Free You Belong to My Heart by Nan Ryan Page A

toyed with the cameo brooch pinned to the high stiff collar of his wife’s fashionable dress. “Have I ever let you down?”
    “No. No, of course not.”
    “And I never will. I know how to handle Mary Ellen. And I know how to handle Clay Knight, if it should come to that. But I assure you, it won’t.”
    Julie Preble exhaled slowly, wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, and leaned her forehead against his. “Forgive me, John. I suppose I’m behaving like the typical overly protective mother.”
    “And why shouldn’t you?” he said, ever indulgent. “Let me assure you this is one typical overly protective husband who will never let anything or anyone upset his wife.” Julie raised her head, looked into his dark eyes. He said, “When the time comes, Mary Ellen will marry a young man who pleases us as well as herself. This I guarantee.”

9
    T HE WARM GOLDEN DAYS of summer grudgingly gave way to a chilly early autumn. The leaves of Tennessee’s dense timberlands changed their hues to suit the season. Deep emerald greens turned to brilliant golds and russet reds. But the glorious golds and vivid reds were too rare, too beautiful, to last.
    They faded quickly into lackluster tans.
    As if ashamed of their dismal color, the drab leaves no longer fought to stay alive. Willingly they curled up, became dry and brittle. And drifted lifelessly to the ground.
    The elder Prebles supposed that with summer gone, the romance between Mary Ellen and Clay would slowly fade and die as well. Young people could be quite fickle. Often it took nothing more than a bit of separation to work great magic.
    Mary Ellen would be attending the St. Agnes Academy for Young Ladies, so she and Clay would no longer be together each day at school. And since Clay was, admittedly, a handsome, likable lad, it wasn’t out of the question to imagine he’d catch the eye of a number of his female classmates.
    Given a little breathing space without Mary Ellen shadowing him, Clay might find himself attracted to someone else. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had a new sweetheart by Christmas. Which would solve a host of problems for everyone.
    By Thanksgiving the Prebles were quietly congratulating themselves, assuming that the relationship was already starting to cool. They supposed—and certainly hoped—that the bloom of romance had begun to fade and that their lovely young daughter would soon find someone more suitable.
    Someone like Daniel Lawton, the older, highly eligible, university-educated son of extremely wealthy parents who were charter members of Memphis’s Old Guard.
    While the Prebles were pleased with their ploy to keep Clay and Mary Ellen apart as much as possible, it served only to make the young lovers’ time together sweeter and more precious than ever. It was true they didn’t see each other as often now. St. Agnes was miles from Eugene Magevney. And when classes were dismissed each afternoon, Clay had to go directly to the cotton office, where he worked until seven each evening.
    By the time he got home, cleaned up, had supper, and completed his lessons, it was too late to call on Mary Ellen. Mary Ellen understood. She looked forward eagerly to the weekends, when they could be together.
    Clay worked hard, studied hard, and cautiously revived his dream—thanks to his supportive school professor—of an appointment to the Naval Academy.
    The young, much-in-love pair continued to carry on what the elder Prebles believed—and Anna Knight prayed—was an innocent courtship that was beginning to chill along with the winter weather.
    Christmas came and with it the usual round of gay seasonal parties for Memphis’s moneyed upper crust. One such gathering was at the opulent country estate of the James D. Lawtons on Thursday evening, December 23. The Lawtons’ handsome son, Daniel, was home for the holidays, so John Thomas Preble insisted Mary Ellen attend the gala.
    She didn’t want to go. She worried that it would upset Clay