A Love So True

by Melissa Jagears

  34

  Sitting beside Daddy’s sickbed, Evelyn stared at her father’s hand still holding hers. She hadn’t looked at her parents throughout her confession, not wanting to see the pity in their eyes. The fact that he hadn’t pulled his hand away, but was holding tighter, made her want to cry.

  But she wouldn’t. After she’d started working with the orphans, she’d decided to cry no more tears for herself. Max, Scott, Alex, and all the others had worse lives than she did, and none of it was their fault.

  She’d vowed to spill tears for them and them alone.

  And she’d already broken that vow this week with David.

  When no one said anything, she looked up. Momma’s eyes were indeed filled with the pity she’d never wanted to see. “I’m all right, Momma.” Although, knowing David was leaving forever, she wasn’t sure if that was the truth. Nicholas had said two weeks ago he’d gotten a report from the investigator that claimed things didn’t look promising, so her situation hadn’t changed—maybe never would.

  She would have to be all right—in time, lots of time.

  “Honey, dearest.” Momma moved her chair to sit beside her. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Early on, Daddy and I were so at odds, I just couldn’t imagine what he’d do. I really thought he might disown me.” She stared at the star pattern on the quilt. “Without parents or a husband, I was afraid of where I would go. Then after keeping the secret so long, it was just easier to continue doing so. I never lied, I just . . . never explained.”

  She took a sip of the tea Momma had brought in. “Once we started helping the orphans, I heard Nicholas advise a prostitute he was relocating that she should keep her secrets so she could go on with life. I decided I needed to stop feeling guilty for doing the same. If any man had interest in me, I ignored him until he moved on—but that didn’t work with David.” She played with the frayed edge of Daddy’s quilt. “Anyway, without money for a private investigator, there wasn’t anything I could do. And if I asked you to spend your life savings on one and he turned up nothing, I’d have ruined your life even more.”

  “You can’t ruin our life.” Momma rubbed her shoulders. “But we could have helped you live a better one if we’d understood.”

  Evelyn lifted her shoulders, then hopelessly let them fall. “Then I would have put you in the same position as I am whenever someone asks why I’m not married yet. Besides, once I turned my life over to God and my attitude changed, you both practically beamed at me. I didn’t want to dampen your pride or explain how you’d likely never have grandchildren because of me.”

  Daddy tightened his grip on her hand still resting in his. “Honey, we don’t love you because you are perfect or would give us grandchildren. We love you just because you’re ours.”

  She finally looked up at her father.

  His big blue eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

  “So you don’t look down on me now?” Her voice shook.

  “I look at you as hurt, and I don’t like my little girl hurt.” Daddy reached over with his other hand to run a finger down her cheek where an escaped tear had trickled. He leaned over with some obvious effort and kissed her head like he always did. “I’m just glad you finally told us. Now I’ll have the privilege to pray more specifically that things will turn out all right for you. Or rather, better than all right. I want my daughter to have the best life possible—following God, being loved.”

  “But, Daddy, what if the investigator finds nothing? What do I do then? I’ve had the lawyer tell me all the options. Declaring him dead would likely be impossible since there is no known event that would persuade a judge to give me that verdict. And since I don’t know where James is, abandonment isn’t certain, so I figured it would be better to stay married and keep my vow until I know for certain he’d broken his.”

  Daddy leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes. The ticking of the clock became audible again, and she glanced at his chest to make sure he still breathed. Seems he’d only fallen asleep. Just as she thought to turn toward Momma to see what she thought, Daddy rolled his head toward her.

  “Even if you got a divorce, nothing’s going to erase what you did or who you are. And if it is true that James is still alive, we’ll pray for the same thing—that you will be able to live the best life possible under the circumstances.”

  She hung her head and sniffed back tears. Telling David about this three days ago had made her heart hurt more than when James had left, but telling her parents made her feel freer.

  When she could trust herself not to cry over knowing now that she should have told them sooner, she got up and planted a kiss on Daddy’s forehead, trying not to show him any pity for his droopy face when he’d not shown her any after listening to her story. “I love you, Daddy.”

  She went over and gave her mother a hug. “I love you too. I wish I could stay, but I can’t leave Lydia alone any longer.” She stood but kept a hold of her mother’s hand. “Will you pray someone good will take over the orphanage? I have a feeling I won’t be there much longer, for one reason or another.”

  “Of course we will, sweetheart. We’ve been praying that for a while now.”

  Likely ever since they’d decided to retire earlier than she’d expected. They’d never bothered to tell her about that, and since it now affected nothing, there was no reason to bring it up.

  “Thank you.” She grabbed the thick coat she’d brought since the weather had turned chilly and damp and went outside to hail Mr. Parker.

  He was huddled on top of the driver’s seat in his oilskin, his hat pulled down low. Why he was always trying to prove he could stand the weather as well as the horses, she didn’t know, but it was time to let him return to his family.

  “Take me home please, Mr. Parker.” She blinked at her words, since the house she’d just exited had been her home for much longer than the orphanage—and might become her home once again if whoever was hired to oversee the orphans felt it best she live elsewhere. She climbed into the carriage just as the rain let loose.

  She closed the windows and leaned back against the seat.

  Oh, Lord, I feel stalled. I know Daddy’s always saying we don’t have to know how things will work out to trust that our steps of obedience will get us where you want us to go, but I don’t even know what you want from me now. I don’t know what step to take.

  The carriage rattled over the brick streets, and she kept her eyes closed, praying without even knowing what she was praying. Needing direction, needing hope.

  The raindrops suddenly ceased on the carriage top as the vehicle stopped beneath the huge columned portico. Home.

  “Hello!” A strange male voice called—at least she couldn’t place the voice.

  “Sir,” Mr. Parker responded, and then the carriage rocked as he got down. “Has no one answered your knock?”

  “They have, but they told me Miss Wisely would be arriving soon, so I said I would wait out here.”

  Her heart leapt into her throat. She’d just been praying God would tell her where she was to go next. Had He only been waiting for her to tell her parents her secret to give her that next step?

  “It’s not the nicest weather for standing about outside,” Mr. Parker responded.

  “No, it sure isn’t.”

  She leaned closer to the window. Did the voice belong to James? His voice hadn’t been very distinctive, and who knew what it sounded like after nine years. If Mr. Parker opened her door now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to climb out, let alone take one single step.

  “But there’s a baby whose scream—”

  “No need to explain further, sir.” Mr. Parker chuckled. “That child could drive away a pack of wolves.”

  “She definitely wouldn’t make it pleasant for them.”

  “Miss Wisely is just inside here.”

  “Wonderful.” The man’s voice was even and calm. Surely James’s voice would have held some emotion.

  The door opened
and she caught sight of a thin man, likely in his forties, with a shock of red hair spilling out from under his hat.

  Her heart started working again. Not James.

  “Miss Wisely?” He came forward to help her down.

  “Yes?”

  Maybe he was one of the businessmen Nicholas or David had rubbed elbows with the night of the ball, but then, he could have talked to Nicholas about anything related to the women’s home.

  “I’m Detective Cruse.” He took her hand, and she alighted.

  “Good afternoon, detective.” This had to be the man Nicholas had hired on her behalf. Her hands grew sweaty, and her throat tightened at the possibility this man could end years of uncertainty in a matter of seconds.

  Mr. Parker climbed back up to his seat and headed for the carriage house.

  “I hope you don’t mind if we stay out here. Though I’m sure there are rooms where the baby’s crying will not be overly loud, the fact that I can’t hear the wailing out here means no one can hear us in there. Since our conversation will be of a sensitive nature, I’m assuming you’d like to keep what we talk about to yourself.”

  All she could manage was a nod. She followed him to the low wall on the edge of the porch and sat. The rain created a curtain of water behind them as it poured off the portico.

  He sat a few feet from her, then pulled the satchel off his shoulder. “Mr. Lowe told me I should deal directly with you.”

  “All right.” Could he not see how much she was trembling? Why couldn’t he hurry and tell her what she wanted to know?

  “I was hired to track down a James Bowden.”

  She clenched her hands so tightly, they were losing feeling. “And?”

  “I found him.”

  35

  Detective Cruse pulled out some papers and frowned at them. “I could give you these, Miss Wisely, but I think I should probably explain them first.”

  Goodness, couldn’t he just tell her where he’d found James? Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself and shivered in the damp cold.

  “It would have been helpful if you’d told Mr. Lowe that Mr. Bowden was your husband. That would have saved me time. I started looking in California, as Mr. Lowe suggested, but James Bowden resides in South Dakota, on a homestead he’s had for the past seven years.”

  So not trapped in a mine, captured by Indians, or lying in some hospital with amnesia. Which likely meant she had indeed married the worst of men.

  “He started working for a rancher by the name of Lester Finley in 1901 when his funds got low.”

  Two years after he’d left her. Had he gone in the direction of California at all? Seems she’d wasted a lot of stamps.

  “He tried to write you in Topeka and Wichita for money, but the letters were returned undeliverable.”

  They’d moved by then, and Topeka was too big for the post office master to know everyone in town—not that the postmaster in any town she’d lived in would know her by her married name.

  “Mr. Bowden struck up a rather . . . friendly friendship with the rancher’s daughter.”

  Her breath stuttered out. She knew the chances of him sleeping with other women the entire time were likely high, but that didn’t stop the knife in her gut at knowing for certain. Now she had grounds for divorce, not only abandonment but adultery. Still, having to go in front of the court and share such details in front of strangers made her want to curl up in a ball and hide.

  Detective Cruse frowned up at the rain that came down with insistence. “At the end of 1901, he sought a divorce from you on the grounds of your abandonment.”

  “What?” The rain was quite loud. She couldn’t have heard him right. “He said I abandoned him?” At the detective’s nod, she spurted, “But he abandoned me.”

  “Correct.” He smiled.

  How could he smile about that?

  “However, one cannot incriminate oneself, so he chose to incriminate you. He also likely did not work very hard to find you, for if you tried to counter him and sought a divorce on the grounds of adultery, you could have made it so he would be unable to marry again.”

  “So . . .”

  He turned the papers around on his lap and pointed at the bottom of the page. “I’m afraid you’ve been found guilty of abandonment and have been divorced since February 24, 1902.”

  Guilty? She put her hand to her throat. “So that means, I’m . . . a criminal?”

  He cringed. “You’re at fault anyway.”

  She double-checked the date. “But if he’d have written me before 1902, I would’ve gone to him!”

  “Yes, so I checked on the legality of your divorce.” Detective Cruse took the pencil out from behind his ear and walked it through his fingers. “If there was no reasonable attempt to hand you divorce proceedings, your divorce could be considered void and his second marriage annulled. However, he did the minimum the law required. He sent you notice in Topeka and another to your great-aunt in Wichita, who was dead by then. Once that proved ineffectual, he petitioned the court for a motion to allow him to publish a notice, which was granted.” He took a newspaper clipping off the bottom of the stack and put it on top. “He did so in both South Dakota and Kansas, and after no response, your divorce was approved and he married the next day.”

  So many years ago. She rubbed her cold arms, the splash of random raindrops beginning to soak through her dress. What could she have done with so many years of freedom?

  “Considering the age of Mr. and Mrs. Bowden’s oldest child, I believe a judge thought it best to push the proceedings through. He likely figured you wouldn’t contest the divorce anyway.”

  She wrapped her arms around the hollow in her middle. “The oldest child?”

  “He has four now, another on the way.”

  Four? She’d not been married for over six years now, and he’d started a big family without even the courtesy of letting her know she could have one too?

  He handed her the packet. “These are your divorce papers. You’ll need them if you want to remarry. And this”—he pulled a single folded piece of paper out of the stack—“is a letter from Mr. Bowden. When I met with him, I convinced him he owed you an explanation. However, he didn’t spend too much time writing it, so don’t get your hopes up that it’ll settle your mind much.”

  “Thank you,” she said reflexively.

  Detective Cruse cleared his throat and waited for her to look up.

  “Have you found my work to be adequate?”

  She nodded. He’d ended her uncertainty. What he’d done was more than adequate.

  “Then if you would be so kind as to inform Mr. Lowe, I can be paid my remainder.” He stood. “I’ll be on my way unless you have any questions for me.”

  She might, but right now, her brain likely couldn’t put together an intelligible sentence. “None I can think of.”

  “If you do, Mr. Lowe knows how to contact me.” He gave her a tip of his hat and walked out into the rain to a waiting automobile she hadn’t even seen.

  She laid her hand atop the papers to keep the breeze from scattering them. Things were over. Just like that. If she’d only asked Nicholas to help her sooner . . . how much less of a mess would her life be right now?

  She unfolded James’s letter, her hand shaking so much she put it against her lap so she could decipher his script.

  Evelyn,

  I’m sorry about how things went. Glad you know now. My wife and I would prefer you don’t make a fuss. Give my love to your dad.

  James

  She stared at his last sentence with her eyebrows clean up to her hairline. Seems James hadn’t changed too much, even after all these years—after what he’d done to her, he just had to take one last poke at her father.

  She wadded up the note and threw it in a rain puddle.

  “Are you all right, Miss Wisely?” Mr. Parker came in out of the drizzle, the rain dripping off his hat’s brim. “I wanted to check on you before I went home.”

  “I don’t exactly fe
el my best, but I’ll be all right.”

  I will be all right.

  She blew out a breath, emptying the air seemingly from all the way down in her toes. She would be all right. She’d be better than she’d been for nearly a decade.

  “Do you need me to help you inside?”

  “No.” She held out her hand, and he pulled her up. “But could I bother you to take me to A. K. G.?”

  “The glass factory?”

  “Yes.” Her breathing grew shallow, and she forced herself to pull in deeper breaths. What would David say to this? She’d broken his heart. And he might even feel differently toward her after she’d kept something like this from him. But if anyone needed to know she was no longer married, that she hadn’t even been so when she’d said she was, it was him. “If driving me there wouldn’t bother you too much, I’d like to go. I know it’s late.”

  Lydia might be miffed at being left without help for so long, but Evelyn hadn’t time to explain and get a ride to the factory before Mr. Parker left for home. If Evelyn came back with David, surely Lydia would understand.

  “I actually didn’t put the carriage away, since it’s not every day a detective is waiting around.” He patted her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No, I’ll come with.” She couldn’t just stand there when she was ready to run all the way to town. Rolling up her papers and tucking them under her arm beneath her shawl, she hurried after him, avoiding puddles and keeping the drizzle off her face with a hand to her brow. She climbed into the carriage and braced herself for the ride, trying not to think about what could go wrong . . . what could go right.

  However, with each dip in the road and each turn that made her slide across her seat, her heart accelerated and her stomach knotted over getting to tell David she was . . . free.

  She let that word sink in. She was not only free now, but she had been free for quite some time. Guilt had weighed heavy on her ever since the night of the ball when she’d actually, for a few rebellious seconds, thought about kissing David. She’d spent nights chastising herself over that for nothing! She was allowed to imagine what his kiss would be like—and she would. He’d likely not kiss her at the factory—and of course, that depended if he’d kiss her at all after what she’d done. And what his feelings were about marrying a divorced woman.