Angelina leaned back in her chair. “Peter didn’t understand that?”
“No, because I kept it from him, and now he doesn’t trust me. Why would he?” Catharine dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief Angelina offered. “I was afraid he still had feelings for Dorothy, and lately he’d been leaving every day and not returning until supper, so I imagined all sorts of things.”
“So it was an issue of trust for both of you.” Angelina shook her head. “This is a difficult thing you did—not telling Peter.”
Catharine knew it wasn’t a statement of condemnation but of compassion. She looked Angelina squarely in the eye. “I know that now, but I was so afraid. I didn’t know what to do. Can you understand?”
“Of course I can, but since you were divorced, I guess I don’t understand what the problem is.” Angelina frowned.
Catharine chewed her bottom lip. “I was divorced for a year, but my father’s solicitor never sent me the sealed document as proof, and for months I waited. During that period of time, I started corresponding with Peter and never received my copy before I left Amsterdam. I wrote my solicitor and gave him my new address, and I’ve been looking for the document to arrive in the mail any day now. The solicitor said the paperwork got lost or something and wasn’t forwarded to me.”
“Did Peter need actual proof over your word?” Angelina pursed her lips and her brows shot up.
“Mac told Clara that they weren’t able to find any proof of a divorce, and that’s all it took for her to turn against me. I believe she thought she was protecting Peter.” Catharine rubbed her brow in frustration. “But she somehow found the document and gave it to me last night. She also apologized.”
Angelina tilted her head in surprise. “Clara apologized last night? Incredible!”
“I left Peter last night, Angelina. I figured he really didn’t trust me. I haven’t told him about this baby either, and I won’t!”
“Tsk, tsk,” Angelina said. “You’re in troubled waters, my friend.”
Catharine fell silent. Angelina was right.
“But that doesn’t mean it’s not fixable. With God all things are possible, especially when they look grim.”
“My sisters and I are going to Fort Collins, then on to Denver. We can find jobs or something. I couldn’t bear to live here and see Peter all the time.”
“Don’t do anything hasty. Peter deserves to be told about his baby, don’t you think?”
The bell over the restaurant door jangled, and Angelina excused herself to go wait on a customer, leaving Catharine with her head in her hands. When she shut her eyes, all she could see was Peter.
Balmy skies and wind made for pleasant weather, the temperatures not as hot as the week before. But all that was lost on Peter. He had one thought, one focus in mind. He’d say goodbye to Lucy, wish her a pleasant trip to England, and thank her for the work she’d found for him to do. After he picked up his pay, he’d go straight to Cheyenne and find Catharine. There was already a hole in his heart from her absence, and the funny thing was he actually missed her sisters too. He prayed that God would put the right words in his mouth when he talked to Catharine. If he found her.
As Lucy’s house came into view, he slowed the wagon and saw a large box on the front porch. She must’ve found something more for him to work on. Well, it would just have to wait.
Peter halted Star, then hopped down and strode up to the porch, glancing at the box as he passed it. He rang the doorbell, waited for a few minutes, then knocked. Where was Lucy? Hands on his hips, he turned around, considering what to do, when he spied a white envelope taped to the box. He pushed his hat back, squatted down, and lifted the envelope addressed to him, using his thumb to slide under the flap to open it.
Dear Peter,
I’m in Cheyenne to catch the train for my trip to England. I’ve written you a check for all the work you did for me on the house and barn, and I’m leaving a little bonus for you and Catharine in this box. It’s my wedding gift to you, and I pray you’ll have many happy days of using it. All I ask is a favor that you will watch over my place for me while I’m gone. I’ll return in the spring, thus avoiding the harsh Wyoming winter.
I’ve been praying for you and Catharine, and I hope that everything will work out.
All my best,
Lucy Hayes
Peter whistled when he saw the check and put it and the letter in his shirt pocket.
Taking his pocketknife out, he popped the nails holding the top edge of the crate and loosened the lid. Pushing aside a mound of tissue paper, he was shocked to find the set of Blue Willow dishes nestled in the box. Mercy me! Lucy, you shouldn’t have done this. What a wonderful thing for her to do.
He recalled their conversation the first day he’d been in her house. She’d remembered what he told her about Catharine liking Blue Willow but losing most of it. He thought of yesterday when he’d accidentally broken one of Catharine’s Blue Willow teacups. He knew how much it meant to her and felt terrible, but it had been an accident. Peter struggled with the weight of the crate but managed to slide it into the back of the wagon. He was touched that Lucy would do something like this. If he could make amends with Catharine, she would love Lucy’s gift, no doubt about that.
He flicked the reins and shouted “giddyap” to Star, and the wagon lumbered toward home. After a few minutes on the bumpy road, he pressured Star faster. Instead of going home first with the china, he’d go straight to Cheyenne. He had an idea . . .
Clara awoke sprawled facedown in her bed, one arm dangling off the bed where she’d dropped from exhaustion. Through the bleary, swollen slits of her eyes, she blinked, looked across the room, and moaned. For heaven’s sake, her day dress was crumpled! Her nose was stuffy from crying and she was finding it hard to breathe with her face against the bed. She struggled to sit up, and the weight of all the recent events hit her like a hot prairie wind, burning her face with humiliation and hurt. She’d cried herself to sleep with thoughts of Catharine’s shocked face, Peter’s anguish, and Mac’s admission. It was bad enough that she’d caused trouble for her son and his wife, but saying goodbye to Mac had torn her heart out.
How could she have been so blind? She had been certain he loved her. She shook her head and walked to the sink. After pouring water from the pitcher into the bowl, she splashed her face. She’d thought about it most of the day and hadn’t wanted to believe the quiet voice in her head implying that there were differences in their beliefs. Mac had said as much before, and he said he didn’t need to attend church and didn’t need God. That’s why he would promise to go but never showed up.
Had she let the desires of her heart overrule her head? A thought popped into her head and she tried to think it through. “Don’t cast your pearls before swine,” or something like that? Now where had she read that? Somewhere in Matthew? She’d look it up later. But there was significant meaning in that verse for her, regarding Mac. There was much she had to make amends for. But first she’d have to find a way to get over her heartache.
She dressed and made herself some strong coffee, but she couldn’t bear the thought of eating. Her stomach was in an uproar. She put her dishes in the sink and stood wondering what she should do as the long day stretched out before her.
The doorbell rang. She hurried to the front door and saw a messenger through the window. “Yes?” she asked when she swung open the door.
The adolescent delivery boy jumped back a step with her questioning frown. “Ma’am, I was to deliver this to you this morning.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anything this morning. I didn’t mean to shout at you,” Clara said, taking the small wrapped package from him.
“Aw, it’s okay, I don’t mind. But could you sign here for me?” The boy held out a tablet, and she scrawled her name on the printed space and dated it.
She reached inside her dress pocket and handed him a few coins. “Thanks, son.”
He bobbed his thanks and traipsed back down th
e stone steps.
Clara went to the living room and sat by the window overlooking the street. She untied the string around the box and peeled off the paper wrapping. A letter and a set of beautiful tortoise-shell hair combs took her breath away. Who in the world . . . ? Opening the folded paper, she started to read the note.
My sweet . . . can I call you that? I think I always will. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you, but I just couldn’t see this working out with us. With me on the road all of the time, I couldn’t expect you to give up your home in Cheyenne, or your church, or your son and, perhaps soon, grandchildren. I won’t let you. And I do not want to be someone who wrecks lives or homes. Please understand it’s not about love but practicality. And truth be told, I don’t think I have your kind of strength, your accountability to life and love.
I’m enclosing a check for that last advance you gave me on the investigation. I never used it—it was just a way for you to think I needed further work on the case and to prolong our time together. We have had good memories together with lots of laughter.
I care for you deeply, but I think this is best, so this is goodbye. I hope you’ll wear the combs in your beautiful hair and think of me.
Always,
Mac
Pain tore straight down the center of Clara’s heart, ripping it in two until it felt like stone. She stared at the letter, unable to cry anymore. It was apparent that Mac had no concept that God couldn’t be confined to a building. God dwelled in her heart. There were many churches where she could’ve felt at home, as long as the truth was preached. Clara knew that she’d made some mistakes and wasn’t perfect, but God’s love for her and His forgiveness would see her through.
Mac spoke out of both sides of his mouth. It finally hit her how selfish he was. Yes, he’d told her once that he may have been in love with her, and he said all the right things when it was good for him to do so. He was handsome, intelligent, and full of energy, and she was going to miss that. He had his faults, but she overlooked them, and her love for him had been unconditional. That was the problem. Love sliced both ways, but he took the choicest portion for himself—and gave very little in return.
Clara leaned her head back in her chair, dropped the letter to the floor, and closed her eyes. She prayed . . . prayed like she never had before.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Angelina crooked her arm around Catharine’s and tilted her head to the side, giving Catharine a penetrating look. “I wish you’d at least think on it another few days.”
Mario stood by with a sad look on his face, whether for Peter or for her, Catharine couldn’t tell. “You all can stay with us instead of running away. We’d be a little crowded, but just until you made other arrangements.” He scratched his head, thinking aloud. “I could use the extra help in the evenings. We’re very busy at the restaurant, you know.”
Catharine wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and sniffed into her handkerchief. She knew that Mario was just offering to hire them out of his desire to help, not because he really needed help. “I truly appreciate your thoughtful consideration to hire us, but I have no other choices. Staying here and running into Peter would make our lives too hard. I should have been honest with him from the beginning. He’s never going to forgive me now.” She crossed her arms and glanced over at Greta and Anna, who were sitting on a nearby bench surrounded by their bags.
The Union Pacific depot was bustling as usual with the arrival and departures of passengers, and any other time Catharine would be energized by all the activity. But now the beautiful depot only served as a reminder that she’d once been excited to meet her future husband.
“I can’t thank you both enough for what your friendship has meant to me and my sisters. How can I ever repay you for your kindness?” Catharine sniffed again. “Where are the twins this afternoon? I wanted to say goodbye.”
Mario twisted the ends of his mustache and looked around nervously, as though he expected them to come screaming through the depot. “You know how fickle kids at their age can be. Plus they don’t like goodbyes and prefer playing in the park when they aren’t helping out at the restaurant.”
Anna left the bench and sidled up to Angelina. “You will check on the puppies or maybe help Peter find them good homes, won’t you?”
Angelina hugged the girl. “I’ll see what I can do . . . maybe we’ll take one of them, right, Mario?” she asked.
Mario’s eyes grew large. “Well . . . I can’t say for sure . . . but yes, we’ll give it some thought and I’ll ask Angelo and Alfredo if they’d like one.”
Anna seemed satisfied with Mario’s answer, but Catharine was sad that they couldn’t take them along.
Greta walked over to the group, saying, “Our train will be here in a few moments, Cath. We should say our goodbyes now.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Angelina said. “We don’t want you to miss your train. Once you’re settled in Denver, please write us.” Her eyes expressed warmth but threatened tears.
Catharine couldn’t help but notice that Mario glanced around in agitation, then pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. He’s probably not good with saying goodbye either. Catharine knew it was hardly likely their paths would cross again, which made their goodbyes all the more poignant.
The UP personnel shouted the announcement that the train for Denver would be boarding in the next fifteen minutes.
Catharine twisted the wedding band on her finger. “Oh dear . . . I guess we must go now.”
Mario smiled, looking past her shoulder, then leaned over to give her shoulder a squeeze. Angelina’s sad face lit up and her mouth dropped open. Catharine turned to see what she was so shocked about, and her heart skipped a beat.
Peter’s hands were shaking so hard that he thought he might drop his end of the box. Thankfully the twins carried the other side.
Before going to the hotel, Peter had dropped by and spoken briefly with Mario about his plan.
“Excellent idea! I’m glad you are going to go talk to Catharine.” Mario shook his head. “Angelina and I were so saddened about all of this. You are doing what’s right, Peter.” Mario popped him on the back.
“I sure hope so, Mario. I don’t want to live without her.”
“Then go tell her. She’s still at the Rollins Hotel for now, but Angelina said she didn’t expect her to stay.”
“I’m heading that way just as soon as I run by the bank with a deposit.”
“Ciao!” Mario waved, watching Peter hurry off.
When he arrived at the hotel fifteen minutes later, the clerk told him that Catharine and her sisters had checked out moments before. He muttered under his breath in frustration. “Do you know where they might be headed? Another hotel?” he asked the doorman.
The doorman shrugged. “Mister, I don’t have a clue where they were going, but they mentioned the UP depot. It’s really none of my business, sir.”
Peter took a silver dollar out of his pocket and slapped it in the doorman’s hand. “Thanks!”
The doorman smiled broadly and yelled after him, “Thank you!”
Peter flew down the stairs to his wagon. Maybe he’d get there before the train left—it was just down the street. In moments he was zipping past carriages and buggies and flying past the park in front of the train depot. He spied Alfredo and Angelo playing catch with their baseball and mitts, right where Mario had said they’d be.
Peter stopped the buggy and hopped down. He called out to them and they ran up, hugging him. “I’m so glad you’re here! Would you like to make some change helping me with a surprise?”
“Sure!” Alfredo said.
Angelo nodded eagerly. “Whaddya need?”
Peter leaned down to the twins and told them his plans. The boys were only too happy to help him out and scampered behind Peter to his wagon.
Now, as they entered the huge atrium of the Union Pacific depot, several curious passengers stopped to watch as Peter paused to look for Catharine. He spotted Mario smil
ing as he was giving Catharine a hug, and he winked conspiratorially at Peter over her shoulder. She was dressed in a green traveling dress with a crisp white blouse beneath her matching jacket.
Peter watched as Catharine slowly turned and saw him. Her drawn and pinched face shocked him. He froze. A sadder face he couldn’t ever recall seeing. Not even his mother’s crying had moved him the way the look in Catharine’s eyes did. A look of a crushed spirit or of resignation? Peter swallowed, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, denying him the eloquent speech of forgiveness he’d planned. In that long moment they exchanged looks of hurt and raw feelings, and it was as if the two of them were all alone in the noisy, bustling train depot. Neither moved—each full of selfish pride.
Catharine didn’t say a word but turned back around to continue with her goodbyes, then picked up her carpetbag.
“This crate’s getting heavy. Can we please set it down now, Peter?” Alfredo begged, jarring Peter back to his senses.
“I’m sorry, boys. Yes, let’s set it down right here.” They set the crate on the floor.
Mario shot Peter a look of impatience, then motioned for him to go ahead and make his move. Peter was determined in his purpose.
“Catharine,” he yelled across the wide atrium. His heart pounded as Catharine slowly turned back around and mouthed, “Peter . . .” She moved closer to him.
“Catharine, I’m sorry. I . . . never meant to say all the things I said. I don’t care who or what has happened before. I only know I don’t want to spend my life without you. If you’ll forgive me, we could give this another try based on trust and love.” Before she opened her mouth, Peter turned to the twins to whisper, “Okay, now, boys.”
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