Heart of Stone (20 page)

“What did she say?” He silently credited Amelia for keeping Laura’s secret.

“The same thing you did. That I’m not that person anymore.”

“But you don’t believe us.”

“People see us as the accumulation of all the things that we’ve been and done.”

“That’s no reason to give up trying to convince them otherwise,” he told her.

“But look at you,” she shook her head, her mouth a taut line. “You are a minister. Your life has completely changed since you were a young man. And yet what of your good Christian flock? You preach to them of forgiveness and they still condemn you.”

She laughed. It was a brittle, hopeless sound. “Imagine their reactions when the truth comes out about me? If they can’t forgive you, do you honestly believe those hypocrites will forgive me? When does it end, Brand? When have we paid enough?”

She touched her heart. “Even if by some miracle I was forgiven, no matter what I do, it’s all still in here, Brand. All that shame. All those memories are in here no matter where I go or what I do. No matter who forgives me, I’ll still carry them all with me.”

So fragile, he thought. It was clear that the
other
Laura, the confident wealthy widow, masked a damaged, frightened child within. He tipped her face up again, forced her to look at him. He
prayed she saw acceptance in his eyes, that she saw all the love he still felt for her. Then he slowly lowered his lips to her trembling mouth and kissed her.

She kissed him back at first. Then, with a small cry, she pushed him away and scrambled to her feet.

“How can you stand to touch me now?”

He rose, reached for her before she could walk away. Drew her into the circle of his arms and held her close.

“Because I love you, Laura, and I believe that you
will
find the strength it takes to truly turn your life around. Your life in Glory has been beyond reproach. You have already proven yourself to everyone who knows you. Ask for God’s forgiveness.”

He smoothed a curl back off her face, grazing her cheek with his fingertips. Her skin was smooth as satin, as flawless as rich cream.

“But—”

“Ask Him to forgive you.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is.”

He saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but it quickly flickered and died.

“There are still the town folk, not to mention your congregation, to consider. Some of them won’t even forgive
you
, Brand. What I’ve done is so much worse.”

“I want you to marry me, Laura. I know now why God led you to me. Even if we have to leave Glory and I have to give up my ministry, that’s what I will do to have you with me.”

“You can’t mean that. Your children—”

“Will understand.”

“I can’t do that to you, Brand. To yourself or your family. After you’ve had time to think this through, you’ll see that I’m right.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that we have the strength to do whatever we have to in this life.”

She turned her back to him and walked a few steps away. When she stopped, she stared out across the open plain. The breeze lifted her hair away from her face, exposing cheeks stained with tears. Her gaze was intent on the horizon.

He let her be until he saw her shoulders fall on a heavy sigh. The burden of keeping her secrets was a heavy one. Sharing them with him had taken a toll.

“Laura.” He started toward her, determined to convince her that his love was steadfast.

She turned before he reached her. She tried to smile and failed.

“Please,” she whispered, “take me home.”

S
omehow Laura endured dinner in the dining room that evening. Presiding over the table full of guests, she was able to smile and keep the cordial conversation moving, but throughout the meal she felt as if she were outside herself—watching the woman she had become pretend to be something she was not.

After dinner, she took a few moments to go over the breakfast menu with Rodrigo and then gave Anna instructions for the morrow. Alone in her room, she slipped into her long, white nightgown and tried to read, but when she found herself going over and over the same paragraph, she gave up. Even the antics of the women in the novel
Cranford
couldn’t distract her tonight.

She carefully set aside the book and walked to the window, drew the drape back far enough to stare out into the darkness. The nights were growing colder, crisper. Soon it would be time to light fires in the fireplaces throughout the house. The harvest moon looked exceptionally close tonight, huge and golden. She sighed and let the drape fall back into place.

“Ask God to forgive you.”

Lost, she looked around the room and for the first time found the opulence stifling. The heavy draperies at the window, the figurines scattered here and there on the tabletops, the gilt-framed oil
paintings of still lifes and landscapes. For the first time she thought its overblown garishness all too reminiscent of a brothel.

She took a deep breath.

How?
she wondered.
How do I pray?

Could God enter a heart of stone?

She stopped pacing when she found herself at her bedside. Before she could change her mind, she knelt down, folded her hands, and rested them against the bed.

“God,” she whispered, “if You are up there, I need Your help. I…want to say I’m sorry.”

She closed her eyes and pictured Brand and found it easier to pray for him than herself. She asked that he be able to stay in Glory. Sam and Janie deserved to grow up in this place they’d come to call home. She prayed that Brand and Jesse would one day get to know each other.

Finally she asked God for forgiveness and for the first time in her life, she didn’t let herself question why she’d been given the life she’d led. She didn’t curse the fact that she and Megan had been sold into darkness, or why her parents had to die. She concentrated on now.

When she got to her feet, however, she felt no different. She certainly felt no lighter than when she’d knelt down. There had been no lightening bolt of revelation, no voice from above, no sound of a heavenly choir filling the air.

There was only silence and the muffled tick of the grandfather clock downstairs.

T
he next morning Brand woke with a spring in his step and renewed determination. No longer was he fighting to save his own reputation and his position as minister of Glory’s only church, to make certain his children’s lives weren’t uprooted. He was braced to stand behind Laura and make her his wife.

The thought of losing her was far worse than having to go before his church community and ask for their forgiveness and
understanding. He knew the challenge ahead. He knew he had the faith to survive it.

It was up to him to convince not only his congregation but the entire town that both of them had proven themselves and deserved a second chance.

Losing Laura was something he couldn’t fathom. He’d awakened this morning picturing Laura’s face as she’d told him goodbye yesterday. Looking back, he realized that her smile had never really reached her eyes. Now he was anxious to see her, to make certain she was all right.

He whistled as he dressed, choosing his best coat, his new white shirt.

“You look good, Papa,” Janie said, smiling up from her bowl of oatmeal as he walked into the kitchen.

He reached for a piece of dry toast and pulled out a chair. As he started spreading butter on the toast, he paused to smile at each of them in turn, Sam, Janie, and then Charity.

“I’ve asked Laura to marry me.”

“Oh, Brand, that’s…that’s wonderful.” Charity didn’t look quite as certain as she sounded.

“Three cheers for Papa!” Sam shouted. “Does that mean we get to live in her house? We’d see Jesse everyday.”

Janie’s eyes were wide as silver dollars. “Will we, Papa?”

Brand took a bite of toast as Charity set a cup of coffee beside him.

“I’m not sure where we will live.” He realized he wasn’t sure about anything, really. “I’m not even certain she’ll say yes.”

“But we’re hopin’, right Papa?”

“If we have ‘ta move away, will she come with us?” Sam wondered.

He hadn’t had time to think past proposing. He didn’t know what they would do if he lost his position here. Would Laura want to leave the place she’d worked so hard for, suffered so much for to
build? After hearing her story, he wasn’t certain she would be able to walk away from her dream.

His sister was at his side with a bowl of oatmeal in hand. “Brand?”

“None for me, thank you,” he said offhandedly.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m just anxious to see Laura.” Brand noticed the children had finished eating. “Why don’t you two collect your books? I’ll walk you to school.”

When they both jumped up and headed for their rooms, Brand walked over to where his sister was still fussing at the stove, stirring oatmeal that didn’t need to be stirred.

“What’s wrong, Charity?”

She shook her head but didn’t answer. He put his hand on her shoulder, nudged her into turning around.

“I don’t want to be a burden to you and Laura,” she said.

“You’re as much a part of this family as any of us.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and made sure she was listening. “You gave up your own life to help me when Jane died. Do you think I’d ever turn you out?”

“No, but Laura might not want to take in an old spinster aunt.”

“Laura hasn’t even agreed to marry me yet, but can you really see her
not
accepting you too?”

“I don’t know her all
that
well.”

“You’ll get to know her and you’ll see how wonderful she is.” He held her at arms length and smiled. “Besides, you’re hardly an old spinster. We both know you’ve turned down at least three proposals, Charity. You’re still alone by choice.”

“If I wasn’t so afraid of ending up married to someone like Father I’d have accepted.”

“I don’t think there’s any worry about that, do you?”

“What if I can’t see past my own infatuation and end up with a controlling, overbearing, authoritative—”

He held up his hand. “I get the picture, Sis.”

“You left for the Army,” she reminded him. “I grew up under his thumb. I won’t give up my freedom that easily just to be married, but I do long for children and a home of my own.”

“How about I make you a promise,” he said. “When you fall in love, I’ll let you know if I think your man will turn out to be anything like our father.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Thanks, Brand.”

“You’re welcome.”

He walked back to the table wondering what his sister would think when she found out about Laura’s past. Would Charity question his own judgment? She might not be the best disciplinarian in the world, but she had raised and protected the children like a mother hen. Would she protest for their sakes?

Brand reached for his coffee, drank half of it before he set the cup down again. He called out to Sam and Janie, asked them to hurry.

“Be sure they take sweaters,” Charity said. “There’s still a bit of chill in the air.”

He paused in the doorway, smiled. “I’ll tell them. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’ll pray that it is.”

“Thank you, Sis. That’s all we can do.”

After walking the children to school, he headed through town. As he passed by the
Gazette
building, Hank waved him inside. He had a message from Amelia. There was to be a church board meeting that afternoon and Hank indicated Amelia was going to call for a vote of confidence so that the matter of Brand holding on to his position would be put to rest.

“She believes wholeheartedly that you will gain the board’s vote of confidence and this whole issue about Jesse’s mother will be behind you.”

Brand wondered what Amelia, and Hank for that matter, would think of his proposal.

When he finally reached the boardinghouse, he expected Laura to answer her front door. Or if not her, then Anna Hernandez. When Rodrigo greeted him with his dark brows drawn tight, his expression one of confusion and worry, Brand’s gut knotted.

“Señor
Preacher,” Rodrigo said. “Please. Come inside.”

Once Brand stepped into the entry hall, the cook obviously didn’t know how to proceed.

“Where’s Mrs. Foster?” Brand glanced into the parlor first, then the dining room across the hall.

The portly Mexican’s shoulders drooped. “She’s not here, señor.” He called for his wife and Anna came running. Her hand shook as she reached into her apron and pulled out a folded letter.

“My son, he read it to us earlier,” Anna said softly. Her nut-brown eyes were huge and brimming with worry.

She handed the letter over. The familiar lavender scent wafted over Brand as he scanned the words.

To Whom It May Concern:

Until further notice, Foster’s Boardinghouse is to remain closed to business. I am sorry for any inconvenience this may cause travelers with reservations. I hereby appoint Rodrigo and Anna Hernandez as caretakers of the boardinghouse until further notice. They may continue to reside in their home on the property for as long as they wish.

Sincerely,

Laura Foster

Brand stared at the letter, not knowing what to make of it. When he looked up at the Hernandezes, he saw they were equally baffled.

“She didn’t say anything? Didn’t tell you where she was going?”

Rodrigo shook his head. “No, señor.
Nada.
She gave me a letter
to deliver to the bank and other instructions, things I am to do for her.”

Brand carefully folded the letter and handed it back to Anna. There was still no explanation of where Laura may have gone or when.

“Did she give you the letters personally?”

Anna nodded. “Yes, this morning. When we first stepped into the kitchen. She had one bag packed with her things. We were to feed the guests breakfast and then tell them the place was closing. That they had to leave.” She rolled her eyes. “Some of them were not happy.”

“Did you drive her to the stage?” Brand calculated how long Laura might have been gone if she’d caught an early ride. It would be easy enough to find out where she was headed. Harrison Barker’s store was the stage stop.

Rodrigo shook his head. “She would not let me. She said it was not necessary.”

“Don’t tell me she simply walked away?”

If so, surely someone must have seen her on the street. How far could a woman get on foot?

Anna glanced at Rodrigo before she added, “She told us to stay here. To wait three hours before we went out or spoke to anyone. She did not want to be followed.”

“Where is Jesse?” Brand glanced toward the back of the house. “Does he know where she is? Did he take her somewhere?”

Rodrigo shook his head. “He went to hunt wild turkey yesterday afternoon. He was not sure when he would return.”

“She may have run into him, hired him to escort her out of town,” Brand said. “Did she…” He was forced to clear his throat before he could go on. “Did she leave a letter for me?”

Rodrigo slowly shook his head. “Nada, señor. Nada.”

Nothing.
No word. No letter.

“What should we do, señor?” Rodrigo asked.

Brand thought for a moment. “Do as she asked. Take care of
the place and stay in your house out back. Deliver the letter to the Cutters and make sure Hank Larson sees the letter she left you. That way no one will question your being here. He’ll know how to advise you. Maybe the Cutters should keep your letter in the bank vault until Laura returns.”

He figured if she had left instruction for the Cutters, she had provided funds for the Hernandezes as well to keep the boardinghouse in order.

But where was she? How had she disappeared so quickly?

And when, if ever, would she be back?

Shaken, Brand thanked the couple, left them as worried and bewildered as he. Once he’d stepped outside onto the veranda, he stared down Main Street, weighing his options.

He hesitated going straight to the mercantile to ask Harrison if she’d purchased a stagecoach ticket. He might just as well stand in the middle of the street and announce that Laura had suddenly left town.

He would go to Amelia first. Laura had chosen to tell her friend the truth about her past. Perhaps she had also confided in Amelia about where she was going and when she’d return.

Within minutes he was at the Larson’s front door. He rapped on the wood frame, praying Amelia would answer. When she opened the door, he was so relieved he could barely string a sentence together.

“Have you…Did Laura…She’s gone.” He pulled off his hat.

“Come in, Brand. Why don’t you give me your hat before you completely ruin the brim twisting it like that?” She held out her hand. He gave her his hat and she began to smooth the brim back into place. “Now, what do you mean, she’s gone?”

“Have you seen her?” He stepped into the apothecary shop, which was also the Larson’s drawing room. “She’s left town.”

Amelia sobered immediately. “Where did she go?”

“I have no idea. She’s not at the boardinghouse. She left this morning after handing the Hernandezes a letter appointing them
caretakers.” He began pacing the long, narrow room. “She walked away with one bag. She told them she didn’t need a ride to the mercantile to catch the stage so I don’t know if she’s taken a coach or if she’s on foot.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Supposedly, Jesse went hunting.”

He took a deep breath and started over. “I don’t know much of anything at this point. Yesterday she confessed her past to me, told me all about her former life in New Orleans. She said that you knew too.”