by Ginny Aiken
“Oh, I won’t forget.” The boy scooted over to her side, brought his face up close to hers. “But thank you, Mama. Thank you so much for being my mama. God couldn’t have answered my prayers any better than He did. I’m so sorry you got hurt. You’re the best mama a boy could have.”
The hair-trigger tears flowed again. “I’m the one the Father has blessed, dear son. I couldn’t ask for better children, a grander home—”
“And a more perfect husband, right?” that husband asked from the open doorway.
At his side, Randy giggled. “We’re all the most perfect folks.” She turned a pirouette. “And, see? Mama made me the perfect dress. We’re the perfect family.”
“Oh, Randy, dear,” Olivia said. “There are no perfect people in this life. Only those who love God, try their best to serve Him, and ask His forgiveness when we fail.”
Luke nodded. “We’re all like that, aren’t we?”
Eli laid a caring hand on his son’s shoulder. “We all try our best to live for the Lord, son. That honest effort to follow our Savior is what makes our family what it is.”
Luke’s earnest gaze shot up to his father, then back down to his mother. “I still say we’re pretty close to perfect, and that’s all I know. I love you, Papa, and I love my new mama, too.”
Randy flounced over to where the other two stood, pert nose in the air. “You’re such a child, Luke. Of course, you love Mama and Papa. You’d be a silly fool not to love them.”
Olivia took that to be as close as she and Eli would get to a statement of their daughter’s love. It satisfied her, and, when she glanced at Eli, she noticed the twitching corners of his lips. It satisfied him as well.
Before too much else happened, the pain began its by-now-familiar escalation, and Eli brought her the next dose of remedy.
She slept until the following day.
During the overnight hours, Eli watched his wife sleep the fretful slumber of the injured. He well remembered his own struggles when the bank robber had shot him a few weeks earlier. While serious enough, his experience with a glancing bullet wound paled in comparison to the long, deep gashes Olivia had sustained.
What did hang equally in the balance was the pain they both had suffered at the hands of those they trusted and loved. He wished he could take back the hurt he’d caused Olivia, a woman who hadn’t deserved the comparisons he’d made. He now knew the Lord had granted him another chance at happiness, and he’d nearly thrown it away.
He wasn’t about to make that mistake again. He would fight with all he had to keep Olivia at his side for the rest of his life.
No matter what it cost him, he would make matters right for his bank customers who’d been wronged by a man with a spectacular lack of conscience. Eli had asked his father-in-law to spread the word that the bank would protect the landowners’ rights to their properties until the elements went their way again.
Even if it cost him his very last cent.
However, under no circumstances was Eli about to leave his injured wife for very long. Not to go to work. Not to meet with his remaining employees to explain the circumstances. Not even to make things right between him and the landowners, especially the man who’d saved his business life. He owed a great deal to his father-in-law.
That morning, he’d been at the bank at seven o’clock, as always, and had greeted Larry Colby, Lewis Parham, and Ezra Andrews. He invited them to conduct business with him in the dining room of the Whitman home until such time as Olivia’s condition permitted his return to the bank.
Although surprised, his truly loyal employees had expressed their concern for his wife and their enthusiasm for his plan. By ten o’clock they’d moved ledgers and steel lock boxes, receipts and cash onto the large table that so recently had displayed a bountiful feast for guests.
Wearing a lace jacket over a plain white blouse, torn to allow Doc Chambers access to her wounds, Olivia had greeted them all with her usual smile and graciousness.
“I had my doubts about that weasel,” Larry Colby stated, nodding vigorously, his red curls bobbing up from where he’d slicked them down. “There was something off about all that polite talk, and sirs, ma’ams, thank yous, and welcomes he waved about like a flag.”
“Nonsense, Colby,” Andrews responded. “All those were signs of good breeding and politeness. It was the money he always had at hand that bothered me.”
Larry shook his head, sending his spectacles to the tip of his nose. “He doesn’t have a family. He never had to pay for much but his rent and his meals. Of course, he always had money to flash around. He just never looked a man in the eye, not even when working together. That irritated me no end.” Their good-natured bickering continued until customers arrived, directed to the temporary banking lobby by the sign Eli and Larry Colby had placed in the window of the bank. At that time, they resumed their work as though nothing had happened.
Eli returned to the parlor with a mountain of documents in hand. He sat in his armchair and began the tedious job of uncovering how deeply Holtwood’s deception went.
Olivia smiled, and he felt the task dwindle to a mere irritation. She had that effect on him, more and more each day. In view of how much he really could have lost, he considered himself a wealthier man now than he’d ever dreamed of being before. He was rich in all that truly mattered.
“This is nice,” she murmured. “I must say, I quite favor you working out of our home.”
“At your side,” he corrected, bringing a soft flush to her cheeks. “Perhaps once we’ve sorted out this mess I can arrange to spend more time with the paperwork here at home.”
“I would like that,” she said, her voice tentative.
“As long as you can tolerate my presence in the house while you and Cooky go about your business, then I’m a happy man staying near you.”
At that, his wife smiled again, leaned back onto the sofa cushions, and rested with the help of the medicines Doc Chambers had left with them.
By the next morning, Olivia refused to take another drop of the drug.
“I can’t tell you how much I despise being at the mercy of that poison,” she said, determination in every inch of herself. “It takes over my mind and my body, and I don’t appreciate a forced surrender to anything but my Lord’s will. I’ll be having no more of that, Eli.”
“I’m not sure how your stubbornness—er… willpower will affect your health,” he said. “But I confess I can’t see any reason to force you to take something that causes you so much distress. It’s bad enough that you’ve suffered at Holtwood’s hands.”
“They’re two different matters, Eli. I can’t justify dozing my life away. I’m well enough to make it through the days on my own strength.”
“Very well,” he said, “but the moment you feel the worst of the aches return, let me know. You can’t recover if you wear yourself out fighting pain.”
“You said Mama and Papa are on their way here.” She turned the direction of the conversation to a tack she much preferred. “You intend to show them those documents you’ve been studying.”
“Marshal Blair recovered the missing deeds from Holtwood’s home, among other papers. He brought them by yesterday while you were resting.”
“Have you found anything to celebrate among the devastation he left behind?”
Eli shrugged. “I’ll make more of the facts clear once your parents arrive. I don’t wish to put you through more than one description. At best, it’s tiresome, sad, and infuriating, all at the same time.”
Olivia waited in silence until Mama and Papa arrived. While Doc Chambers had approved her return to needlework, knitting didn’t hold much appeal that day.
Finally, by midmorning, the doorknocker clapped three times. Larry Colby, who’d volunteered his services as doorman, hurried to respond. He ushered her parents into the parlor.
Eli directed them to the settee that normally sat before the window on the other side of the room, which he and Ezra Andrews had moved close
r to Eli’s armchair and the sofa where Olivia still reclined.
Through the open curtains, brilliant winter sunlight shed light on the matter at hand.
They exchanged brief greetings, but before Papa had a chance to speak, Eli took the reins of the gathering, and no one looked back.
“If you would hear me out,” her husband said, “I have an offer for you, Mr. Moore. It will likely surprise you, but I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I think it will answer a multitude of prayers.”
Apprehension tensed Papa’s shoulders, tightened the corners of his mouth, and drew a line across his forehead. “I’m willing to listen and take anything you suggest to heart.”
“Very well, sir, here’s what I would like to do…”
Olivia prayed silently as she waited for Eli to proceed. Before he said anything, however, he walked across the room and handed her father a single sheet of paper covered with writing. From what Olivia could see, it also bore an official-looking seal and a number of signatures as well.
“What is this?” Papa asked.
“The deed to your land,” Eli answered.
Stephen Moore looked puzzled. “But—but I don’t understand. Why would you bring this out at this time?”
“Because, if you look closely, I’ve signed over to you any claims the bank ever had on the land.”
Papa stood. “I don’t understand, Mr. Whitman—”
“I think,” Eli said, “it’s time for you to drop the Mr. Whitman. We’re family now, and I’d feel much better if you called me by my given name.”
“I see.” But Papa didn’t appear to Olivia as though he did. “Then Eli and Stephen it is.”
Her husband smiled in return. “Excellent.”
“Now as far as this deed goes,” Papa continued. “I’m mighty glad you married my daughter, and I can see you’re doing your level best to care for her, but that doesn’t mean I’ve reached the point where I look kindly at charity of any sort.”
Eli nodded. “I anticipated your response, and I’ll point out I never offered charity, sir. What I have for us is a business transaction.”
“A… business transaction,” Olivia said.
“Precisely,” Eli said, not a hint of doubt in his voice. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that my bank is now lacking a head cashier. After all that has happened, I’m leery of hiring just anyone to fill the spot. Since I know how desperately your finances have been ravaged by the last two years, I’d venture a guess you could use a steady income about now, right?”
Papa’s brows drew closer still. “Yes, but I’m a farmer. I have plenty of land to work. That’s all I know, all I’ve ever known.”
“You have two sons. I’m sure you’ve taught them the ropes quite well by now. With just a bit of guidance from you in the morning, I’m sure they can handle most regular chores. Besides, it’s winter right now. There’s not much more for them to do than water and feed your stock. As far as the bank, you knew enough to spot a thief. All the years I’ve known you, you’ve kept your books in excellent shape. I suspect you’d only need to learn the particular routines of the bank, and once you grasp those, together with your basic understanding of profits and losses, I’ve no doubt in my mind you’ll do a first-rate job for the bank.”
“But—”
“I realize you won’t make enough to clear the mortgage working for me through the cold months,” Eli went on as though Stephen hadn’t spoken, “but it will provide enough for you and the family until spring.”
“I cannot accept charity—”
“I’m not speaking of charity. It’s a legitimate job offer. But it’s up to you. You can carry out Holtwood’s responsibilities for as long as you wish—or need. Then we’ll hire a new cashier.”
“Eli, I—”
“I need your help, Stephen. Your integrity and courage speak volumes about the man you are. I can think of no one I would rather have look after my customers and my bank. Please, accept my offer. I trust you where I doubt I could trust anyone new.”
For a moment, a long, silent moment, Olivia feared Papa’s self-respect would force him to reject Eli’s offer. But then, after the older man rubbed his forehead and met his wife’s gaze, he turned to Eli again.
“I can only consider this if you allow me to work off the mortgage from my earnings. I will do my best for you, but I can’t just take the title to the property, and your money as well. It wouldn’t be right, Eli.”
While Olivia understood her husband’s desire to help her family, she also understood her father’s position. For a brief span of time, Eli seemed to argue with himself, but eventually he shrugged.
“We can settle those details when you arrive in the morning for work. Right now, all I care is for you to understand my position. I give you my word, Stephen. I have never gone back on it or a signed contract, and I will never do that to a customer in the future. Not to you, not to any of the other landowners who have mortgaged their property. Not to anyone who will bank with us in the future.”
Her parents’ relief brought tears to Olivia’s eyes. This was the man she’d married, the one she’d come to know better and better over the last four months. This was the man blessed with a generous heart, one full of kindness and decency and care.
This was the man she loved.
As Cooky cleared away the noon meal, someone clapped the doorknocker again. Larry and the cook danced around each other in the doorway, both of them intent on responding to the knock. In the end, Cooky sniffed and returned to her domain in the back of the house, while Larry chuckled as he hurried to the front.
The young cashier escorted Marshal Blair into the dining room. Olivia’s breath caught as the lawman approached.
Eli rose to his feet. “How can I help you, Adam?”
He snatched his hat from his head, nodded a greeting to Olivia. “I’ll be needing to borrow those falsified letters and deeds for a while. They’re mighty strong evidence, and we must bring them forward at your thief’s trial.”
“I still don’t understand how he thought no one would realize they were fakes,” Olivia said.
“He only needed them to hold up long enough to get the railroad’s money. The representatives confirmed he had been exchanging correspondence with them for some time, convinced them the land was his. He planned to sign over the deeds while they were here. A few more days and Samuel Holtwood would have disappeared with the railroad’s money. I can tell you, they’re none too pleased. But now, thanks to those papers, he’s in for a long time behind bars. There’ll be no claiming self-defense on his part when it comes to the skirmish in your kitchen this past Christmas Eve, either.”
Eli’s mouth took on a grim line. “I’m glad to hear that. Take them as long as you need. There’s no hurry to return them. I intend to file them away only as a reminder of what a greedy swindler can do.”
“I take it you’ve reached an agreement with the folks he hoodwinked.”
“I’m settling those individual situations already. I’m just thankful I could persuade Hugh Roberts to stay put. I regret the distress he suffered, and if he’d actually pulled up stakes, I would have carried a heavy load of guilt for the rest of my life.”
The marshal shook his head. “Don’t take up what’s not yours in the first place. That guilt belongs to Holtwood, and to Holtwood alone. You understand?”
Eli shrugged. “Thank you for all you’ve done on our behalf.” He glanced around the room. “Have you eaten yet? I’m sure Cooky has plenty left in the kitchen, and nothing pleases that woman more than serving folks a meal.”
Blair’s eyes twinkled. “I’m not that big a fool. I’m not one to turn down one of your cook’s plates. Let me follow her to her kitchen. No reason to make a mess out here again where it’s clear she’s finished her work.”
As soon as he walked down the hall, his boots striking a sharp report against the wooden floor, everyone in the dining room laughed.
Olivia took the opportunity to ease o
ut of her chair. “Cooky’s a treasure. I don’t know how I would have put together that dinner party without her help.”
Eli gave her a penetrating look. “I think you would have found a way. You’re not a woman who gives up at the first sign of trouble. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”
Olivia blushed. “Why, thank you, Mr. Whitman. I do appreciate your kind words.”
As she left the bankers in the dining room with their sums and their cash, Olivia cast a final glance over her shoulder. Her effort was rewarded with another of those heart-stopping winks Eli liked to send her way.
Joy in her heart, she headed straight for the stairs, intent on returning to her little room. Seconds later, she found herself battling Eli’s and Cooky’s strenuous objections.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Eli asked.
“I’m tired of the parlor. It’s time for me to return to normal life.”
Cooky clucked. “Get on with you, Missus Livvy. That fiend cut you all up like some chicken for frying, and here you’re talking about stairs. Not under my watch, you won’t. Come along, and let’s get back to that sofa. Time enough to head upstairs when you’re well’s what I say, it is.”
Olivia avoided her husband’s blue eyes. “None of that matters, Cooky. I’m well enough now, and I’m not about to live in the parlor for the rest of my days.”
She dared a glance at Eli. His expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement. Exactly what she felt.
While things weren’t fully resolved between them, she now had hope that someday they would be. Maybe at that time she could leave behind the lonely room for good, but until that moment arrived, it would serve her purposes quite well. Better than a sofa in a very public parlor, now that the bank operated just across the hall.
“I’ll be back down shortly.” She turned and took her first step up. When neither followed, she continued. At the head of the stairs, she paused.