“Or own an orchard,” she put in. Or a chocolate factory.
“Nah. I’m not a farmer. I’ll figure it out, though. One thing I can tell you, I want a woman who’s willing to leave everything to be with me.”
Muriel got the message. For Stephen she could do that. She nodded. “That’s what love is—giving up what you care about the most for the person you want to be with.”
He smiled at her as though she’d just passed some kind of test. Well, she’d said the right thing. But could she really leave her home?
Of course she could. Home is more than a place, she told herself, it’s wherever two people in love can be together. It was probably too soon to talk about love, but she knew what she felt and she knew what she wanted. Stephen.
Now she had to find a way to convince her father that she wanted the right man. At some point she was going to have to bring Stephen home. But not yet.
So she kept insisting on meeting him places—Riverwalk Park, the pool, the movies. And June slipped by like a dream. The only part of the dream that wasn’t perfect was the fact that every time she saw Pat, her friend turned her back and went the other way.
So what? Maybe she wouldn’t be here much longer. Maybe she’d marry Stephen and move away. That thought cheered her up. Almost.
By July 3, the town of Icicle Falls was surrounded by campers, and people were taking rafts down the river, picnicking in mountain meadows and enjoying the town’s amenities. The Fourth of July celebrations were underway, with food booths set up on Alpine Street and an arts-and-crafts show in the park. And Stephen and Muriel were getting out of town.
She met him by the gazebo and hopped on the back of his motorcycle to go for a drive. It always made her nervous climbing on the back of that big, noisy bike, and she’d hold on to Stephen for dear life every time they hit the open road. But she also got a secret thrill out of being seen by the other kids. The guys all wanted to be Stephen and the girls all wanted to have him. Too bad. He was hers.
She was just looking around, gloating, when she saw someone staring at her from the corner across the street. And that person didn’t seem happy at all.
She gasped, but Stephen didn’t hear her. He was gunning the bike. Then, before she could gather her thoughts, they were speeding off down the street. If she survived riding this big scary monster, it would be to come home to something even scarier—Daddy’s wrath.
“How to Deal with an Angry Father,” by Muriel Patrick. She’d have plenty of time to write that article because she was going to be on restriction for life.
Four
MURIEL HAD BARELY walked into her house when the fireworks started. A day early.
She could smell her mother’s meat loaf baking but she had no appetite. Her stomach had been churning for the past two hours.
Daddy was home and waiting for Muriel in the living room, Mother keeping him company. She looked concerned. He looked ready to explode.
“What were you doing with that long-haired motorcycle bum?” he demanded.
“He’s not a bum,” Muriel protested. “He’s nice.”
“I can tell by looking at him that there’s nothing nice about the boy. He doesn’t even have a job.”
That showed how much her father knew. “Yes, he does. He’s working part-time at the garage.”
Daddy pointed a finger at her. “At his age he should have a full-time job.”
“Now, Joe,” Mama said in her most soothing voice. “He’s young.”
“He’s old enough to ride a noisy motorcycle all over town. He’s old enough to have a full-time job,” Daddy said, his voice rising.
“Then maybe you should give him one,” Muriel suggested boldly.
“I’ll do that when hell freezes over. Now, I don’t want you seeing him again.”
“You can’t tell me what to do, Daddy!”
“As long as you’re living under my roof I can,” her father roared, “and I expect you to listen.”
He could expect all he wanted but it didn’t mean she would. She turned and stormed out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom.
“I’m not done with you, young lady!”
But she was done with him. She kept right on going. Upstairs she slammed her bedroom door, just so Daddy would know she meant business.
A few minutes later, a gentle tap at the door told her he’d sent a negotiator. “May I come in?” Mother asked.
As if she had a choice? She sat on her bed and watched sullenly as her mother slipped into the room. Mother joined her and laid a hand over hers. “Muriel, your father’s only concerned about your happiness.”
“No, he’s not. If he was, he wouldn’t make snap judgments. Stephen’s fun and noble and... I love him.” There, she’d said it. Her parents needed to be aware of this immutable fact.
Mother sighed. “You hardly know the boy.”
“You hardly knew Daddy,” Muriel argued. Her parents had met when their families were vacationing at the ocean and it had been love at first sight. They’d written letters back and forth for six months, had a total of three dates and then gotten engaged.
Her mother gave her a reluctant smile. “I’ll talk to your father. Meanwhile, don’t rush into anything.”
Muriel understood what that translated to. Don’t have sex; don’t get pregnant. Well, she wasn’t planning on running right out and sleeping with Stephen. But if he asked her to marry him, she’d do it tomorrow. Rather than upset her mother with that bit of information she simply nodded.
Her mother kissed the top of her head. “Now, let’s go have dinner.”
The last thing she wanted to do was sit across the table from her father. “I’m not hungry.”
“Honey, come make up with your father.”
Muriel shook her head. “I’m going to the street dance with Olivia.”
It
