Carol Ritten Smith (25 page)

Bill kept his back to Tom when he entered the kitchen and crossed to the stove. There was coffee from last night. Tom felt the pot and though it was cold, today it would do. He grabbed a mug down from the cupboard and poured himself a cup. “Want some?” he asked, but received no reply.

He dragged out a chair from the table and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he started, “I guess there’s no point in denying what happened. You’re old enough to figure things out.”

Bill grabbed the edge of the dry sink, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. “Yeah, and I’m old enough to know right from wrong and what you two did was flat out wrong.”

Tom stared calmly across the mug’s rim at Bill’s back. “We love each other very much.”

Bill snorted derisively.

“This may come as a shock to you,” Tom continued, “but life is not always black and white. There’s a whole world of gray out there and the older you get the more you’ll understand what I mean.” He felt like he was talking to a stone wall. “Dammit, Bill, the least you could do is look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Bill spun about and leaned over the table until his face was menacingly close to Tom’s. “You horny bastard! You were just waiting for your chance to get my sister into the sack with you, weren’t you?”

Beth, having finished dressing, entered the kitchen and recoiled at her brother’s caustic words. “Stop it, Bill! It wasn’t like that at all. You’re making it sound cheap and it wasn’t.”

He glared at her with contempt. “If you believe that, then you’re no better than Miranda Parsons, screwing anything wearing pants.”

“That is bloody well enough!” Tom yelled, rising from his chair and knocking it over backwards. He slammed his cup down on the table and the coffee sloshed over the rim. “Apologize to your sister!”

Bill shoved the table against Tom. “Go to hell! Both of you! It’s what you deserve.” He stormed outside, slamming the door so hard it bounced open.

In the aftermath of the verbal explosion, there was complete silence. Tom closed the door.

Beth set his chair upright and held onto the back for support. “Oh, what have we done? He’ll never forgive us.”

“Beth, he’s young. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “no, he won’t. You don’t know how stubborn he can be.”

Tom had a pretty good idea. Stubbornness seemed to be a Patterson family trait. “There’s nothing we can do about it now, except let him cool off.” He came around behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist. Bending low until his stubbled cheek rested against her silky one, he whispered, “I want to know … how are you feeling after last night?”

Heat coursed through Beth’s body, all the wonderful intimate details of the previous night vivid in her memory. Still, she felt embarrassed to be asked such a personal question in the light of day. “I’m fine,” she answered, her voice barely audible.

He kissed her head, and Beth wanted to turn in his arms and hold him and be held, but time wouldn’t allow it.

“I’d better finish getting ready.” She headed to the parlor, then came up short, remembering her other brother was still upstairs asleep. “What about Davy?”

“Don’t worry about him. Just get ready. I’ll bring him over later.”

That morning, school started ten minutes late, but the children didn’t seem to notice, or if they had, they kept quiet. And if any of them wondered about her untidy hair or her sooty dress, they were too polite to ask.

• • •

Despite Beth’s valiant efforts to keep the family together, ultimately it was her actions that drove Bill away. Back at their own place, after the black filth had been scrubbed clean, he went to his room to pack his things.

“Please, don’t go,” she pleaded, standing in his doorway, watching him drag his clothes from the closet and toss them on the blanket spread out on his bed.

Davy cried. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and dropped into his small lap. “Did I make you mad, B … Bill?” He swiped at his cheek. “I p … promise I won’t do it again if you just t … tell me what I did.”

He paused to look at his little brother. “It ain’t nothing you did, Bud,” he reassured softly, and then realizing he had used Tom’s endearment, abruptly resumed lugging things out of his closet. “I’m just going to the livery. You can come visit me whenever you want. Hey, some night why don’t you sleep over?”

“Really?” Davy brightened somewhat and turned his tear-streaked face to Beth, seeking her consent.

Bill seemed to think she had forfeited her right to comment. “Sure,” he continued, “I think the room behind the livery is big enough and if it ain’t, you can sleep in a feed bunk.”

“Wow, just like the baby Jesus in the manger.”

“You bet. Now get to bed, squirt, so I can get going.” He drew the blanket’s four corners together and slung the bag over his shoulder. He stopped in front of Beth, refusing to look directly at her, waiting silently until she moved aside to let him through.

“What will you do for food?” she asked, following him into the kitchen, twisting her hankie into a white knot.

Bill dropped his things at his feet while he dragged on his coat. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I could send something over with Davy.”

“Don’t bother.” He hoisted his belongings over his back and looked around the room in a final farewell. He gave Davy an affectionate punch on the shoulder. “See you around, kid.” And then his eyes met Beth’s.

Tears pooled in hers, threatening to spill over. She dabbed at them with her abused hankie.

Bill grabbed her hand and pulled her out to the front stoop, closing the door so Davy couldn’t hear what he had to say. His words came out hurried.

“You ain’t nothing like Miranda Parsons and if anyone should go to hell, it’s me for saying you was.”

“Oh, Bill — ”

“Wait, I ain’t finished yet. I know you never would have done what you did if Tom hadn’t tricked you. He’s older and smarter about them things and I hold him responsible for what happened.”

“No, Bill, you’re wrong. He didn’t trick me. He loves me and I love him.”

“Well, if that’s so, why ain’t you married?”

She tipped her head back as if beseeching the stars above to help her explain. “You know why. I killed Uncle Mead.”

“It was an accident.”

“But I pushed him. If I hadn’t pushed him — ”

“You were protecting Davy.”

“That doesn’t change anything. Mead is still dead and it’s my fault. What do you think it would do to Tom’s reputation if folks found out he was married to a murderer?”

“Is it any better he sleeps with her?”

Suddenly they were both silent. They had come to an impasse. Bill shifted his heavy bag. “I gotta go.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

He looked at her, his eyes emotionless. “Yeah, it’s too late.” He stepped off the stoop, and headed toward the livery. Soon his form was swallowed by the darkness.

• • •

The next day, when school was dismissed, Davy raced over to the shop to tell Tom about Bill’s leaving.

Tom was stunned. The last thing he wanted to do was come between Beth and her brothers. He hung his leather apron on a wooden peg. “Listen, I want you to go to Betner’s store for a while. Tell them I sent you. I need to step out for a bit.”

“Where’re you going?”

“To see your sister.”

“Then I’ll come with you.”

“Nope.”

“Then I’ll stay here and look after the place until you get back.”

“No, Davy. You go to Betner’s like I said. I’ll come get you later.”

Tom gave no more thought as to whether Davy would obey him. It was the furthest thing from his mind as he headed toward the schoolhouse.

He found Beth inside, sitting at her desk. Her head was bowed. Tom stood in the threshold not sure what to say.

“I heard about Bill. Davy just told me.”

He made his way up the aisle, watching for her reaction, but there was none. She kept her head down, her finger tracing aimlessly along a crack in the desktop. Tom’s hand covered hers.

“It won’t hurt Bill to be on his own, you know. Plenty of boys his age do it. They like to be independent.”

She shook her head slowly, then pulled her hand away, letting it fall into her lap.

“We can’t change what happened, Beth.”

“I know.” She looked up at him then, her eyes brimming with tears. “But we can prevent it from happening again.”

He leaned over the desk until his face was mere inches from hers. “Is that what you want?” he asked softly.

His nearness suspended coherent thought and she fought to concentrate. “What I want is to have Bill back home where he belongs.”

Tom straightened. “That’s up to him now.”

“It’s our fault he’s gone.”

Fault?
How it pained him to hear her put it that way, as if Bill had convinced her what they had done had wronged him personally. Tom came around the desk and put his hands on her shoulders. He felt them stiffen and he ached knowing this woman whom he had held so intimately mere hours ago now tensed at his touch. “Beth.”

“He’s my brother, Tom. I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary to get him home again. I’ve decided it would be best if we didn’t see each other for a while.”

So it had come to this. He closed his eyes against the pain. “Ah, Beth. Don’t say that.”

She blinked and tears dropped to her lap. “I think you’d better go. It’s just for a while.”

Rage and frustration rose in Tom. “And how long is a while? A week? A month? Beth, we can’t put our lives on hold indefinitely.” Tom spun her about, chair and all, and when she looked away, he firmly grasped her jaw and forced her to look up at him. When he saw her face, etched with as much anguish as he felt, his voice softened. “It’s not right. Either you love me or you don’t.”

“I do love you,” she said quietly.

“Then don’t shut me out. Please.”

“But I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do. There’s always a choice.”

Another tear slipped over her lashes and ran down to the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away with her palm. “You’d better go,” she choked.

Tom’s shoulders slumped. “All right. I don’t want to argue with you, but with all my being I know this is wrong.” He went to the door and paused, as if to try one more protest, then changed his mind and left without another word.

• • •

If one thought it coincidental that Tom entered Betner’s General Store only a few moments after Beth did, he’d be wrong. Tom knew she was there. He had watched her go in a few minutes ahead of him and had followed her on purpose. Though he was acutely aware of Beth standing behind a tall shelf, he strode right past her.

Earl was at the front counter, dividing large sacks of sugar into smaller portions. “Hello, Tom. Haven’t seen you all week. Keeping busy?”

“So-so. Things are a little slow this time of year.” Tom lifted the lid of a glass jar sitting on the countertop and helped himself to a peppermint. “I’m taking off for a while. I hired Pat Flanagan’s two teenage boys from Tannerville to mind the shop for me and look after my horses. Told them they could come to you if they ran into any trouble. Is that all right?”

Earl stopped measuring. “Sure. Where are you going?”

“Toronto.”

Mary came out from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. “Did I hear you say Toronto? Whatever for?”

“I got a letter from Abigail yesterday. She’s getting married and I’m invited to the wedding.”

Mary beamed. “How nice for her. Did she say anything about her intended? It certainly must have been a whirlwind courtship.”

Tom shrugged. “All she said was he’s a widower with two little girls.”

Mary clasped her apron and pulled it to her bosom, holding it like a bouquet. “Oh, I’m so happy for her.”

Earl glanced at his wife. “Woman, you’re happy when two horses get hitched.”

“And you’re just as sentimental, Earl. Don’t give me that,” Mary scolded, all the while smiling.

Their easy display of affection keenly reminded Tom how lonely he’d been this past week and a half. Staying away from Beth had proven far more difficult than he’d expected.

“At first I thought I wouldn’t go, but then, with things being slow and everything, I thought, why not. There’s nothing holding me back.”

“So when are you leaving?” Earl asked.

“Tomorrow noon.”

“Can’t say as I envy you. It’s a long train ride.”

“Yeah, well if I get bored with the scenery, I can read. And I’ve got some thinking to do.”

“Don’t forget, I’ll expect a full account of the wedding when you get back,” Mary instructed.

Tom grinned. “I’ll make notes.”

“Now don’t get cheeky, Thomas Carver.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, Mary dear.” He stretched across the counter and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a month, give or take a few days.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll check your place,” Earl said and Mary added, “Give our love to Abigail.”

As Tom headed for the door, he saw out the corner of his eye that Beth hadn’t moved from her hiding spot. He hesitated, debating whether she deserved a personal good-bye, but then he thought against it. She had made the rules; he was just abiding by them. He left the store.

• • •

With blurry-eyed vision, Beth started putting items from her basket back on the shelves, too upset to purchase anything now. A month. The last week and a half without Tom had almost been unbearable. How would she be able to endure four more? The thought made her miserably ill.

Mary came around the corner. “Oh, thank heaven it’s you, Beth. I heard this rustling and I thought we had another mouse.”

Beth couldn’t reply, certain if she opened her mouth a sob would come forth. She turned her head away, blinking back her tears.

Mary put a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right, dear? You look a little peakish.”

Shaking, Beth sucked in a long unsteady breath. “I’m not feeling very well. I think I’d better go home.”

Mary’s maternal instincts took over. She put a hand on Beth’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Do you feel sick to your stomach?”

Suddenly a sob burst through Beth’s lips. “Oh, I’ve made such a mess of things.”