Brides of Iowa

by Stevens, Connie;

  The words caught in Hubert’s throat. A single passenger disembarked the stage. The young man brushed dust from his coat and turned to reach up for his bag. Even at the distance between them, Hubert couldn’t mistake the man’s features.

  “Hubert? What is it?” Concern colored Pearl’s tone.

  His mouth fell slightly agape, and he took a couple steps forward. Could it be?

  “Everett?”

  Hubert’s feet moved of their own volition, and within seconds he was striding toward the stage depot. “Everett? Son?”

  The young man halted and looked up. Recognition lit his eyes, and he set his bag on the boardwalk. “Father.”

  The two clasped hands in a strong handshake, and Hubert pulled his son into an embrace. Joy spilled over him in bucketfuls. Hubert clapped his son on the back, then grasped him by both shoulders.

  “Son, I can hardly believe you’re here.” Emotion burned behind his eyes. Everett—his boy—had actually come to see him. How many years of regret passed between them, wasted years like water slipping through his fingers? But he held the answer to his prayers in his arms.

  “It’s so good to see you, son.”

  “It’s good to finally be here.” The timbre of Everett’s voice carried the unmistakable ring of maturity—deeper, stronger. His firm, square jaw, inherited from his grandfather, was more pronounced now that manhood etched its mark over Everett’s features. Adolescence had been left behind. When did that happen?

  Everett glanced around, as if giving the town a cursory appraisal. His eyebrows dipped, drawn together by small lines above the bridge of his nose. Another family resemblance left its imprint on the boy—not a physical trait, but rather in his mannerisms. A hint of arrogance. “So this is Willow Creek.”

  Hubert’s detective instincts kicked in without effort. If he didn’t miss his guess, his son was less than impressed by the town. A tiny twist pinched his gut. Everett’s arrival caught him by surprise, something that rarely happened. A sensation akin to anxiety swept through him. How many weeks and months had he dreamed of this day? Now that he stood face-to-face with his son, he wished he’d had more notice, more time to prepare.

  “Hubert? Is this your son?”

  He spun around. Pearl stood a few steps behind him, waiting to be introduced.

  Pearl’s heart accelerated in a rush of joy. What a blessing to witness Hubert’s reunion with his son! She stepped forward, side by side with Hubert.

  Hubert placed his hand on her shoulder. “Son, I’d like you to meet Pearl Dunnigan. Pearl, this is my son, Everett Behr.”

  Everett extended his hand. Pearl accepted his offer of a handshake. His brown eyes darkened as they scrutinized her face. Stiffness drew his shoulders back. “Mrs. Dunnigan.”

  Her breath hesitated. The formality of his tone and stately air gave her pause. Perhaps his upbringing in a wealthy home instilled the reserved manners and propriety. Regardless, he stood waiting for her response.

  “It–it’s so good to finally meet you, Ev—uh, Mr. Behr.” She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so awkward meeting a person.

  Everett cast a cool glance over her and returned his attention to his father. “I made my travel arrangements as soon as I received your last letter.”

  Hubert smiled, but it wasn’t the warm smile Pearl was accustomed to seeing.

  “I’m so happy you could come, son. In fact, Pearl and I were just discussing the wedding.” Hubert bent to retrieve Everett’s bag. “You must be tired and hungry after your trip. Let’s get you settled. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

  Everett nodded and without so much as a glance in Pearl’s direction, he replied to his father. “Is there a hotel here?”

  Hubert chuckled. “Hotel? Yes we have a hotel, but I’d rather hoped you’d want to stay with me.” He extended his arm to Pearl, gesturing for her to join them.

  “Um, Hubert?” Pearl reached out to touch his sleeve. “Excuse me for interrupting, but since it’s only a little after eleven o’clock, you can’t close the store right now. Why don’t I take Everett to the boardinghouse? He can relax and refresh himself, and I can make sure he has a hearty lunch. After he rests, you can take him to your house.”

  A flash of something foreign darted through Hubert’s eyes—an indescribable emotion she’d never seen on his face before. He appeared to hedge a moment, trying to form a response. Before he could reply to her offer, however, Everett spoke.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Dunnigan. I’m sure you mean well, but I think it best if I remain with my father.” He turned away from her, and she felt an air of dismissal. “Father, surely you have employees who can operate your enterprise in your absence.”

  Pearl’s mouth dropped open at Everett’s cold reaction to her invitation. Did Hubert notice his son’s rudeness? To her surprise, Hubert hurriedly agreed with Everett.

  “It’s no problem to close the store for the remainder of the day.”

  “But Hubert, your customers—”

  “Will simply have to come back tomorrow.” He started up the boardwalk with Everett on one side of him and Pearl hastening her steps to keep up with him on the other. “This is a special occasion. My son has arrived for a visit.”

  They stopped at the mercantile so Hubert could hang the CLOSED sign and lock the doors. Pearl stood to one side, unsure if Hubert even remembered she was there. Determined not to dampen his joy over Everett’s arrival, she waited quietly for him to share his plans.

  Hubert dropped the store key in his pocket and turned a broad grin on his son. “Now, we have the rest of the day to spend catching up with each other.”

  When Hubert finally turned to her, the warmth had returned to his eyes. “Pearl, my dear, why don’t you join us? We can have an early lunch at the hotel and then take Everett to my place.”

  At his mention of the hotel, her spirits dipped a bit. Hubert always loved her thick roast beef sandwiches and potato salad, and she’d made an applesauce cake just that morning.

  “I’d still like to make lunch for both of you at the boardinghouse.” She slid her gaze between father and son. “But you are entirely correct, Hubert. This is a special occasion. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

  Everett’s frown made her feel like an intruder. Was she being presumptuous? Of course he probably wanted his father to himself, at least for the first day of his visit. She could understand that. But before she could voice her thoughts, Hubert took her hand and tucked it within the crook of his arm.

  “Since I’m taking the day off, you should, too.” His smile calmed her mounting apprehension. “Join us for lunch, then I’ll get Everett settled at my house.”

  They crossed the street and entered the hotel dining room, but when Hubert held her chair as she was seated, Everett’s glower caught her attention. Her smile fell from her face. She wasn’t imagining it. Everett resented her presence.

  “So Father, I’m a bit confused.” Everett scooted his chair closer to the table. “You have no employees trustworthy enough to run your establishment while you’re away? Closing the place doesn’t seem prudent.”

  Hubert chuckled. “I am my only employee. I suppose at some point I should consider hiring someone to work part-time.” He smiled across the table at Pearl. “Especially after the wedding.”

  Her stomach normally danced with delight at Hubert’s references to their upcoming nuptials, but Everett’s apparent displeasure cast a pall on her happiness. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d come. At first, she assumed his intention was to reunite with his father and share in the joy of the wedding. Now she wasn’t so sure. What if she didn’t pass muster as his father’s future wife? Is that why he was here? To inspect the woman who was about to marry his father?

  She silently admonished herself for her undisciplined imagination. Don’t be silly. After receiving the letter Hubert and I wrote together, telling him about our marriage plans, of course he’d want to come and celebrate with us. Hubert invited
him to come. He’s simply tired from his journey. She returned her attention to the conversation between the two men, only to discover them both training expectant gazes upon her.

  “Pearl?” Hubert’s eyes studied her with concern.

  Heat rose from her middle and filled her face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. That was rude of me.”

  Everett cleared his throat and arched his eyebrows. “I asked you if you operate the town boardinghouse.”

  “Why, yes.” She took a sip from her water glass. “I’ve been running the boardinghouse for many years, ever since my husband died.”

  “I see.” Everett’s chin rose slightly. “What kind of people stay at a boardinghouse?”

  She wasn’t sure she understood his question. What was Everett’s point in asking? Did he think she operated a house of ill repute?

  “Everett.” Annoyance seeped through Hubert’s voice at his son’s inquiry. “Pearl runs a respectable establishment.”

  “Of course she does.” There was no remorse in his tone, nor was an apology forthcoming. “I merely wondered if the clients she served are dependent upon her charity or if they contribute to society in any way.”

  Pearl couldn’t have been more surprised if Everett had tossed the contents of his water glass in her face. There was no mistaking the disdain in the young man’s voice. Whatever Hubert’s answer was, it didn’t register in her mind.

  The waitress brought their food, and Hubert asked the blessing. Pearl picked at her plate, glancing up at Hubert from time to time. An uncomfortable lapse in conversation ensued, and Pearl got the distinct impression Everett had things he wished to discuss with Hubert, but not in her presence. By the time they finished their meal, Pearl couldn’t remember what she ate. They rose to leave, and Hubert paid for their lunch.

  Once outside on the boardwalk, he turned to Everett. “Will you excuse us a moment, son?”

  Without waiting for Everett’s reply, Hubert gently guided her a few steps away. “I’m so sorry, my dear. Once he is settled at the house, I intend to have a talk with him and let him know I didn’t approve of the way he spoke to you.” He gave her elbow a little squeeze. “For now, may I see you back to the boardinghouse on our way home?”

  The warmth of Hubert’s hand on her arm gave her spirit reassurance. “No, I still have a couple of errands to run.” She risked a quick glance in Everett’s direction and found him scowling. “I’d like for the two of you to come to dinner, if you have no other plans.”

  Hubert sucked in a breath. “I think it will probably be best if Everett and I spend the evening at my house. We have some things to discuss. May I stop by the boardinghouse in the morning on my way to the store?”

  “Of course. I’ll have fresh coffee ready.”

  He squeezed her fingers and said good-bye. Though her heart felt a certain amount of vindication that Hubert intended to confront Everett about the way the young man had behaved, she couldn’t push away the distress. Nor could she forget the expression on Everett’s face when Hubert introduced him to her. Her own words echoed in her mind as she made her way down the boardwalk.

  You mustn’t let anything stand in the way of reconciling with your son.

  Hubert’s response to her encouragement that initially prompted joy now resounded like a dirge. “I don’t intend to.”

  Chapter 5

  Hubert fought a tug-of-war with his emotions as he studied his cup of tea and waited for Everett to finish unpacking and join him. From their first embrace at the stage depot, Everett’s demeanor had reminded him of the young man’s grandmother—condescending and haughty. He hoped Everett’s churlishness was simply due to travel fatigue. He shook his head. Why did his joy over being reunited with his son have to be dampened?

  A discordant duet played in his mind. Everett’s arrival was a surprise. It had pained Hubert to toss the last page of the letter he and Pearl had written together into the fire—grieved him to watch the flames destroy the invitation to the wedding. How could a man be so torn in such distinctly opposite directions? For years, his heart had longed for reconciliation with Everett. But Everett’s knowledge of Hubert’s past choices made him the one person Hubert didn’t want to introduce to Pearl. He thought removing the invitation from the letter was enough.

  But Everett chose to come. Judging by his son’s attitude thus far, celebration didn’t seem to be his purpose for traveling halfway across the country.

  Hubert reprimanded his thoughts and sipped his tea. “Drop the investigator posture, Behr. You’re not a Pinkerton any longer.”

  “Did you say something, Father?” Everett entered the room and sat in the leather chair across from Hubert.

  Hubert forced a smile. “Just talking to myself. It’s one of the hazards of living alone.”

  Everett’s fingers curled around the arms of the chair as he sent a slow, surveying scan around the room. Even though Hubert had indulged in several luxuries when he’d built the house, no doubt Everett considered it rustic. Why, surely the spacious front sitting room with its river rock fireplace and colorful woven rugs could never be deemed a proper parlor by Everett’s standards. After living in affluence for so many years, would his son consider the house inferior? But Everett’s opinion of the house wasn’t what burdened Hubert.

  Hubert gestured to the teapot and extra cup sitting on the low table between them. “Would you like some tea? It’s Earl Grey.”

  His son raised one eyebrow. “So you do enjoy a few genteel things out here in this…wilderness.”

  Hubert’s heart pinched. His detective skills were still as sharp as ever. His son indeed viewed the town with contempt. A breath of defensiveness rose in his chest, but he pushed it back.

  “It’s hardly a wilderness. I’ve found I rather enjoy the quiet life here in Willow Creek. There is a serenity in the surroundings one can’t experience in the noise of the city.”

  Everett snorted as he poured himself a cup of tea. “There’s a great many things one can’t experience in a backwoods hamlet that the city affords. Culture, society, conveniences, sophistication…” He stirred a spoonful of sugar into his cup and took a tentative sip.

  Debating the advantages of the city with those of rural Iowa wasn’t what Hubert wished to discuss. “I know your grandparents provided you a higher standard of living than that to which the good people of Willow Creek are accustomed. However, I would ask that you demonstrate a bit more graciousness. It so happens that I love this little town and its residents.”

  Everett’s expression darkened, and he set his cup on his saucer. “My apologies, Father. Reverend Werner suggested I try to employ more understanding and compassion of others.”

  “Reverend Werner?”

  “Yes, he was the minister who came regularly to see Grandfather. I believe he pastored a small church on the other side of town.” Everett set his cup and saucer on the table. “At first I was a bit taken aback. The minister from the largest church in Baltimore where we attended for years never came to the house, even when Grandmother died. When Grandfather took ill, Reverend Werner started coming to visit. I never did learn how Grandfather met him.”

  Hubert ran his finger around the rim of his cup. “This Reverend Werner—did he come often?”

  A shadow flicked over Everett’s face, followed by a slight raise of his chin. “He came every week, mostly to talk with Grandfather, but whenever Grandfather was asleep, Reverend Werner would sit and talk to me. He spoke of Jesus like a best friend rather than a distant entity.”

  “Did this man preach your grandfather’s funeral?”

  “Yes.” Everett sat forward and his expression took on a hint of animation. “He said Grandfather knew Jesus in a personal way. It was most comforting to hear him talk about heaven, and how those he called ‘believers’ could one day go there.”

  Hubert’s heart leaped. “Did you make the decision to believe?”

  Everett leaned back in the chair and hesitated for a minute. “You know, I kep
t telling myself it was nonsense—nothing more than a comforting story a minister might tell to a dying man. But I must admit the different passages Reverend Werner suggested I study raised some questions in my mind.”

  Joy filled Hubert’s soul, but before he could inquire further about his son’s possible faith, Everett abruptly changed the subject.

  “So tell me, Father, when did you first meet Mrs. Dunnigan?”

  Once again caught off guard, Hubert covered his hesitation by taking another sip of his barely warm tea. He’d wait for God to supply another opportunity to talk to Everett about his faith.

  After briefly filling Everett in on the details of his last Pinkerton case that brought him to Willow Creek three years earlier, he leveled his gaze at his son. “I realized several months ago that I was falling in love with Pearl. That might sound strange coming from someone my age, but I am quite certain God brought me to Willow Creek for the purpose of meeting the woman I would eventually marry.”

  Cynicism crept into Everett’s expression. “Really, Father. The woman runs a boardinghouse.”

  Hubert bristled, but he held himself in restraint. Nothing would be gained by allowing his passion to take control of the situation. Instead, he purposely modulated his voice. “There is certainly nothing wrong with running a boardinghouse. But since you brought it up, I must say I didn’t appreciate the tone you took with Pearl at lunch or the attitude you displayed when you posed your questions to her. Pearl Dunnigan is a fine, hardworking Christian woman, and the boardinghouse she runs has an excellent reputation.”

  Almost a full minute of silence passed while Everett turned his gaze toward the window. When he returned his vision to Hubert, scorn twisted his lips. “Father, I happen to know the Pinkerton Detective Agency pays its investigators quite well. You even mentioned in one of your letters that your retirement bonus was a rather tidy sum.”

  Hubert wasn’t sure he followed Everett’s line of reasoning. What did his Pinkerton salary or his retirement bonus have to do with Pearl’s boardinghouse? His confusion must have shown on his face because Everett arched one eyebrow and tipped his head toward the window that overlooked the edge of town.