“What business is it of hers?”
“It’s none of her business, of course. But you know how Mrs. Gilman is. She makes everything her business.” Lucille hurried across the shop, grabbed her cloak from a peg, and threw it around her shoulders. “I’d better get out to Charlotte’s.”
“You think that’s where Mrs. Gilman is going?”
“I don’t know.” She truly had no idea what the woman might do. “I’m worried that she might try to take Faith away from Charlotte. I don’t want any trouble.”
“I’ll watch the shop, dear.”
“If I don’t get back, will you close up for me?”
“Don’t worry about anything.”
“Thanks." Lucille kissed her mother’s cheek and stepped outside, then walked quickly to the livery where she parked her wagon each day.
The long winter had finally passed. The melting snows had left the streets of Sunset slushy and wet, and the narrow road leading from town to Charlotte’s nearby cabin was rutted and difficult to traverse. By the time she reached her destination, Lucille was splattered with mud. With a handkerchief, she wiped what she could from her face. She’d worry about her skirts and cloak later.
Glancing about, she looked for any sign of Betty Gilman but saw nothing. Either the woman was full of hot air, or more likely, she meant to gather her forces before making a stand.
Charlotte had heard the wagon, of course. She stood on the front stoop. “What are you doing here so early?” She greeted Lucille with obvious suspicion.
“I wanted to see—” She stopped short, unsure how much she wanted to reveal to her mother-in-law. Obviously Betty Gilman had not come calling, but that didn’t mean the woman wouldn’t cause trouble. Rather than alarm Tom’s mother, perhaps she should talk to him first, get his opinion, and follow whatever advice he offered. That’s how marriage worked. Two people solved problems together.
“You think I don’t know why you’re showing up unannounced on my doorstep? You don’t trust me yet. You’re still worried that I’ll do some grievous harm to my own grandchild.”
“Charlotte, no, that’s not what I think at all.” She bit her lip to hold back the words that threatened to spill out. Maybe she should speak up and warn her mother-in-law about the possible threat Mrs. Gilman posed, but without proof, expressing her concerns would be tantamount to bearing false witness. Lucille had a penchant for jumping to conclusions, to suspecting the worst in any given situation. Tom had taken her to task for it many times. She would not deliberately sow seeds of dissension.
“I do trust you. So does Tom. We wouldn’t have asked you to keep Faith if we weren’t certain we could rely fully upon you.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re just like everybody else in this town. You think I’m nothing but a worthless whore, that I don’t have a decent bone in my body, but you’re wrong.” Her blue eyes narrowed, the pupils turning to dark, angry spots. “Go on,” she challenged, stepping away from the door. “See for yourself. You’ll find her bathed, dressed, fed, and sleeping like the angel she is.”
“You’re doing an excellent job of caring for her. I know that.” Again, Lucille hesitated. “I’m here because I love Faith too. Sometimes…well, it’s difficult for me, being away from her all day.”
“Yes, of course. You love her so much,” Charlotte sneered. “You can’t possibly love her as much as I do. She’s my blood, my real kin. She’s nothing to you.”
Shocked by the woman’s hateful reaction, Lucille drew back. She’d come to Charlotte with good intentions and an honest desire to protect the woman. In the swift passing of a single moment in time, all of it changed.
“How can you say that?” Lucille drew herself up, ready to do battle. “Faith means everything to me. And like it or not, she’s my responsibility. She’s only here with you because Tom and I agreed to it. We can change our minds any time.” She pushed Charlotte aside and stepped into the cottage. “In fact, I just did. I’m taking Faith home with me.”
She stormed through the cottage to the bedroom with Charlotte close behind. Faith let out a loud wail when Lucille picked her up, unhappy at being awakened from her sleep.
“Hush, baby, please,” Lucille soothed. She’d never felt more inadequate.
“She’s not comfortable in your arms. You’re too sour, too puckered up. You don’t know a thing about babies, and you’ll damned sure never have any of your own.”
Cradling Faith in her arms, Lucille pushed past Charlotte. How she wished she could clap her hands over her ears and shut out the verbal abuse the woman heaped upon her.
“My son won’t give you his babies. You’ve got nothing he wants. He only married you because of Faith. You know it’s true.”
Lucille choked back tears. Part of her wanted to shout out about the passion she and Tom now shared, but that was none of Charlotte’s business.
“He doesn’t need a persnickety bitch like you! He’s got lots of women. A good-looking man like Tommy can get any girl he wants into his bed. Don’t be thinking just because you’re his lawful wife that he’s got any interest in you.” She snorted. “He might give you a toss or two in the hay, but that doesn’t mean a thing. Just means he’s like every other man. Hot and horny.”
Lucille clutched Faith tighter. “I’m taking her home with me. I swear, Charlotte, you’ll never see her again. You don’t deserve Faith. For that matter,” she threw out, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, “you don’t even deserve Tom. Say what you want about him, but he’s a good man, and yes, he loves me!”
If only it were true.
Chapter Eighteen
Was this how his life was always going to be? As he stepped into his mother’s tiny parlor, Tom wondered if the women in his life would always be at odds with one another, the two of them always pulling him in different directions. Seemed as though if he weren’t apologizing to one of them, he was making excuses for the other, back and forth, always trying to keep both of them happy and never pleasing either one. And then, there was Faith. She was little, but she was female, too, and sure enough she’d grow up and make her own share of demands upon him. A man didn’t stand a chance.
“Ma, I know you’re in there. You can come out now.” He stared at the door of her bedroom. Most likely she was nursing her sorrows with a bottle of rotgut. “I talked to Lucille. She’s sorry for what she did.” He kept his voice raised. She was in there, and she could hear him. “She’ll be bringing Faith by tomorrow morning, same as always. Just wanted to let you know.”
She wasn’t coming out, he reckoned. Might as well give up trying to talk to her.
“That’s all I’ve got to say,” he concluded. “I’m leaving now.”
Tom turned, and his heavy footsteps echoed through the cottage. He paused at the door, turned to look again, then chuckled. He grabbed the door and slammed it. Hard. He waited. Sure enough, the bedroom door opened and his mother rushed out, stopping short when she saw him still in the house.
“Tommy? What are you doing? I thought you left.”
“You always come chasing after me. Figured I’d wait here and save you the trouble.”
“You know me too well.” Her voice was slurred and her smile sardonic.
“You’ve been drinking. I thought you swore off the hard liquor.”
“I had a rough day.” She turned her head.
“Lucille sent me to apologize.”
“She couldn’t bother to come herself?”
“Would you have let her in?”
His mother didn’t answer.
Tom turned her head around until she faced him again. “We do trust you, Ma. You’ve been taking real good care of Faith, and we’re pleased. Now, I expect you to sober up, all right?”
She jerked away. “Maybe you’re pleased, but I’m not. I won’t have this. You know it’s going to happen again. The next time that nervous wife of yours gets a notion in her head, she’ll be right here, banging on my door, demanding to take Faith away. I
don’t need her constantly barging in and telling me what an awful woman I am.”
“Did she say things to that effect?”
Charlotte shrugged. “She doesn’t have to say it. It shows in her eyes, in that hard set of her mouth. The fact she came out here is proof enough.”
“Ma, there’s more to this story than you know. You need to sit down and let me explain, and for once, don’t go interrupting me.” Earlier, he’d stopped by the parsonage to pay a personal visit to Reverend Gilman and his wife. He’d opened his heart to them, shared his deepest thoughts and feelings, and yes, he’d apologized for Lucille’s impertinence. In return, Mrs. Gilman conceded that perhaps she’d been a bit judgmental. In the end, she’d assured him she’d cause no trouble for his family, although she fervently wished all the Hendersons would attend church regularly. Tom promised to do his best, but suggested she not look for them to show up any time soon.
Now, he filled his mother in on Betty Gilman’s visit to the dressmaking shop. Of course, in typical fashion, his mother refused to understand what he was telling her.
“Lucille stood up for you. She defended you. The reason she came out here yesterday was to make sure you didn’t get into a row with Mrs. Gilman.”
“I don’t need your wife doing me any favors. I can take care of myself, Tommy.”
He blew out his cheeks and stared at her in disbelief. “Do you always have to be so hard-headed? I swear, Ma, nobody can help you. You’ve made a miserable life for yourself, and I think you must enjoy wallowing in that misery.”
Her head snapped up. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. And you tell that bitch you married to leave me alone and stay out of my business.”
“She was trying to help.”
“Sure she was, and it’s all because she thinks she’s so much better than us. Maybe you don’t see it, but I do. She looks down her nose at you the same way she does me.”
“No, she doesn’t. Lucille’s a good woman, and she’s been a good wife to me. She makes me happy, Ma.”
His mother’s brows lifted. “Any woman can make a man happy, and don’t tell me different. All she’s got to do is spread her legs, let you have a little fun, and sure as hell you’re happy.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“I suppose you think you’ve gone and fallen in love with the bitch.”
Moment by moment, Tom’s patience had been thinning. Now, the last frayed strands broke. “Don’t ever call my wife a name again. Just so you know, yes, I love Lucille. And don’t push me.”
“Love? You think she loves you back? No, she doesn’t. You need to send her packing, you hear me? I’ve seen how she treats you. Oh, I’m sure she probably puts on a good show. Probably fixes you coffee every morning, makes breakfast for you. She cleans your house. She warms your bed.”
“What more does she have to do to prove herself?”
“You just can’t see it. She’s…”
“She’s what?”
“Never mind. She’s got to go. Please, Tommy! Send her back home, let me come out and take care of you. I was a horrible mother when you and Sally were growing up, and now, I can take good care of you. I’ll teach you all those things you’ve wanted to learn. How to read. How to write.”
“Lucille’s done a fine job. I don’t need your help.”
“You don’t need me at all. That’s what you’re saying. You don’t give a damn about me anymore. It’s all because of her. She’s turned you against me.”
So that’s what this was all about. He should have known.
“I love you, Ma.” He reached for her hand, hoping to reassure her, but she pulled away.
“Only because you have to, only because you’re good enough to believe that a son is supposed to love his mother.”
He gave that a moment of thought, dismayed to realize how close she’d come to the mark. Sure, he loved her, at least that’s what he always said, and it was what he’d always believed. But she spoke the truth. He loved his mother from obligation, not from his heart.
“Probably so,” he admitted. “At least that’s one thing you taught me. Always tell the truth.”
* * * *
Lucille cradled the baby to her bosom and cast a sorrowful look at her husband. She’d tried her best to understand Charlotte, to help her, to defend her, but time after time the woman’s true colors came bleeding through. Thank goodness Tom was honest enough to admit his mother had been drinking when he visited her.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I really thought things were going to work out. I should have known better.”
His jaw hardened. “If you’d stayed out of it, maybe none of this would have happened. I doubt Mrs. Gilman would have made good on her threats. But you couldn’t be content to let it be. You had to go around stirring the pot.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re blaming me? I refuse to listen to talk like that. I’m not the problem. You mother is the problem.” Lucille sucked in a deep breath, ready to fire the next salvo. “We gave her a chance, but she’s never going to change. She’s a dipsomaniac, and frankly, I don’t want her around my…”
My daughter. That’s what she almost said.
“Faith isn’t yours,” Tom said instantly. Lucille’s eyes filled with tears, but then he leaned over to stroke her hair and added softly, “She’s ours.”
A single tear fell. How true the words he spoke. Faith belonged to both of them. They were a family. Not father, mother, and child, but a family all the same. Faith had two caretakers who loved her and who would give their lives to protect her, if need be.
On the other hand, she also had an irresponsible grandmother who could never be fully trusted. Lucille refocused her thoughts. Tom couldn’t skirt the issue any longer. Between the two of them, they’d given Charlotte more than enough chances.
“Yes, Faith belongs to both of us, and we need to do the right thing. I don’t want your mother around her. I’m not talking about whether or not she should take care of Faith while I work. Needless to say, that’s out of the question. My mother will be happy to take over and run the shop.” She was thinking aloud as she talked. “What I’m saying, Tom, is that I don’t want your mother around. Not now. Not ever. She can’t be part of Faith’s life any longer.”
He leveled a steady gaze at her. “Honey, you’re doing it again. You’re over-reacting, just like you did when Betty Gilman was at the shop. Just calm down, take it easy…”
He tried to catch hold of her. She jerked away.
“Get your hands off me.” Lucille stormed past him and carried Faith into the bedroom.
He followed. “You can’t walk away. We need to finish this.”
“Oh, we’ll finish it, all right.” She placed the little girl on top of the bed, then tromped to the wardrobe, flung the doors open and frantically pulled out one dress after another.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m taking Faith, and I’m going to stay with my mother.” She grabbed the old canvas bag from the back of the wardrobe. It was the same one that had once held Faith’s blankets and diapers when she’d first arrived in Sunset. Furiously, Lucille stuffed clothes inside. “You can have a day or two to think things over, but no longer,” she warned, brushing away a tear.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Tom reached for the bag. “You’re my wife, and we’re going to work through this.”
“I’m tired of working through things. I’m tired of trying.” She stood, helpless to stop him as he dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed. “Tom, I mean it. I can’t do this anymore. We’ve tried to get along, we’ve tried to make this work, but it always comes back to the same old arguments. More to the point, it always comes back to your mother.”
“I’m not letting you walk away. If it were just you and me, it would be different, but this isn’t about us. It’s about Faith. We’ve gone over this before.”
“Fine,” she said, going to the door. “I’ll stay if you insis
t, but as far as I’m concerned, our marriage is over. I’ll sleep in the upstairs bedroom. You can have this one.” She walked out.
Tom picked Faith up from the bed and hurried after his wife. “Be reasonable, sweetheart. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying. And don’t try to sweet-talk me with terms of endearment. We’re finished.” When she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped and turned to look down at him, certain he would quickly see the error of his ways and apologize.
“How many more times are you going to pull this little stunt?” Holding Faith in his arms, he leaned casually against the newel post, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “What makes you women think that you can get your way by cutting a man off?”
“It’s called negotiation.”
“Call it whatever you want, but remember, if a man wants a little pleasure, there are plenty of places to get it. Keep that in mind.”
His words stung. Blinded by tears, Lucille hurried into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her, desperate to figure out her next move. She’d been bluffing, of course. She didn’t want their marriage to end any more than she wanted to spend the night upstairs alone. As always, she’d flown off the handle, said things she hadn’t meant, and now she’d have to suffer for it.
The obvious move would be to swallow her pride, slink back down the stairs, and beg her husband’s forgiveness, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
How many times before had she gone running after him? She thought back to the afternoon when she’d shamelessly strolled into the Red Mule and all but demanded he invite her to the statehood dance. And what of the night of the holiday celebration when she’d dragged him through the streets of Sunset and pleaded with him to make love to her? Most humiliating of all, although a woman was supposed to be reticent in matters of the heart, she’d been brazen enough to propose marriage.
She wouldn’t run after him again. This time, he would have to come to her.
But, as one lonely night after another passed, her heart finally broke. She had no choice but to face the awful truth. Tom didn’t want her. He didn’t need her.
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