Read Online The Lancaster Men by Janet Dailey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Janet Dailey
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finding out how she was soon.
A little ache welled in Shari’s throat at the sight of the familiar green tobacco fields and the drying sheds. When she caught the first glimpse of the old pillared mansion standing so proudly in the morning light, a tear slipped from her lashes. She wasn’t aLancaster so it didn’t belong to her, but it was where she had lived as a child.
All her memories were wrapped around that house and this land. It affected her this way every time she came back, but the homecoming never lasted longer than her first meeting with Granddad Lancaster. Shari hoped he was at the hospital, and this one time, her homecoming wouldn’t be spoiled by angry words.
Whit parked the car at the head of the circular drive near the porticoed front entrance. A carriage house in the rear of the old mansion had long ago been converted into a garage, but there was no point in driving the car back there when they’d be leaving soon.
There wasn’t any standing on ceremony as all three climbed out as soon as the motor was switched off. Shari waited by the steps while Rory and Whit took the suitcases out of the trunk of the car. She turned loving eyes on the massive structure, its white walls rising two and a half stories into the air. It was built to withstand time and the elements, a fitting home for the Lancaster dynasty.
At the approach of her half brother and stepbrother, Shari climbed the steps to the front door. The knob yielded to the touch of her hand and she pushed it open to walk inside. It had always seemed that nothing could happen within these thick walls without the direct permission of a Lancaster, which made it all the more difficult to accept that her mother had been stricken and was lying in a hospital bed. Perhaps the Lancasters weren’t so omnipotent after all.
The wide hallway echoed their footsteps on the oak floors, an intrusion in the silence. Soon it was answered by another set of footsteps hurrying toward the front hallway. The housekeeper, Mrs. Youngblood, appeared, relief breaking through her strained expression when she saw them.
“Thank God, you’ve arrived.” It was truly a prayer of thanks by the religious woman as she sent a glance heavenward.
“How’s Mother?” Shari asked the question uppermost in her mind as a door to her left was opened.
It led to the library, the private sanctuary of Lancaster males. Shari stiffened and half-turned to look at the aged man she knew would be standing in the opening. Frederick Lancaster leaned heavily on his cane, an indication that his health wasn’t as robust as his body appeared.
His height was equal to Whit’s, but advanced years had stooped him. His dark hair had turned to an iron shade of gray and a multitude of lines had weathered his face. However, his eyes burned brightly with the topaz color she often saw reflected in Whit’s.
Mrs. Youngblood didn’t offer any information now that the head of the family was on the scene. She left it to Frederick Lancaster to inform them of Elizabeth Sutherland Lancaster’s present condition.
“So, Whit has brought the runaway children home,” he commented with an edge of reproval.
“He didn’t bring us home. We came,” Shari corrected, bristling as she always did when she confronted him. “How is Mother?”
“You’ve never been concerned about her beforethis,” he pointed out. “Isn’t it a bit hypocritical to come rushing back when she’s in the hospital?”
“They’re here now, Granddad,” Whit inserted firmly. “That’s all that’s necessary for the present. What is Elizabeth’s condition?”
“She has had a bad stroke, but the doctors are confident that she will recover.” His cane thumped the hardwood floor as he hobbled into the entrance hall.
The first tingle of relief went through Shari and her glance ran to Rory to share the moment. He blinked at the tears in his eyes, trying not to let them be seen lest his grandfather think he was weak.
“I’m taking
A little ache welled in Shari’s throat at the sight of the familiar green tobacco fields and the drying sheds. When she caught the first glimpse of the old pillared mansion standing so proudly in the morning light, a tear slipped from her lashes. She wasn’t aLancaster so it didn’t belong to her, but it was where she had lived as a child.
All her memories were wrapped around that house and this land. It affected her this way every time she came back, but the homecoming never lasted longer than her first meeting with Granddad Lancaster. Shari hoped he was at the hospital, and this one time, her homecoming wouldn’t be spoiled by angry words.
Whit parked the car at the head of the circular drive near the porticoed front entrance. A carriage house in the rear of the old mansion had long ago been converted into a garage, but there was no point in driving the car back there when they’d be leaving soon.
There wasn’t any standing on ceremony as all three climbed out as soon as the motor was switched off. Shari waited by the steps while Rory and Whit took the suitcases out of the trunk of the car. She turned loving eyes on the massive structure, its white walls rising two and a half stories into the air. It was built to withstand time and the elements, a fitting home for the Lancaster dynasty.
At the approach of her half brother and stepbrother, Shari climbed the steps to the front door. The knob yielded to the touch of her hand and she pushed it open to walk inside. It had always seemed that nothing could happen within these thick walls without the direct permission of a Lancaster, which made it all the more difficult to accept that her mother had been stricken and was lying in a hospital bed. Perhaps the Lancasters weren’t so omnipotent after all.
The wide hallway echoed their footsteps on the oak floors, an intrusion in the silence. Soon it was answered by another set of footsteps hurrying toward the front hallway. The housekeeper, Mrs. Youngblood, appeared, relief breaking through her strained expression when she saw them.
“Thank God, you’ve arrived.” It was truly a prayer of thanks by the religious woman as she sent a glance heavenward.
“How’s Mother?” Shari asked the question uppermost in her mind as a door to her left was opened.
It led to the library, the private sanctuary of Lancaster males. Shari stiffened and half-turned to look at the aged man she knew would be standing in the opening. Frederick Lancaster leaned heavily on his cane, an indication that his health wasn’t as robust as his body appeared.
His height was equal to Whit’s, but advanced years had stooped him. His dark hair had turned to an iron shade of gray and a multitude of lines had weathered his face. However, his eyes burned brightly with the topaz color she often saw reflected in Whit’s.
Mrs. Youngblood didn’t offer any information now that the head of the family was on the scene. She left it to Frederick Lancaster to inform them of Elizabeth Sutherland Lancaster’s present condition.
“So, Whit has brought the runaway children home,” he commented with an edge of reproval.
“He didn’t bring us home. We came,” Shari corrected, bristling as she always did when she confronted him. “How is Mother?”
“You’ve never been concerned about her beforethis,” he pointed out. “Isn’t it a bit hypocritical to come rushing back when she’s in the hospital?”
“They’re here now, Granddad,” Whit inserted firmly. “That’s all that’s necessary for the present. What is Elizabeth’s condition?”
“She has had a bad stroke, but the doctors are confident that she will recover.” His cane thumped the hardwood floor as he hobbled into the entrance hall.
The first tingle of relief went through Shari and her glance ran to Rory to share the moment. He blinked at the tears in his eyes, trying not to let them be seen lest his grandfather think he was weak.
“I’m taking
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