KeepingFaithCole

by Christina Cole

  “Be reasonable, Tom. Faith is already settled and comfortable. No need to uproot her again.”

  Although he saw the logic to her thinking, he wasn’t going to back down. A man didn’t begin a marriage—even a sham marriage—by moving in with his mother-in-law.

  “Either we live with Ma, or we don’t get married. It’s up to you.”

  “This isn’t a good way to start.”

  “You want to forget the whole crazy idea?”

  “That’s all this is to you, isn’t it? A crazy idea.”

  “Hell, yes. In the first place, a woman isn’t supposed to propose marriage to a man, and in the second place…” He stopped. There was no second place. He was shaken up, had no idea what he was saying. “Never mind. You need to make a decision.”

  “I’ve already made up my mind, Tom. We’re getting married, like it or not.”

  Like it or not?

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. But now, as Lucille spun around and headed back the way she’d come, he suddenly felt like letting out a whoop and a holler. Lucille McIntyre wanted to marry him.

  But not because she loved him. Not because she had any feelings for him. Only because she loved Faith.

  It was a start. But now, how in the name of all that was holy would he tell Ma that Lucille was about to become her daughter-in-law? That the two of them would be moving in to the little cottage? He’d better hurry home and tell her right away. Gossip spread fast in a place like Sunset, and God forbid she hear it from somebody else.

  They wouldn’t have a real marriage, he reminded himself.

  But they would have a real home.

  And they would have Faith forever.

  * * * *

  Lucille had once feared Christmas would be a sad occasion for her. She’d once worried that memories of her father’s death would spoil the holiday and deprive her and her mother of any joy. That was before Faith came into their lives.

  Tom stopped by on Christmas afternoon, bringing little gifts for all three of them, and leaving Lucille embarrassed that she had nothing to give him in return. They sang carols, lit candles on the tree, and wished one another good tidings.

  Watching Faith and Tom together brought a feeling of peace to Lucille’s heart. She no longer questioned whether she’d done the right thing in proposing to Tom. She knew she’d made a wise choice.

  The holiday season passed quickly and the new year began. Life settled back into a fairly comfortable routine. During the day, Faith remained with Olive while Lucille worked at the dressmaking shop. Word of her impending marriage had spread throughout Sunset, and many of her friends dropped by to offer their best wishes for her future happiness.

  When the bell jangled one morning and the door opened, Lucille rose from the stool in front of her sewing machine. Putting a bright smile upon her face, she prepared to greet another customer. The smile faded. Charlotte Henderson stood at the doorway.

  “Hello, Lucille.” She closed the door behind her and stepped into the shop.

  Lucille nodded in return, but said nothing. She wasn’t sure what to say.

  “You’re probably not happy to see me.” The woman took Lucille’s measure. She stood at the doorway, and Lucille realized she was waiting for an invitation.

  “Come in, Charlotte.” She stepped forward, resolved to be as gracious as possible. “Why don’t we let bygones be bygones?” she suggested.

  She heard the words as they came out of her mouth and wondered if her brain had been engaged anywhere in the process. But what would be the point of creating ill will between them? Starting off her new life with anger and unhappiness toward her mother-in-law could have disastrous consequences.

  How does she feel about the marriage?

  The question fluttered through Lucille’s mind. She dared not ask.

  “Yes, let’s put the past behind us,” Charlotte said, taking a cautious step forward. “After all, you are going to be part of the family.”

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “It would be good for us to get along.” Her hesitation seemed to pass. Her steps confident now, she breezed past Lucille, removed her cloak and hung it neatly on one of the pegs in the wall.

  Dumbfounded, Lucille could only stare as Charlotte grabbed a broom from the corner and set about tidying up.

  Finally, Lucille found her voice. “What are you doing?”

  “Sweeping,” she replied. “Getting the shop ready for business.”

  “But—”

  “Tommy told me you’d reopened the shop.”

  “Yes, but I don’t need any help. I can’t afford to pay you.” She fell back on the comfortable excuse. While true, it wasn’t the reason she didn’t want Charlotte working there.

  The broom stilled. Charlotte’s hands tightened around the wooden handle.

  “Please, Lucille.” When she looked up, her lips quivered and tears glistened from the corners of her eyes. “Let me come back.”

  Lucille pursed her lips, all her good intentions and well-meaning ideas forgotten. It never did a bit of good to hide her feelings. She’d learned that lesson long ago. People caused themselves untold misery by pretending to feelings they didn’t have. Why not face the truth and deal with it?

  She didn’t want Charlotte working at the shop.

  Truth be told, she’d be happy to never see the awful woman again, but unfortunately, she’d be seeing more, not less, of her. She’d have a miserable life, indeed, if she couldn’t be on reasonably good terms with her mother-in-law. She would have to make adjustments. She would have to try again to accept Charlotte and come to an understanding with her.

  “If you come back, there will be rules to follow.”

  “I understand.”

  “Be here promptly at seven each morning.”

  “I can do that.”

  “See that all your chores are done each day.”

  “I will.”

  “To my satisfaction, Charlotte. I won’t have you doing a slip-shod job.”

  “No, of course not. I’ll work hard. I promise.”

  Lucille bit her lip, tempted to keep throwing out more rules and restrictions in a foolish hope that Charlotte might reconsider. How uncharitable of her. She bowed her head and stared down at the floor, ashamed by her unkind actions.

  “We’ll see how it goes. That’s the best I can offer.”

  “You won’t regret it, dear. I know how awful I’ve acted in the past, but we’ll move on now.” The broom began to move again. Charlotte hummed softly as she swept the planked wooden flooring.

  “Yes, right. We’ll move on.” Lucille slowly lifted her chin. She squared her shoulders, and forced herself to smile again. “We’ll work things out. I know we can.” She took a step forward, then suddenly stopped as the mournful sound of the church bell rang through the air.

  Both women knew the somber message it pronounced.

  “The death knell,” Lucille whispered, choking back a feeling of dread.

  All animosity between them forgotten, the two women clung together, listening and counting. By custom, three strokes for a man, six for a woman, and nine for a child.

  Once.

  Twice.

  The heavy bell clanged a third time, then fell silent.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tom walked alone among the tombstones scattered about the little cemetery, staring down at the names carved upon them. He could read them now. He could read, too, the comforting words inscribed on so many of the markers.

  Gone to be with her father in Heaven.

  Called home too soon.

  Sadly missed by wife and daughter.

  On he walked, keeping his eyes from the small crowd gathered together on that sunny winter afternoon. Didn’t seem right to have that glorious golden light pouring down from above. To show respect for the dead, the day ought to be more somber with gray clouds and quiet shadows.

  Around the bend, drawn by six fine black horses, came the fancy black coach with the mortuary
’s crest emblazoned on its sides.

  “Bury them with Black.” For the first time, Tom read the undertaker’s slogan. He shook his head, muttering under his breath about Darrius Black’s almost lighthearted quip. Whatever happened to respect? Dressed entirely in black, the man stepped to the ground, then motioned for the pall bearers to come forward. Reluctantly Tom joined them.

  As he and the others lugged the heavy pine box from the back of the coach and carried it to the wooden sawhorses set up by that awful, gaping hole in the ground, Reverend Gilman took his place in front of the mourners. They were a silent bunch. Few of them really knew the deceased. Most attended simply because it seemed the right thing to do. Leland Chappell had no family, no one to take on for him, as it was called, no one to weep and wail over the body.

  Tom’s gaze searched through the crowd, finding Lucille with Faith in her arms. She hadn’t known Leland. She knew, of course, what a good man he was. Tom had talked often about him. He caught Lucille’s eye and set off toward her, but before he’d taken more than a few steps, a voice boomed out across the quiet setting.

  “Hold up there, Henderson! I need a word with you.”

  When he turned to see Judge Morse waddling down the sun-dappled hillside like a fat goose, Tom stifled a groan. Whatever the man wanted, couldn’t it wait?

  Morse gestured for him to step aside. Tom didn’t feel much like talking, but not wanting to cause a scene, he quickly complied.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Morse remarked. “Not often we have so much sunshine this time of year. Looks like the heavens are smiling down on the old fellow.” He pulled off his tall stovepipe hat and waved it in the direction of the grave. “It’s a sure sign of the man’s goodness.”

  His words gave Tom a jolt. Interesting way to think about it. For once maybe the obese judge was actually right.

  At the gravesite, Reverend Gilman cleared his throat. “Brothers and sisters, we’re gathered here today to say farewell…”

  Knowing his place was among the mourners, Tom looked away from the judge. Morse, however, would not be deterred.

  “How’s it going? Things all right with you and that little one?” When Morse clapped a friendly arm around his shoulders, Tom flinched. “Say, I hear you’re getting married. I want to wish you the best.”

  “You’ve heard right.” Tom’s patience faltered. “Things have never been better, and if it weren’t for losing a fine friend, I don’t suppose I’d have a complaint in the world.” He drew away from the judge. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to pay my respects.”

  “I know how you feel, but there’s nothing you can do for Chappell now.”

  “All the same, sir, I’d like to hear what the preacher has to say.”

  “You might like to hear what I’ve got to say, too.” Morse chuckled and tapped a hand at the chest pocket of his jacket. “You know, sometimes what seems like an awful tragedy has a right nice silver lining to it.”

  “Yeah, Ma says things like that sometimes.” Except that his ma was more apt to get it right. Clouds had silver linings, not tragedies.

  “He left it all to you.”

  Tom went rigid.

  “Everything he owned,” Morse continued, his voice low. “Land, a few horses, the house. Couple outbuildings.”

  “I know what he had.” His whole body, from top to toe, felt stiff. He understood now what the judge was getting at. Leland Chappell’s life had come to a sudden, unexpected end, but his death meant a new beginning for Tom, a chance to have everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever dreamed of having. It couldn’t have come at a more propitious time.

  He ought to be grateful, at least, but damn it all, it was hard as hell to be glad at the surprising turn of events. Maybe later, after it all sank in, he’d be able to feel something. Not happiness. But maybe appreciation. And determination, too.

  Chappell had believed in him.

  “You hear what I said?” Morse pushed his nose closer to Tom’s face. “He left everything he owned to you.”

  He glanced toward Lucille once more, caught her curious gaze, and smiled, wishing she were there beside him to hear the news, to know their future together had been assured. Next, he glanced upward, wanting to give thanks to the true source of his blessings. Leland Chappell was surely looking down upon him from heaven, and he was surely wearing a broad smile.

  “Yeah, I heard you,” he said, turning his attention to the judge again. “When and where do I need to be to claim the property?”

  “Denver. Reading of the will takes place Tuesday morning at ten o’clock.” He let out a wheezy breath. “By the way, how are you doing with your reading and writing? There will be a few papers to sign, and if need be, you know, you can make your mark. I’ll vouch for you.”

  “No need to do that, Judge. I’ll be there Tuesday morning. I’ll sign whatever papers you’ve got.”

  With a flourish.

  * * * *

  On Tuesday evening, he stood with Lucille at his side, inspecting the land he’d inherited. In the eyes of another man, the place before them probably wasn’t much to look at, but to his eyes, the run-down little ranch house with its weary, white-washed outbuildings, its rough-hewn fences, and rock-strewn yard might as well have been heaven itself. It was his.

  He’d proudly signed his name that morning with bold, important strokes, slowly and carefully forming the letters. Not just a shameful X affixed to the page, but a genuine signature. No more convincing proof of his determination to succeed could be found. He’d grown, he’d changed, and with Lucille’s help, he’d provide a damned good life for Faith. For all of them.

  “Before you say a word, I know it’s not in the best shape, but I can fix it up.” He turned toward Lucille, worried that she might not see the same hope for the future that he did. “Whatever’s wrong with the place, don’t you fret. I’ll make it right.”

  She hadn’t said a word since he’d brought her there. She stood with her lips pursed, her hands tightly clasped together, and she looked first one direction then the next, clearly taking it all in, but obviously reluctant to express her thoughts or feelings. When a tear slipped down over her cheek, Tom brushed it away with his thumb.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” He swallowed back his disappointment.

  She stiffened and turned her back to him. “Do you really expect us to live here?”

  “Yes, I do. It will make a fine home.”

  “Tom! This is the old Love place. It’s cursed!” She spun around to face him again. “You know the story of Joe Love.”

  “Sure. Everybody knows his story.”

  Years before, outlaw Joe Love had robbed a payroll coach, buried the money somewhere—or so folks said—and finally got himself shot to death right outside the back door of the house, no more than a few yards from where Tom and Lucille now stood.

  “You know about the money, too, I suppose.”

  “There’s no money here.” He and Leland had talked about it one day. “Chappell looked for it. Never found a cent.”

  “Love hid it very carefully.”

  “If by any chance we stumble across it, I’ll gather it up, shove it all into a burlap bag, and take it back to wherever it belongs. I don’t need stolen loot.”

  “Joe Love swore he’d protect his money, even after death.”

  Enough was enough. Tom groaned. “You don’t mean to stand there and tell me you believe those tales of hauntings.”

  “The man vowed to run off anyone who set foot on his land. That’s exactly what’s happened, don’t you see?”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Consider the facts, Tom. Something caused Mr. Chappell to get sick and die.”

  “It’s called old age.”

  “You said yourself he was a tough old fellow. You said he was in perfect health.”

  “He appeared to be, but, honey, things happen.”

  “What about the Robertson family? They lived here, and just disappeared one da
y. Nobody’s seen them since.”

  Tom tried to keep a straight face but failed. Despite himself, he had to laugh. “That’s not quite how it went.” He placed his arms around Lucille’s waist and drew her closer. “Leland told me about them. They came out here from somewhere east. When they bought the place, they didn’t have a clue about what had happened here. Once the missus found out about Love getting himself killed on the property, she was bound and determined to get away. They were in such a hurry to sell out, Chappell picked it up for next to nothing.” He leaned down and nuzzled against her neck. “I truly never thought you’d be one to believe in ghosts.”

  “Mama says they’re real. She’s visited with Mrs. Triplett.”

  “The old woman who claims to speak with spirits?” Tom chuckled. “Well, I’m surprised she hasn’t conjured up Love’s ghost to ask him where he stashed all that money. She could be living mighty high on the hog.”

  “Stop making this into a joke.”

  “You’re right. I need to be serious.” He stepped back and turned her about, moving his hands up to hold her at the shoulders. “We’re getting married, Lucille. Now, I understand that we’re not going to have a real marriage. But we are going to have an official document declaring that we’re husband and wife.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “The way I see it is that even if I’m your husband in name only, I’m still obligated to take care of you, to provide for you. For Faith, too. You weren’t too happy at the prospect of sharing a home with Ma, so right now, you ought to be jumping for joy to think that we’ll have a place of our own.”

  She blinked back tears. “Your mother won’t move out here with us?” Reaching out, she took his hands in hers. “Really?”

  “I promise. This place is all ours, and ours alone.”

  Lucille smiled and leaned against Tom. “Guess I was being a bit foolish,” she admitted.

  “No need to worry about ghosts and long-dead outlaws, honey. Forget the past. We’ve got our whole future ahead of us.”