by Mae Berry
Hattie’s gaze narrowed as she accessed her daughter. “You ungrateful—” She turned and headed toward the parlor. Sam followed.
In a swirl of skirts, Hattie spun back around, arms crossed and glared at Sam. She jerked her head at the chair. Sam remained standing. Hattie emphatically nodded her head a second time. Sam crossed her arms and tilted her head. Hattie studied her face then lowered herself to the settee and leaned back, arms propped on top of the backrest. She continued to study Sam. Sam met her stare for stare. Hattie inclined her head toward the opposite chair. “Please sit.”
Sam hesitated then perched on the edge.
“What have I sacrificed?” Hattie tapped her finger against her chin. Her earlier hot fury turned cold and concentrated. She raised one finger. “I know, let’s start with… everything.” Sam frowned and adjusted her injured arm. “Yes, Samantha, everything. I gave up everything for you. Did everything for you. All so you would never have—” Hattie stopped and blew a steady breath between her lips. She turned angry eyes on Sam. “You should never have been born.”
Sam snorted. “Marrying sometimes results—”
“Spare me the platitudes concerning hearth and home.” Hattie waved a dismissive hand. “I never married. You, my girl, are a bastard.”
Sam jerked as if slapped, but at Hattie’s stare, she straightened her spine and raised her chin. “And how is that my fault?”
An incredulous look crossed Hattie’s face. “I was forced to give up my life. Your existence changed everything. Forced me to—”
“Again, how is any of this my fault? If you engaged in a…tête-à-tête without benefit of marriage? Hmm? How?”
Hattie jumped to her feet, every muscle clenched. “If you knew the truth, it would destroy you. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to protect you!” Her eyes were slits.
“Me? Or you? Tell me what happened.”
Hattie took a deep breath. “I don’t think so.”
“Tell. Me.” Sam rose staring into her mother’s eyes.
Hattie’s gaze traveled down then back up Sam’s body stopping on her eyes. “Fine.” She sat on the settee, again leaning against its back. “It’s true. I was a spy in Richmond during the war. I posed as Timothy’s wife. His last name was Webster, by the way, not Lawton.” Hattie sighed. “After they executed him, I was charged with espionage and kept in Castle Thunder, a prison for union soldiers and sympathizers. The deprivation and horror I won’t bother to describe. It won’t matter to you.” She shot Sam an accessing look and continued. “The truth is, Samantha, I never had… relations with Webster. Ever. He was a dear friend and the only man who—” Hattie rubbed her forehead.
Sam blinked her eyes. Her mind slow to understand the implications of Hattie’s revelation.
Hattie gazed out the window. “You were born eleven months after they incarcerated me.”
Sam froze, her eyes widening.
Hattie scanned Sam’s face as she gave her daughter a frigid smile.
Sam’s breath hitched as fury hit her blood stream. She examined Hattie. Taking her time as her gaze traveled from carefully coiffed hair to newly purchased slippers.
“Did someone force you?”
Hattie tensed as color rose to her cheeks. “No.” She clenched her fists.
“I see.” Sam tapped a finger to her chin and tilted her head to one side. “Things were difficult? They subjected you to deprivations?”
Hattie nodded stiffly, her eyes held a warning.
“But no one violated you?”
Hattie shook her head once.
“Then let me make sure I understand the facts, mother.” Sam’s tone turned silky. “You, a northern spy, willingly… gave up your… favors, to a southern soldier for a blanket and a decent meal?” It amazed a part of her how quickly Hattie moved as a resounding slap stung her cheek. Another part of her felt… free. Odd.
“You understand nothing!” Hattie’s growl bounced off the walls. “You can’t even imagine the horror, the suffering, the terror! At the mercy of any man, guard or prisoner. Locked in that place. There was never enough—”
“I understand you suffered, but we have come full circle.” Sam eyed the woman who had given her birth. “How is any of this my fault?” Hattie stilled and blinked. “I was not responsible for your… dalliance, your indiscretion. Every day of my life, I never measured up to your expectations. All I ever wanted was a little kindness. A little love. Was that too much?”
Hattie’s entire body clenched as her gaze turned fierce. “What I gave you was more important. I pushed you everyday. In every way. So you would be strong. So you would never be at the mercy of…” Her voice hitched as she dropped her head and said in a whisper, “Like I was.”
Sam eyed Hattie’s bowed head. Hattie excelled at the dramatic. It was her favorite way to manipulate. Still this emotion seemed… different. Sam shook her head. Enough.
“You did what you did for you, mother. Only for you” She sighed. “I realize now my expectations were too high. However, I don’t need your approval. I owe you nothing. And none of this,” Sam waved a hand at Hattie, “is my fault. It is your own doing.” She rose, exited the parlor and closed the door. She leaned her head back on the solid oak. She had only one person she could tell. One person who would understand her need to declare her freedom from Hattie. She hoped he would listen.
Chapter 26
It took Sam two hours to track down Father Seamus. She pleaded with the priest for Finn’s address which he reluctantly gave after a relentless stare that bared her immortal soul. Apparently, Finn told his priest everything which meant she was persona non grata.
As dusk descended, she hurried through the crowds and finally stood at the doorway of Finn’s walk-up shifting from foot to foot and praying he wasn’t at Pendergast’s. She couldn’t confront that place in her current state. Sam squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. After a few moments she heard light footsteps cross the floor and a feminine laugh as the door flew opened. There stood a beautiful woman in her mid-twenties wearing a simple print dress, her auburn hair pulled up into a loose bun. Her green eyes twinkled at Sam.
“May I ‘elp ye?”
“I… I’m sorry, I must have the wrong flat. I was looking for—” Sam stammered to a halt as Finn came into view. He stiffened as Sam backed away. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have come.”
The green-eyed woman grabbed Sam’s arm. “Sure’n ye mus be Miss Lawton? Finn’s told me about ye.” She pulled Sam into the room. “I be his sister Nora, jist droppin’ off his dinner. Come in, please.”
“She won’t be stayin’.” Finn widened his stance and crossed his arms. Sam noticed he’d removed his collar and undone the top few buttons of his shirt. She swallowed and returned her eyes to his. His were accessing, his interrogator face.
“Nonsense,” Nora slapped him on the arm, “Ye be nice. Or I’ll be tellin’ ma. Sorry I need to be gittin’ on to Aideen’s. It were nice to meet ye Miss Lawton. ‘ope to see ye soon.” Nora grabbed her wrap, planted a kiss on Finn’s cheek and left. She shot Sam a brilliant smile as she left the door ajar.
Finn didn’t move, didn’t say a word as he watched her.
Sam took a deep breath. This was difficult. She supposed she deserved it. No, she was sure she deserved it. She had mistreated him. The pretty speeches she’d rehearsed on the way over abandoned her. She studied her surroundings. The sparsely furnished room had homey touches: a hooked rug on the floor, a small bowl of fresh flowers, a brightly colored afghan. His sister’s doing most likely.
Sam looked at him. “May I sit?”
Finn raised an eyebrow and nodded at a chair by a small dining table. He shifted his position toward her as she sat, but still stood with arms crossed.
“Finn, I’m sorry for what I said. You didn’t deserve that. You surprised me. I never—” He cut her off with a raised hand.
“How could ye be sayin’ I was out to grab the credit? How could yer even
be thinkin’ that?” Sam stared at the table top.
“You’re right. But please understand, I don’t believe that about you. I was angry, and I lashed out. I should never…” She swallowed back the lump in her throat and blinked to keep back tears. She would not cry.
Finn made a noise in the back of his throat and paced to the chair opposite her. She felt his eyes on her as he lowered himself and put his elbows on the table resting his chin on his fisted hands. “Well lassie, ye owe me. Waat things do ye think about me?”
Sam’s eyes shot to his. Her brow scrunched. “What do I think about you?”
“Aye, lassie. Waat?”
“I… I…”
Finn leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to one side.
Sam swallowed. She looked back at the table top and traced the wood grain. “You are the best man I know.” She swallowed again. “You are kind and courageous and would never treat me like a lesser person. You are the only person in my entire life who has appreciated me for who I am.”
Finn reached out and patted her hand. “Was that so hard?” She looked up at him. His eyes twinkled. His face wore a smirk, a smirk she was half tempted to wipe off. “Aye,” he said, “but ye forgot one thing, ye forgot good looking.”
Sam rolled her eyes then burst out laughing. Finn tugged on her arm and guided her around the table and on to his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest.
“I am so, so sorry—” His finger on her lips silenced her. She nestled closer soaking up the warmth and acceptance. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. She leaned back so she could look at him.
“I came to tell you something.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Something besides my apology. Though that is the main reason I’m here. I owe you an explanation for my actions.” Finn’s other eyebrow rose. “I’m not offering excuses, stop looking at me.”
“Maybe we should move?” Finn grabbed her hand and led her to the settee. As she sat, Sam focused on the worn rug, a frown on her face. After a few moments Finn ran a gentle finger over her wrinkled forehead.
“Ye don’t…,” he cleared his throat, “You don’t have to say a thing.”
Sam’s eyes moved to his. “But I do. I’m just trying to work it out myself. It’s hard to put aside years of thinking and focus. Especially when you discover you were… wrong.” She shrugged one shoulder and gazed at him. “All my life I never measured up to, well, anything. I wasn’t intelligent enough, gentile enough, attractive enough, anything enough. You understand?”
Finn nodded.
“My moth-, Hattie, constantly pushed. Always driving me. Never a kind word. Never any indication she cared for me.” Finn opened his mouth but Sam placed a finger on his lips. “No, please, I know what I know. I’ve been with her my entire life. It’s just, I always believed it was my fault. That something was lacking in me. But now, I see the problem is her, something drives her. A single focus. Its more important to her than anything or any one. She may even be incapable of love. I know she is incapable of loving me, at least the way she is right now. She sees me as something she needs to mold, shape if you will. It’s not right, it just… is.” Sam shrugged. “But now I understand it is her issue and not something wrong with me, I feel… free. I feel as if I can finally start… living?” Sam searched his eyes.
Finn stared then pulled her gently into a hug. “I dinna know where our relationship is headin’, but I’ll always be here for ye.”
A short laugh exploded from Sam as she pulled out of his arms and wiped at the moisture under her eyes. “I understand you are sincere and I appreciate what you are saying, I do, and as far as us…” she motioned back and forth. “I suppose time will tell. But, Finn, please understand when I say even if you aren’t there for me, I will be alright. That’s what today is, it’s my independence day. I can’t find my worth in any person.” She smiled.
Finn stared at her a few moments then leaned forward, a question in his eyes. He must have seen what he was looking for because he closed his eyes and kissed her. Just a butterfly touch, but her lips tingled in response. After a moment of surprise she kissed him back. She broke away first and Finn reached for her hand.
“I’m proud of you.” He pushed an errant strand of hair off the side of her face. “Few people reach that understanding.” She stared at him a moment then smiled again.
“I am so glad I met you, Assistant Deputy Marshal Finnley.” Finn sat back and sighed running his hand through his hair.
“You understand I’m not happy with you being off the case, don’t you?”
“Of course. But, it is my fault. I seem to be a bit on the impetuous side?”
Finn let out a loud snort. “A bit?”
“I also brought the note for you. She slid an envelope from her bag.
“Note? The note?” Finn’s eyes flew open wide.
“Yes, the one Gittin left at his house in Stanley after he murdered his family.”
Finn studied her. “Are you sure you want me to have it?”
“Yes, I’m ashamed I didn’t share it with you sooner.” She handed him the envelope. He removed two papers and scanned the first.
“I assume these brown speckles are blood?” Sam nodded. He continued his perusal. “His handwriting is very precise. Exact.” He handed both sheets back to her. “Would you read them aloud, lass? You know the man best, and sometimes inflection, real or perceived, helps.” Sam’s eyes widened. She took the letters and cleared her throat.
Stanley, Mo., July 22, 1884
O.E. Mills -
While my family relations have always been of the most pleasant kind, my life has been tormented by two devils in the form of men. These fiends were mainly the cause of all my troubles. The first was exterminated years ago and I am going from here to Jefferson City to kill the other. Then I shall end my miserable existence. Before this reaches you my spirit shall be wandering beyond the shores of time, across the dark Jordan of death. Give my wife and babies a decent burial and sell what I have to pay the expenses.
Yours truly,
I.B. Gittin
P.S. - You will find the key to this house above the door outside. Also collect what is due me from parties here. You will find it all in my book here.
I.B.G. Stanley, Mo., July 22, 1884
Finn scowled. “Calculating brute wasn’t he? He wanted someone to settle up the debts owed him?”
Sam nodded. “He was a butcher. He left Mr. Mills his account book listing everything owed him.”
“Unbelievable.”
Listen to the second letter. He is explaining why he killed them, but it has never made sense. I could never explain his motive. Maybe you will understand him better.”
“Not sure I appreciate yer thinking I can explain a madman, lass.”
“You’ve had more experience with these types. I want to understand.”
Finn took in her expression and made a continue motion with his hand.
Please send the following letter to the Kansas City Times as I wish it published.
Editor K.C. Times - Is life worth living? Six years ago I was released from the penitentiary. Since then my life has been a failure. For four years I have tried to live in my native county, but continually met with reminders of my disgrace, sometimes one way and then another. I changed locations, hoping to feel better, but the trouble of my disgrace followed me and has been a burden all the time. No matter how one tries to live after being in the pen, if he has a sensible nature, there is always something to remind him of his disgrace and make life miserable.
But I might have borne this if it had not been for another trouble. Since I came to Stanley, I have attended church some and have been studying my spiritual welfare.
There is a time, we know not when;
A place we know not where:
That marks the destiny of man
To glory or despair.
In other words, man reaches a point beyond which there is no redemption. He c
annot repent if he would. This is my condition. Tell me then, is life worth living? It was only a question of time when I should leave my family forever and ever. I do not care to live any longer, and rather than leave them in this sinful world, I rather take their lives. I believe I am merciful, for I don’t want them to suffer as I have.
Now with a bruised and bleeding heart I bid farewell to all that is near and dear. My friends, weep not for me. Endeavor to so live that you may escape the punishment that has been my lot.
Farewell,
I.B. Gittin
“Even after all these years, I still can’t-,” Sam shook her head and wiped moisture from her eyes. “How on earth does someone reach that point? Believe they can justify murder as a good thing for the person they kill?”
Finn stared at the wall. “There is a time, we know not when; A place we know not where: That marks the destiny of man To glory or despair,” He repeated quietly. “It’s from a hymn, I remember hearing it when I went to a revival meeting.” Sam’s eyebrows shot to her forehead.
“You? A good Catholic boy at a revival meeting? What would Father Seamus say? Or your mother?” She shuddered.
Finn grinned. “Aye, lass, I was working undercover. An’ Father Seamus knows ‘bout it.” He paused. “I talked to him because the words of the song bothered me. It discusses crossing an unseen line that causes God to completely reject a man. For a man to become… irredeemable. There are passages in the Bible that reference a point where a man has hardened his heart and is left in his rebellion by God. At least, that’s what Father Seamus said.”
“Do you think we reach a point where God turns his back on us?” Sam stared, “Where He decides we aren’t worth it?”
“No… not like you’re thinking. A wise man once told me, it’s more a matter of our own choices.” One side of his mouth quirked. “God is a gentleman. He would never force Himself where He isn’t wanted. It’s a matter of us choosing to turn our back on Him. Us choosing to reject Him.” Finn nodded.