The thought of the stew cooking on the stove made Angel’s stomach cringe, but she managed a weak smile. “I feel silly. I was so afraid we would be late this morning that I forgot to eat breakfast before we left. I’d just like to lie down for a while, if that is all right, and then I will eat something and should be fine.”
Olivia gave her an odd look, but Clark and Nathan seemed relieved.
“Yes, dear,” Olivia said. “You are welcome to lie down upstairs. I’ll take you now.”
Olivia shot a glare at Nathan as he tried to help Angel up, obviously meaning for him to step away. Looking bewildered, Nathan complied, and Olivia held out a hand to aid Angel in his place. Then Olivia wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist, steadying her as they walked toward the stairs.
When Angel was settled in one of the upstairs rooms, Olivia left, then reappeared holding a cup of water and a biscuit.
“Do you think you can eat this, dear?” Olivia asked.
Angel nodded, sitting up and gratefully accepting Olivia’s gift. Fists on her waist, Olivia watched silently as Angel nibbled at the biscuit, then abruptly asked, “Why are you really living with my nephew?”
Angel inhaled rapidly, breathing in a biscuit crumb as she did so, causing her to cough violently. Olivia patiently waited for Angel’s coughing spell to subside, then asked, “Well?”
Unsure how to respond, Angel hesitated. She and Nathan had already told Clark and Olivia why Angel was there—what other answer was Olivia looking for? When Angel said nothing, Olivia crossed her arms. “Well then, let me ask you another question. Are you pregnant?”
Angel gaped at Olivia. She shouldn’t have known. Even though Angel was nearly four months along, she hadn’t begun to show, and she hadn’t spoken of it to anyone. But Olivia already seemed to know the truth. She was merely waiting for Angel to confirm it.
Angel whispered, “Yes. But how did you know?”
Olivia waved an impatient hand, as though Angel was trying to distract her from the most important topic at hand. “I have a knack for being able to tell when women are pregnant.” She continued in a softer voice, “Is it Nathan’s?”
“What?” Angel asked, aghast, then said emphatically, “No.”
In a gesture that reminded Angel strikingly of Nathan, Olivia rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Angel wasn’t sure whether Olivia was relieved or upset by her answer. Finally, Olivia asked, “Does Nathan know?”
Again, Angel’s voice was small as she answered, “No.”
Olivia shook her head, then sighed, suddenly growing almost maternal. “How far along are you?”
“Almost four months.”
Olivia raised an eyebrow, glancing at Angel’s slight frame as she replied, “And you know this for sure?”
Angel felt her cheeks redden at the implication, and she stared at the floor as she choked out her answer. “Yes.”
Olivia paused, then asked, “If not Nathan, then who?”
For the first time since Olivia had begun questioning her, Angel straightened, raised her chin, and met Olivia’s eyes without hesitation. “I don’t know. I never asked his name, and he never asked permission.”
Olivia stared at her for a moment, and then as understanding set in, her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a silent “Oh.” Then, “Does Nathan know about that part?”
“Yes.”
The two sat in silence. Finally, Olivia asked, “What will you do when the baby comes?”
Angel shrugged, looking helplessly at her hands. “I don’t know.”
“Will you stay here?”
“I’m leaving on the next train, early next week,” Angel whispered.
“What about Nathan?” Olivia asked.
Angel considered Olivia, then said slowly, “What are you asking?”
“Would you leave Nathan?”
Angel met Olivia’s gaze evenly. “He’s not mine to leave.”
“And if he was?”
The strange lightness Angel had been battling came again to her chest at Olivia’s words, and she fought to squash it. The idea, the possibility that there could exist something between her and Nathan to leave, something more than just a daydream, filled her with joy. But she hated that joy because she had no hope that the imaginations from which it sprung were real, or could ever be real.
“Why are you asking me these things?” she whispered furiously, keenly aware of the men downstairs.
“My dear, Nathan is a good boy, a good man. I assume you know his father?” Olivia asked. Angel hesitated, and Olivia added, “At least you know of him?” At Angel’s nod of affirmation, Olivia continued speaking. “Everything Nathan has ever done has been to make sure he is nothing like his father. I would be . . . most distressed . . . if anything should happen to change that.”
Angel spat out the question before she could stop herself. “If you are so distressed by the prospect of Nathan becoming like his father, why did you leave Nathan with him in the first place?”
Olivia nodded, and her eyes seemed tired. “That is a fair question, but one that I cannot answer.” She raised her hand as Angel opened her mouth to object. “I agree, Nathan deserves to know, but now is not the time. It would do more harm than good at this moment, I think.”
She then shifted the subject. “Nathan deserves to know about your pregnancy as well. I understand your reluctance to tell him, but he may react differently than you think. He is a good man—he takes after Clark more than James in that way at least.”
It was something in Olivia’s voice, more than her words, that caught Angel’s attention, and she looked up. “What do you know of it?”
Angel’s question was less a challenge to Olivia’s assessment of Nathan’s character than it was an inkling of an impossible idea—what had Olivia ever needed to tell Clark? But the idea must not have been so impossible, because Olivia turned from Angel, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.
Angel waited in silence. When Olivia finally turned around, there were tears glittering in her eyes, but none on her delicate cheekbones, and Angel knew that there they would stay. Olivia sat on the edge of the bed, facing Angel, and suddenly Angel was afraid of the words Olivia would speak. Angel opened her mouth to speak, to tell Olivia she was feeling better, to tell her anything so that she would not have to sit with her any longer. Angel could hear the muffled sound of tight voices through the floorboards beneath her, but she knew that even interrupting another of Clark and Nathan’s fights would be better than what Olivia was going to say. In the end, it was Olivia’s face that held her there. It was filled with a quiet intensity Angel had never before seen in the woman. Angel exhaled, resolving to stay for whatever words Olivia would speak.
“When I was about your age, there were two boys,” Olivia began. Her voice was filled with fondness as she continued. “One was my dear friend. He was kind, and honest. The other”—Olivia paused, and when she continued, Angel started at the sudden bitterness that had filled Olivia’s voice—“was tall, and handsome, and charming. I thought he was wonderful, and all the other girls my age were positively giddy whenever he was around.
“But he chose me, and that made me feel special. It wasn’t long before he had my father’s blessing and he had asked for my hand in marriage. On Saturdays, he would pick me up with his team and wagon, and we would go driving. And then, one Saturday . . .” Olivia stared hard at Angel, but Angel knew Olivia wasn’t seeing her. Olivia was seeing things in the past.
“Then, one Saturday, my wonderful boy showed his true colors. When he was done, he brought me home and left me on the front porch. And do you know what he said?” Angel held her breath, but Olivia didn’t wait for her response. “He told me I’d best get myself put together before my father came home, else my father would be so ashamed of me.” Olivia made a choking noise, and Angel’s eyes darted to those delicate cheekbones, but though the tears now clung precariously to Olivia’s lower lashes, there they stayed.
In a calmer voice, Olivia went on. “I knew that
wasn’t true. If my father had ever found out, he would have shot that boy dead. But I was so embarrassed and so ashamed. I watched him drive away, and cried, and cried, and cried. My mother and father weren’t home from town yet—they had gone to a meeting about the new school, and my two younger sisters had gone with them. It was the other boy—my friend—who found me. He had been planning to leave that Monday to go away to college, so he had stopped by to say goodbye.”
Olivia’s voice cracked as she spoke the word goodbye, and Angel knew the memory of that goodbye still tore at her. Olivia continued. “I wouldn’t have told him what happened either, but as soon as he saw me, he knew. I’ve never seen him so angry, before or since then. He wanted to go after the other boy, but I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want anyone to know what happened. I made him promise me.”
This time, when Olivia paused, Angel couldn’t help herself, and she asked, “What happened?”
Olivia glanced at Angel, perhaps for the first time since she had begun talking, and then motioned to Angel’s midriff. “I found myself in much the same situation as you. Except that before anyone else knew, I was married.”
Angel felt her muscles tense as she asked, “To the first boy?”
Olivia’s face softened. “No,” she said, “to my friend. To Clark.”
Still, Angel’s fingernails dug into her palms. “He married you because you were pregnant with another man’s child?”
“No. He married me because he had been in love with me all along.”
“Did you love him?”
“I cared for him then. I love him more than anything now.”
At Angel’s skeptical expression, Olivia added fondly, “Oh, I know he can be rather obstinate, but he’s a good man.”
Olivia continued. “The other boy hinted to others in town that I must have betrayed his trust with Clark, and soon, that was what everyone believed. They couldn’t understand why else I would have married Clark so suddenly when I had been engaged to the other boy. Clark and I left. I wasn’t there when James—that’s Nathan’s father—started seeing Effie, my sister.” Olivia choked back a sob, and the tears finally spilled past her lashes onto her cheeks, this time unrestrained. “Effie wrote me about James, and I tried to warn her, but she thought I was jealous. I couldn’t convince her otherwise.”
Olivia’s eyes were distant, remembering. “She always was stubborn that way.”
“I still don’t understand,” Angel said, interrupting Olivia’s thoughts. “How could your sister marry Nathan’s father?”
Olivia smiled, but the iciness in her eyes was chilling. “He could be charming.”
Angel couldn’t help shuddering at the chill that had settled in her stomach.
“What happened to the baby?” Angel asked softly.
A strange expression came over Olivia’s face. She seemed unsure of how to respond. When she finally did, she spoke only one word. “Felicity.”
“Oh!” Angel exclaimed. Then, as the implications chased away her initial shock, she whispered again softly, “Oh.” She began to ask the first question that came to her mind. “Clark—”
Olivia cut Angel off. “He treats her like she was his own daughter.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The air felt heavy, and trying to lighten it, Angel changed the subject with the first thought that came to her mind.
“Nathan thinks his mother was unfaithful to his father, and that’s why his father killed her,” Angel said. It seemed odd that adultery and death could be lighter topics than those that had preceded them.
Shocked from her reverie by Angel’s words, Olivia studied her for a long moment, then asked, “Does Nathan truly believe James killed Effie?”
Angel nodded.
“Did he say why he thought that?” Olivia’s eyes were intense.
“He said he had heard enough rumors to make a guess at the truth.”
The intensity faded from Olivia, and she nodded to herself as though that was the answer she had expected.
“I’ve heard those rumors as well, but nothing more substantiated.” Olivia made a sound of disgust. “No one knows anything, but everyone wants to believe they know something.”
“Do you think Effie really would have been unfaithful to him?” Angel asked.
Olivia said thoughtfully, “No, I don’t think so. Effie never was particularly discreet. She liked attention, and she was always a bit of a flirt. If James was not paying attention to her, it is easy to believe she would have sought that elsewhere—an innocent lark, she would have called it. But even if she was unhappy with James, I don’t believe she ever would have been unfaithful to him. Whether James would have believed that, though, is an entirely different story.”
Despite how she had encouraged Nathan to speak with Clark and Olivia, Angel couldn’t keep a note of indignation from entering her voice as she asked her next question. “And even knowing all that about Nathan’s father—about James—you believed it was best to leave him here?”
Olivia started to speak, but Angel cut her off with a shake of her head. “I know you won’t tell me the reasons why you left Nathan here, but can you at least tell me why you’re here now?”
Olivia looked down at her hands. “Nelle—the doctor’s wife—and I were childhood friends. She never did believe the rumors that were spread about Clark and me. She writes me from time to time with news of her family and Nathan. That’s how Clark and I found out James had disappeared.”
“Is that why you came back?”
“Well, yes, partially,” Olivia said. As Angel raised an eyebrow, Olivia added, “Felicity had also recently accepted a teaching position at a school farther west, and the combination of the two factors made it seem a good time . . .” Olivia’s voice trailed off, then she hastily added, almost pleading, “It’s different than how it sounds though. We did—we do—care for Nathan. It’s just . . . James is predictable in many ways, but he often makes threats, and it is impossible to know whether he will follow through on them. I only know a few details of the conversation that preceded it—Clark refuses to speak of it—but while we were here for Effie’s funeral, James told Clark that he would kill all of us—Nathan, Clark, Felicity, and I—before he would let Nathan leave with us.”
Olivia’s eyes grew distant again, remembering. “In front of all those people, just like that, James pulled Clark aside, all casual-like so he wouldn’t draw attention. Smiling the whole time, he started asking Clark about Felicity— ‘How was she doing?’ and ‘Remind him again how long after we’d been married that little girl was born.’ He acted like a concerned older brother, wanting to know if Clark was sure the baby was his, or ‘Hadn’t I been spending my time with some other man before we were married?’ And then he told Clark that if we tried to take Nathan with us, he’d shoot all three of us. Everyone else was out of earshot, so it looked to them like brothers reconciling after a tragedy.”
Olivia’s face was a mask of disgust, an expression Angel knew she herself mirrored. Finally, Angel asked, “How could Clark stand there with James and act as though nothing was wrong?”
“Oh.” Olivia chuckled darkly. “Believe me. Clark did not act as though nothing was wrong. I didn’t know what they were talking about—I was on the other side of the room—but I knew it was worse than we had anticipated before we made the decision to go to Effie’s funeral. Clark stood there, his face going all purple-red. I think the red was from him being angry, and the purple was because he was holding his breath trying to keep from doing or saying something that would get us both into trouble. James stood there, calm as could be. At the time, everyone thought James was the brother trying to do the right thing and mend rifts with his wayward brother. Clark looked like the black sheep of the family.”
Then, suddenly without a trace of even her dark humor remaining, Olivia turned her full attention to Angel, facing her straight on as though to make sure Angel caught and understood the full gravity of the words she would speak. “Everything Clark has ever
done has been to protect Felicity and I. Clark was trying to protect us this time as well—all of us, even Nathan.”
Angel nodded slowly, then asked, “Do you think James would really have followed through with his threat?”
“I don’t know. He’d been drinking, and that was always when he was the most dangerous. But as for following through on a threat he’d made when he’d been drinking?” Olivia shook her head. “It’s hard to say.”
Angel paused, then said incredulously, “Is this the reason you wouldn’t tell me—why you stayed away, or is there more?”
Olivia refused to meet Angel’s eyes. “There is another reason, but Clark would not want Nathan to know of James’s threat either. He believes it’s one thing to be the son of a drunk, to be beaten by your father, but another to know your father threatened to kill you without a second thought.”
Angel thought for a moment. “What about the rumors of him murdering Nathan’s mother? Wouldn’t James have drawn attention at the funeral because of those?”
“Yes, well,” Olivia said grimly. “I think it was much easier for people to give him the benefit of the doubt before he became a drunkard who openly beat his son. I don’t think so many people believed the rumors at that point.”
“Did you believe them?” Angel asked.
“I hadn’t heard them until we came back for the funeral, and even then, it was only a whisper as I passed by. I thought I must have misheard. I didn’t want them to be true.”
“You wanted to give James the benefit of the doubt?” Angel asked skeptically.
Olivia shook her head vehemently, her eyes growing steely. “Make no mistake, there is no love lost between James and myself. No, I didn’t—I still don’t—want to believe he could have killed her, not because I care for James in any way, but because Effie was my sister, and I loved her. If James killed her, then in part I blame myself for not doing more to prevent their marriage.”
Angel opened her mouth to ask another question, but Olivia gently interrupted her. “I think that is enough questions for now. Don’t you think we had best go save Nathan and Clark from each other?”
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