and this war, well, you know, they call it a police action or some silly thing like that. Can you imagine all those boys going over there when there isn’t really a war? She turned to her son. “Now George, I don’t want you mixed up in all this business in Asia.”
“Vietnam, Mother. And you don’t have to worry, I’m still in school.” George turned to Oliver while his mother was distracted passing a bowl of salad.
“Did you know two of my fraternity brothers are going over? Sam was flunking out anyway and Ed just decided to sign up. I guess they wanted to see some action, though I wouldn’t choose to be in their shoes for a million dollars.”
Mrs. Horton’s’ ears were sharper than they gave her credit for. She gave her son a baleful look. “George dear, people are getting killed over there Those boys could get hurt. Now promise me you won’t do anything foolish like that.”
Mr. Horton chuckled. “Mable, don’t get all worked up. The boy will finish school and this thing will be over by the time he graduates. No need to worry.”
Mrs. Horton peered at her husband over her glasses and gave a slight shake of her head, then, remembering her duties as hostess, turned to Kathryn. “How are your art classes coming, dear?”
“Fine, thank you. One of my instructors actually wants me to submit some of my watercolors to an editor she knows who’s looking for an illustrator.”
Mrs. Horton beamed and waved a hand to include all at the table. “You should see the darling creatures she paints. She reminds me of Beatrix Potter.”
Not wanting to keep the attention on herself, Kathryn turned to Gloria. “You got high marks on your fashion sketches. Mr. Zumwalt was very impressed.”
Gloria struck a pose. “Of course, dahling, you must all come to my next showing”
As usual Gloria’s effervescence brought laughter, and the conversation began to flow in several directions. Kathryn learned Oliver was in his senior year at Stanford and headed for Stanford School of Law the next year. George would do the same.
As Kathryn listened to the banter among the family, she realized how much she enjoyed coming here. There was such genuine warmth among the family.
She sensed Oliver’s eyes on her, and was puzzled by the turmoil in her feelings. She had never been subtle and if she looked at him her face would tell him everything she felt. She glanced at each one of the family as they spoke, but avoided looking at Oliver.
As the meal was ending, George turned to his friend with a slight grin. “The initials of my grandparents are carved into the trunk of the old oak tree. Kathryn might like to see it. How about it, Ollie? I have to take care of a few things. I’ll join you later.”
“Be glad to,” smiled Oliver. Gloria looked at Kathryn and with a wink not seen by her parents, added gaily, “We’ll meet you down there in a little while, okay?”
Kathryn accepted the plan as casually as possible and made herself turn to Oliver. “I would love to see the tree, Oliver, that is, if you would like to show it to me.”
“Can’t think of anything I’d rather do at this moment.” He turned to Mr. and Mrs. Horton, “Will you excuse us?”
They walked casually until they were out of sight of the house, then Oliver impulsively took her hand and they began to run.

THREE

“C
ome on, the tree is this way.”
Laughing and out of breath, they leaned against the gnarled old tree. Their eyes met and he bent his head to one side, looking at her face a long moment. Distracted, Kathryn looked down at the ground. Oliver took her hand and pulled her down to sit on the soft grass, facing each other.
He grinned, “So, tell me about yourself, Kathryn Hilliard, where you grew up.”
She sighed and wondered where to begin. “Well, my sister, Ruth, and I were raised in Marysville by my godparents, Alma and Edwin Miller.”
“Godparents? What happened to your parents?”
“They served with a mission in China. Traveling down a river to one of the villages, the boat they were riding in was fired on by Chinese bandits. It sank and they were both drowned.”
“Whoa, that’s pretty traumatic. How old were you when it happened?”
“I was three and Ruth was five.”
“Are you related to the Millers?”
“No, Alma was a dear friend of my mother’s. They met in missionary training camp. The Millers were on furlough in the States from Guatemala when they received the telegram from my father’s office telling them about the tragedy. My father evidently left their names on file with the main office to be notified in the event of an emergency. The Millers flew to Asia to the mission family that had taken us in and got us. They’ve been our family ever since.”
“You have no other family?”
“No. If it hadn’t been for the Millers we’d have been placed in an orphanage.”
“They sound like wonderful people. I hope I’ll have the opportunity to meet them someday.”
Kathryn just smiled up at him.
He rested his elbows on his knees. “So you’re attending the Academy of Art University with Gloria. What’s your goal?”
“I want to do illustrations for children’s books.”
“Sounds like you might get that opportunity. I’d love to see your work sometime.”
She shrugged. “If you’d like to, I don’t know how good it is right now.”
“Well, I’d still like to see it.” His eyes twinkled. “Perhaps the next time we meet.”
She felt her face redden. She did want to see him again, more than she realized. She covered her embarrassment quickly.
“Tell me about your family, Oliver.”
He looked off into space, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, his ready grin reappeared. “I’m an only child, a mid-life surprise, I believe. My parents thought they couldn’t have any children. Sometimes I’ve heartily wished for brothers and sisters, to take the heat off, so to speak.”
She laughed softly. “Gloria said they were strict. Are they?”
He made a face. “I guess that’s as good a description as any. Oh, I’m sure they love me, and mean well, but every aspect of my life has been planned from the moment I was born, the right playmates, the right schools, the right everything.”
“The right girl?” she ventured.
He smiled that slow warm smile and his eyes twinkled. “That privilege I believe I will reserve for myself, in spite of their good intentions.”
Distracted by his smile, she struggled to gather her thoughts. “You’re going to be an attorney, Oliver?”
He tilted his head to one side. “You know I’d have you call me Ollie like everyone else does, but somehow I like the way you draw out my name. Say ‘Oliver’.”
She obliged, and he grinned with approval.
“How do you think you’ll like law school?”
He looked off in the distance. “If you want to know the truth, I hate law. There just doesn’t seem to be any way out. The slightest resistance to their wishes and I get major recriminations for all their efforts on my behalf. It hasn’t been worth the battle.”
She studied his long fingers.
“If you could choose any vocation you wanted, what would you like to do?”
He stretched out on the grass and stared up at the leaves above him. “I want to be an architect. To design homes that fit in with the terrain around them, homes with light and space.” He had been toying with a small twig and suddenly snapped it in two. “I might just as well wish for the moon.”
She put her hand gently on his arm, “Oliver, you can be anything you want to be. Maybe you could finish college, get your law degree, and work for your father a couple of years, then go to night school to become an architect.”
He gave her a searching look and chuckled, “Where in the world did you come from? I like your way of thinking.” Then he frowned and sighed heavily. “A junior law assistant is kept pretty busy. I think my father would make sure I didn’t have any free time. He plans on having me take over the firm some day.” He chewed on his lower lip and stared off in to space.
Hearing the voices of George and Gloria approaching, Kathryn and Oliver jumped up, brushing the leaves from their clothes.
George grinned knowingly and Gloria put her hands on her hips, pretending to look stern. “And what do we have going on here?”
Oliver started to protest, but George waved a hand, “Don’t worry old man, our lips are sealed.”
Oliver looked relieved and the four of them walked back towards the house. Gloria turned to Kathryn when the men were far enough ahead and whispered, “Oliver’s mother monitors all his relationships, if you know what I mean.”
Kathryn frowned but didn’t respond.
When the girls caught up to them, George elbowed Ollie and grinned. “How about a little tennis, old man? You beat me two sets out of three last time. I need to get even.”
Oliver grinned. “You’re on.” He turned back to Kathryn. “Do you play?”
She gave him an impudent smile. “I can hold my own.”
They changed clothes and met back on the tennis court. Kathryn kept up her end of the team, but at the same time watched Oliver, who was not only lithe, but obviously a strong player. They switched sides but no matter whom Oliver had for a partner, his team won.
The shadows lengthened, and before they realized, it was time to change for dinner.
As Kathryn turned towards the house, Oliver waited for her.
“You play a mean game of tennis, Ms. Hilliard.”
“You did pretty well yourself, Mr. Thornwell.”
He walked her to the stairs and with a tip of his fingers to his forehead and a smile, followed George.