Embers of Love (2 page)

“I have all our tickets now,” G. W. announced. “So you wanna tell me what this is about?”

“Look, G. W., I can explain once we’re on our way,” Deborah said, pushing him and Lizzie forward. “Now, help Lizzie onto the train. This dress is cumbersome, and she may well fall on her face if you don’t assist her. I can get my own bag.”

G. W. shrugged and picked up his case, then took Lizzie’s arm. “Miss Decker, it’s this way.” He didn’t wait for her comment, but instead headed to the platform and the waiting train.

“Congratulations,” the conductor offered as G. W. and Lizzie approached. “My, but you two make a handsome couple.”

G. W. looked to Lizzie, who was blushing red. He thought to offer the man an explanation, then just nodded and helped Lizzie up the steps to the passenger car.

They showed their tickets to a waiting porter. “Bettin’ it was a mighty fine weddin’,” the porter declared, taking the bag from Deborah. He bore a smile that ran from ear to ear. His dark skin appeared even darker against his white coat.

“It was the best I’ve been to in a long time,” Deborah told him. The man nodded and secured their bags just as the conductor called the final board.

Once they were settled in, G. W. couldn’t help but notice that all heads had turned to watch them. Smiles were plastered on every face, and without warning, one man began to applaud. This caused the entire car to begin clapping.

“I wish I could melt under the seat,” Lizzie said, tucking her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“It can’t be helped,” Deborah said, patting Lizzie’s hand. “Once we make our first stop for the night, you can change clothes.”

G. W. felt sorry for her. No doubt she was completely offended at the idea of being married to a backwoods bumpkin who could barely read, even if he was wearing a thirty-dollar suit bought in Houston. He offered her a smile, but she couldn’t see it since her gaze was fixed on the floor.

“So why don’t you tell me what’s goin’ on and why you two showed up at the station in your weddin’ duds,” he said as the train pulled out.

“It’s a truly complicated story, but we have a long trip ahead of us, so here goes,” Deborah began. “Elizabeth – you can call her Lizzie, as she hates the name Elizabeth.” She looked to her friend as if for confirmation. Lizzie nodded. “Lizzie had to escape.”

G. W. felt a sense of confusion. “Escape? From what?”

“Well, you see, she was only doing this . . .” Deborah gestured toward the bridal gown. “That is, she wasn’t in love.” G. W. would have laughed had she not remained fixed with a serious expression.

Deborah stopped short and shook her head. She sat back and folded her hands. “Wait. Maybe I should start from the beginning.”

“That’s generally best,” G. W. said.

“Elizabeth and I attended classes together at the university in Philadelphia and shared lodging. She’s been my closest confidante for these last few years. I’m sure you remember me telling you about her when I was home for the summer two years ago.”

“Sure I do,” G. W. replied, though he was sure she never mentioned how beautiful this woman was.

“Well, Lizzie’s like family to me. She has a sad past – a tragic one.”

“Oh, Deborah, do not make it sound so melodramatic.” Lizzie gave a quick glance around as if to see who else might be listening. “Our appearance is bad enough. Let us keep it simple.” She looked directly at G. W. “My parents divorced some years ago. My father has remarried and my mother is working for the cause of women’s rights and feels men are unnecessary in her life.”

“And because of that,” Deborah went on, “Lizzie found herself at odds with her mother’s plans for her future. One thing led to another, and she began a courtship with Stuart Albright.”

G. W. listened to his sister go on about the sorry state of Lizzie’s relationship with Mr. Albright. Apparently the man was a bore and not the least bit in love with the golden-haired beauty. But how he could keep from loving her was beyond G. W.’s ability to reason. She looked like an angel. Who wouldn’t want her for a wife?

“Though she didn’t love Mr. Albright, Lizzie felt she had no recourse but to go through with the wedding. That is, until just a little while ago, when she finally admitted that she didn’t want to be married. Her father agreed with her and with my idea that she should come to Texas with us.”

“And what of your groom?”

“I didn’t feel that I could . . .” Lizzie began to offer before Deborah could speak again. “Well . . . you see . . . he’s not one to take bad news easily. I was, quite frankly, afraid. Call me a coward if you must, but that’s the simple truth.”

G. W. shook his head. “I wouldn’t be one to call you a coward, Miss Lizzie. I don’t rightly know you well enough.”

“Well, she’s no coward,” Deborah announced. “She’s very brave, in fact, to put an end to this farce before it became final.”

“So she’s just gonna live with us?” G. W. asked.

Lizzie blushed again and looked out the window. Deborah nodded. “She needs time and distance so she can better think of what she’d like to do next. Her father will be in touch with her.”

“Don’t seem like her father will be the problem,” G. W. said. “What about that mother of hers? What about her groom? He don’t seem like the kind of guy to take to this kind of thing.”

“Maybe not, but he won’t know where she is.” Deborah turned to Lizzie. “Once you’re settled in with us, we’ll see to it that no one can harm you. Never fear.”

“It may be a moot point to worry ourselves anyway,” Lizzie replied. “After all, what man would want to chase after a woman who has clearly rejected him?”

G. W. laughed. “If she looked like you, I know I wouldn’t let her get away.”

Lizzie’s mouth dropped open. G. W. might have roared in laughter, but he felt pretty sure it would only serve to offend her further. Leaning back in his seat, he pushed his hat down over his eyes. He needed to have a think, and it would be just as well if the ladies thought him to be sleeping.

Of course, he’d much rather spend his time looking at Lizzie Decker. My, but she was a fine figure of a woman. She was all genteel-like. In fact, she reminded him of the stories his ma had told about the Georgian women before the war. Ma had been every bit as genteel before going west with their pa. She said Texas took the elegance right out of a lady, but Pa always said she was still the most elegant woman he knew.

G. W. frowned at the thought of his pa. Three years had passed since the logging accident that took Rutger Vandermark’s life. G. W. had been right there when a huge pine log had crushed his father. The memory never faded. It was only made worse by the fact that G. W. blamed himself for the accident.

G. W. had relived the day of the accident over and over at least a thousand times. The guilt ate him alive and, try as he might, he couldn’t shake off the horror of his father’s mangled body. He’d been killed instantly by the two thousand–pound log, so at least there had been no suffering. But neither was there time for goodbyes or to tell him how much G. W. loved him – how he needed him to live.

There was just no time.

C
HAPTER
2

On the final leg of their journey nearly two weeks later, Deborah found G. W.’s general state of mind to be worrisome. “I don’t know why he frets so – the worst is behind us,” she confided to Lizzie. The train car shifted and pitched right, and Deborah braced to keep from slamming into her friend.

The Houston East and West Texas train, affectionately called “the Rabbit” because of its tendency to jump the narrow gauge track, was not at all a pleasant experience. Having connected from another line in Nacogdoches, they were riding the Rabbit into the heart of the Piney Woods. Deborah would have just as soon ridden horseback, but she knew Lizzie was not experienced.

Paul Bremond, well known among Houston businessmen, had a vision to create a rail line from Houston to Shreveport, Louisiana, and the HE&WT was the reality of that dream. Poor Mr. Bremond had died just the month before, unable to live long enough to see his railroad completed. Folks had chided him for the narrow gauge creation, telling him he would rue the day, as standard gauge lines were bound to take over the country. But Mr. Bremond had continued with the line and now it was rumored that by next year, it would be complete.

Deborah thought it sad that the man had worked so hard for his dream, only to die before it was ever realized. Of course, sometimes she felt the same might happen to her. The only problem was, she wasn’t entirely sure what her dream might truly be.

“This train ride is so uncomfortable,” Lizzie declared, squirming. “I can’t imagine people using this as a main means of transportation.”

A smile crossed Deborah’s face. “They don’t. Well, that’s not exactly right. The railroad is the main means for bringing supplies into the Piney Woods region. However, it is expensive and most folks never travel more than twenty miles from home – if that.”

“I can certainly understand why,” she replied, gripping the armrest.

“Most would stay whether the train was a luxurious ride or not.” Deborah looked at her brother’s empty seat and continued. “Take G. W., for example. He loves Texas, and the only reason he ventured out was to escort me back and forth. Oh, he goes occasionally to Houston or Lufkin for supplies, but he has no desire to leave the area. He loves his forest and the people here.”

Lizzie shook her head. “Seems a mundane existence.”

“I suppose to some.” Deborah looked out the window and noticed several dilapidated houses. “Some don’t get a chance to choose. Folks here are far from rich. Most work for sawmill or logging companies. Some raise cattle and cotton, others farm. But the war was very hard on the South, you must remember.”

Her friend turned and put her hand on Deborah’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Oh, Lizzie, you could never offend me. But you must prepare yourself for somewhat of a shock. Perkinsville is not Philadelphia. Many of the people who will be your neighbors have had very little education. They can’t read and write much. They really don’t understand why it’s important, but my hope is to show them. I truly want to encourage education in our area.”

“Is there no school?”

Deborah thought of the tiny school. “There is, but education is not valued – hard work is. The important things of life take on a different appearance in Perkinsville. Here, folks count themselves lucky to have a roof over their heads – never mind a floor.”

“What do you mean?” Lizzie appeared to forget about the roughness of their ride.

“Many folks have only dirt for floors – although it’s the cleanest dirt you will find.” She laughed. “It’s always strange to see women sweeping their earthen floors. Mama told me that she used to do the same until Papa put in a wood floor for her. She said my uncle and father worked day and night for months to put together enough scrap lumber. She cherished it until they moved into the new house shortly before Papa died.”

“What happened to your father, Deborah?”

“He was killed when a log rolled onto him.”

“A log? How could that kill a man?”

Deborah pointed at the passing trees. “See those? They’re short-leaf pines. They are much like the pines we saw in the East. We log longleaf pine.”

“Isn’t one pine tree pretty much like another?”

The question was innocent enough, but Deborah laughed. “Hardly. Stick around for a while, and you’ll learn the difference soon enough.”

“But what happened to your father?”

“G. W. and my brother Rob were helping Father bring the week’s harvest to the rail. They were pole rolling logs onto the train cars. That’s where they hook the mules up on one side of the railcar and run a series of chains and cables to the log they are bringing up on the other side. Several sturdy poles are positioned so that when the mules are driven forward, the log rolls up onto the train car. Usually it works very well, but this time the chain snapped and the log rolled back onto my father. It weighed about a ton, and he couldn’t get out of the way in time.”

“A ton? That’s hard to imagine.”

“This particular log was a huge butt log – one taken from the very base of the tree.” Deborah looked once again to the passing scenery. She hadn’t been home when her father was killed. Word came to her through her beloved Aunt Wilhelmina – the same woman who was responsible for seeing that Deborah received an education.

“My father’s skull was crushed, and he died immediately. Mama said he knew the dangers and would have wanted it that way. A quick death was always desired over a painful lingering. . . . I was traveling with my aunt at the time, and we didn’t get word until nearly a month after the accident. By the time I learned of his death, school was nearly ready to begin again, and my father was long past buried.”

Lizzie nodded. “That was the year we met.”

“Yes. And what a godsend that was.”

“But, Deborah, you’ve never talked much about this before. Why?”

She considered Lizzie’s question for a moment. “I suppose because of the pain in remembering. But I also learned that G. W. blamed himself for our father’s death, and I suppose I buried it deep within to hide from both his pain and my own.”

“I’m so sorry, Deborah.” Lizzie frowned. “And what of your other brother – Rob? Does he blame himself, as well?”

“No. Rob was injured. The mules pulling the logs got scared when the chain whipped back. They took off, out of control. Rob got a good beating as they dragged him. G. W. blames himself for the accident because he couldn’t hold the log back. He felt he should have added more support. Mama said it could have happened to anyone. Others agreed – after all, they weren’t working alone. By this time, Papa and Uncle Arjan had hired another five men to help them.”

“Were they hurt, too?”

“No, just Papa and Rob.”

“I hardly see why G. W. would blame himself – especially if even your mother doesn’t.”

“I can blame myself without anyone else needin’ to help me,” G. W. said from behind them.

Deborah watched Lizzie look away in embarrassment. “Yes, but it still doesn’t make you right,” she told her brother. She was never one to keep such thoughts to herself.