by Ginny Aiken
He couldn’t wait to get home to Olivia.
Chapter 21
On Saturday evening, Olivia nestled closer to Eli on the sofa in the parlor. She’d put away Randy’s dress-in-the-making, and Eli had set the book he’d been reading on the small walnut side table to his left. For a while, they watched the fire burn down in the hearth, sipping the hot cocoa she’d made as a change to their coffee and tea routine. The peace in the room was a balm to her spirit and a boost to her courage.
She’d decided to ask Eli about the foreclosures that night. She couldn’t in good conscience put it off any longer.
As soon as Eli set down his empty cup, Olivia breathed a prayer for courage, for wisdom, and for the right words to say. She also prayed the Lord would soften her husband’s heart and turn it into fertile ground for her questions.
A tremor of fear shook her. She didn’t want anything to mar the beauty of the love now growing between them, the happiness she treasured at his side. But it was now or never, and her family’s fate would turn bleak if she chose the latter.
“Eli?”
“Mm-hm…”
“Could I ask you something?”
He turned partway at her side, curiosity in his expression, the fingers of his right hand drawing tender patterns on her shoulder. “This sounds serious.”
Another pang of apprehension shot through her. “I’m afraid it is.”
Concern drew his dark brows together and his finger stopped, frozen in place. “Are you unwell? Is it about the children? What’s wrong?”
Oh, Lord Jesus, help me through this. “It’s about my family. A business matter.”
If she’d seared him with a hot branding iron, he wouldn’t have reacted any worse. He bounded to his feet, darts seemed to shoot from his eyes, disgust twisted his mouth into a grimace. But he didn’t speak. He merely stared at Olivia, waiting for her next words.
She swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth. This wasn’t going the way she’d hoped and prayed it would, but rather the way she’d feared it might. After all, he had warned her. More than once.
But she had a responsibility to her family. She couldn’t just quit and take the easy road. She had to talk to Eli.
Olivia stood and smoothed her skirt over her hips. Facing the man she loved, she took a deep breath. “Papa told me about the letter he received from you—from the bank—asking for—”
“Enough, Olivia.” Eli’s voice was deadly soft, his hand held out in an unmistakable gesture of refusal. If she’d feared a shouting outburst, she’d been much mistaken. He wasn’t that kind of man. He continued in a voice a notch above a whisper. “Before you agreed to marry me I made clear to you that I would not tolerate any interference with my business affairs. While I realize our relationship has changed, the line I drew hasn’t moved. Now you’re trying to cross it, and I must stop you. My business remains my business. Nothing you should insert yourself into, nothing for you to question or challenge.”
“But, my family—”
“No.”
This time, while his voice remained soft, it had an icy, sharp edge to it, and it sliced through Olivia’s emotions. A knot formed in her throat and tears burned her eyelids. But she refused to let Eli see how deeply his rejection hurt her.
“Very well. I understand you still only want me as your wife for the purpose of serving you. I’m still not someone you cherish, much less respect, not someone with whom you intend to become one… as our vows stated, as I thought we’d begun to do.”
“It’s not like that at all. We had an arrangement, an agreement. You accepted it, and I expect you to keep to your word. If you think about it, I’ve been scrupulous about keeping the worries of work far from the comforts of home. The bank does not concern you one bit. Please make sure you keep it that way.”
She turned her back to him and stared at the still-glowing embers of the dying fire. “I understand what you’re asking of me, Eli, and I do keep my word. I was raised to honor my commitments. I… I will do my best to continue to live by that agreement.”
And to bury my dreams and wishes for a true marriage.
The tears began to flow then, and she clinched her hands at her waist. As though hanging on for dear life, she twisted her fingers, made herself draw breath… exhale… repeat the pattern. She also refused to turn around and show him the depth of her distress.
“Olivia—”
“I gave you my word, Eli. There’s nothing more I can say. Please… please go now.”
The absolute silence that followed her request spoke volumes about his reluctance to do as she’d asked. But then, just as she felt a cry of pain rising up inside her, his footsteps, heavy, plodding, utterly unlike his usual firm and decisive tread, headed for the door.
Moments later, those steps made their way up the stairs. When his bedroom door closed, she brought her knuckles to her mouth to muffle the moan that broke through.
A series of shudders shook her. Her knees refused to hold her. She wilted down into her skirts, the thick wool rug cushioning her fall. She didn’t know how long she sat there, as soft sobs wracked her, and a depth of loneliness she’d never before known settled in, bit by bit by bit.
How could the man who’d loved her so tenderly now thrust her away, as though she were worth no more than an emptied flour sack? Still… she loved Eli.
Obviously, he didn’t love her in kind. He hadn’t ever listened to what she had to say. He had no intention of sharing his whole life with her, only those parts he… what? Dared?
What was holding him back? Why couldn’t he trust her?
Was he comparing her to Victoria? Or was there something about Olivia that had proved objectionable to him?
What was she going to do?
Right then? Not much. Hours crawled past. She wept herself tearless. Still, two truths remained.
First, she loved her husband.
Second, she didn’t know how she would continue to live with the man he was proving to be.
Eventually, with a broken heart, she went upstairs to her old room, the one with the adequate but small and lonely bed, the one now empty of even a trace of her presence.
She’d been a fool to marry within Eli’s boundaries.
He’d been a fool. He’d known all along what the chances were. Time had proved him right. It was just like before. Victoria had done the same. Starting innocently, asking a question now and then, a few months after they were married, and becoming increasingly involved, along with her family. Making suggestions, offering to help him, to ease his burden…
Now Olivia had tried to insert herself into bank matters, and for the sake of her family. He didn’t know her reasons or what she’d been after. That she’d tried at all was enough. Enough to prove himself vulnerable to the possibility of ruin again.
Eli paced the length of his room, turning the matter over in his mind. He couldn’t lose Olivia. As long as he kept her separate, as long as he didn’t let her become even slightly involved, she couldn’t do any harm. Everything would be fine between them, just as it was. How could he make her understand that? What was he going to do?
Now that he’d fallen in love again.
The next morning, Olivia went through the motions of getting ready for church. When she heard Eli go downstairs, she gathered fresh clothes from among the items she’d moved to their—his room, dressed, urged the children to hurry, and barely nibbled a bite or two of toast at breakfast. She knew she wasn’t at her best.
On her way out, when she glanced at the mirror in the entry hall, she cringed. But there wasn’t much she could do about the dark smudges under her eyes or the faint redness in the eyes themselves. At least her nose didn’t look like a red beacon anymore.
Then there was the bone-deep weariness. It seemed almost more than she could bear to take step after step after step toward the church. Her leather-bound Bible felt as though it weighed more than those sacks of flour she’d ordered for the Christmas dinner party.
During the service, she stood to sing the morning’s chosen hymns like a puppeteer’s marionette. When she sat back down, she needed all her determination to keep from crumpling into a heap and maintain a semblance of self-respect. Not only did she not want Eli to see the effect his rejection had on her, but she also wanted to keep the town from noticing something amiss between them.
To her embarrassment, she couldn’t focus on Reverend Alton’s sermon. In spite of her efforts otherwise, her mind turned to the state of her marriage time and time again. Soon, she gave in to her unruly thoughts, and turned them into prayers. As the pastor droned on, she prayed for her marriage, for Eli, for the farmers, for her parents, and for the Father’s will in the matter of the foreclosures.
Although she believed the Lord heard her prayers, and she took the Bible seriously when it urged believers to ask in order that they might receive, she couldn’t overcome her restlessness, her anxiety, her fear for her family’s plight.
When Reverend Alton asked the congregation to rise for the closing prayer and hymn, she felt the first glimmer of something other than the crushing pain of betrayal. She felt the urge to hurry back home as soon as possible. She didn’t want to face her mother’s perceptive stare. There was no way she could hide her misery from Elizabeth Moore, not even if she’d worn the empty flour sack over her head.
As the last note of the hymn faded, she turned and placed a hand on Randy’s shoulder. “Let’s go, dear. I’m sure the pot of whatever Cooky left simmering on the stove is full of goodness. I must admit, I’m feeling hollow right about now.”
It was true. She did feel hollow, but it wasn’t due to hunger. Instead, she felt as though Eli had torn a part of her right out from her deepest self. Olivia didn’t need to elaborate for her daughter. Time enough for Randy to learn about heartbreak years from now, when she was older, much, much older. Maybe, if the Lord had mercy on the young girl, she wouldn’t have to experience anything like what Olivia was going through.
While she managed to get the children outside in record time, she didn’t get far. The woman she’d most wanted to avoid ambushed her.
“Livvy!” her mother called out. “How are you this morning?”
Olivia drew a deep breath. “Fine, Mama. We’re all very well.”
Her sisters rushed to her side, each one chattering about a dozen things. Then her brothers arrived, each with a story to tell. Finally, Papa strolled to Olivia’s side, hugged her, and placed a kiss on her forehead. The familiar gesture touched the hurt corners of her heart, and tears threatened to flow.
Her brothers and sisters, together with Luke and Randy, left after a few minutes, all six of them talking and laughing and looking for additional friends. Olivia was left alone with her parents.
Before they could ask the question she wanted to avoid, Eli arrived. He greeted her parents, his voice chillier than she’d ever heard it. Clearly, he hadn’t thawed since the night before. Swallowing again became difficult. Moments later, he stepped away, ending the awkward silence after the initial greetings.
Mr. Roberts, Papa’s friend, approached as Eli walked off, a somber expression on his weather-beaten face.
“ ’Morning, folks. I don’t reckon you’ve heard the news yet, so I figured I’d best tell you before it turns into some kind of tall tale. My missus, our boys, and I are packing it in. We’ve family back in Iowa, and they’re looking forward to us returning. They can use help on the farm, and there’s nothing much to hold us here anymore.”
“But, Hugh,” Papa said, his face pale despite his healthy tan. “Surely you’re not about to just give up. Didn’t you tell me you felt led here to work the land? Don’t you trust the Lord to see you through?”
Mr. Roberts shrugged. “What if all I did was mistake my own wants for the Father’s leading?”
Papa’s hands fisted but he kept his expression calm and his voice quiet. “What if you’re turning and running just as He’s about to work it all out?”
“I don’t know, Stephen. It could be, but I can’t put my wife through this trouble, all these worries and difficulties, any longer. Plus my boys need to have a way to make a living. They’re of an age where they’ll soon be looking for young ladies to marry, and we have nothing much left here. Not now that the bank’s coming after the land. You and the good Lord both know I don’t have the money to pay the mortgage. I would need a miracle, and soon.”
He stared at the sky, at the church, and Olivia saw him swallow hard a time or two. Then he faced Papa again. “Whitman knew I wouldn’t have cash until I sold off my harvest.” He nodded toward her. “Begging pardon, Missus Whitman. No disrespect meant for your man.”
Olivia froze. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t come up with a response. She struggled to nod and look anywhere but at her parents. She knew only too well what was running through their minds.
She couldn’t report the dreadful results of her efforts the night before.
“At any rate,” Mr. Roberts added, “Whitman and I had agreed he’d take what I could scrape up each month until the harvest. We’d planned to settle accounts then. But that letter I got—we all got—changed everything. I can’t pay back that mortgage by Christmas. So before the weather turns really sour I’d like to be on our way back to Iowa. Storms on the plains can be brutal, and they come at their worst right after the holidays.”
Mrs. Roberts strode up. “Have you told them, Hugh?”
“Of course, Ella. They know now.”
“Well, then,” Mama’s dear friend said, more subdued than Olivia had ever heard the bubbly woman sound. “There’s no point drawing this all out. It’s best if we say our farewells fast, like ripping a crusty bandage from a sore wound.”
Olivia winced at the lady’s words. As the two couples embraced and urged each other to hold on to courage born of faith, Randy called out to her.
“Mama! Are you ready to go home? Luke’s hungry.”
“I’ll be right there, dear. Just saying good-bye.” Olivia hurried through her hugs to prevent any further sadness. She had all she could handle at the moment.
The matter of the foreclosures was wrong. No matter what Eli said, she couldn’t just stand by and let him ruin all those lives, not after he’d reached agreements like the one with Mr. Roberts. That didn’t sound like the Eli she knew. Her husband was an honorable man, not a cruel, parsimonious miser. He would never dangle a carrot before a customer, then yank it back. Never.
She believed that from the bottom of her heart.
Nothing about the foreclosure nightmare made any sense. There had to be something she could do. Even if he refused to hear her out. Even if it meant the death of her marriage after she was done.
She knew the difference between right and wrong, had to face herself in the mirror every morning.
She had to face God into eternity.
Her heavenly Father would have to show her the way.
After a miserable Monday and Tuesday, Olivia couldn’t stand the overwhelming loneliness, the sadness, and the sense of loss any longer. On Wednesday morning, when she left the children at the schoolhouse, she decided to visit Addie Tucker and her sweet baby Josh. The two of them would provide the kind of distraction she needed.
After the first short while, when both women enjoyed the little one’s coos and smiles, they sat to cups of tea in the parlor while he slept.
“Now that you know how the new mama and son are doing,” Addie said, “why don’t you tell me how the newlyweds are?”
Olivia’s tea sloshed over the side of the cup, and she had to set it down before she spilled it all over herself. “Um… well, like… ah… newlyweds, I suppose.” Her blood felt chilled, but her cheeks blazed. “We’re adjusting to each other as best as possible.”
Addie arched a brow. “That’s not the most resounding endorsement for married life I’ve ever heard.”
“It has its ups and downs, as I’m sure you know.”
“True enough, but right now, I would ha
ve to say it strikes me as though… well, you seem to be in a very deep one of those downs.”
In spite of Olivia’s most determined effort, a sob broke from her throat and tears flowed. Horrified by her inability to handle the situation any better, she covered her face with her hands, and just let the emotion take her.
In a flash, Addie came to her side, draped her arm around Olivia’s shoulders. She didn’t say a word, but rather just held her. At the easy acceptance, Olivia only wept harder, her wounded heart hungry for the comfort of friendship and the gift of mercy.
Addie pulled Olivia’s head down on her shoulder. “Go on, Livvy. Let the hurt out. You know you’re safe here with me.”
She did. Although she’d thought she’d cried herself dry on Saturday evening, and then again yesterday after she’d said her good nights to the children, she was stunned to realize that her aching eyes could still produce floods of tears at the snap of a finger.
Eventually, though, she lifted her head, sick of her misery. She shoved a hand into the pocket of her skirt and withdrew a hanky. She dabbed away the tears, patted her nose, and finally dragged up the courage to meet Addie’s gaze.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice gravelly.
“Oh, hush, Olivia. I do remember you telling me not so long ago that you wouldn’t be much of a friend if you didn’t take care of my little one and me when I could no longer do so. What kind of friend would I be if I wouldn’t come to your side when you’re so sad?”
“But that’s different—”
“No, it’s not. The actual event might be different, but Scripture calls us to bear each other’s burdens. It doesn’t describe which burdens we’re to carry for another.”
“But—”
“I’ve known you too long now, Livvy, and you’re not going to change the subject by cooking up an argument. Something has upset you more than anything I’ve known to trouble you before. I can’t make you tell me what’s bothering you, but I can promise you’ll feel better once you let it all out. Plus, I can assure you I’ll never breathe a word about it to anyone.”