From the Relief Society Magazine, 1968 –

If Spring Be Late

By Mabel Harmer

Chapter 1

Maureen returned a dozen books to their proper places on the shelves, slipped her handbag into the bottom desk drawer, and said to her young assistant, “I’m going down to the office, Madge. You might return the rest of these books into their places. There probably won’t be any children in this morning — what with school just starting. The big rush will come after school and next Saturday.”

“Sure, Miss Taggart. Take your time.”

This was an hour to which she had looked forward for more than half of the twenty years she had been with the library. Not that she disliked her work. As a matter of fact, she loved it — especially since it was with children. But it was not her first choice for a full and happy life. When she had first dreamed of going to Miss Pine, the head librarian, she had expected to say, “I’m going to get married, Miss Pine. Johnny is coming home, and we plan to be married right away.”

Only Johnny hadn’t come home. His plane had disappeared while flying the Hump over the jungles of Asia. The report was “Missing in action.” For a long time Maureen had held out hope. She had heard of men fighting their way out of the jungle. But, as the years passed, hope dwindled and finally died. Sometimes when she passed a fair-haired lad on the streets, her heart thumped. Then she remembered. If Johnny had been alive he would no longer be a fair-haired lad in his mid-twenties. Maybe he would have thinning hair, or patches of gray. By the time she had finally given up hope of his return, there had not been many single men available. Anyway, she had never yet met anyone who could take the place of Johnny in her heart.

Miss Pine was interviewing an applicant, and Maureen waited discreetly outside until the woman left. As she came in, the librarian said, “It’s amazing that anyone who wants a job thinks that she can step right into a library and go to work. It must look extremely easy.”

“Or pleasant,” added Maureen. “Well, my visit is exactly the opposite. I came in to tender my resignation.”

“Not really!” exclaimed Miss Pine. “Why?”

“A good question, and I have a great answer. I’m planning to go to England for some months and do genealogical research. My people came from there — England and Scotland. I’ve been saving and working toward this for a number of years. Now I’m ready to take off.”

“It sounds fascinating,” agreed Miss Pine. “You’ll do some traveling, too, of course. Tour the Continent and all of Britain. I hope to do the same myself some day — the touring, I mean.

When do you plan to leave?”

“In a couple of weeks. Madge can take over my work, and you can put an assistant on for her. I’ll work right up to the time I go.”

“Will you fly over?”

“Goodness, no! I’ve never been east of Denver. I’ll go by bus so that I can see every mile of the country. And then by boat. I have reservations in October. It isn’t difficult to get them at this time of the year. Nearly everyone is coming back instead of leaving.”

“Well, I’m very happy for you. And when you come back there’ll always be a job here for you, if you want it. At least as long as I have anything to say about it.”

“Thank you very much.”

As she walked back to the children’s library, Maureen said to herself, I wonder what she would have thought if I had said, “Genealogy is only part of my reason for going. I have inherited a joint ownership in a castle in Scotland.”

Miss Pine wouldn’t have believed it, of course. Maureen hardly believed it herself, in spite of the letter she had received from her cousin, Bruce Taggart. Well, she would soon find out. In the meantime, it was exciting just to dream. In fact, it was the most exciting thing, dream or reality, that had happened in a score of years.

As she entered the library, she saw Harold Meacham waiting for her. A large boy, now in his late teens, he had been retarded by a childhood illness and never advanced beyond the third grade in reading level. He depended upon her to find books that were near his age in interest, and still in words simple enough for his understanding. She almost felt some guilt in leaving him. She must instruct Madge very carefully how to look out for him. “Hello, Harold,” she said brightly. “Have you finished all of those books so soon?” She picked out several more books, and he left, eager to be at them.

I n the quiet of the library, she said, “Madge, I’m leaving.”

“Miss Taggart! You don’t mean it!”

“Indeed, I do. I’m going to England to spend several months. I’m going to do family research and some traveling.”

“How perfectly marvelous! But I’ve heard that it’s terribly cold in England in the winter. You must load up on scads of sweaters and ear muffs and. . . .”

“And built-in foot warmers,” laughed Maureen. “I guess that I can manage. Millions of other people have.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone real exciting,” Madge went on raptly, “like an IBM executive or a chap who conducts safaris — ”

“On a bus, I am not likely to meet any executives. More likely it will be librarians, schoolteachers, and secretaries.”

“Then you should fly,” Madge said emphatically. “I’ve often wondered why you never married. You’re so attractive. With your white hair and young face I think you’re simply stunning in navy blue or black.”

“Thanks, honey. One reason is that I waited too long after my fiance was lost. And there weren’t too many men around after the war. Another real good reason is that I haven’t been asked. Every normal woman — almost every one, at any rate — would like to marry. And I have been entirely alone since my mother died.”

Madge nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. I worry day and night for fear I’ll end up being a so-called career girl.”

Maureen laughed. “I’ve noticed how you worry — in-between the times your various admirers call. By the way, do take good care of Harold Meacham and see that he gets the right books to read.”

“Sure,” agreed Madge. “And try to persuade Gary to bring his back in time so that he doesn’t have to pay fines. And give the hungry-looking Wilson children some cookies when they come and — you do an awful lot of mothering around here. I’m not even going to try and keep up with it.”

“I’m not worried,” smiled Maureen. “No one who didn’t like children would stay in this department. She’d be down in information greeting all newcomers, or in research where the scholars abound.”

“Don’t give me ideas,” said Madge. “I might ask for a transfer. And don’t forget to look for that IBM executive.”

“I’ll remember,” Maureen promised, as she turned to help another patron.

That evening she started packing in earnest. Now that she had definitely resigned from her job, she was eager to hurry the project along. She had already rented the modest home where she had lived alone since the death of her mother, five years before. She would empty dresser drawers and put away the few treasures that could not be left to the mercy of strangers.

She had just stopped for dinner when the phone rang. Helen Morton, her closest friend was calling. “Hi, slave!” was the greeting. “We have important business on hand. I want you for dinner tomorrow night. Chuck’s oldtime friend, Steve Madsen, has been transferred here. He’s district manager for Roberts, Incorporated.”

“That wouldn’t be IBM, would it?” asked Maureen.

“Well, I guess they use them. It’s appliances. Anyway, what does IBM have to do with it?”

“It’s just a joke. Madge suggested that I try to meet up with an IBM executive while I’m on my journeys.”

“This is just as good. He’s been a widower for three years.”

“And he is woman shy?”

“Frankly, that could be part of it,” Helen agreed. “He has been pursued rather hotly. You know how it is. There seem to be so many more single women than men.”

“Yes, I know exactly how it is,” said Maureen. “However, you can assure him that he will be perfectly safe with me. I’m leaving the territory for months, at least.”

“To be disgustingly honest, that may help. Although that wasn’t why I invited you. In addition to being my best friend, you are far and away the most attractive, unattached woman I know.”

“Spoken like a true friend,” said Maureen, “and adjudged in the same perspective, I’ll try to sparkle enough to justify your choice.”

“Do that. I’ll expect you at seven.”

Maureen could not help being excited. Dinner invitations, other than with her fellow workers at the library, were few and far between. She looked over her clothes, trying to decide what to wear. The deep rose should be about right. It was not too dressy and was pretty with her white hair and the chalk white costume jewelry.

For a brief moment she considered shopping tomorrow for something that would be extra special, but quickly decided against it. After all, this could be the beginning and the sudden end of a lovely friendship. She mustn’t get any ideas. Helen had made that quite clear. Her only concession to the occasion was a new hair-do.

She walked the short block to Helen’s house and was pleased at the quick glance of approval that came from her friend. She was introduced to the guest as “Maureen Taggart — my dearest friend.”

The man who rose to greet her was only slightly taller than herself, and, while he may have missed being called handsome, his square jaw and intense blue eyes gave him very much the look of a “doer.” His firm handclasp and friendly smile of welcome won her complete admiration.

There were no other guests at the dinner, and the conversation was largely between the two men, starting with “Do you remember?” They had been roommates at college and close friends ever since.

Later, Helen brought out a Scrabble set, remarking, “I speak to play with Maureen. As a librarian she knows all the words.”

“Only words of no more than two syllables,” Maureen countered. “Remember I work with nothing over the sixth grade.”

“Then I reckon I’m stuck with Steve, and all he ever read was the newspaper and the stock market,” said Chuck, as he drew up the chairs.

Maureen and Helen won easily and, rather ruefully, she recalled the words of the poet, “I’m sorry that I spelled the word. I hate to go above you.”

Actually, no one had been too serious about the game. There had been more reminiscences and friendly banter. Maureen could honestly say that she had never spent a more pleasant evening as long as she could remember.

When it was time to leave, Steve asked, “May I give vou a lift?”

“It’s only a block,” said Maureen, “but. . . .”

“Good. Then I won’t have to stop for gas along the way.”

They both thanked their hosts warmly for a pleasant evening and left.

“Why don’t we walk?” suggested Steve. “I’ll just come back here for the car.”

“I’d like to very much,” she replied. “There’s something about the air in autumn that you don’t have any other season.”

“When I was a kid,” said Steve, “it was the odor of burning leaves. But that’s taboo now. Anyway, September is a mite too early. Then there was the smell of chili sauce cooking in the kitchens. Do you make chili sauce?”

“Not very often,” she smiled. “I live alone and one batch every two or three years does me nicely.”

She started to go north, in the direction of her home, but he took her arm and turned her in the opposite direction. “We can’t waste a night like this walking one insignificant little block. Around this other way will be much better. And maybe there’ll be a moon — a harvest moon.”

“Not unless the walk lasts about two weeks,” she replied.

“In that case we’ll have to take another walk — in two weeks.”

Maureen felt pleasure and panic at the same moment. Pleasure that he quite evidently enjoyed her company and meant to further their friendship. Panic at the thought that in two weeks she would be on a bus leaving home for an indefinite stay. One bright fact rose above the others. He wasn’t simply being agreeable because he knew she was going away.

At her door, he said, “I’ve enjoyed the evening ever so much. I hope that I may see you again soon.”

“Yes, indeed,” she replied.

“Good. Then I’ll call you as soon as there is something worth seeing, or hearing.”

The next morning she picked a huge bouquet of purple asters for her desk and left early for work so that she could walk and savor fully the lovely September day. There was just a suggestion of crispness in the air and the gardens seemed to be overflowing with vivid autumn blossoms.

It can’t be just the day that is different, she thought. It has to be myself. What irony! That she should meet the first man in whom she thought she could be really interested — in twenty years — just when she was going away. She couldn’t possibly postpone her trip. Not that the information she wanted wouldn’t still be there. Even the inheritance could be handled by her cousin. It was just that, remembering Helen’s words, she felt rather sure that such an obvious step would put a sudden end to a blossoming friendship.

Anyway, she still had two weeks before she would take off on a bus for a cross-country trip to board the boat at New York.

Madge was already at her desk when Maureen reached the library. “Hm — how beautiful!” she exclaimed admiringly.

“Yes, aren’t they! Asters remind me of highborn ladies.”

“I meant the lady herself. Isn’t that a new dress?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. I bought it for my trip but thought that I might just as well dress up in it today. I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” declared Madge. “Also your new hairdo. All of this couldn’t be the result of that dinner date last night, could it?”

Maureen could not help a slight blush. “Not entirely,” she said. “I planted the asters last spring, you know.”

“Incidentally — how was it — or he? The dinner date, I mean, of course.”

“Fine. I had a very pleasant evening. Extra nice, really.” Maureen tried not to seem too enthusiastic.

“Good. Have him come up sometime and we’ll introduce him to the library staff.”

Maureen was saved from replying to this sally by the appearance of the first patron of the day.

The day passed more pleasantly than any Maureen could remember for months, and the purple fringed asters in the crystal vase presided in charming dignity over the subdued bustle of the library.

Right after school, the three little Wilson children came in, somewhat unkempt and looking hungry, as usual. They came frequently, rather than to go home to an empty house. Maureen supposed that their working mother was doing the best she could for them, but today, of all days, she couldn’t bear to see them looking so forlorn. She handed Madge a dollar and said, “Take those youngsters down to the corner and buy them hot chocolate and some doughnuts. Get some with thousands of calories. I’m sure they can use them.”

“I’ve warned you not to start this,” said Madge. “You know that if you do, they’ll be expecting to be fed every time they come in here. It’s enough for you to give them a cookie now and then.”

“If I knew that they were actually hungry I’d plan to feed them every day and so would you — wouldn’t you?”

Madge shrugged. “I’m not so sure. Anyway, I’ll help you do it this time. But don’t think that I will carry on after you leave. I’m not a fairy godmother.”

Maureen smiled. “I know. You’re the wicked witch. Run along and don’t spend that dollar on a new broom.”

It was two days before Steve called and Maureen had begun to think that the evening which had been such a delight to her had been more or less a routine evening of pleasure for him. Then the phone finally rang and a vibrant voice asked, “Did you ever try to set up a regional office for distributing appliances?”

“Not lately,” she replied.

“I was afraid of that. Then you have no idea how muddled I’ve been.”

“I’ll try to imagine.”

“Don’t bother. You couldn’t possibly. Anyway, I’ve earned a night out. Have you?”

“I rather think so. I have checked out a few hundred books — mostly since four o’clock. Counted two dollars and twenty-nine cents in fines — mostly in pennies — and expelled two dogs from the library for undue noise.”

“That makes us just about even. Would you care to drive out to the Hilltop for dinner? I’m told the food is rather good. You haven’t eaten as yet. I hope?”

Maureen glanced at the salad she had just finished putting together and said, “No, I haven’t.”

“Then I’ll call for you in half an hour, if that is all right.”

“Quite,” she agreed.

She shoved the salad back into the refrigerator and dashed into the bedroom to change her dress. Salads didn’t keep, but no matter. She was glad that she could say truthfully that she hadn’t eaten.

She put on a rather plain dinner dress and added some rhinestone earrings for a festive touch.

As they started out, Steve said, “Let’s skip the freeway and take the country road — unless you’re starving, that is.”

“I’m much more hungry for the scenery,” she said. “It’s lovely this close to the mountains. The leaves are already starting to turn, higher up.”

“That’s one of the things I like best about Utah — the changing seasons I mean. I was reared here, of course, but I’ve been on the West Coast now for over twenty years and I’ve always wanted to come back. I hope to take up skiing again. Do you ski?”

“Yes, some. You’re practically ostracized here if you don’t. But I’ve just barely graduated from the so-called ‘Bunny Slopes.’ ”

“At that you’re probably much better than I. We’ll have a race and see.”

Maureen said nothing. He still didn’t know that she planned to go away, and she couldn’t help feeling a deep glow of satisfaction that he was apparently making plans to further their friendship. If only all of her bridges weren’t burned! If something would happen to keep her home — for just a little while! If Miss Pine would say that she absolutely couldn’t be replaced in the library. How absurd! Miss Pine had scarcely raised an eyebrow when she had resigned. Maybe there would be a bus strike. A lot of good that would do her, since there was still the railroad and the airlines for travel.

They were among the early arrivals at the Hilltop and were directed to a choice location by a window, where they could see the distant lake. He gave their order and settled back with a contented smile. “By the way,” he said, “the company is giving me a sort of welcome dinner two weeks from tonight. Will you be my guest?”

“I would love to,” she replied. “But two weeks from today I shall be on my way to Europe.”

“You will!” Steve exclaimed. “For very long?”

“I’m not sure. I plan to do some genealogical research in London and — this sounds rather weird — but I’m joint heir to some sort of an estate in Scotland. The other one — a cousin in England — thinks that I should come and look it over.”

“Oh, an heiress! Will you marry me?”

Maureen smiled. “I have no idea what it will amount to — if anything. Maybe just a bill for back taxes. Would you care to withdraw your intriguing proposal until I am sure?”

“Under the circumstances — yes. Do you have to leave so soon? Are you flying?”

“I’m going by boat. I had planned to go east by bus in order to see the country.”

“Well, that you can certainly change. You can fly back and see the country some other time. That will leave you free for the dinner.”

Maureen merely nodded. Her plans seemed to have been changed without her saying a word, and she had to agree that this was the better way. She hadn’t even had to call a bus strike in order to get this much of a delay.

She debated over whether or not to buy a new dress for the dinner and decided that she would. After all, she reminded herself, I may need one to wear in the castle. I may even be giving a dinner for the country gentry.

It was so exciting to sit at the head table with the guest of honor. To wear a white orchid on her royal blue dress. To have people express their pleasure at meeting her and genuinely seem to mean it. It was a memory that she knew she would treasure forever.

On the day she was to leave, Steve drove her to the airport. As he pressed her hand in farewell he said, “Have fun. Don’t stay too long. And send me a postcard of Big Ben.”

“I promise all three,” she smiled in reply.

As the plane circled the valley, she looked down upon the lake, the Temple, and all of the beloved landmarks. They would all be there in the spring when she returned. But what of her friends? So much could happen in that time. So many changes could take place. In minutes, the plane was over the mountains. Maureen stopped looking downward. She looked up at her fellow passengers instead.

(To be continued)