Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family]

by Keep a Little Secret

  When they had finally arrived at the cabin, John honked the horn. Sarah had come to the door, but there had been no sign of Alan. Just as Charlotte was about to ask where he might be, Sarah’s father had stumbled out from the rear of the cabin, a disheveled mess. He wore the same clothes she’d last seen him in with the addition of a dark stain that ran down the full front of his shirt. One of his boots was missing, though he didn’t seem to mind. A green bottle hung limply from his fingers, and when he saw them he brought it to his lips. The sight of him made Charlotte’s stomach turn.

  “He’s as drunk as a skunk,” she observed in disgust.

  “I wonder where he gets it,” John said. “I tell you there ain’t no bottle of booze in the supplies I brought out here.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t be here today.”

  “I told you that I’d make sure you weren’t bothered by him. Take me at my word and trust in it.”

  John got out of the car and ambled over to the Becks, grabbed Alan firmly by the elbow, steered him away from the cabin and down the slope of a nearby hill. Alan didn’t seem to like John’s grip one bit, but wasn’t capable of breaking loose, so he had no choice but to go along.

  “Back to the lessons, ladies,” John called over his shoulder. “He won’t bother you.”

  Sitting with Sarah at the table, Charlotte knew that John would keep Alan away for as long as was needed, allowing for her to teach the man’s daughter whether he wanted her to learn or not.

  Charlotte was lost in thought, pondering the ranch troubles, when Sarah suddenly collapsed against the tabletop. Her scream split the silence that had descended upon them. She tipped out of her chair and landed hard on the wooden floor, as sobs began to rack her small body, and her shoulders shook. It happened so quickly, so surprisingly, that for an instant Charlotte could do nothing more than watch openmouthed.

  “Sarah!” she finally shouted. “Sarah, what’s the matter?”

  But the girl was inconsolable, unreachable, fat tears rushing down her cheeks in a flood of emotion that showed no sign of letting up. Her body slid slowly from the table to the floor, to lie on her side. Her hands reached under her heavy belly, cradling its weight, as if the baby were in her arms, as her knees drew up and spittle ran from her mouth.

  “Is it the baby?” Charlotte pleaded in panic. “Sarah, is it your baby? Is it coming? I can’t do anything for you if you don’t tell me what’s the matter!”

  Sarah’s crying went on and on, rising in strength and timbre, echoing around the tiny room in an unending wail. The pencil the girl had been using on her numbers was still clutched tightly in her hand; Charlotte had to pry her fingers apart to work it free, fearful that Sarah might hurt herself with it.

  “Sarah! Sarah!”

  Unable to get any response, Charlotte rose to her feet and looked around for something, anything that might be able to help her. For all that she knew, Sarah’s baby was coming early, about to be born on the floor of a filthy cabin far from any doctor.

  If it were to happen, Charlotte had some knowledge of what to do; her grandmother and Rachel had been midwives back in Minnesota, and though she had never actually assisted in a birth, she’d listened to them talk about births enough that she knew the basics. She’d need blankets and boiling water and…

  I need help and I need it now…

  Charlotte quickly ran from the cabin and out into the Oklahoma evening. She felt helpless and alone, as if the cabin were an island surrounded by countless miles of sea. She shouted for John, again and again, her voice sounding small and weak. There was no response; she had no idea where he and Alan had gone or if there was any chance they could hear her.

  She ran for the truck, but found that John had taken the keys with him; even had they been in the ignition, Charlotte knew she couldn’t leave Sarah in order to get help, and she doubted she would have been able to raise the pregnant girl into the cab.

  Rushing back into the cabin, Charlotte again knelt down beside the weeping girl, pushing stray strands of hair from her face and wiping the spittle from the corners of her mouth. Sarah continued to sob, her tears and gasps for breath audible in the quiet room.

  “Sarah, listen to me,” Charlotte said softly, doing all that she could to take the fear out of her voice. “Look at me, Sarah. I know that you’re upset, but you need to put it out of your head and look at me.” Though Sarah’s crying never lessened, Charlotte kept trying. “You can do it; I know you can. Think about your baby, Sarah. Think about the child you’ve carried all this time.”

  Charlotte had no way of knowing how to reach Sarah, but she finally managed to get to her by talking about the baby. Sarah’s sobs subsided. Her eyes, open and wet, searched Charlotte’s face.

  “There you go! That’s the way!” Charlotte rejoiced. “Is it the baby? Can you tell me if it’s because of your baby that you’re so upset?”

  “I’m… I’m so tired… I’m so tired all the time…” Sarah sobbed.

  “It’s not your baby?” Charlotte pressed.

  “I… I don’t think so…” She shook her head, her chin wrinkled, holding back another flood of tears.

  “Oh, Sarah,” Charlotte gasped, tears rising unbidden to her own eyes, tears of relief at the realization that the girl’s baby wasn’t about to be born after all.

  They sat that way for a while, the two of them on the floor, Sarah’s head in Charlotte’s lap as she slowly stroked the girl’s hair, trying to calm her. Eventually, Sarah’s outburst subsided and they were blanketed in silence, the only sound an occasional crow’s caw from outside. The sun’s rays slid down the wall beside them, as if it were going into hiding, a child playing a game of hide-and-seek. While the sun set, Charlotte’s anger rose.

  That worthless, drunken old fool!

  It was clear to Charlotte that Sarah was, as pregnant as she was, still shouldering the entire burden of her and her father’s household. No matter how much John provided for them, he was limited in the things that he could do. Cooking, washing, and chopping firewood for the stove were all chores left to the Becks. Charlotte wondered just how many of these fell upon Sarah while Alan crawled into a bottle. It was as if the girl were his wife; no, it was worse, as if she were his slave. If Sarah was not careful, there was a good chance she would lose her child, if not her life.

  Eventually, Charlotte managed to get Sarah into bed. The girl was asleep in an instant. Then Charlotte pulled up a chair and waited for John and Alan to return, furious indignation rising in her chest.

  The sun was nearly set, only a sliver of burnt red and orange still peeking over the distant hills, when John and Alan finally made their way back to the cabin. Charlotte heard their boots crunching on the rocks and scrabble before they came into sight. She chose to meet them outside, fearful that what she was about to say and do might wake Sarah from her needed sleep.

  Charlotte went right at Alan without hesitation, her finger in his face, pressing close despite the stench of liquor that covered him.

  “How dare you, you worthless old fool!” she yelled, her seething anger finally breaking loose.

  Alan recoiled from her, snorting in surprise. While he was clearly not as drunk as he had been when she’d arrived, his vision was still blurry.

  “What in the hell?” He stumbled, nearly falling back on his rump as he stepped away from her.

  “Charlotte?” John asked, equally taken aback. “What’s gotten into you? Did somethin’ happen?”

  As far as Charlotte was concerned, it was as if John Grant weren’t even there, so intent was she on Alan Beck. “Now you listen to me and you listen well, you lazy sot,” she snapped, her voice as sharp as a knife. “That daughter of yours wasn’t put on this earth to wait on you hand and foot, you good-for-nothing, no matter what you might believe otherwise!”

  “Wait just a minute here—”

  “I don’t know if you’ve taken your head out of a bottle long enough to notice,” she kept on, not wanting to allow him a word in edgewise
until she had finished her piece, “but that young girl is well into her pregnancy and she deserves much better treatment than what you’re giving her!”

  Charlotte couldn’t really believe the way that she was speaking to Alan; it was almost as if she were watching someone else administer a tongue-lashing. She had spent a long time in the cabin fuming about Sarah, and there was nothing to do but let it all out.

  “Who in the hell do you think you are talkin’ to me that way?” Alan bellowed, somehow managing to find his footing under the weight of Charlotte’s onslaught. Crimson red color rose up his neck and spittle flew from his yellow teeth. He had the same look in his eyes as the night he had accosted her in the rain. Before he had frightened her, but now seeing him this way only served to make her angrier.

  “I’m the woman who’s not going to let you treat her the way you have been for even one more day! Right now she’s in that cabin, sleeping from exhaustion, all because you force her to do the cooking, cleaning, and waiting on you day in and day out!”

  “She’s lyin’,” Alan replied defensively, looking at John.

  “Don’t look at him,” Charlotte demanded. “He’s not going to help you.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see John take a step back, the slightest hint of a smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

  “Starting today you’re going to become the father that girl has needed you to be for far too long. You will be there for her when she needs you; you’re going to stop drinking, and you’re going to do far more than your share of the household work. She needs regular meals, rest, affection, and plenty of peace and quiet. Do you understand me?”

  Alan hesitated, clearly upset that he was being chastised by this slip of a girl. The age lines cut into his face seemed to grow deeper as he said, “This weren’t the way it was supposed to be. She weren’t supposed to be carryin’ a kid… she’s too young.”

  Charlotte reached out and grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt. He had recoiled a bit when she moved toward him, but it hadn’t stopped her.

  “It’s too late for excuses or to want for something else. Your daughter is going to be a mother and you are going to be a grandfather. This is the way it is going to be from now on. Starting today! She needs her family. Without a mother, her father should be the one to stand by her and see her through this.”

  Someway, somehow, Charlotte’s words slowly cut through the years of neglect and alcohol that clouded Alan Beck’s life: his eyes were downcast as they turned away from her, no longer able to hold her gaze; his shoulders slumped a bit, the confrontation bleeding out of him. When he spoke, his voice cracked with emotion. The fight seemed utterly drained from him.

  “I guess I done failed that girl…”

  “Then don’t fail her anymore,” Charlotte encouraged. She hadn’t expected to be able to reach him; the best she hoped for was to be able to vent her frustration and anger and that maybe John would do something to change the Becks’ situation. But now a flicker of hope flared in her chest. Maybe Alan could actually change. Maybe Sarah and her child wouldn’t be all alone in the world after all.

  Alan still held the liquor bottle he’d clutched when they had first arrived at the cabin; when he let it go, it fell to the ground, breaking against the rocks, the brown fluid that was left spilling out and soaking into the dry earth.

  That’s a good start…

  “I don’t want her to hate me…”

  “Then walk in that door and give her a reason not to.”

  Alan nodded slowly and left them to walk toward the cabin, not looking back once until he had reached the door.

  “I aims to do better,” he said simply.

  Those were the first words he had spoken that Charlotte believed.

  Chapter Twenty

  SATURDAY BROUGHT RAIN, a gentle tapping pitter-patter that woke Charlotte early, pulling her from a pleasant remembrance of her childhood, a dream of running beside Lake Washington, her loyal dog Jasper at her heels. Outside, the squall seemed destined for a short life; when she went to the window, blue skies were already breaking apart the overcast, dirty grey clouds in the east, the sun occasionally flashing into her eyes.

  Charlotte brushed the sleep from her eyes, washing herself from her basin and dressing in the near-darkness. By the time she headed down the stairs, breakfast was already well under way. Plates full of pancakes, fried eggs, and sweet-smelling ham were set out beside cups of steaming coffee and pans of golden biscuits. Chairs creaked, silverware clinked against the heavy plates, and good humor abounded.

  “—best get that done ’fore it gets out of hand…”

  “That stubborn thing ain’t gonna get the best of me today!”

  “Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as usual!”

  Charlotte went into the kitchen and offered to help with whatever work still remained, but Amelia shooed her out, smiling brightly even though she must have been working for hours.

  Hale held forth throughout the entire meal. Laughter filled the room, none louder than Hale’s, but Charlotte noticed that his attention kept wandering to where Owen sat at the other end of the table, as if he expected to see a container of kerosene in the man’s lap. Charlotte couldn’t fault him; her attention kept being drawn in the same direction; she was rewarded with a wink when Owen seemed certain that no one else at the table would notice. But like Hale, her attention was also moving around the table. John Grant sat at the head of the table, his expression giving no indication of any unpleasantness.

  “I can’t imagine that sleeping out in the rain could be any worse than listening to your bellowing,” Hannah teased Hale, her barb enough to still his tongue.

  Once the meal had finished, the workingmen trudged out to start their day, while the women set about washing and drying the dishes. Charlotte kept an eye on Hannah, and when she started to head back to the cabin she shared with her brother Charlotte hurried along behind her.

  During breakfast, the day had taken a considerable turn for the better. The dewdrops that clung to blades of grass, panes of glass, and even the cobwebs woven between the wire fence sparkled in the sunlight. At her feet, purple locoweed flowers spread their petals skyward, somehow managing to avoid being stomped in the hustle and bustle all around them. The breeze was pleasant, rustling Charlotte’s blond curls.

  “I can hear you back there,” Hannah singsonged over her shoulder.

  “I wasn’t trying to hide from you.”

  “You weren’t?” she said with a playful grin. “You could have fooled me.”

  Up close, Charlotte was startled as always by how closely Hannah resembled Owen, though she shouldn’t have been surprised; they were twins after all. But where Owen’s face was rugged, his sister’s similar looks, from the curve of her jawline to the small creases in the corners of her eyes, were softer, alluring, and enticing. There wasn’t much doubt why Hale was so smitten.

  “I wanted to talk to you but thought that I should wait until we could be alone.”

  “Is it a secret?” Hannah asked hopefully.

  “Sort of,” Charlotte answered. “Owen and I were wondering if you wanted to come with us to the roller-skating rink tonight.”

  “You and Owen were wondering?” she asked, a curious smile blossoming across her face, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

  Charlotte nodded. Ever since she and Owen had shared their first kiss, she had wondered what, if anything, he would tell his sister. In the time since Charlotte had arrived at the ranch, she and Hannah had grown close, a friendship she was happy to have. She wouldn’t have been embarrassed to have Hannah know about their relationship, but clearly Owen had chosen to remain silent.

  “I thought that my brother was doing his best to drive you crazy, with all of the teasing and whatnot.”

  “He still teases me sometimes,” Charlotte admitted, “but then there are other times when…” She couldn’t say more and blushed instead.

  “Did he tell you… about us?” Hannah asked hesit
antly.

  “He told me the reason why you came to Oklahoma. He told me what he believes happened to your mother.”

  Hannah nodded. “I don’t agree with everything Owen has done.” His sister sighed. “I’m still not used to having a different name. I keep expecting to blurt out ‘Wallace’ and give the whole thing away.”

  “I imagine it would be hard.”

  “Even with my job at the lawyer’s office, I’m always frightened that my snooping will be found out and I’ll be fired. Thankfully Barnaby is quite messy, so he has enough trouble sorting through the papers covering his desk, he doesn’t notice when a file isn’t just where it’s supposed to be.”

  Charlotte wanted to press further, to learn whether Hannah saw the same things her brother did in the scant evidence she had found in the lawyer’s office, but she couldn’t bring herself to press.

  “Going skating does seem like it would be fun,” Hannah admitted. “Certainly better than my usual nights.”

  Charlotte brightened. “What we’re proposing is a break from your everyday work and worries. It’s a chance to take a night out on the town, do something different, and have fun.”

  Hannah’s smile grew brighter. “But what I don’t understand is why you would want me to come along with the two of you. When a couple wants some time together, especially if they’re in the mood for romance, the last thing they need is another person tagging along.”