Deeply Devoted

by Maggie Brendan

  He put the tickets back in his pocket, then pulled her into his arms. Cupping her neck in his hand, he tenderly pulled her to him, gently kissed her brow and cheek, then tasted her mouth again with deep longing. She slid her arms around his waist, feeling his strong back muscles.

  Clara longed to stay in the tenderness of his embrace. It would be so easy to give in and travel with him, enjoying the fun his energy caused. Life would not be dull with Mac. But would she ever be able to trust him? He’d broken his word to her more than once, but this was the worst.

  Slowly she removed herself from his grip and stared into the face of the man she loved so much yet knew so little about. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this, Mac . . . it wouldn’t be right. Unless . . . you’re proposing marriage?”

  Mac looked befuddled. “Well . . . I . . .” He shoved his hands in his pockets and didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Exactly. Just what I thought.” Clara backed away toward the door, tears streaming down her face. Her heart turned to stone.

  “Clara, wait!” Mac rushed to the door, trying to block her.

  “I can’t, Mac. I wish I didn’t love you . . .” Blinded by tears, Clara turned and ran down the stairs, shutting out the future she’d thought she could have with Mac.

  Catharine saw Clara trip at the bottom of the hotel stairs, and she ran smack into Catharine, who reached out to break her fall.

  “Mrs. Andersen! Are you all right?” Catharine was surprised to run into Clara at the hotel, and she looked like she’d been crying.

  “Excuse me . . . I’m sorry,” the older lady gasped, holding her handkerchief to her mouth. She hurried on.

  “What in heaven’s name is wrong with Mrs. Andersen?” Anna asked.

  Greta and Catharine started up the stairs to the room they’d all share. “I wish I knew,” Catharine said.

  They didn’t have long to find out. Clara stopped at the hotel’s front door and whirled around. “Catharine! Wait!” she called out, stepping toward them.

  Catharine and her sisters stopped dead in their tracks and turned. Clara, her face crumpled in sadness, sniffed into her handkerchief. “I . . . need to tell you something. I’m sorry . . . so very sorry.” She hiccuped, then wiped her eyes.

  Catharine stood rooted to the spot. Greta and Anna stood on the stairs, peering from behind her shoulder.

  “Peter’s probably told you that I . . . I hired an investigator to look into your background. It was a stupid thing to do.”

  “Yes, he did, Mrs. Andersen . . . but please continue.”

  Clara met Catharine’s eyes, pursing her lips tightly, then continued. “I was duped by Mac in more ways than one. I’m sorry for that. I never should’ve considered it in the first place. He first told me you weren’t divorced, but he knew almost from the beginning that you were.”

  People in the lobby slowed as they passed, curious at the crying woman’s apology, but Clara didn’t seem to care that they were staring. “Please accept my sincerest apology. I can see now it was a thoughtless thing to do, and I know that I’ve caused you and Peter grief by my actions.”

  Catharine was more than surprised at this quick change of heart in Peter’s mother, but her apology did seem sincere. She knew what she must do. With all the effort she could muster, she said, “Apology accepted, Mrs. Andersen. I should have told Peter the whole truth a long time ago.”

  Clara sniffed again, her lips trembling, as she fished in her reticule and handed a paper to Catharine. “Here’s the proof of your divorce, in case you didn’t have a copy.”

  Catharine took the document without even looking at it. “Thank you, Mrs. Andersen. I’ve been waiting for my copy to be mailed.”

  “Well then . . . I must go.”

  Anna slipped past Catharine and put her arms around Clara. “It will be all right, Mrs. Andersen. If Catharine says she forgives you, then you can believe she truly means it.”

  Clara nodded. “Thank you, Anna.” She scurried out, leaving the three sisters stunned by the turn of events.

  “Whew! This has been some kind of day, Cath,” Greta said.

  Catharine sighed. “Yes, it has. I don’t know about you and Anna, but I’m really tired.”

  The accommodations at the Rollins Hotel were simple to nearly bare but clean. Very different from the Inter Ocean where they’d stayed when they’d first arrived in Cheyenne. Catharine couldn’t afford the luxury of the Inter Ocean anyway while they decided where they would go. She wanted to catch the first train away from here, but to where?

  There were two regular beds in the sparse room, two sitting chairs, and a small necessary room. Anna and Greta would share one bed and Catharine would take the other.

  Anna looked around, setting her bag on the floor. “Mmm . . . I’d make us some hot tea, but we’d have to call room service,” she said. “And you left your Blue Willow tea set behind.”

  “Ha! I don’t believe this hotel has such a thing as room service, Anna!” Greta laughed. “You are just too spoiled, my little sister.”

  “I am not!” Anna protested with a pout, then smiled over at Catharine.

  Catharine lay back on the bed pillows, closed her eyes, and covered them with her arm. “She’s only teasing you, Anna. I don’t plan to stay here any longer than we have to,” she declared.

  “We could go back now, Cath. Mrs. Andersen apologized, and she has the proof you need to show to Peter. The proof you’ve been waiting so long for.” Greta took a seat next to her on the bed. “What do you think?”

  “I think not! Why would I want to go back? He doesn’t want me! Not after I kept the truth from him. When we’re settled, I’ll send Peter money to ship my tea set along with the rest of our belongings. ”

  Despite trying to stay in control for her sisters, Catharine started weeping and turned on her side, facing away from their pitying eyes. The pain in her heart was too much to bear. Even if she had proof of her divorce, she’d kept it from him, along with the truth of her baby. That was wrong.

  Lord, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to cause Peter any pain. But he wouldn’t want me now. I just didn’t know what to do, and now I’ve made a mess of things. She wondered if he would miss her, and her mind began reeling. I’ll soon be divorced again, with no home and a baby on the way and two sisters to provide for. She groaned. Even with her sisters, she felt alone.

  I’ll never leave you or forsake you . . . you’re not alone.

  Catharine knew that in her head, but she couldn’t make her heart understand.

  Greta and Anna said nothing. Greta got up and pulled the side of the bedspread over Catharine to let her cry it out. “Anna, let’s decide what we can do for supper,” she whispered. Anna agreed and they moved to the other side of the room, talking softly.

  The house was too quiet and the bed empty without Catharine, and since Peter couldn’t sleep anyway, he went to sit on the porch to think. The evening prairie wind was peaceful, but it couldn’t settle the restlessness he felt in his soul. Catharine was the best thing that had ever happened to him, but he’d have to face it—he may have lost her forever. He wished he could take back some of his words that he knew had hurt her, but he hurt too. His heart had ached when she’d said she’d been in love with Karl. Was she still? What happened to him after that night? Peter might not ever know and didn’t really care as long as Catharine was free of Karl.

  Peter had completed his work for Lucy, and she’d be leaving any day for England. Tomorrow he’d go over to pick up the pay she promised him and perhaps get her advice on what to do.

  Prince and Baby bounded up the porch steps, begging for attention. He scooped them up and they licked his face, yapping. It wasn’t long before their barking woke the other two puppies. Ginger and Sugar decided it must be playtime, and they came out from under the porch where they usually slept. Peter enjoyed the pups, but they only made him think of Anna and then Catharine. Guess I’ll just keep the little fellers. He couldn’t help smiling as they fought for a spot in h
is lap. But he dragged his feet when he went back inside to a silent house.

  Fitful sleep and bad dreams left Peter feeling wiped out when the sun streaked through the sheers that draped the bedroom window. He grumbled about having overslept to the sleepy-eyed puppies, which were curled up at the foot of the bed. Wouldn’t Catharine be shocked if she knew? He hurriedly dressed, gulped down his steaming coffee as soon as it was made, and munched on a day-old biscuit. After picking up his pay from Lucy, he’d consider whether to drive into Cheyenne to see if he could find Catharine. Would she give him an audience? He didn’t know, and he surely didn’t know what he would say, but he’d think on it.

  He fed the farm animals, turned the cow out to pasture, and took the puppies outside to fill their dishes and water bowls. When he was in the barn to saddle his horse, he heard a horse and buggy drive up, and the puppies started yapping. Catharine! She decided to come back! He dropped the harness and raced out of the barn to the front yard. Disappointment filled him as she saw his mother pull up.

  “Peter, Peter! I have to talk to you immediately.”

  He certainly didn’t wish to chat with her. But for her to drive out to his farm at midmorning meant something was up.

  Clara scrambled down from the wagon, laying her buggy whip aside. From the looks of the horse’s heaving sides, she was in a rush. What was it this time? Confirmation from Mac that Catharine was divorced? God, help me . . . How had things gone from happy to dismal so quickly?

  Standing inches from her, Peter could see her eyes were swollen. Apparently she’d been crying and hadn’t slept much, from the look of the dark circles beneath her eyes. She was clearly upset. “Mother, what is wrong this time? More news from your hero, Mac?” he asked sarcastically.

  Clara’s face caved, and tears splashed down her cheeks. Peter hadn’t seen his mother cry like this in years. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he waited until she blew her nose and exhaled.

  “Mac is not my . . . not my anything. It’s terrible!”

  If he wasn’t sure before, Peter was certain now, from the sorrow on her face, that his mother was in love with Mac. It pained him to see her this way. “Mother, I’m so sorry—”

  “Just listen to me, Peter. What I did was a terrible injustice to Catharine. Mac knew almost from the beginning that Catharine was divorced. He continued to lead me on.”

  Peter was confused. “He knew?”

  Clara twisted her handkerchief in her hands. “Yes. He received the paperwork proving it. Peter, can you ever forgive me?” Her bottom lip quivered. “I’ve driven a wedge between you and your wife, and I’m deeply sorry. I’m just a foolish old woman. I let my heart control my head.” Her admission brought more tears.

  He sucked in air and released it. “You’re not a foolish old woman, and you know it. But because of all this, Catharine left.”

  Clara lifted her head and stared at her son. “Oh no . . . now I know why she was at the hotel when I left. I never thought to ask why she was there.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Yes, and I apologized to her for my part in this. Peter, you must go to her.”

  “I’m the last person she wants to see. Come sit down and tell me everything.” His anger mixed with pity as he guided her to the porch steps. The puppies followed, but Clara paid no mind. His once vital mother now looked small and frail somehow, and his heart squeezed tight. Lately that had been happening a lot.

  “You said Mac had the document? Where is it now?” he asked once they were seated.

  “Catharine has it now. I gave it to her. After all, I did pay for it. Peter, I’m so truly sorry to have caused her all this trouble. What a fool I’ve been. I wonder why she didn’t tell you from the beginning.”

  Peter propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together, closing his eyes briefly. “Because of the suffering she endured with her first husband, that’s why.” He related the story of Catharine’s husband Karl and the death of their child. When he’d finished, Clara was weeping again. Peter reached over to take his mother’s hand. “We’ll get through this . . . but I don’t know if Catharine can get past it. I’m so glad you apologized. That’s a good start.”

  Clara wiped her tears. “That has to be the worst story I’ve ever heard.”

  “Can you imagine how Catharine felt as a mother?”

  She shook her head. “No, I honestly can’t.” Clara shuddered. “Do you think we can start over, Peter?” She compressed her lips.

  Their eyes met. “Only if Catharine wants a new beginning, but I wouldn’t count on it. Right now I’m not high on her list of favorite people, and she was really angry when she left. I said things I shouldn’t have, and regrettably, I didn’t speak when I should have.”

  Clara rose. “I’m going home now, Peter. I’ll take my cue from you, so let me know where I stand. But go find her. She’s staying at the Rollins Hotel on Sixteenth Street. Maybe she hasn’t left yet.”

  He stood too. “I will, but I have something that I need to take care of first.” Peter walked his mother to the carriage. When she started to climb up, he stopped her long enough to give her a brief hug. “Mother, I’m sorry if Mac has hurt you, truly I am, and I want you to know . . . I forgive you. Sometime soon you can tell me all about Mac, if you want to.”

  Clara flung her arms around him, hugging hard, then pulled back and kissed his unshaven face. “Thank you. I love you, Son, and I do want to make it up to Catharine, if she’ll let me.”

  After he assisted her up to the carriage seat, Peter said, “I’m not sure she’ll come back. She was very upset.”

  “Nevertheless, you must try.” Clara clicked the reins against the horse’s rump and trotted out of the yard.

  Catharine tied her bonnet tightly under her chin to ward off the brisk wind before leaving the hotel’s lobby. During breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant, she kept one eye on the door, hopeful that Peter would come charging in to declare his undying love for her, but there was no sign of him. No knight in shining armor.

  Catharine’s stomach had settled down by breakfast, allowing her to eat a few bites of toast and sip a cup of hot tea. She missed her coffee with Peter and realized she liked it almost as much as her tea. Almost, but not quite.

  Greta was worried that she’d lose contact with Bryan, but Anna concerned herself only with the fate of the four puppies and Clara. She’d taken a liking to Clara for some reason that Catharine couldn’t understand.

  Catharine had suggested that they go as far as Fort Collins and then maybe on to Denver. She wanted to say goodbye to Angelina, then check on the price of tickets, so she left her sisters quibbling about their destination while they finished breakfast.

  Hastening down the busy streets of Cheyenne, Catharine was struck at how much she’d enjoyed living in Wyoming in her short time and had thoroughly embraced the West. She’d just have to get used to the idea of living in another city, another place, and another lifestyle. What kind of life, she had no idea. She certainly wouldn’t be a mail-order bride again! Besides, who would take in a woman with her two sisters and a baby on the way?

  Her heart felt like it might burst, and her shoulders sagged in despair. Perhaps Angelina could give her some advice. Catharine’s money wouldn’t last very long, and she hoped that wherever she was, she’d be settled long before the baby arrived and winter set in.

  Stepping through the doorway of Mario’s Ristorante, she saw Angelina in the back of the restaurant behind the big glass-encased counter, where delectable pastries were lined up to entice patrons. She was slicing cheese and looked up as Catharine approached.

  “Hello, my friend.” She laid the knife down and walked around the counter. “You’re in town early. Are you here to shop?” She drew back when she caught the look on Catharine’s face. “Is something wrong? You look terrible. Is it morning sickness? Is one of your sisters ill?” Angelina shot out her questions like a cannon.

  “Oh, Angelina. I need some good advice, because I surel
y can’t think straight.” Catharine removed her bonnet as Angelina led her to a small table off to the side.

  “Whatever is wrong, my dear?” She wiped her hands on her apron and sat across from Catharine.

  Catharine took a deep breath. “Peter and I had a fight. I never got a chance to tell you that Clara was having me investigated by Mac Foster. She believed I was a homeless waif looking for a way to come to America and only after Peter’s land and money!”

  Angelina stared with obvious surprise. “Oh dear.”

  “I haven’t told you the entire story—it gets worse. I . . .” She looked down at her lap. “I . . . was married before.” It was hard to say the words out loud. What must she think of me?

  “I see . . . So Clara told Peter, and—let me guess—you hadn’t told him?”

  “Right. I’m ashamed that I didn’t, but I thought he wouldn’t want to marry me if he knew my past.”

  “That’s not so terrible, and I’m sure he would understand if you talked to him about it.”

  “I tried, but all we did was wind up arguing with each other, and then Peter yelled at me. Angelina, I left my husband because he . . . accidentally shook our baby until she stopped breathing . . . but that’s not the only reason.” Her voice trailed off, and she waited for her friend to say something.

  Angelina’s olive complexion drained of color. “Lord have mercy. How terrible, just terrible. Whatever did you do?”

  “We divorced later because I could no longer live with him and look into his eyes every day, but my loathing for him started long before that.” Catharine spoke in a monotone voice, devoid of emotion now.

  Angelina reached over and laid her hand on top of Catharine’s. “This must have been a nightmare for you.” Compassion was evident in her face and voice.

  “It was the worst day of my life. My husband started drinking right after our marriage, and there were . . . other women . . . but I forgave him. But after this, I couldn’t stay married to him, even though I know he hadn’t meant for our baby to die.”