Hannah's Beau

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by Renee Ryan


  Tyler leaned closer until his nose was an inch from touching Beau’s. His pale green eyes were hard and unrelenting. “You were run out of those churches because of you. Not me, or our parents, or our family. You!”

  A fleeting shadow of uneasiness passed through Beau, only to be replaced by white-hot fury. “You weren’t there,” he said. “You don’t know.”

  “I know you.” Tyler growled, and a flush came over his face. “Take a good look into your own heart, Beauregard. Take a look at that dream of yours to have a traditional church and see where it comes from.”

  Beau looked into Tyler’s face and knew the man’s pride was hurt. That explained the attack. Didn’t it? “Tyler, I—”

  “You’re the selfish one here. Not me. I’ve never pretended to be anything other than what I am, a hardworking actor who loves the stage and all the trappings that come from my success. You, on the other hand, have never been honest with yourself.”

  Beau clenched his hand into a tight fist. A muscle jerked in his jaw. He tried to hide his anger behind a wall of superiority. “This isn’t about me. And you know it. You are the one who ran off with a woman already engaged, the daughter of the one man who could take away everything I’ve worked for.”

  “Aha!” Tyler snapped his fingers and smirked. “I knew it.”

  Beau glared at him.

  “You’re worried about losing your new church.” The sound that came from Tyler’s throat was a growl of distaste. “Where’s your faith, Beau? Maybe you should listen to God for a change, instead of telling Him to bless your own plan for your future.”

  Beau’s sense of outrage swelled. “Now you’re a pastor, too? You stand there and tell me how hard you’ve worked. Well, so have I. I want this church in Greeley. It’s a traditional church with a stable lifestyle attached.”

  “And then you’ll get a boring, staid, unassuming wife who will bear you perfectly behaved children.” Tyler sneered.

  “What’s wrong with wanting those things?” Beau asked. “What’s wrong with not wanting to travel across continents, with wanting to live a settled life?”

  His anger clearly spent, Tyler leaned against the nearby wall and gave Beau a pitying look. “Nothing is wrong with that. Nothing at all. In truth, it’s a good goal, maybe even a noble one. But you’re missing who you are in the scenario. You’re a rebel, Beau.”

  “I am a man of God.”

  Tyler’s lips twisted in sympathy. “Can I give you some advice?”

  It was Beau’s turn to sneer. “Can I stop you?”

  “You’ll die a slow death in that little church in the meadow, the one you seem to think you want.”

  Sweat broke out on Beau’s skin. Panic crawled up his spine. “You’re wrong.”

  “Beau. There are people who need you, just as you are, in all of your unconventional, eat-with-sinners glory.”

  “You don’t know me or what I want,” Beau said in frustrated anger.

  “Ah, but you see, my dear brother, the problem isn’t whether I know you. It’s whether you know yourself.”

  Beau felt the blood draining from his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tyler slapped him on the back and dislodged the breath right out of him. “But I digress. Are we going to continue arguing, or are you going to congratulate me on my good fortune?”

  Beau swallowed back a load of arguments and forced a smile onto his lips. Tyler was wrong. He was wrong about everything. His brother would never truly understand him, as he would probably never understand Tyler.

  There was no reason to argue any further. “If you are as happy as you seem—”

  “I am.”

  “Then congratulations. May you have a satisfying marriage filled with few regrets and many healthy years together.”

  Tyler laughed. “Count on it, because, dear brother, I plan to work harder at this than I have at anything else in my life.”

  Beau sighed. Lord, may that be true. “Then I give you my blessing.”

  Just by looking at Beau’s intense expression, Hannah caught the seriousness of the brothers’ conversation. Whatever they were discussing, she doubted it included joyful tidings.

  She completely understood. Rachel hadn’t stopped extolling Tyler’s many virtues since she’d nudged Beau aside.

  Hannah had quit paying attention some time ago.

  Turning back to Rachel, she decided to stop pretending to listen and got straight to the point. “What were you thinking?” she demanded.

  “What?” Rachel stopped in midsentence. “When?”

  “You weren’t going to let Will or Father know of your change of heart, were you?”

  Rachel crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive, angry gesture. “They’d have figured it out when I didn’t come home.”

  Hannah sighed at the antagonism in her sister’s voice. “When did you get so callous, Rachel?”

  “Isn’t it a burden always making the right decisions?”

  “Don’t be snide. It’s beneath us both.”

  Rachel snorted in disgust. “What do you know? All my life I’ve never had the chance of doing the right thing.”

  “Nobody told you to lie or cheat or have an affair with a married man,” Hannah said, refusing to allow her sister to throw the full blame at her feet. “And when the deeds were found out, you never accepted the blame.”

  “You never gave me a chance. You always had to step into my business.”

  Hannah’s teeth clenched. Her heart filled with frustration and regret. There was probably pity and disdain there, as well, but she chose not to sort through the rest.

  It seemed unnatural for Rachel to blame Hannah like this, unreal even. Except it was real. It was very real. At least to Rachel.

  Out of fairness to her sister, Hannah forced her mind to the past and thought over all the incidents and many transgressions throughout the years.

  No, Hannah’s memory was clear. Rachel had willingly committed the acts in the first place. When caught, she hadn’t stepped forward. Not once.

  Did you give her the chance?

  Hannah didn’t know for certain. However, there was one incident that ran firm in her mind, the one time when Rachel hadn’t tried to step forward. The night of Hannah’s banishment.

  “Even if what you say is true, what about your affair with Mr. Beamer? That night, I waited for you to come forward. You never did.”

  “I know.” Rachel’s face contorted with annoyance but not remorse. “I miscalculated that one. I never thought Father would disown you. And once he had, I knew he wouldn’t believe the truth.”

  Hannah stared at her sister. “How could he? By pretending to be me throughout the affair, you made it impossible for anyone to believe the truth. That was very badly done of you, Rachel.”

  “Perhaps.” And yet, still, she didn’t ask for forgiveness.

  “Why didn’t you at least warn me?” Hannah asked.

  “Because I thought you would take it badly, or worse, lecture me.” She blessed her with an ironic smile. “Good thing I was wrong.”

  Hannah ignored the sarcasm. “You could have confessed all this in Chicago.”

  “I met Tyler,” Rachel said, as though that explained her lapse. As though finding her one true love erased her from any further blame.

  Hannah stared at her in disbelief. Surely, she didn’t think resolution came that easily. “Rachel—”

  “Don’t look at me like that, with that self-righteous snarl on your face. You played your own role, Hannah. If you hadn’t set the precedents, I wouldn’t have pulled it off.”

  “Maybe.” All right. Yes. Hannah had played her role. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. Regardless of the fact that Rachel had taken advantage of the situation, Hannah owed her sister an apology. “I’m sorry.”

  Rachel said nothing.

  And in that moment, Hannah finally saw the truth for what it was. Rachel would never ask for forgiveness. Hannah could either love her as she was, flaws and all, or carry the burden
of her own bitterness in her heart forever.

  Hannah chose freedom.

  She chose to give forgiveness where forgiveness wasn’t earned. As her Lord and Savior had done for her.

  It wasn’t easy, and she would probably lapse, but wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t the path Christ asked His followers to walk a narrow one?

  Lord, please fill me with Your forgiveness. I can’t do it on my own power. It’s too big for me.

  “It’s over, Rachel. I hold no ill will toward you.” She wanted to mean her words. Perhaps one day she would. “I pray you and Tyler have a lifetime of happiness together.”

  Relief washed across Rachel’s face, and she yanked Hannah into a hard, bone-rattling embrace. “Thank you, Hannah. Thank you.”

  Hannah knew it was as close to an apology as she would get from her sister. It was enough. It had to be enough.

  Beau and Tyler joined them just as Hannah pulled out of the hug.

  Ever the gentleman, Beau took Rachel’s hand and kissed the knuckles with a theatrical O’Toole flair that had amusement beaming in Tyler’s eyes.

  “Be happy, my new sister,” Beau said to Rachel.

  “I already am,” Rachel said.

  Tyler bent at the waist before Hannah. “Thank you, my good friend, for bringing the love of my life to me.”

  At the genuine note of joy on Tyler’s face, Hannah’s heart softened toward the rogue. “It’s the least I could do. After all, you taught me the finer points of my craft when I knew nothing.”

  He wrapped her hands in his and squeezed. “You deserve the best in life. And I think you know what I mean.”

  He slid a sly glance in his brother’s direction, but, thankfully, Beau wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Hannah. Looking at her with his pastor face on, steady and unwavering, unrelenting strength in the set of his jaw.

  Her heart thumped one strong, powerful knock against her ribs. The truth had been there from the start. God’s hand in the process all along. All this time she’d thought this journey had been about her past. She’d been wrong.

  Beauregard O’Toole was the man of her dreams. The man of her heart. The man of her future. He just didn’t know it yet. But with God’s help, and a little nudge from Hannah, he would.

  Tyler lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t let him blow it. He’s just foolish enough to ruin it for you both.”

  “Don’t worry, Tyler. I have a plan.”

  Well, not precisely. But Hannah had every intention of making sure Beau came around very soon. Very soon indeed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning, the sun shone brighter, the sky blazed bluer. Hannah’s mood, however, failed to navigate the atmosphere quite so well. Unable to calm her sporadic thoughts, she’d spent a sleepless night sorting through all the mistakes she’d made with Rachel over the years.

  By dawn, she’d been completely worn out. Thus, it was with leaden feet that she followed the others to the local church for Sunday meeting. Wanting to file away every detail in her mind of the town where her life had taken a dramatic turn, she scanned the streets and buildings. But she found her eyes focusing on the townspeople instead.

  They seemed as unfriendly as she herself felt. They stared. Unashamedly. Their eyes filled with open curiosity tempered with…disdain?

  Hannah shook the ugly thought aside and continued watching them watch her.

  Their strange attitudes notwithstanding, what struck Hannah as most odd was their homogeneous nature. The men were dressed identically in clean black suits of understated fashion. The woman wore nondescript dresses in pale, lifeless colors, buttoned tightly to their necks. Their bonnets were tied snugly around their chins.

  On the surface, they were typical churchgoers. Yet there was something different about them, a definite note of scorn in their stares that put Hannah on edge.

  Surely she was seeing disdain where there wasn’t any. She was simply feeling vulnerable after her encounter with Rachel and Tyler from the night before. Yes, that must be it.

  Then again…

  She took a quick survey of her companions. They certainly stood out. Hannah was considerably over-dressed in her favorite blue silk dress. While Mavis was underdressed in her men’s pants worn under a homemade dress. Burlap, no less.

  And then there were the two men. Logan wore a suit identical to most of the men in the city, but his cowboy hat, tin star and pair of six-shooters set him apart. Beau, smooth, slick and neat in his brown suit and gold brocade vest, could pass for a man of distinction in any large city.

  Hannah couldn’t help but notice how he caught the eye of every woman that passed by.

  Most probably focused on his physical beauty. Hannah, however, saw his reliability. His strength of character. And his…All right, yes, his outward appeal, as well.

  Just looking at him now, her throat went dry, turning her speechless. Following the others a full step behind, she silently mulled over how she would approach her father after all these years.

  As much as she wanted to blame Rachel for putting her in such an unpleasant predicament, Hannah also knew it was long past time she confronted Thomas Southerland with the truth.

  The truth shall set you free…

  Yes, in truth there was power. The power of Christ.

  Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, Beau slowed his pace until he came alongside her.

  Logan took the lead without question.

  Beau didn’t speak right away, and so they walked in companionable silence side by side for several minutes.

  A cloud crossed over the sun, deadening the light at the precise moment he broke the hush between them. “I have something to tell you before we get to the church.”

  At his serious tone, her heart stumbled. “You do?”

  As they drew closer to the church, people nodded at Beau. He smiled and nodded back. A few times he responded with a personal greeting.

  Waiting until they were alone again, Hannah asked, “Did you give a sermon here before? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  Beau stopped walking.

  She stopped, as well.

  A grimness passed over his features. For the first time in their acquaintance, Beauregard O’Toole looked unsure of himself. “You could say that.”

  There was an odd note to his voice, and an apology in his eyes. Hannah had to work hard to keep her throat from slamming shut. “You don’t have to join us this morning,” she offered. “If you—”

  “I wouldn’t miss this opportunity to worship. But I wanted you to know there might be a woman here, a woman from my past.”

  She concentrated on his voice, on his words, anything but the implication of what his declaration meant.

  “I asked her to marry me.”

  Hannah’s heart took a tumble at the news.

  “She said no.”

  The muscles in Hannah’s stomach quivered out of control. Oh, but she was glad. Glad, glad, glad the woman had turned him down. But her joy came from purely selfish reasons. So she made herself respond, made herself speak with sincerity. “I’m sorry, Beau.”

  He cast a look to the darkening sky, frowned, then gave a short laugh. “I’m not.”

  Although his tone was mild, he held his shoulders tense and unmoving. No matter what he claimed, the woman’s rejection had hurt him.

  “I just wanted you to know,” he said, lowering his gaze back to hers.

  “Why?” she asked. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  He planted considerable O’Toole charm in his expression. “Because I wanted you to know about my past. All of it.”

  He kept his eyes on hers as he spoke—directly on hers. And then his gaze filled with a quiet intensity that sent a promise of the future dancing along her skin.

  “I don’t want any secrets between us,” he said.

  She laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you for telling me.”

  Before she could comment any further, Logan stopped short of joining
the queue entering the church and stepped slightly back from the crowd.

  “Are you two joining us?” he called out.

  “Of course.” Beau took Hannah’s arm and steered her forward.

  “Please, go ahead Miss Southerland,” Logan said. “You too, Miss Tierney.” He offered a smile that encompassed both women.

  Mavis hesitated.

  Logan held his smile.

  Mavis cocked her head at him.

  “Ma’am.” He winked at her, and then removed his hat. “Ladies first.”

  At last, she smiled. Sort of. Perhaps it was a baring of teeth; one could never be sure with Mavis.

  Before climbing the steps, Hannah slid a final glance toward Beau. His face was a cool mask of indifference, but she could feel that he was wound tighter than before. Wondering at the cause, she followed his gaze to the top of the stairs.

  At the threshold of the church stood a young man and woman greeting each person as they walked in.

  Looking respectable, yet somehow hard, the man wore a black suit, black tie and crisp, white shirt. His dark hair was cut meticulously close to his head. And his eyes held a severe, hawklike expression.

  Hannah ignored the little flutter of uneasiness in her stomach and turned her attention to the woman standing next to the serious man in black.

  She looked irritable, and not at all welcoming. Her dark blond hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her face held a pinched expression. She was thin, also perfectly groomed, and yet the most uninviting woman Hannah had ever seen.

  They couldn’t be the pastor and his wife. And yet, who else would they be?

  The young woman’s gaze widened as she caught sight of Beau. Her eyes held just a hint of joy at the sight of him but then just as quickly flashed with anger before becoming a blank slate.

  Taking an audible breath of air, Beau moved in front of Logan and led their group up the steps himself.

  “Why, Reverend O’Toole, we didn’t expect you to grace our humble little church with your presence again so soon.” The woman’s voice came out colder than Hannah would have expected of someone standing outside a church.

  Nonetheless, Beau smiled at her. “Amelia, you are looking well.”

 

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