Love, Come to Me(87)

On the twenty-sixth of January, Virginia, having accepted the Fifteenth Amendment, was readmitted to the Union. The news spurred a giant flurry of activity in the offices of every newspaper on Washington Street; everyone was talking about the controversial test-oaths of loyalty that the senate demanded of all public officials, as well as the numerous provisos concerning voting rights, holding elected offices, and public schools. Then in February, Mississippi ratified the amendment, and the state seemed to turn upside down as dozens of incidents of violence against blacks followed. There was a great deal of news to cover.

Heath began the practice of working extra hours and coming home exhausted every night. None of Lucy’s pleas to slow down and rest had any effect on him. Seemingly tireless, he pushed everyone nearly as hard as he did himself, adding a Sunday edition of the paper and an extra two pages to the daily issues. As a result, everyone at the Examiner had the satisfaction of seeing the subscription rate jump by five thousand readers, putting it on a level with the Journal. Heath and Damon were exuberant at the progress the paper had made. Now they were no longer just surviving. They were competitive. And there were jokes around town that the owners of the Herald were beginning to look over their shoulders in fear of “Examination.”

Lucy was delighted by Heath’s success, but at the same time she was worried by his ceaseless activity. He worked every waking hour of the day, took her to social events during the weekend, and discarded sleep as if it were an easily expendable commodity. Even Damon had admitted the last time he visited that he couldn’t keep up with Heath’s pace. Gradually the punishing schedule began to take its toll. Heath’s temper became much shorter than before. He developed a slight but persistent hoarseness from being outside in the cold weather so often, and the smooth drawl of his voice was replaced by a husky rasping that wouldn’t seem to go away. Upon noticing the new honed look about his cheekbones and realizing that he had lost weight, Lucy put her foot down.

“Lucy,” Heath said, striding into the bedroom and straightening his necktie, “are you almost ready? We’re going to be . . .” He stopped short as he saw that she was still dressed in her robe, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’m not going tonight,” she said stubbornly.

His mouth hardened with impatience. “Honey, I already explained to you that we don’t have a choice. This is an Associated Press dinner, and there are some people I have to talk with—”

“You also said that Damon would be there. He can talk to them.”

“There’s no time to argue—”

“Then let’s not.” She looked at him and couldn’t control the moisture that welled up in the corners of her eyes. He was as handsome and immaculately dressed as ever, but the distinctive glow of vitality he had always possessed had been drained by overwork, and there were faint shadows underneath his blue eyes. His expression was harsh and tired. What was making him so discontented that he would try to work himself to death? Was it some inadequacy of hers? Was it some nagging worry that he couldn’t bring himself to talk about? “I don’t like going out every weekend,” she said, her voice becoming wobbly. “We haven’t had time to sit down and just . . . just be together.”

“It won’t be like this forever,” Heath said quietly. “There are just a lot of things to take care of right now, and—”

“But you don’t have to do it all by yourself!” she cried. “You never trust anyone to take care of some of that work . . . and . . . and that’s just arrogance, to think that you’re the only one who can do it!”

“Lucy . . .” As he saw the tears that dropped from her eyes, he sighed and rubbed his temples. “All right. In another few weeks I’ll start looking for ways to delegate responsibility.”

That didn’t satisfy her. In fact, it only made her want to cry harder. “I don’t know how much longer you can go on like this, but I c-can’t!”

Muttering a curse, he took off his shoes, coat, and necktie, picked her up, and sat down on the bed with her in his lap. Lucy huddled against his chest, burying her wet face into his neck. He was warm and solid, his heartbeat steady underneath her hand. “Shhhh . . . it’s all right,” he said into her hair, cradling her tightly. “We’re not going tonight. We’ll stay here.”

“I’m not as h-happy as I used to be—”

“I know. I know, honey. I’ll make it right. Everything’s going to be fine from now on.”

“You don’t l-laugh as much as you used to.”

“I will. Starting tomorrow.”

“You spend all your energy on that paper . . . a-and I only get you when you’re all t-tired out.”

“God.” He smiled and nuzzled through her hair, kissing the soft hollow behind her earlobe. “I’m sorry. Don’t cry so hard, sweet . . . shhhh . . .”

He murmured to her and cradled her, stroking her hair until her tears stopped. A tentative, eagerly welcomed relief stole over Lucy as they eased back together on the bed. Nothing was wrong as long as he was with her and his arms were around her. “Stay with me,” she said, tightening her hold on him as she felt his weight shift. “Don’t go. Let’s just . . . let’s just rest a little while. And we’ll eat dinner up here later.”