As if Jake thought the idea of moving to Boise and away from her family worried her, he added, “If you move to Boise with me, you’ll see why I love living there. They have electricity and telephones. They have concrete sidewalks and you can take a stroll with your sweetheart without getting your boots muddy. They’re building a two-story Carnegie library this coming year and have plans to build a beautiful park along the river! And a new theatre! I know you’ll love to go to the theatre!”
“Jake . . . I don’t know if I’m willing to move to Boise,” Alice said, finding her voice at last. “I’m scared, and it isn’t the thought of being homesick that scares me.”
Jake leaned back, a quizzical expression on his face. “What then? What are you afraid of?”
Alice took a deep breath and forced out the words she hated to speak. “Jake, did you know that you gave Mrs. Jepson a phony two-dollar bill when you were here last time?”
Jake’s eyes widened and he gasped. It was some time before he answered. “Are you joking?” He brushed his hands against his trouser legs.
“I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Jake.”
A breeze had picked up, rustling the leaves in the nearby trees. A jackrabbit scurried from one bush to another. Alice bit her lips for a moment and then explained what Reed had told her about the counterfeit dollar bill he’d spent at Jepson’s mercantile.
“Reed Browning made that up!” Jake blurted out. “He’s jealous because you’ve always been my girl.”
Alice’s lips quivered. The precious feeling of only moments ago was ruined. And what if there was no truth to her fears? What if she was simply overreacting? “I don’t think you’d knowingly give anyone counterfeit money,” she stammered, “but maybe you got it unknowingly from someone else. You didn’t know the money was counterfeit, did you?”
Jake’s back stiffened. He looked out across the creek and closed his eyes for a moment.
“I’ve wondered about that new friend of yours,” Alice said, “the one who bought an automobile. Do you think he’s into counterfeit money and maybe he passed some on to you without your knowledge? Something makes me nervous about that man.”
“You’ve never even met him.”
Alice placed a trembling hand on Jake’s arm. “I know, Jake, but you’ve changed. You’ve changed since moving to Boise and started spending time with him. I’m really worried about what’s happening to you.”
“I haven’t changed,” Jake growled. He leaned back, almost recoiling from her touch. “Why do people think I’ve changed? Just because I like my job? Because I feel like I’m going somewhere in life? Because I’m not wanting to stay in this one-horse town anymore?”
Alice’s fingers flew to her lips. Everything inside her quaked with fear, and she wanted to weep. “See what I mean about changing, Jake. You used to love Clover Creek. All you wanted to do was learn more about the newspaper business so you could come back here and work with your father.”
The cords in Jake’s neck tightened. His eyes looked tired. “Maybe I have changed, Alice. Maybe I’ve seen a bigger picture of the world and want to live in a city where exciting things happen. That doesn’t mean I pass counterfeit bills. Why do you think I would?”
The tears Alice had been fighting spilled from her eyes. She had ruined everything. “I don’t know what to think,” she whispered. “I liked the old Jake. The one who loved our hometown and always thought about other people and helped people that needed help.”
When Jake spoke, his voice took on a gentler tone. He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I still like Clover Creek, Alice. And I still help people. I just like being part of something bigger.”
Alice sniffed, her shoulders trembling. A large bird flew from a dogwood tree to a smaller tree, causing a whole flock of smaller birds to take flight, their rushing wings filling the air. “I can understand that, Jake. But where does all the money you’ve been spending come from? You’ve never had this kind of money until now.”
“Don’t remind me,” Jake said, his voice defensive. “My pa runs a weekly newspaper. He’s never made much money and he never will unless the paper grows. That’s why he wants to turn it into a daily. Bigger papers like the one in Boise make good money, and that’s why I want to stay in Boise instead of coming back to this . . .”
“But where does the money come from to buy your new clothes? And all the gifts you’ve bought me? Something doesn’t make sense, Jake. I thought you wouldn’t make very much money until after you finished your internship.”
Jake’s eyes averted hers again. Finally, he pursed his lips and took a deep breath. “Dusty put the money down for my new suit and vest! I’m paying the store for the rest the rest of what I owe a little bit every week.”
“Dusty helped pay for your suit? Why? Is he really that well off? Where does he get the money to help you and buy an automobile?
Jake reached for her, but she clasped her hands and held them close to her heart. “Please . . . answer me, Jake. I must know. Is some of Dusty’s money counterfeit?”
Jake scraped his hand through his hair and after several moments, he cleared his throat. “Counterfeiting isn’t what you think, Alice. Did you know that banks print their own money? And just like banks, some very talented people print money.”
Alice thought her heart would pound right out of her chest. So it was true. Jake’s friend was into counterfeiting. Was Jake?
Then, as though he recognized her alarm, Jake raced on. “Counterfeit money helps the economy, Alice. The extra money helps merchants stay in business and helps the ordinary man get ahead. It doesn’t hurt anybody! It even helps poor people put food on their table!”
The wind picked up, bending the tree branches, sending leaves and dust through the air. Some of Alice’s curls pulled loose from their pins. “What’s happening to you, Jake?” she whispered. She hated that she was practically interrogating him about his finances and values, but she had to know. Was he getting into something corrupt? Is this why she had had those unnerving thoughts that they weren’t ready to marry? Would she even want to marry him if he had become less than honorable?
“And the gifts you’ve given me,” Alice said, “did you buy them, or did Dusty pay for them? More importantly, were they bought with counterfeit money?”
The cords in Jake’s neck tightened again. His eyes hardened. “Dusty paid for some of your gifts. I paid for the rest, hoping you wouldn’t forget about me while I was gone and marry Frank Baldwin or Reed Browning.”
Alice clutched at her hair, trying to control it in the wind. She thought back to the articles in the newspaper about her activities with Frank and Reed. Her eyes squeezed shut. Surely her desire for a little amusement with Frank and Reed hadn’t caused Jake to get involved in something dishonest. She had no idea of how involved he was, but the thought of his gifts being bought with dishonorable money horrified her.
“I can’t keep your gifts if they were bought with counterfeit money, Jake. It’s just not right.”
“You’re really overreacting, Alice. There’s nothing wrong with counterfeiting. Merchants and bankers don’t care where their money comes from. Dusty buys the money from a respectable banker. A man who creates money for the bank all day long and makes extra money for the economy at night.”
Several birds took flight again, their wings thundering along with the tree branches and flying debris. Alice thought of her younger sisters and how much they adored Jake. She thought of her parents and how much they trusted her to make wise decisions. She thought of her future children and the kind of life she might offer them. She lifted her eyes to meet Jake’s.
“Counterfeiting is wrong, Jake. Your friend is an unscrupulous character if he’s told you otherwise. It’s as plain as day to me. Why can’t you see it?”
Neither of them said another word. The wind grew stronger, making a rushing sound through the trees, and dust swirled everywhere. Jake hurried to hitch the horses to the wag
on, and Alice carried her new book and hurried to the carriage. When Jake helped her up, and swung up on the other side, she could tell by the set of his head and the veins in his neck that he was angry. She could barely hold back her tears. A day that had started out with so much promise had collapsed into the worst day of her life.
“Dusty didn’t pay for all of your gifts,” Jake said as he pulled up in front of the Gardner homestead. “I bought some of them with the money I earn. I even started working a part-time job at night so I could afford to come and see you more often, maybe set a date to get married.”
After he helped Alice down from the carriage, she stood in front of him with tear-filled eyes, and held the book of sonnets out for him to take.
“Keep it,” Jake said, backing away from her. “I bought that book with money I earned washing dishes.”
12
“It’s time you forgot about that girl!” Dusty said the following week. “She’s caused you nothing but grief. There are hundreds of girls right here in Boise. I’ve watched them flock around you at the dances. You can take your pick.”
Jake slumped in the runabout seat and wished he hadn’t agreed to go for a ride with Dusty. The fresh air felt good, but he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. He hadn’t slept well all week. All he could think about was how badly his trip to see Alice had turned out.
The sad thing was, Jake had been so tired that afternoon, he couldn’t even remember how the discussion with Alice had spiraled out of control. But one thing was certain. He should never have argued with her. Now Alice didn’t want him or his gifts. She had even sent her brother to return Jake’s gifts.
Jake remembered the somber look on Charlie’s face after he’d handed Jake the rejected items. “I’m really sorry,” was all Charlie had said, and then he’d offered to shake hands. At least one member of the Gardner family didn’t consider him a scoundrel.
“Look,” Dusty said as they rode through downtown Boise. “You’ve done nothing but mope around all week. You need to forget that girl and have some fun. Come to my friend’s house with me and pick up a little spending money. Then we’ll hit the dance clubs tonight. You’ll have so much fun, you won’t even think about that hometown girl anymore.”
Jake looked around and realized Dusty had turned onto the street where the banker lived that printed the counterfeit money. Every house on the street was surrounded by wrought iron fences, green lawns, flowers, and trees. The whole street was a picture of perfection. Surely if the man was a banker and lived in such a nice neighborhood, he wouldn’t risk his place in society by doing anything illegal. And Dusty was probably right about Alice. Jake needed to forget about her. Not only had she returned his gifts, she had written a letter withdrawing her acceptance of his proposal. He had received the letter yesterday afternoon and still carried it in his pocket.
Maybe Dusty was right about him needing some fun. If Alice didn’t care for him anymore, why should he care about her? Maybe he should splurge on some fun. He certainly hadn’t had any lately with all his newspaper work and then washing dishes at night. The only good thing about this whole week was that he had quit the restaurant job last night. Why bother if Alice wouldn’t have anything to do with him?
Two days ago, Uncle Lyman had challenged Jake to come up with his own ideas for human interest articles for the newspaper. Lyman claimed that Jake had the makings of a top-notch reporter, and Jake liked that. He’d show Alice and everyone else back in Clover Creek that he was going somewhere in the newspaper business.
Besides, if Jake came up with good newspaper articles, he might not have to write about ladies’ luncheons anymore.
“Well, I’m going in,” Dusty said when they pulled into the curved driveway and parked behind an old farm wagon. “When I return, I’ll be a richer man and you’ll still be struggling to live on the pennies your uncle throws your way. Come on. What’s holding you back? Come and buy some money so you can quit brooding all day.”
Jake lifted his tired eyes. “What do you get out of it, if I buy?” he asked. “You must gain something. You’re always pushing me to buy.”
Dusty grinned. “You’re absolutely right. I get the satisfaction of helping you have a better life. But I also get a commission if I bring this guy new clients and dealers.”
“Dealers?”
Dusty hurried on. “Sure. The thing is, once you get into the business, you can do the same thing. That’s the beauty of it. The more business and dealers you bring in, the better return this guy gives you on your money. Someday we’ll both be rich. And like I keep telling you, everybody wins.”
Jake didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he sighed and stepped out of the runabout. “All right . . .” he said, dragging out his words. With his hopes to marry Alice dashed, what did he have to lose. Maybe he could use a little excitement in his life right now and having money to throw around appealed to him. He needed to quit thinking about Alice, how much he longed for her, and what could have been.
Jake squared his shoulders while Dusty came around and clapped him on the back. They walked toward the house, but instead of going to the front door, Dusty led him to a side door that led to the basement of the home. “We’ll wait out here until it’s our turn,” he said. “That wagon in the driveway means someone’s already in there doing business. Probably some poor farmer who can’t afford to clothe his children.”
Jake rocked back and forth on his heels as they waited by the side door. He scratched behind his neck and ran his hands through his hair. He hoped the man who was about to exit the house didn’t recognize him. Now that he was standing here, actually waiting to go inside and buy the counterfeit bills, he felt a churning in his stomach like his insides were contorted or twisted out of shape.
He never had gotten around to researching counterfeiting. Other news stories had kept him busy. He had simply believed Dusty that passing the fake bills helped the economy. Had Dusty only said that to entice Jake into buying? Researching the merits of counterfeiting suddenly sounded like a great idea for a newspaper article. Why hadn’t he thought of that when Uncle Lyman challenged him to come up with his own article ideas? Before he had tried to convince Alice that there was nothing wrong with counterfeiting?
Jake stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and his heart froze. His right hand closed around Alice’s letter. He didn’t know why he carried her letter with him, but he hadn’t been able to leave it behind. Now as he stood there by the side entrance to the house, he remembered the way Alice had ended her letter. She hadn’t railed against him or lectured him. She had simply quoted Shakespeare. Some of the lines that she had read to him from Hamlet.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Dusty rattled on about something, but Jake barely heard him. All he could think about was that no matter what Dusty claimed, there had to be something wrong about buying the money if you had to go in the basement door of a man’s house to transact your business. There had to be something wrong about buying the money if you hoped no one you knew would see what you were doing. What would his mother think if she could see him now? His father? Milton? What would his Uncle Lyman think, the man who praised him for his work ethic almost on a daily basis?
He already knew what Alice thought.
If Jake followed through and purchased the fake bills, he would be too embarrassed to tell anyone. And he wouldn’t need to tell God. God already knew what he was about to do.
No matter how tempting it was to purchase the extra spending money so he could forget about Alice, he realized he couldn’t do it. How had he stooped so low?
Just then the door opened, and a portly man stepped out. He didn’t look at either Dusty or Jake. He pulled his hat lower over his forehead and hurried up the stairway. Dusty nudged Jake and motioned for him to go inside.
“Uh, count me out,” Jake said.
�
��What?”
“Count me out.’ I’m not buying. I can’t do it. I’ll see you back at the office.” With that, Jake bounded up the stairs and strode back toward Dusty’s runabout. He didn’t climb into the automobile but kept walking. Dusty would probably make fun of him for backing out, and flaunt all the easy money in his face, but Jake couldn’t walk into that man’s basement. It was clear as a spring day to him now. Counterfeiting was wrong.
Why couldn’t he have seen the truth before he lost the one person he loved so dearly?
Alice lay on top of her bed, staring at a spider that crawled across the ceiling. A spider’s life is so simple. Why must mine be so painful? Tears filled her eyes and spilled over onto her pillow. It had been five days since she’d told Jake that if he didn’t think there was anything wrong with using counterfeit money, he had changed from the person she loved and admired. She had returned his gifts including the book of sonnets.
But what if Jake wasn’t into counterfeiting? What if it was only his friend? That was the frustrating, nagging thought that wouldn’t leave her alone. What if Jake had simply been trying to defend his friend and Alice had judged him without giving him more time to explain? She cried into her fist. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Had she acted too impetuously?
Mrs. Gardner knocked on Alice’s door, and then entered the room. “Alice dear, it’s time
to drive into Clover Creek. I know you don’t feel like going, but Mrs. Stribling is expecting you to come and clean for her, and you can’t stay in your room forever.”
Alice swung her feet over the side of the bed and slowly sat up. She snatched a handkerchief from her table and wiped her eyes and nose. “I know, Ma,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I’m sorry I’m such a dreadful daughter this week when you could use a lot of help.”
Mrs. Gardner leaned over and hugged her. “Your brother’s handling all the outside work,” she said, “and the girls and I are doing fine taking care of the house. I know something happened between you and Jake, and that you’re hurting, but hopefully whatever it is can be resolved.”
A Cherished Gift Page 10