She gave Amy an impulsive hug. “You’re right. We must get together soon.” Would her bright smile fool her friend, she wondered as she waved a hand toward the paintings. “Your work is wonderful. I understand your showing at the Minnesota Exhibition this fall went well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“We’re all so proud of you.”
With her typical modesty, Amy changed the subject from her own success. “And you? I do hope you are happy as a married woman.”
As happy as she had any right to be, she thought, wedding a man she knew loved another. “I wouldn’t give up life with Jason for anything under the sun.” At least that was true.
Amy’s smile was warm. “I’m so glad. He is a fine man.”
“Are you still seeing Mr. Ray?”
“Occasionally.”
Had Amy hesitated before replying? Pearl hoped that meant she had reservations about the man.
“I—I hate to give credit to gossip…” Amy stopped as though reconsidering, a frown touching her otherwise smooth forehead beneath upswept hair. “I wouldn’t even mention it if we weren’t close friends.”
Pearl laid a hand on Amy’s green velvet cape. “What is it?”
“Is it true that Frank has taken up drinking?”
“Yes.”
Amy’s gaze dropped to her gloved fingers, playing restlessly with the gold braid on her coat. “I was hoping the rumors were false. My contact with Frank has always left me with a favorable opinion of him.”
“We’d appreciate your prayers for him.”
“You will most certainly have them.”
Jason stepped up beside Pearl and took her elbow, his touch causing her pulse to race, as always. “And just what are you giving my wife?”
Pearl looked up at his laughing eyes and felt life drain from her soul. Such a pleased expression hadn’t passed his face in weeks. Were those few minutes with Miranda responsible for it? She hoped her answering smile wasn’t the miserable failure it felt to be. “You’ve misunderstood Amy’s comment,” she said as Frank joined them. “We were discussing the need for the women of Chippewa City to pray for the community’s wild young men.”
Frank’s dark eyes grew almost black at her comment, but Jason just chuckled. “When it comes to taming men, it takes a powerful dose of prayer.”
Amy’s delicate chin lifted slightly. “The unmarried members of the Women’s Christian Temperance League here are considering adopting the vow of the young women of nearby Madison. They have banded together in a vow to boycott young men who use tobacco. We would add to it those young men who use intoxicating liquors or frequent billiard halls.”
Pearl noticed Amy’s gaze rested fully on Frank as she spoke. Frank’s lips spread in an uncompromising grimace, in spite of the fact that Amy’s voice was strictly conversational.
Jason didn’t seem to notice the tension between the two. “I should think that would get the men’s attention, if anything will.” His smile settled into normal proportions. “There’s been a lot of talk around town that the drinking is getting out of hand, what with the number of horse-and-buggy accidents drunkards have had recently, not to mention injuries from saloon scuffles.”
“Rev. Conrad is encouraging the townspeople to hold socials in their homes for the young people, hoping to keep them from less dangerous pursuits.”
The delicate ringing of a handbell interrupted Amy as a male Academy student walked by indicating the end of the intermission.
Pearl settled gracefully into her chair between Jason and Frank. Rev. Conrad’s wife—Aunt Millicent—and Boston had often spoken of fighting against liquor licenses when the town was young. It seemed every generation had to fight the battle for high ideals all over again.
Frank leaned close to whisper, “Miss Amy’s sweet voice and manner make her Temperance ideas a might more palatable than when presented by some of her more forceful counterparts. I wonder if she’d feel so strongly if she knew that her precious Ed Ray enjoys his ‘intoxicating liquors’ as much as the next man—and that’s one of his better habits. Why can’t a woman see a man for what he is?”
Her gaze darted to him in surprise, but he’d turned back to the stage where the musicale was about to resume. Always when he spoke of Ed Ray, bitterness clogged his voice. Did he dislike the man so, or was it that he cared for Amy?
Jason’s hand closed over hers, and her heart dove to her stomach. She stared at the stage, hoping he didn’t notice the way his touch had set her trembling. Slowly she turned her head just enough to see his face. He was grinning at her as though he was the proverbial cat that caught the canary—the same pleased look he’d worn after speaking to Miranda. Was his former fiancée’s effect so strong that it would last the entire evening?
She turned her attention back to the stage and did something she’d never done before. Gently but deliberately, she extricated her hand from his.
Jason set the lamp he’d carried downstairs with him on the kitchen table. The room seemed warm after the unheated bedroom. Even so, he was glad he’d dressed. No sense trying to sleep any longer. Between worrying about Frank and thinking about Pearl, he’d been awake all night. Must be two o’clock by now.
He sat down heavily beside the table and rested his head in his hands. Would Frank get home before dawn? I shouldn’t have let him go sleighing with his Academy friends after the musicale, Jason thought. He snorted. Stupid thought. Frank was eighteen; how could he have prevented him from going?
Besides, Jason admitted reluctantly, he’d been eager to be alone with Pearl on the sleigh ride home. He’d had such hopes for tonight, and it had been a disaster from beginning to end. It was the first time they’d been out together since their wedding, and he’d entertained the thought that perhaps it would be a new start for them.
He’d about convinced himself he’d let his imagination get away from him, thinking his wife was attracted to his brother. He’d stomped out of his memory the dozens of times he saw them together laughing or talking in this very room.
Was there any way after tonight that a reasonable man could believe anything but that his wife preferred his brother’s company to his own?
When she’d turned from whispering with Frank to coldly draw her hand from his, the pain was so great he’d wished his heart would simply stop beating.
Immediately before that, he’d been thinking of the pleasure his gift would give her. Amy had agreed to do a painting for Pearl for Christmas, and he couldn’t stop grinning from that moment until Pearl so uncharacteristically pulled away from him. Even Miranda’s embarrassing flirtation hadn’t taken away the joy of arranging something special for Pearl. It shamed him to think he could ever have cared for a woman who would behave so brazenly as Miranda did tonight toward a married man.
His groan seemed to echo off the walls. Pearl gave unstintingly of herself to him and his family, never complaining, never refusing anyone. His love for her grew with every passing day, with her every act of kindness.
He never thought when he asked her to marry him that he might be stealing from her the opportunity to spend her life with a man she loved. He only knew he wanted her in his life and was sure God would bring her around to loving him.
True, he’d been grieving, had lost so much in a short time that his heart cried out for a loving and loyal touch. He knew better than to think that justified what he’d done. He hadn’t been thinking of Pearl’s needs at all when he proposed, only his own. Love wasn’t like that—selfish and grasping. It was giving, like Pearl.
The clear jangle of bells came through the still air, breaking into his thoughts. Jason scraped back his chair and hurried to the window. By the light of the lanterns on the sleigh, he could see Frank all but fall from the cutter. The driver laughed, turned the horse about, and headed down the drive.
The sky had been clear earlier in the evening, a nice night for a sleigh drive. It was snowing now, and the wind was coming up. Relief flooded him that Frank had arrived home saf
e. The prairie during a snowy night was no place for a drunken man.
He opened the door and helped Frank inside, screwing up his face at the liquor odor that hung strongly about his brother.
Frank leaned heavily against him and hiccuped. “Howdy, big brother.”
“Let’s take off your coat and boots and get you to bed.”
“Don’t want ta go ta bed!” Frank pulled away from his hold, stumbling against the table.
Jason grabbed the lamp as it started to tilt. “Watch it!”
Frank’s lips spread in a grin. “Don’t need ta watch anythin’. You do all the watchin’ fer both of us.”
“You’re drunk.”
Frank waved his index finger back and forth in front of his face, then began following the motion with his head. “Yup. Big brother takes care of all of us, whether we want him to or not.”
Jason tried to take his arm again, but he dodged. “Someone has to watch out for you when you’re drunk like this.”
“I kin watch out fer myself.”
“Oh? You can’t even talk straight, let alone walk or think straight. Isn’t it about time you sobered up and started acting like a man?”
Frank weaved closer to him, and his breath smelled like spoiled yeast as he laughed in Jason’s face. “That’s funny, you tellin’ me ta act like a man.” He leaned heavily on Jason’s shoulder. “You treat yer wife like a hired girl. Least I’m man enough ta expect ta share my wife’s bed when I marry.”
Fury poured through his veins like molten rock. He pushed Frank from him.
“Jason, don’t!”
Pearl’s scream reached him as Frank landed against the door with a sickening thud. He ignored her and jerked his brother up by the lapels of his woolen coat. “How dare you insult my wife that way?”
“Jason!” Pearl’s hands clung to his arm, and he felt all her weight straining to pull him away.
He glanced at her to tell her to let go, but the fright in her eyes stopped him.
“I won’t have you fighting with your brother over me.”
With a growl he dropped his brother’s lapels, and Frank fell back against the door. Jason watched as he picked himself up and stumbled outside.
Jason’s breath was coming as fast as a horse’s after a quarter-mile gallop. “You wouldn’t have defended him if you heard what he said.”
“He was only speaking the truth.”
He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to ease the rage and pain inside him.
Her bottom lip trembled slightly, and she caught it between her teeth. She brushed back the hair that fell waist length over her shoulders, kinked from the braids that held it earlier. Her voice was soft and controlled when she continued, “How can he be expected to understand our unusual marriage? Have you explained it to him?”
Tell his brother he’d married a woman who didn’t love him? “No.” He all but hollered the word.
The pain in her eyes lanced through him. He reached for her. “Pearl…”
The wind howled around the corners of the house and whistled between the door and frame, pouring cold air over him. The chill sent slivers of terror through him. How long had the wind been blowing like that?
He swung open the door, only to close it quickly against the snow that swirled over the threshold. He stuffed his feet into the boots beside the door. “Better make some coffee.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find Frank. A storm’s coming up.” Pulling on his jacket, he asked, “Is there a lantern in here?”
When she returned from the pantry a minute later with a rope, lantern, and matches, he was tying a muffler over his hat and around his throat.
His hand hesitated over hers on the handle of the lantern. At the sight of the terror in her face, his anger melted away. She was trying valiantly to hide her fear, but he’d known her too long and too well to be deceived. He couldn’t bear her hurting so, even if it was for love of his brother.
His free hand cupped the back of her neck and pulled her against his jacket. “Don’t worry,” he whispered gruffly against her hair. “I’ll find him. Likely he’s in the barn, sleeping it off.”
A moment later, he plunged into the wintery night.
CHAPTER 13
Jason pushed his shoulder against the kitchen door two hours later, shutting out the storm. It took all his strength. He leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. His muscles felt like he’d been pushing mountains around instead of wind and snow.
His eyelids closed. He let them stay that way, ice-coated lashes resting on his numb cheeks. How was he going to tell Pearl he hadn’t found Frank? Maybe he wouldn’t have to; maybe Frank had come home himself.
“Jason! Thank God!”
He knew the minute he saw her face that his brother was still out in the storm.
Pearl’s fingers tugged at the ice-covered knot of the rope around his waist.
“I didn’t find him.”
“I know.” One of her fingernails snapped, and he saw her cringe; but she didn’t stop working at the knot. “You need to get into something dry.”
“I didn’t want to quit looking, to leave him out there, but I couldn’t see more than a couple inches in front of me and…”
“I know, dear. You did everything you could.” She began to make progress with the knot. A minute later, she had it undone. “Get out of these wet things. I’ll bring you some dry clothes.”
She busied herself at the stove while he changed, keeping her back to him, then urged him into the sturdy oak rocking chair beside the stove.
She’d changed while he was out, into a simple flannel house gown that reminded him of the rich color of a blue jay’s feathers. He liked the way it deepened the color of her eyes.
He had to force his fingers to hold the cup of coffee she handed him. They were still stiff and red, and burning from the cold. His feet were the same, but Pearl had heated the brick used in the buggy, and his feet sat warming upon it now. When she tucked a thick quilt over his lap, he wanted to pull her down on top of it and let their arms comfort each other.
Pearl knelt by his chair and took one of his hands in hers. Laying her cheek against it, she whispered brokenly, “Let’s pray together for him.”
His words of prayer came haltingly. It seemed he’d been praying the entire time he was searching, but to say the words out loud made the knowledge that Frank’s life was completely out of his hands all too real. It didn’t help knowing that if he hadn’t blown up at his brother when he was drunk, Frank would be safe asleep upstairs right now.
He set the coffee mug on the stove beside him and laid his hand on Pearl’s head where it rested on his knee. The stinging of the receding numbness in his body was insignificant beside the longing to take her pain on himself. “I’m sorry, Pearl.”
“For what?” Puzzlement shone in her eyes.
“For arguing with him, forcing him out into the storm.”
“You didn’t force him to do anything. Frank is a man. He makes his own choices, even if they aren’t wise.”
He wished he could believe her. If Frank didn’t make it—well, he wouldn’t allow himself to think about that now. As long as there was a chance Frank was alive, he wouldn’t give up hope.
Pearl rubbed his hand briskly between her own. “Drink your coffee. You need the warmth.” She pushed to her feet and headed toward the freestanding cupboard which held the ironstone dishes. “I made some oatmeal while you were out, too. It won’t be as good as if it had steamed all night, but it’s nourishing.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Not for food anyway. He wished he dared ask her to come back and simply sit holding his hand again.
“You haven’t stopped shivering since you came inside.” She handed him a steaming bowl. “Now, eat this.”
He smiled meekly as he accepted it, the effort cracking his chapped lips. “Yes, nurse.” He ate the oatmeal faithfully as she busied herself about the kitchen, setting the table for breakfas
t, then covering it with a cloth trimmed in red. He knew she was only trying to keep her mind as occupied as possible.
Likely she was constantly pushing away the picture of Frank lying somewhere with the snow piling over him, the same as he was. Silently he repeated the prayer for Frank’s safety.
When he finished the oatmeal, she took the bowl from him. He caught her hand, and she stopped, looking down at him with a question in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. About the argument earlier, I mean.” He didn’t ever want to argue with her again. When he was out in the storm, two thoughts kept battling each other: the need to find Frank, and the regret that he and Pearl had parted angry.
His thumb played across the back of her hand, and he felt her fingers tighten around his. Unable to look her in the eye, he watched their hands instead. “Was Frank right? Do you feel like a hired girl?”
The lamplight glinted off her long blond hair as she shook her head. “No. I don’t mind the work. I’m your helpmate, remember?”
She’d avoided the real question, but he let it pass. “Are you sorry you married me?” The words seemed to scratch his throat. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears. If only he could catch the words back! What if she said yes?
“No, only…”
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Only what?”
Her lashes dropped and were framed against her cheek. It gave her a demure, vulnerable look he wasn’t accustomed to seeing in her and did funny things to his heart.
“Only sometimes I’m afraid our marriage has ruined our friendship. You were always the dearest, most fun comrade,” she rushed on as though eager to explain, lifting her lashes and looking earnestly into his eyes, “but now you so often draw away from me and seem almost angry.” She took a shaky breath. “Are… are you sorry you married me?”
Was he? Yes, if she loved Frank. But sorry to have her here in his home, beside him every day? “No. No, I’m not sorry. I miss the close friendship we shared, too. How about if we make a pact to get it back?”
Her smile was brilliant. “I’d like that.” She moved toward the pantry. “You need some glycerin for your chapped lips and hands.”
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