Walker was so angry he had to will his voice into calmness. Seeing the smug satisfaction in Zena's eyes, he repeated and completed his sentence, "What you said is correct…this is none of your business."
His aunt's expression morphed from "I told you so," to shock. Her eyes widened and he continued, "I want there to be no misunderstanding. I love Joy and I intend to marry her. She will become Misty's mother and you will not interfere. As for her parents, I am well aware of who they are. And about her being spoiled, that is rubbish. She is one of the least spoiled women I have ever met. She is kindhearted, sweet, lovely, and if you ever speak anything negative against her again, I will disown you, and you will never see Misty again. Have I made myself clear?"
Walker's gaze never left his aunt's face. He was determined that she understand how serious he was. She opened her mouth to say something and he lifted his eyebrows. She reconsidered and closed her mouth. Finally, she said, "Perfectly clear," and turned on her heel, marching from his office.
Walker leaned back in his office chair, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head, trying to dislodge his aunt's unreasonable attitude. For the life of him, he hadn't a clue as to why she was acting so terribly. But he'd meant every word. If she so much as looked crosswise at Joy, he'd send her packing. He reconsidered that thought and made a decision to send her back to Portland posthaste, anyway.
He glanced at his pocket watch. Mr. Farmer would be in soon for a follow-up appointment on his hernia condition, and then Mrs. Botkin was bringing her baby in for a routine checkup. There were a few appointments after that and then he would drive Joy back to the Jerome homestead after dining out. His heart quickened just thinking about being with her. Perhaps when he picked Misty up from his sister's, he would invite her and Solomon to join them. Chatting with family over a leisurely meal would prolong his time with Joy. If he had his way, he'd drag her to the courthouse and marry her in front of the Justice of the Peace today, but he knew how important a woman's wedding day was, and how much his daughter was looking forward to dressing in her princess gown.
The day finally ended around five and he was surprised that Joy hadn't arrived back at his office by then. He decided to go search for her downtown. His nurse bid him goodnight and he was locking his office door when Tad, a local youth who worked as a delivery boy for the combined post office and telegraph office, approached him carrying a large envelope. Walker had ordered some medical research papers and wondered if that was what was being delivered.
Tad said, "Howdy, Doc Flemming. I got orders to give you this. Mr. Pike said he had strict instructions not to deliver the envelope 'til you was closin' up. I been waitin' and watchin' from across the street. So since you're lockin' the door, I guess I can give it to you now."
Walker frowned and asked, "Who gave Mr. Pike those orders?"
"Don't know, sir. I never butt in to stuff that ain't my business."
Walker accepted the envelope, reached into his pocket for a coin, and tossed it at Tad. "Thanks, son."
"No, thank you, sir," Tad said appreciatively and ran off down the street.
Walker sat on the bench outside his office and tore open the envelope that had no postage markings, only his name written on it. Inside were three separately folded papers. He opened the one with his name and his heart quickened when he scanned the page and saw the signature. It was from Joy.
My Dearest Walker,
I wrote a letter previous to this one but tore it up because it was written in anger. Upon reflection, I believe I understand your reasoning in wanting to marry me, but it does not dull the hurt in my heart.
Perhaps I should explain. Earlier today, I came to your office and finding no one in reception, started down the hall to find you. I heard your voice and then I heard your Aunt Zena speaking. It was not my intention to listen to your conversation, but the hatred in her voice gave me pause. Her tirade, in some aspects, was unfair, but in others, she was correct. I never divulged the fact that my parents are famous artists, and for that I am truly sorry. It was not my intent to keep it from you; I simply forgot because it was never an issue while I was growing up. To me, my mother and father are simple country folk. But I suppose your aunt is correct in pointing out that I was a spoiled child. As an only child, my parents doted on me, and still do. However, my travels this past year have shown me the poverty and toil others must endure just to make it through a day. So, yes, I am spoiled, and perhaps flighty, and not the best choice of a wife for you. You and Misty both need a mature woman who does not always have her head in the clouds searching for fairies and sprites. There is a balance that I have yet to achieve.
I have enclosed a letter for Misty. I only hope that someday she will forgive me for abandoning her. Perhaps it is needless for me to point out that the very nature of this letter affirms my immaturity. If I had not heard your agreement with your aunt's accusations, I might have found the courage to confront her, admit my failings, and try my best to improve myself for the sake of you and Misty. But after hearing you so quickly agree with her, I could not muster the desire to do so.
I wish you the best. You are a good man and I love you, but I must leave and experience a life not dependent upon another. I must make my own way in this world. I have sent an emergency wire to my parents letting them know the marriage has been canceled, so it is not necessary for you to telephone them.
Joy
Walker folded the letter and whispered, "Oh, my God, Joy. You heard wrong." With trembling hands he opened the letter addressed to his daughter.
My beautiful and sweet Misty,
I want you to know how much I not only adore you, but love you with my whole heart. That is why my heart is breaking as I write this letter. For the moment, you may not understand my leaving, but I pray someday you will.
My leaving has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. There is a special place that I have always known I must visit. I have put off going there for reasons unknown even to myself. However, the time has come.
As for you, my little darling, you are a gifted artist, much better than I, and you must continue painting every day. And you must also continue emerging from the cocoon you have wrapped yourself in. I know that soon you will spread your wings and fly like the butterfly.
Remember, I am always with you in spirit.
Joy
Walker lowered his head and allowed tears to drip. Joy's letters only confirmed the fact that he didn't want a "mature" woman. He wanted Joy, his "princess" who looked for "little people" under flower petals and scanned tree trunks for gnomes. He wanted a woman who would dress like a fairy princess just to make his daughter happy; a woman who never ceased being amazed by the wonders of nature; a woman who painted pictures with words as much as with paint; a woman who danced with his daughter in the yard; a woman who insisted he relax on the porch with her and talk about his day; a woman who was so kind that she even looked for truth in his aunt's lies. He wanted Joy!
Carefully, he placed the letters back in the envelope, not opening the one intended for the Jeromes, and unlocked his office door. Lifting the handset of his phone, he asked Gretchen to place a call to Jake Ryder in Two Rivers, Texas.