“And I thought it better people believed my wife to be insane than to know she cheated on me,” Henry said, his words cracked with emotion. “Now I see the selfishness in that decision. How can you ever forgive me?”
His glazed eyes met Bethany’s and her heart broke. Now the direction of their future was in her control. It would be so easy to stomp out today and say good riddance to both of them, but then sadly, she’d be just as guilty as they.
“I will forgive you, Papa.” She reached across the table and grasped his hands. “The torment will end at this table today. History will remain the same – the public need not now of this tragedy. But we know, the Bascall men know, and that will set us all free from this lie that’s haunted our sanity.”
Troy moved in to stand behind Bethany. “I’ll take my leave. This is a family decision.”
Henry stood to his feet and in a stern voice stated, “And you will soon be family, so sit down, young man.”
“Daughter, you are wrong about one thing. Your mother deserves to know peace in the afterlife. Labeled as a suicidal lunatic does not serve her justice. I tainted her name to protect my pride but will make a formal statement to the sheriff and have the verdict altered. The people of Spruce Hill will either respect my decision or not.”
“What of Chris and his father?” asked Jane.
“I will not speak harshly of them or my wife, Ms. Fletcher. I too am tired of the senseless anger that simmers inside like live coals from a fire that refuses to die. Their names will go untarnished. Besides, men squabble for just about any reason these days, many times over the love of a woman. No doubt the judge will agree to alter the verdict to record the event as an accident.”
“That is brave of you, Papa.”
“Long overdue, and not nearly as brave as my daughter is.”
For the next five minutes, tears flowed, and hugs made the rounds. Emotional exhaustion and a clear conscience reined because of this family meeting, and Bethany could not be more grateful.
Two weeks later, in the private chambers of the traveling judge, the new case was reviewed and thrown from courthouse within minutes. According to the man who sentenced the guilty and innocent alike, the woman was dead, and neither an accident nor suicide would change the fact. Case closed. He warned them all that he best never see the file resurrected again. Henry and Bethany Forester, Christopher Bascall, Jane Fletcher and Troy were present for the judgement.
“It’s done,” said Christopher as they turned to leave the sheriff’s office, which served as a courthouse when necessary. “Too late for Chris, but he found his own peace.”
“We’ll pray for you, Uncle Christopher. Will you be terribly lonely living in the woods by yourself?”
“No, Jane. My days are numbered; lived too long as it is. I should have gone first but the Almighty probably knew my boy wouldn’t make it on his own. Guess He got the order right.”
“How did it happen, Mr. Bascall?” asked Troy.
“The lad just woke up one day and got ready to die. Never could figure the boys moods so I didn’t give his antics much thought. When I called him for supper he didn’t move, so I trudged out to the graveyard ready to give him a piece of my mind. Found him sprawled across Simone’s and Stacy’s grave. Had a right peaceful look on his face, which made his passing easier to take.”
“Can you stay for a while?” asked Henry.
“Surely can. Figure this is my last trip to Spruce Hill so I may as well make it count.”
Jane hooked an arm through his, and together they walked into the first day of summer, remembering the tragic love story that lay buried deep within the forest.
Chapter 11
Surprises for Bethany
“Close your eyes now, Bethany,” said Henry. “We have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise? I couldn’t be any happier than I am right now.”
Troy laughed. “I think you could.” He came around behind her and withdrew a bandana from his side pocket. “Need to blindfold you. But never fear, I’ll not steer you wrong.”
“I am confident of that, Troy Spencer.”
He covered her eyes and pulled the ends tightly before taking her arm. “Lean on me, my love. The day has only just begun.”
In the background she heard commotion but as they drew near, the air became dead quiet, quenching the feverish frenzy Bethany felt would soon break loose. In her mind she eliminated a birthday celebration, Christmas, or any other special occasion on the calendar. Ah, it was the first day of summer. Could there be a picnic or a shindig? When Troy stopped leading, she squeezed his arm.
“Oh Troy, I can’t stand the suspense.” He removed the eye cover and she gasped aloud which made a large majority of the town roar with laughter.
Men, women and children flocked around and the six youngsters that lived at the Quinn Orphanage all hugged her waist and legs at the same time.
“Come see, Miss Forester.”
They took her by the hand as men picked up their hammers and the real noise began. “This is the picture of our new house!” An expanded version of the main cabin was nailed to a porch post for everyone to see.
Angela rushed over. “Oh my, Bethany. Can you imagine my surprise when the entire community – even those who shunned our efforts here with the children – all showed up on our doorstep this morning? My husband is thrilled we will have our very own bedroom, a new sitting room which will make the kitchen huge and not cramped when we all sit around the table.” Her finger moved around the picture as she spoke.
“A building project?” Bethany stammered.
“Yes, and all thanks to the Foresters and your young man.”
“Wernicke has found enough wood already?” asked Bethany.
“Sure did,” came a voice from behind. “But not from the scrap pile. The boss got wind of your idea and ran with it. Nothing but the best cuts picked for this mission. And Troy talked the idea up all around town; won folks over. Thirty volunteers signed the list to put the walls up today.”
“A community effort? I’m speechless.” She drew in a breath and scanned the bodies scurrying about, taking up jobs for the work underway.
“Some of the fellas at the mill stayed late all week to finish the boards needed so’s not to take away from our regular orders. Even the boss helped.”
“My father worked with the men at the mill? I thought he went to the camp this week?”
“He’s a wiry fella when he wants to be. Knows places to hide, out of sight from curious eyes.”
Bethany smiled. Yes, the same way he’d hid from his wife to do evil, he’d hid from her this week to achieve good. She couldn’t be prouder. Since the meeting in their kitchen, she’d watched her father struggle to override his old ways and allow the new improved character to emerge from its dormant condition. She scanned the area and noticed him with one of the boys.
“Excuse me, Wernicke. I need to talk to my father.”
Henry was patiently showing the ten-year-old orphan, Tommy, how to sand the board to clean them of loose splinters. The boy followed his example and before long they both swept bare hands across the now smooth spot. The two cheered at their success.
“There, now those little gals won’t be getting slivers when they rub against the inside wall,” said Henry as he ruffled the hair on the boy’s head. “Now get to work. I’ll be back later to check on you.”
Henry turned and spotted his daughter watching two feet away. He laughed. “Better watch out, Tommy. The boss is here.”
Bethany grinned as he approached. “The boss?”
“This was your idea,” he said.
“But I never dreamed it would become a community effort.”
“You can thank your man for that part. I supplied the free wood, but he rustled up all this help. Even invited the ladies – mainly for their food contributions – but Mrs. Quinn is loving the company. And I believe the women plan to sew a quilt for the new bedroom.” Henry Forester looked with pride at the happ
y workers all around him. “A new spirit is born today, daughter. I think your Ma is smiling down on our little town right now.”
“I believe she is, Papa.”
“Ms. Fletcher and I put a gift on your bed before we left this morning. Christopher found your mother’s book at the lighthouse before he moved to the cabin in the woods. We all agreed it’s high-time you got to know your mother a bit. I wish I’d read it. Might have understood the woman more and avoided a lot of mistakes.”
Bethany did not have time to dwell on the wonderful gift that awaited her at home. She joined the ladies in the kitchen where some worked feverishly to organize the mountain of food awaiting the noonday meal, and others set up the frames in the current sitting room where they’d spread the squares they’d made prior to coming that would create the beautiful new quilt.
“It’s time to serve, ladies. The workers are fading fast and need nourishment,” Bethany called to the bunch that gathered around the frames.
“The squares are all sewn together for a top. We’ve layered now, using this cozy wool blanket for stuffing in the middle and a large piece of soft flannelette that Hank Densley from the general store donated for backing,” said Mrs. Spencer. “I love watching a quilt come together.”
Mrs. Henderson leaned over to inspect. “I love your stitches – so close.”
Bethany walked to where the ladies stood, reluctant to leave their posts for lunch. Expert fingers carefully stitched intertwining circles that would add to the design and fasten the three layers secure. All the while, the gabbing never stopped. It had been too long since the dance in February. People needed companionship, and she knew just the woman to head up such a committee to keep the community spirit alive.
“It is gorgeous ladies, but you need to keep up your strength and there are a lot of dishes to carry out to the table for the workers. Break time,” she said and clapped her hands to get them moving.
Twenty minutes later, the workers gathered and Troy asked Revered Kearns to say the blessing. The man was feeling a bit too giddy – probably too much time in the hot sun. “Good Lord, grant us strength in our arms and a high-step to our feet as we expand this home you’ve blessed for your lost children. For the food that smells almost too good to eat, we give you thanks. And help us not to make gluttons of ourselves. Amen!”
“Amen,” the crowd agreed, as they headed for the four slim tables constructed with unused lumber eventually targeted for the house. Platters of wild game, pork, and beef, bowls of bean, corn, and potato salads, loaves of bread, pickles, jams, and relishes, all flavored by the creative women of Spruce Hill lined the table. On the last sat a long row of scrumptious desserts, and Angela stood at the head with a wooden spoon, ready to slap the fingers of those who hadn’t yet filled plates with the main course.
Bethany found Troy seated under a tree with the orphan boys. “May I intrude?” she asked. Boys giggled, took their plates and hurried away. She looked at Troy. “What did I say?”
“They have been drilling me about our plans. Seems news of our courtship has reached their ears.”
“Ah, and many others. I’m sure if we looked around, we’d see them gawking at us right now.”
“Probably just reminiscing about the good old days when love first bloomed in their hearts,” said Troy.
“No doubt.” Over the short duration of her courtship, Bethany had discovered that the more mature and secure folks were in their own relationships, the more they liked to tease those testing a new romance. She couldn’t wait to stand someday on the other side, casting tidbits of fun to the next couple that dared to embark upon this public display of the wooing ritual.
“Are you enjoying your surprises?”
“Immensely. I believe facing the truth has lifted burdens from shoulders that should not have taken it on themselves to bear. Look at my father over there, waiting for his turn at the table, playing with the children, donating all this prime lumber. It seems a new man is living under his old skin.”
“It is nice to see. And Ms. Fletcher is talking a blue streak and a few men are taking notice. If your father is interested, he best claim her soon.”
“They have an odd relationship. I can’t imagine after all these years they’d make one another happy as husband and wife,” said Bethany.
“Probably right. Too much water over the rocks.”
“And you’ve been keeping secrets these two past weeks, Troy Spencer. When did you have time to put this house-raising together?”
“Had lots of support, and it helps there’s plenty of people who like Miss Bethany Forester and appreciate her giving heart. And any of them with a stiff nose got put in their place when I quoted words from the Good Book.”
“Better add preacher to my growing list of titles for you; deputy-detective-carpenter, and all mine for the taking.”
Troy reached for her hand. “I like the last part best.”
“Your mother would be happy with your choice of men, Bethany.”
She spun around to find Christopher Bascall standing directly behind. “I’ll not keep you, but I wanted you to have that crate of dreams Chris and your mother collected at Lookout Rock. I asked Arne about it, and he said you already found it.”
“We did,” Bethany hugged Christopher. “Thank you.”
“Be nice for you to wear the wedding dress. It was the only heirloom Simone brought from home. Said it was her Ma’s and couldn’t wait to wear it when she and Chris tied the knot.” Christopher cast a far away look toward Lookout Rock. “Guess that never happened.”
Bethany placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. Even when she did finally marry, I’m told it was a quickie wedding. I don’t believe she wore a gown at all. How strange that she’d leave it at the lighthouse and not bring it to her home in Spruce Hill.”
“Suppose she had her reasons,” said Christopher.
“Thank you, again, for the trunk. I will treasure it always and enjoy the touches of my mother sprinkled within the home I share with my husband someday.”
“That sounds good.” Christopher tipped his hat.
“Thanks for coming to Spruce Hill today. We’ll be remembering you in our prayers.”
Troy and Bethany watched him walk away. He turned and stretched his tall lean frame. “Suppose we best get back to work. These walls need closed in before nightfall.”
And it was. The huge addition spreading the full width of the original house and half its length was closed in before the last wagon pulled out of the yard. Both Drake and Angela were in tears when Bethany came out of the room after tucking in the wee ones who fell asleep before she raised the covers to their chins.
“Bless you both for making this happen. We used to feel so alone in our mission here, but now it will be so much easier knowing the townsfolk support our efforts to bring a smile to children with no blood kin who want them.”
“There’re some fellas that couldn’t make it today and said to tell you they’ll be here next Saturday to help finish up the inside and patch up the roof.”
“I can start on the roof after work this week. Want to do my share,” said Drake.
“Personally, I’m not used to all this physical labor,” said Bethany. “Bed is calling, and it’s not even dark yet.”
Troy helped her pull on a light sweater she carried in her bag most everywhere. “We’re off. See you in church Sunday,” he called to Drake and Angela.
It wasn’t until she’d changed into her nightdress, she recalled the gift left on her bed. She hurried over and saw a small book tied with a yellow ribbon lying there inviting her to open it to the first page. She brought the lantern to her bedside and crawled under the blankets. She held the book lovingly, as a found treasure, and whispered a prayer of thanks for the three wonderful blessings the Lord had given her this day. Freedom to live, freedom to give, and now freedom to remember: Gifts never to be taken lightly. She would mark this date, June 21, 1870, as a day for new beginnings.
Chapter 12
> A Bedtime Story
Bethany propped feathered pillows behind her head and relaxed against the headrest to read. She opened the book and the story of her mother came to life.
*****
Simone Charter
** This is surely the end of my life. My foolishness has come back to bite me with the vengeance of a cold-blooded viper, and the serpent has taken the shape of my father. How will I survive this mess I have created while Father has judged the seed as demon-sent? How can a child, even an unplanned one, originate from anyone but God? I refuse to hate it. Instead, I will hate the one with no love to give either of us.
** Today they called an emergency family meeting. I was not permitted to speak but forced to merely listen as they sentenced me. I will be sent far away, where no one cares that I was bred for the finer things of life, and work as a laborer in my aunt’s home. Her reputation exceeds her. She will use me no better than a slave of old. The Negro fought for freedom but I fear I have no rights at my disposal to fight for mine.
** The house is busy preparing for my departure. Father held a grand ball last night in my honor to support the lie that I will go abroad where a wealthy English man waits to wed me. I smiled obediently at all their good wishes while my insides wanted to scream, help me. But none there would help. I am shunned and there is no redemption available for my lost soul. My younger sisters are giddy and sit on the sidelines picking favorites from the beaus that will not be mine.
** I find such few times to write anymore. My heart is heavy, I’m certain it will break at the least amount of exertion. Today I board the vessel that will take me to my prison tower – a hideous shack in the backwoods where I can raise my illegitimate offspring and probably my aunt’s six children as well. At seventeen and untrained in such work, I fear this task will be too great to handle. Already I am overwhelmed.
A Liberating Love (Keepers of the Light Book 3) Page 10