“Watch where you’re going,” a woman called out when he narrowly missed her.
He spun away and careened into a robust sailor.
The man steadied him. “Careful, soldier.”
David muttered an apology and raced onward. He must get to his son before Father.
He approached the O’Malley house. His breath came in gasps now. His feet slowed. He blinked to clear his blurred vision.
The house looked quiet. He halted and leaned his hands on his knees, trying to draw in enough air to settle his voice. If he appeared at the door looking like a madman, Mrs. O’Malley would turn him away. Prosperity would be at the hospital. He’d glimpsed her walking away with the doctor this morning. David thought he’d made progress, but she’d returned to his rival.
Oliver deserved a mother like Prosperity, even if she married another. That thought pierced the fog of emotion like a saber. It would hurt beyond belief to step away, but the welfare of others must take precedence over his wishes.
Steeled for what he must do, he climbed the steps and crossed the veranda. He knocked but heard no sound of footsteps. What if Father had already arrived? He could be persuasive, especially in clerical garb. He might have said anything to wrest Oliver from Mrs. O’Malley’s grasp.
Visions of the boy being taken aboard ship mingled with fears of Father handing Oliver to strangers. Father had said the boy would never know the truth about his parentage. The only way to ensure that was to remove Oliver from Key West—and from David.
He banged on the door with both fists.
The door swung open, and David had to catch himself on the doorjamb.
“Yes?” the Negro housekeeper asked.
David searched his scrambled memory for her name. Florence? No, that was Prosperity’s aunt. The housekeeper’s name was similar but not the same.
He gave up and forged ahead. “I wish to see my son.”
“Again? Missus Lizbeth with him.”
David released his breath, quite unaware he’d been holding it in. “Then he is still here.”
“’Course he here. Where else he be?”
“I don’t know.” He had to admit the remark did sound peculiar under ordinary circumstances. “May I see him? And Mrs. O’Malley?”
“Come in.”
She ushered him inside and down the hall to the nursery. As they drew closer, David realized things were not as quiet as he’d thought. A child giggled. Oliver cooed. Mrs. O’Malley sang. Though her voice was lovely, David found himself wishing for Prosperity’s rich tones.
The housekeeper stopped in front of the doorway. “L’tenant Latham ta see ya, ma’am.”
The singing stopped. “Please show him in.”
The housekeeper stepped aside, and he entered the room. Mrs. O’Malley stood, Oliver resting in her arms. The rocking chair still swayed slightly.
“Lieutenant. What may I do for you?”
He removed his hat. “Thank you for seeing me, ma’am. I have a matter of grave importance to bring to your attention.”
“Well then. Pull a chair near, and we will talk.”
David did as directed. She settled again in the rocker.
He set his hat on his knee, but his thoughts scrambled. How to say this without frightening her or making her think him mad?
“What is it?” she asked.
He licked his lips. “My father has arrived on the island.”
“So I understand.”
“You’ve heard already?”
“News travels quickly on the wharves, especially when one’s husband owns a pier and warehouse.”
“Of course.” He had forgotten that. “Has my father been here?”
She shook her head. “You have not seen him?”
He breathed out in relief even while calculating what that meant. If Father hadn’t seen Oliver yet, he might not know that the boy was not Latham blood. That gave David a ray of hope.
“Father and I met.” He would not reveal the trying details of their encounter, simply his father’s aim. He glanced at Oliver. The baby would not understand what he was saying. Not yet. “My father believes my son needs to be removed.”
“From this house?”
“He doesn’t know Oliver is here, at least I don’t think he does. He wants to take my son away from me and from any chance of learning who his mother was.”
Mrs. O’Malley sighed. “He worries about people’s opinions.”
That sounded particularly condemning for a minister, but it was true. Though David had never quite thought of it that way, his father had always cared about the opinion of others. “I’m afraid so.” He studied his hat, stained and dusty. “I don’t know what to do.”
Mrs. O’Malley was no fool. She understood that life did not deliver the future in tidy packages. Oliver grasped her finger with his tiny little ones. Dark against light, both beautiful.
She sighed again. “Some find it difficult to accept the failures of those they love, so they try to hide the result. It never works. Even if the truth doesn’t surface, the secret eats away at the very people they’d intended to protect. God knows, and deep down we all realize that.”
“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
She rocked slowly as Oliver nodded off to sleep. “Shame can bind a man or woman as securely as iron.”
He waited for her to explain.
“They think it impossible to ever escape and in their agony draw others in, hoping to spread out the pain.”
“Wallowing in misery.”
She nodded. “Sometimes. Other times they enact a veneer of righteousness.”
That sounded like Father, but David had never known his father to err or stray. “Maybe he is righteous. Maybe that’s why this is so difficult.”
Her smile was tinged with sadness. “Saint Paul said we must measure everything against Scripture. How would our Lord have handled this matter? What would He have done?” She set the sleeping Oliver in one of two cradles shaped like boats.
Fishermen’s boats. The thought struck from nowhere. Simple, yet carrying precious cargo. Jesus had ridden often in a boat and had calmed stormy seas, always bringing the boat’s precious cargo safely to shore. Could He bring this precious boy to safety?
“I’m not certain.” He had seen too much evil to trust that good would always prevail.
Mrs. O’Malley handed a block to her son. “‘Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them.’ He watches over this little one.”
Scripture couldn’t reassure David when his father was waiting to strike. He gripped the arms of the chair until his hands ached. “Please don’t let my father see Oliver. Don’t let him take my son away.”
She eyed his hands and then looked deep into his eyes. Surely she sensed his desperation. “He is your son. You decide who will see him.”
That was what he’d needed to hear.
“Thank you.” He rose. “You will tell Prosperity?”
“Tell me what?” Prosperity’s tremulous voice came from behind him.
He whirled to see her red-eyed and distraught. She had pulled off her bonnet, and her hair had sprung loose from its pins. If that doctor had done anything to her, David would hunt him down and—
“Did he hurt you?”
Prosperity stared at him blankly.
Mrs. O’Malley went to her, arms outstretched. “What happened?”
Prosperity burst into tears, and Mrs. O’Malley held her. David had never felt so helpless.
The implications of losing her position had tormented Prosperity on the long, hot walk home. Home! That too would disappear. Though Elizabeth would insist she stay as a guest, Prosperity could not accept charity, even from a friend. She must leave. But where could she go? Her final wages would not support her more than a week.
She’d sobbed in the seclusion of a thick garden until she’d thought she could weep no more. She’d tested and discarded
every possible solution except one. She must marry Dr. Goodenow. That was the only choice left to her.
Though the idea weighed on her, she must face the future without complaint. Many a woman settled for far less. The doctor adored her. He treated her well. He would never strike her or berate her. She had seen no indication of vices. If only he loved the Lord, she might give her heart without reservation. On the other hand, she could be the light that guided him from the imprecision of science to the perfection of God.
This evening she would walk to their usual meeting spot and give him her answer. Until then she could hold little Oliver and find solace in his desperate need for her.
Then she walked into the nursery and saw David. His presence reminded her of all she’d lost. Instead of that once-cherished future, she must accept a lesser vision with a man she did not love.
The sobs returned with humiliating force.
Then Elizabeth enveloped her in a caring embrace. Prosperity buried her face in her friend’s shoulder and prayed David would leave so she would not have to reveal her humiliation to him. Dismissed! For embracing Dr. Goodenow as a friend for the briefest of moments.
Standing before Miss Stern had been difficult enough, but she could not bear to tell David. Would he crow with delight that Dr. Goodenow had caused her dismissal? Would he reiterate the claim that he’d sent her money? Their last tender moment could not remove the sting that he’d tried to buy her removal.
She wanted to sink into a corner and hide.
Instead David touched her shoulder. She felt it as surely as one senses the difference between feather bed and horsehair. His caress worked deep into her, awakening that part of her she was trying to keep dormant.
“Tell us what happened.” His voice had softened from normal, reminding her of that moment years ago when he’d pledged his undying love. “I will do all in my power to right any wrong.”
Didn’t he know how impossible that was? No one could change Miss Stern’s mind, not even Elizabeth. Or Dr. Goodenow. Certainly not David.
“I must catch Jamie before he scoots out the door,” Elizabeth said softly. “Will you be all right?”
Though Prosperity would rather hide in her friend’s embrace, she nodded and accepted a handkerchief, which she pressed to her face.
Once again David touched her, this time with a firm grasp of the shoulder. “Was it my father?”
That startled her enough to drop the handkerchief from her face. In her distress, she had forgotten about David’s father. The reason for her tardiness. “You know that your father spoke to me?”
“I suspected he would. I should have warned you.” He looked ashen, as if he would collapse. His gaze was wild. He grasped both of her shoulders. “What did you tell him about Oliver?”
“Oliver? He didn’t ask about Oliver. He asked about your wife.”
He let go of her, visibly relieved. “Only about Aileen.”
“Your wife.”
David raked a hand through his hair, squeezed his eyes shut, and blew out in exasperation, precisely what he used to do whenever his father had said or done something hurtful.
She’d long been aware of the tension between them. Since David was the eldest son, she supposed that was natural. Reverend Latham seemed difficult to please, but David would never speak ill of his father. When the reverend informed the newspaper that David had graduated from the military academy at West Point, she’d thought David had finally won his father’s respect. Yet David had trembled before telling his father about their engagement. When she’d asked how he’d taken the news, David had assured her that his father was pleased. After the reverend’s scathing interrogation this morning, she wondered if that had been the case.
David opened his eyes. “Thank you for not telling him about my son.”
My son. The simple words shook her, for he said them with a desperation that could only come from love.
“You don’t want him to know about Oliver?”
His desperation seemed to increase. “It’s too late. He already knows.”
“He did not hear it from me.”
“I know. I believe you, but I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had told him. He can be . . . persuasive.”
That wasn’t the word she would have used. He terrified her.
Again David raked his fingers through his hair. “You need to know—that’s what I asked Mrs. O’Malley to tell you—that Father threatened to take Oliver away.”
Prosperity could not breathe. Even though she must marry Dr. Goodenow and leave little Oliver in Elizabeth’s capable hands, she’d expected to be able to visit. If Reverend Latham took the baby to Nantucket, she would never see him again.
Elizabeth rejoined them. “Do not fear, Lieutenant. We will not hand your son to anyone without your consent.”
“Thank you.” Yet he still looked worried.
Elizabeth changed the subject by turning back to Prosperity. “Perhaps now you can tell us what happened at the hospital.”
How selfish she was to lament the loss of employment when she had a roof over her head and a man willing to marry her.
She forced a weak smile. “It’s nothing of import.”
“Clearly it is if you have returned midmorning,” Elizabeth noted.
David watched her.
Prosperity could not look at him. “I’m sorry for going on so.”
“We want to help.” Elizabeth circled an arm around her shoulders and led her to the rocking chair.
Prosperity sank into it, her limbs shaky. “There is nothing to be done.” She swallowed against the rising tide of embarrassment. Failure must be borne in the open in order to be conquered. Did not the Lord say that He would work good even from the bad? There was no use hiding what could not be kept secret. She took a deep breath. “I was dismissed.”
“What?” David and Elizabeth said in unison.
His brow lowered. “They are fools. No one could make a better nurse.”
“You are too kind,” Prosperity whispered, “but I was only a laundress.”
“Then you deserve better.” He knelt before her. Now she could not avoid the blue eyes that reminded her of Nantucket skies. “They should have recognized your abilities. I have never known a better nurse. Your mother would have perished years ago if not for your care.”
Ma. Thinking of her made Prosperity’s throat constrict. She blinked back a tear.
“I’m sorry. That was thoughtless. I meant to share my admiration, not bring sorrow. In your care, Oliver has grown. He now laughs and—” David’s voice broke, and he looked away, clearly overcome with emotion. “And I have you to thank for it.”
Her heart went out to him. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. That response came by instinct, but the reaction inside her carried far deeper meaning than simple consolation. The tie between them vibrated like a cord on a violin—stretched to the breaking point, yet in the hands of a master, eliciting such sweetness that the hearer longs for the tune to go on forever.
She cupped a hand under his chin, so familiar yet different. She once knew every curl on his head. When had the hairline receded that little bit at the peaks? His shoulders, broad and straight, now bowed. Where had that determined confidence gone? If only they could turn back the clock to when she’d teased him. If only they could run atop the dunes once more. But that time was gone. They must step forward, each on a different path.
She must marry Dr. Goodenow, and David must carry on, raising his son and building the fort.
“I’m sorry.” She withdrew her hand and stood. “I should help Mrs. O’Malley with the children.”
Elizabeth had taken Jamie from the room, leaving her alone with David and the sleeping Oliver.
David would not let her walk away. “I miss you.”
Miss. Not missed. The simple words struck harder than Miss Stern’s dismissal. Yet how could she give her heart to him again? Only a fool plunged into the same shallow waters. His love for Oliver had nearl
y swayed her, but it was not enough to wipe away the sins of the past.
“I can’t.”
That shook him. She not only saw the tremor but felt it as her own heart tore in half. Better to lose all feeling than to ever hurt again. That’s what life as the doctor’s wife promised.
She walked to the cradle. His son slept, lids closed and mouth slightly open, trusting completely. She prayed David would not betray that trust.
He had not moved, as if waiting for her to change her mind.
She could not. “You should leave now.”
He drew in his breath but said nothing. Then she heard him walk away.
Prosperity must be confused. David had to believe that was why she’d first clung to him and then sent him away. Goodenow must be to blame. The man had succeeded where David had failed. Even Oliver could not sway Prosperity’s heart.
For the first time, he had to admit that he might never win back her trust. That prospect sent chills through him despite the hot sun. He wrapped his coat tighter and hurried down the street toward the fort.
What could he do? Elizabeth O’Malley said that the answers he sought could be found in the Bible. Mother felt the same way. Sometimes she would console him with Scripture that contradicted the way his father had instructed him. She must have seen the hypocrisy yet said nothing against her husband, choosing the path of obedience. Or least resistance.
Elizabeth O’Malley was quite different. Perhaps that came from growing up in Key West, where colors and nationalities mixed. Spanish, Portuguese, and French might be heard on the streets, along with tongues he could not recognize. The exotic frontier town invited bold speech and actions—even from women. Mrs. O’Malley might be strong enough to keep Oliver away from Father. Her faith was certainly solid.
He could not say the same. When he’d witnessed the hypocrisy of those who claimed godliness yet lied and cheated, he’d closed his Bible in disgust. Only after pledging to wed Prosperity had he picked it up again. Her faith so far outstripped his that he was ashamed to enter marriage so much unequal. When he’d had to abandon that future, he’d closed the Bible again, blaming God for his bitter circumstances. But it wasn’t God’s fault. It never had been. The fault fell squarely on his shoulders.
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