Hubert folded his arms across his chest. “Frankly, I don’t see the problem. If you liked Tillie at the picnic, why wouldn’t you like her now that you know she works at the hotel?” His deliberately calm demeanor seemed to irritate Everett further, but Hubert went on before Everett had the chance to retort. “I tried to explain to you—the people of Willow Creek are fine, hardworking folks, and they aren’t judged by their wealth or lack thereof. This isn’t Baltimore. Social registers mean nothing here. You aren’t any better than Tillie O’Dell because you were raised in affluence and she wasn’t.”
Everett opened his mouth, but Hubert held up his hand. “What makes a person worthy of your respect? Position? Status? Power? If that’s the case, you must not hold me in very high esteem. I’m simply a storekeeper.”
“That’s different,” Everett countered. “You chose to be a storekeeper. You just wanted something to do when you retired.”
Hubert nodded. “Yes, that’s so. But nevertheless, I wear an apron and I serve the people who come into the mercantile, the same as Tillie wears an apron and served you in the hotel dining room. She is still the same person she was at the picnic.”
Everett turned and stared out the window, frustration edging his expression. “My upbringing isn’t something I can casually toss away.”
“I’m not asking you to do any such thing.” Hubert rose from his chair. “Your grandparents were fine people.” He picked up his coffee mug and carried it to the sitting area, gesturing for Everett to join him. “Are you telling me your grandparents would approve of you holding someone in contempt because they didn’t have as much as you?”
The hard edges of Everett’s indignation softened as he sank into the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. Hubert could see him thoughtfully weighing the question.
Finally Everett answered. “Grandfather wouldn’t.” His fingers curled around the ends of the armrests. “Grandfather treated everyone the same regardless of their position. Grandmother was the one who insisted on observing proper social protocol.” After a minute, he looked across at Hubert, a tiny smirk tweaking the corner of his mouth. “Grandmother would have been appalled at me attending a church picnic and sitting on a blanket on the ground. She would have needed her smelling salts had she known I’d spent the afternoon with a young woman who worked as a waitress.”
Hubert pressed the tips of his fingers together and allowed Everett time to contemplate the difference between the values taught by his grandparents. “So is Tillie your picnic companion different from Tillie the waitress?”
Everett didn’t reply immediately. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, dragging his hand through his hair. “That’s something I’m going to have to think about.” His expression took on a faraway look, and he spoke more to himself than to Hubert. “When she came to take our order, she smiled the same way she did at the picnic.”
“Our order?”
“Mrs. Dunnigan and myself.”
Hubert sat forward so abruptly his coffee sloshed over the rim of his mug. “You and Pearl were at the hotel dining room together? When was this?”
Everett jolted out of his reverie. Telltale redness crept into his complexion. “Uh, a couple of days ago.”
“Why didn’t you mention this to me?” Every nerve ending in Hubert’s body stood at attention.
Discomfort etched a frown into Everett’s brow again. “I simply ran into her in town.”
“You ran into Pearl in the hotel dining room?”
“Well no, not exactly.” Everett shifted his position and examined his fingernails. “I invited her to have a cup of tea.”
Hubert sat, stunned. Was his son having a change of heart about Pearl? He’d love to prod Everett into disclosing what they’d talked about, but his son’s countenance had closed up tighter than shutters over a window before a storm. Was a cup of tea all it took to persuade Pearl to engage in conversation?
“Perhaps I’ll do the same.”
Everett’s quizzical look begged an explanation.
Hubert pulled himself out of his chair and stood. “I had planned to go over to the boardinghouse this evening and try to convince Pearl to talk to me. Perhaps a cup of tea will help smooth the way.”
“What?” Everett stood and faced his father. “She broke off the engagement. There’s no need—”
“No need to what, son?” Hubert stared at him. “You sound like you know why she broke the engagement.”
The red in Everett’s face deepened. “All I know is she made her choice. Why do you insist on talking to her now that her attention is elsewhere?”
Hubert nailed Everett in place with a steel gaze. “You seem to know an awful lot about this.” He took a deep breath, glanced down, and released the air on a restrained sigh. “Ever since you and I began corresponding a year ago, I prayed that we could someday be reconciled. Your being here is the answer to that prayer.”
Hubert crossed the room to stand in front of the window. He stared across the expanse of the hillside that separated his house from the edge of town. Just past the treetops, the peak of the boardinghouse roof pointed skyward. The lengthening shadows and the golden hues of the descending sun winked together against the wood-shingled rooftop. Under that roof resided the woman he felt God had chosen for him.
“Everett, I don’t know if you had anything to do with Pearl’s decision. I don’t know if her new boarder, that Cain fellow, had anything to do with it. But I know this.” He turned, wanting Everett to see the determination in his expression. “I will not let her go without a fight.” The waning light revealed disconcertment on his son’s face. “I love Pearl. And as happy as I am that you have come to Willow Creek, I cannot let you or anyone else stand in the way of Pearl and me being together.”
Everett skewed his lips into a sneer. “I can’t believe this. Twenty years ago you chose your job over your family.” He thrust a hand out toward Hubert. “You say you’re glad we’ve reconciled. You say my being here is an answer to your prayers.” Sarcasm threaded his tone.
Hubert took a step forward. “I am glad, son. You must know that. But you must also know you cannot dictate to me how to live.”
Dead silence reigned for the space of a few seconds while Everett narrowed his eyes into a reproachful glare. “Where were your prayers when I was a child, Father? Did God tell you to turn your back on your family? Was the lure of adventure what kept you away for weeks and months at a time while my mother spent her days and nights in fear, wondering where you were and if you were coming back? What was I supposed to think back then? Both my parents deserted me, my father in favor of his job and my mother for another man. Where was God then? Or was ambition your god?”
The same accusations Hubert had hurled at himself repeatedly over the years now flowed unchecked from his son’s lips. The bitter remorse he thought he’d finally put behind him reemerged as needle pricks to his soul. God may have forgiven him, but until he forgave himself, guilt would continue to haunt him.
But apparently Everett wasn’t finished. “Now, just when you have finally begun to act like a father, you’re making the same choice you made twenty years ago. Except this time it’s not your job, it’s a woman.”
The way Everett said woman sounded so disparaging Hubert almost drew his fist back. Only the knowledge that he deserved his son’s scorn kept him from doing so. He turned back to the window. Was the acid anger in his chest aimed at Everett or himself?
“Well, Father? Isn’t it true?”
Hubert waited until his breathing slowed before answering. “Everett, I admit I was wrong all those years ago. I was so enamored with my job, everything else paled in significance. I chose to take the cases that kept me on the trail for a long time. Deep inside, I knew it was wrong to leave you and your mother alone. I should have left those cases to the unmarried men. But all I focused on was solving the toughest cases so I could gain recognition and status.”
He turned to look at Everett. As painful as he knew it wou
ld be, he had to look his son in the eye when the words he had to speak crossed his lips. “Don’t you see? I was guilty of putting prestige at a higher level of importance than anything else, including my family…and God.” He swallowed hard. “I allowed ambition and success to blind me. I disobeyed God. I chose to do what I wanted instead of what God was telling me.”
The lump in his throat restricted his air, but he had to make Everett understand his remorse. “The day I learned your mother had left, I came face-to-face with my own sinful selfishness. I haven’t lived a single day since without regret.”
Moisture glinted in Everett’s eyes and Hubert crossed to him, taking hold of his son’s shoulders. “Everett, you’re my son and I love you. It is still my deep desire for us to be close. If I had the opportunity to rethink my choices, I’d do things differently.” His fingers squeezed into Everett’s shoulders. A quiver passed through his son’s stiffened muscles. “I’d give anything to reclaim the time I lost being your father, but I can’t.”
He dropped his hands. A mixture of sorrow, relief, and hope stirred within him. A surprising lightness eased the pressure in his chest, confession releasing the burden of guilt he’d carried for so long. There would always be consequences and regrets connected with his past disobedience, and he still didn’t know if he’d ever feel the right to forgive himself, but one thing was certain. God’s forgiveness was absolute.
“I believe God has given me a second chance to be the kind of husband He meant for me to be twenty years ago. And that’s why I’m going to go talk to Pearl. If she won’t listen tonight, I’ll go again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, until she believes how much I love her. I only pray I’m not too late.”
Everett’s posture sagged, as though drained of energy to fight. “All right, Father, if that’s your decision, I won’t argue and I won’t try to stop you.” Grief darkened Everett’s eyes. His voice lacked all hint of animosity or arrogance. “Tomorrow I’ll inquire about stage connections to Dubuque and train schedules east. I’ll be leaving at the end of the week.”
Hubert’s stomach muscles tightened. Saying good-bye to Everett would break his heart. He wished his son knew the power of God’s forgiveness. Perhaps if he did, he’d be able to find it in his heart to extend forgiveness to his father.
Pearl was up to her elbows in dishwater when she heard the knock at the back door. She frowned and glanced through the red gingham-curtained window. “It’s almost dark outside. Who is stopping by at this time of the evening?”
She grabbed a dish towel and wiped her hands on the way to the door. The moment she cracked the door open, her breath caught in her throat.
“Hubert.” His name came out in a hoarse whisper.
He stood before her, holding a blue-and-white china teapot and a box of her favorite chamomile and ginger tea. “Hello, Pearl. Please don’t close the door. I just want to talk, and thought perhaps we could share a cup of tea.”
Pearl couldn’t find her voice. She knew she should tell him to go away, but her heart refused to allow her tongue to work. She tried to shake her head but found herself nodding instead. Why was she opening the door wider?
“Thank you.” Hubert stepped across the threshold into the kitchen. “I’ll even put the water on to boil and brew the tea if you’d like.”
She flapped her fingers and took the box of tea from him. “The kettle is still warm from supper.” She pushed it over the hottest part of the stove. “Hubert, you shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?” He set the china teapot on the table. “You know I still love you, Pearl. Nothing has changed for me except the fact that you’ve broken our engagement. And you won’t even give me a good reason for doing so.”
Her heart kicked against her ribs. She couldn’t answer him. How could she tell him Everett was the cause? She sidestepped the issue. “Grady O’Dell made a mistake the other day when he delivered my supplies. There was a piece of yard goods that I didn’t order. I’ll go and get it for you.”
She started to go to her bedroom to fetch the material, but Hubert’s gentle hand on her elbow held her in place. “Pearl, there was no mistake. I knew it was your list. I recognized your handwriting. I know you so well, I even know how you cross your Ts. The cloth was a gift. It matches your eyes.”
The simmering kettle covered the sound of the breath that caught in her throat. Her hands shook as she measured the tea into the china pot and poured in the scalding water.
“Hubert, that was thoughtful, but I can’t accept a gift from you.” Immediately her mind was stricken. Hubert’s silver music box sat on her nightstand. Anguish twisted her stomach when she knew she must return the music box that she loved. Perhaps it was better if she did give it back. Every time she looked at it, tears burned her eyes. When she lifted the lid and listened to the tinkling notes, the love she kept locked away in her heart begged for release.
“I want you to have it, Pearl.”
She winced. How could simple words cut so deeply? Even if Hubert referred to the blue material, how she wished she felt free to keep the music box. Hubert went to the breakfront and retrieved two teacups while she stood, fighting with her emotions. If he didn’t leave soon, she’d lose her resolve.
Hubert set the cups on the table and pulled out Pearl’s chair and held it for her. But she didn’t sit. Instead, she balled up one corner of her apron and clenched it in her fingers.
“Hubert, I can’t do this. Please go.”
In one stride he was beside her and grasped her trembling hands. “Why, Pearl? Just tell me why.”
She shook her head and closed her eyes. “It’s not right.”
Hubert gripped her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Not right? Being apart isn’t right.” He cupped her chin. “Pearl, look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me. Tell me, Pearl.”
She tried to force her eyes to connect with Hubert’s, but her heart couldn’t comply with his demand. She turned away to stare into nothingness. “I can’t marry you, Hubert.”
Hubert’s head dipped and angled to force her to look at him. “Pearl, my dear, being a Pinkerton detective for almost thirty years, I learned to read people’s faces to see if they were telling the truth.” He gently placed two fingers under her chin and tipped her head to face him. “Your eyes don’t match your words.”
Tightness in her throat prevented her from insisting he was wrong. Truth be told, he wasn’t wrong, and she teetered on the brink of admitting as much. Just as her resolve began to topple, the kitchen door swung open and Silas Cain stood in the doorway.
“Say, what’s going on in here?”
She never resented an intrusion more than she did at that very moment.
Chapter 12
Nothing is going on, Silas.” Pearl’s eyes lingered on Hubert as she spoke. She’d never seen him with such an angry glare as the one he threw in her boarder’s direction. The steely determination in his eyes made her catch her breath, and she forced herself to turn and look at the man standing in the kitchen doorway.
Silas took two steps forward. “Is this man bothering you?”
“Now, see here, Cain…” Icicles hung on Hubert’s tone, and Pearl felt his hand tense on her arm. Surely they wouldn’t come to blows!
“Gentlemen.” Pearl stepped away from Hubert and held up both hands, a palm in each of their directions. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired, and I must ask both of you to—” She glanced toward Hubert. The words leave me alone refused to cross her lips, so she turned back to her boarder. “Silas, please go back to the parlor. Everything here is fine.”
Silas scowled at Hubert and grumbled under his breath but turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen.
As soon as she looked fully at Hubert, she knew it was a mistake. His image so impacted her, she felt as though his arms encircled her, gently holding her close, even though he stood three paces away. “Good night, Hubert.”
“Pearl, I’m not going to give u
p. I intend to keep coming back until you understand how much I love you, and nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, is going to change that.”
She couldn’t look at him any longer. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, and her chest ached to tell him she loved him. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the worn worktable and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Please, Hubert. Don’t make this any harder.”
“Good night, Pearl. I’ll be back.”
The soft click of the door closing behind him as he exited sent a pang of grief through Pearl’s heart. If only Hubert would treat her with contempt or respond in anger to her repeated insistence that she would not marry him, forgetting about him might be easier. But every time she saw him she noticed he looked pale and drawn with dark circles under his eyes, and pain filled his expression. She wasn’t sure how much longer her resolve would remain intact, especially if Hubert fulfilled his promise to return.
Fickle emotions warred within her as she poured out the lukewarm tea. Her fingers traced the blue flowers on the teapot Hubert had brought. How like him to do something like that. As adamant as she was about her decision, deep inside she wanted Hubert to come back, and she knew her heart wasn’t ready to let go. A groan escaped.
“I can’t keep doing this.” She covered her face with her hands. “God, please help me put my feelings for Hubert aside and remember why I made this choice in the first place.”
“What choice is that, Pearl?”
She startled and yanked her hands away from her face. Silas once again stood in the kitchen doorway. Ire bristled in her middle.
“Silas, must you sneak into my kitchen that way?”
A smooth, self-confident smile slid into place on his countenance. “I wasn’t sneaking, Pearl. I was merely checking to make sure you were all right.” He tossed a casual glance toward the back door. “Wasn’t that the fellow who works in the mercantile?”
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