Papa nudged her forward. “Let’s go, Bertha. I’ll be right here holding you, and I promise not to let go as long as you need me.”
She gripped his steady arm. “I hope you mean that, because I need you.”
The six men who carried Annie’s casket gently lowered it into the ground with ropes. The assembled mourners crowded closer, and the minister opened the service with a prayer. Bertha struggled to focus, but her mind swirled with thoughts of Annie and the times they’d shared–their long talks about crushes and corsets and candy–and every other childish wasted word that kept her from saying the only thing that mattered. The words of faith Bertha had managed to spout seemed weak and trite. Not nearly enough to save her friend.
Bertha lowered her face to her hands just as Papa’s arm lifted from her shoulders. She felt him step away, and it shook her back to the present. She felt cold and alone without the comforting weight around her neck and more than a little cross. Hadn’t he promised not to leave her as long as she needed him? Yet he’d left her the second she needed him most.
She turned to see where he’d gone. He stood behind her, his features alight with a sappy smile. Confused and hurt, she faced the front again just as another comforting arm, another warm body, took Papa’s place from the opposite side. Startled by the surprising familiarity, her gaze jerked to her consoler’s face.
Thad!
His expression remained solemn except for the barest of smiles and a tiny wink. She glanced over her shoulder again. Papa beamed and raised his thumb.
The rest of the service became a blur of questions and scattered feelings. The poor minister might’ve yodeled the rest of the message for all she heard. That is, until his booming voice read the closing passage of scripture. “ ‘What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death? Shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave?’ ” His burning gaze swept the circle of mourners. “That’s why, dear children, it becomes imperative that we who have been enlightened with the truth persist so diligently to obey the admonishment in James 5:20.” He held the book aloft and began to read. “ ‘He which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death, and shall hide a multitude of sins.’ ”
Bertha spun away from Thad, brushed past Papa, lifted her skirts, and ran. She ran through the idle curious, providing more than their money’s worth of morbid entertainment, and past the grieving staff of Brooks House, who stared with sympathetic eyes. She passed up the wagon and didn’t stop until she’d barreled through the front gate, thundered a good ways up the road, and crashed into a heavy thicket standing between her and a winding trail.
The branches clutched at her sleeves and tore long scratches in her ankles. Cruel briars crisscrossed in front, and in back her skirt caught around the thorns of a tall devil’s walking stick growing up through the brush. If she attempted one more step, she’d fall facedown on the briars or be pulled back on the spiny stick. Trapped, she couldn’t move an inch. Her dilemma reminded her of her life. Thad’s return stirred hope in her heart, but guilt over failing Annie left her at a standstill.
Too distraught to cry, she looked around to weigh her options. If she could possibly sit down without ripping the flesh from her palms, she might manage to free her skirt from the cruel spike. She leaned to lower her body onto one arm when a hand shot out and latched onto her waist. “Don’t move, Bertha. That’s stinging nettle beneath you.”
“Oh, Thad,” she wailed. “I’m stuck.”
“I can see that. Let’s get you unstuck.” He held her up with one hand and carefully freed her skirt with the other. When the last piece of cloth inched free, he lifted her from the thicket and set her down on the road. “Are you all right, sugar?”
With trembling fingers, she smoothed her tattered skirt. “I guess so.”
“Good. Now tell me what just happened. Why did you run off like that?”
Bertha averted her gaze. “I believe I need to sit down.”
Thad scanned their surroundings then took her by the wrist. “Can you walk?”
“Yes, I think so.” She wasn’t pretending feminine frailty. Her legs trembled so much she feared they might fail her.
Thad led her to a clearing where a big tree lay, felled by the wind in a recent storm. He took off his overcoat and spread it over the bark then helped her to sit. Settling beside her, he inched a bit closer. “I missed you, Bertha.”
Surprised, she raised her head. His simple declaration brought a sweet smile to her lips. She’d expected more questions or a demand for an explanation. “I missed you, too. I’m so glad you’re here. How did you hear about Annie?”
He studied his twiddling thumbs. “I didn’t. Not until I got into town today.”
She frowned, considering his words. “Then why did you leave school?”
“I didn’t.” He raised his head, and something flickered in his eyes. “I never made it to school.”
Bertha couldn’t trust her ears. Of all the bewildering events of the past few days, this confused her the most. “What are you saying? You’ve been gone for two weeks. If you weren’t at school, where have you been?” She bit back the important question. If he hadn’t gone to school, why had he left her?
“I spent some time down in Houston.”
“Houston?”
“I got on the train in Longview with every intention of going to Bryan. When it pulled into the station, I couldn’t make myself get off. I stayed on and rode it clear to Houston.”
She stared up into dark brown eyes with long blond lashes and a sprinkling of tiny freckles at the corners and tried to sort out what he was telling her.
“I was plenty scared at first, but the trip gave me time to think. By the time the train hit Houston, I’d made up my mind. I won’t be going back to Bryan. I’m never going to college, Bertha.”
Her heart raised its head. “Does your papa know?”
He answered with a somber nod.
“What did he say?”
“It’s not what he said this time; it’s what I said. I told him I appreciated his intentions, but they were misplaced, that Cyrus should be going to school, not me. I told him to apply the money he’d saved for my education on sending Cy to Texas AMC.” He shrugged. “The old man bucked a little at first. When he saw I meant business”–Thad snapped his fingers–“just like that, he set his dream on Cy, where it always belonged.”
By now they were both smiling.
“How does Cyrus feel about that?”
Thad shook his head, remembering. “You never saw a happier boy in your life.”
Bertha touched his arm. “What took you to Houston?”
He caught her hand and squeezed it. “Just north of there, in a little town they call Humble, is where our future lies. I can’t explain it now, but as soon as we can be married, I’ll take you there and show you.”
A shock surged through her. She cringed and slid her hand away as surprise replaced the confident joy in Thad’s eyes.
“What’s wrong, sugar?”
“I don’t know. I’m confused.”
He swallowed. “About me?”
When she didn’t answer, he pushed off the log and paced in front of her. “I don’t know what there is to be confused about. Two weeks ago you said you loved me. How could that change in such a short time?” He stopped to glare, but his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “If I’d known you don’t really care for me, I would’ve stayed down in Humble and saved myself a trip.”
She sprang up and stood with him. “I never said I don’t care for you.”
Bewilderment replaced the pain. “What, then? This frog-hopping has to stop. You need to pick a toadstool and light, Bertha.” Then his mouth opened. The look in his eyes said he thought he’d figured it out. “Wait a minute–I know what’s wrong. You want a proper marriage proposal, and you deserve one.”
He plowed ahead before she could deny it. “A proper proposal suits me fine, Bertha Maye Biddie.” He dropped down on one knee. “I�
�ve already proved I’ll wallow in the dirt for you.”
“Wait! Please don’t kneel, Thad. That’s not it.”
He howled and gripped his head. “Girl, you’re driving me mad. If you care for me, what’s there to be confused about? You’ll either marry me or you won’t.”
“It’s not a matter of will or won’t,” she shouted. “I can’t.”
Thad tugged her down in front of him and laced his long fingers through her hair, his grip too tight around her head. “That’s crazy. I won’t hear it. You already said you love me.”
“I do love you.”
His voice trembled. “All right, then. You said loving each other should be what matters most.” He pulled her closer as his darting gaze roamed her face for answers. “What happened to that?”
Bertha lowered her gaze and gave in to threatening tears. Thad let go of her hair and rocked her, murmuring comfort in her ear. A few yards south, a train rumbled past on the way to the station on Alley Street. The whistle blew as the engine approached the Line Street crossing, and the woeful sound filled Bertha’s chest, mourning with her and echoing her grief.
When she quieted, he patted the top of her head the way he had the last time she saw him. It hurt to remember that day, the day he said he loved her but had to leave. Now she understood how he must have felt.
He pushed her back to look at her. “I think I know what’s ailing you, sugar. You don’t want to marry while losing Annie is so fresh. That’s all right. I can wait. For as long as it takes to grieve your friend, I promise I’ll wait for you.”
She shifted her eyes to his. “I don’t deserve such a promise. Or hope for such happiness.”
“What?” He stood to his feet, pulling her up with him. “Bertha, what’s going on? Why would you say something so foolish?”
She straightened her spine and looked him in the eye. “Because I caused Annie’s death.”
Thad gripped her shoulders and gave her a shake. “Don’t you say it again. You had no part in her death. That madman killed her for spite and greed. How could you think anything different?”
“No, it’s true. Abe got mad because Annie snuck out the night before. I asked her to slip away and meet me. If I’d left her alone, she’d still be alive.”
Thad stared at her so long she squirmed. With a groan, he crushed her to his chest. “Poor, sweet girl. How long have these tiny shoulders borne such weight? You need to lay it down, Bertha.”
The same words Papa had said to her.
“I have no right to lay it down.” She tried to pull away, but he held her.
“You had no right to pick it up. I saw how Abe treated Annie. He was bound to kill her eventually. Honey, if Annie wouldn’t get away from him, there was nothing you could do to stop it.”
She remembered Annie’s tortured face the night they met in the alley.
“He hurt me. He always hurts me.”
She saw Annie’s twisted arm, the tattered gown, the fear in her eyes at just the mention of Abe’s name. She ducked her head. “But I–”
Thad raised her chin with his finger. “It is not your fault.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. The only person who could’ve saved Annie from Abe was Annie.”
His words were a balm, each one a drop of warm, soothing ointment bringing the pardon she needed. Her heart opened a crack and light poured in–except in one dark, haunted corner.
“That explains why the Lord sent me on a mission to save her. I brought about just the opposite. I failed Him miserably.”
“Now you’ve failed God, too?”
She tensed. Was he making fun? “Yes, Thad. I let my feelings for you distract me. Because of me, Annie died without God’s forgiveness.”
“How do you know that?”
She reached for the hankie she’d folded into her sash, but it wasn’t there. “I just know.”
He took her hand and led her back to the log, easing her down on his knee. “All right. What exactly do you think God told you to do?”
“He told me to tell Annie about His grace.” She felt for the hankie again. Had she lost it in the briars?
“And you had no chance to tell her?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The night before she died.”
“Did she listen?”
Bertha swiped the back of her hand under her nose. Unattractive, but necessary. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Did she run away from you or stick her fingers in her ears?”
“Of course not.”
“Then she heard you, Bertha. After that, the burden fell on Annie.”
“But it’s obvious I didn’t say enough.”
“What else might you have said?”
“That’s just it. I couldn’t say anything more.”
He scrunched his brow. “Why’s that?”
“Because. . .” The truth dawned, and Bertha raised her head. “Because she wouldn’t allow it.” For the first time since Annie’s death, she remembered. Annie had backed away, refused to hear.
Thad drew her next to his chest. “Don’t you see, goose? You did exactly what the Lord asked of you. Suppose God sent you to say those things to Annie knowing it was her last chance to hear? In that case, did you fail Him?”
His compassion broke her heart anew. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “No,” she whispered.
“And did you fail Annie?”
“When you put it like that, I guess not.”
He shook out a red bandanna and wiped her eyes then put it in her hands so she could blow her nose. “Sounds like you’ve been too hard on yourself on all counts.”
The train whistle blew again in the distance, one short moan followed by a long, heartrending wail. This time it mourned for Annie. “Thad, it breaks my heart to think that after her miserable life, Annie missed heaven.”
“Sweetheart, you may never know how God used your words in Annie’s heart. All we can do is obey and trust Him with the rest.”
“Can you trust God with the details?”
Papa had asked that question concerning her future with Thad. And look at the wonderful way God had worked out the details of their relationship.
Releasing the weight of guilt from her chest, Bertha drew in a deep breath and felt her heart surrender the last shadowed crevice to the light. She wrapped her arms around Thad’s neck and urged him close. His hands tangled in her hair, and his cheek slid along hers until their lips met.
“I love you, Bertha,” he said in a husky voice.
“I love you, too.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes, I will.”
“And live with me in Humble?”
“Whenever you say.”
He withdrew to look at her. “You mean it?”
When she nodded, he got up and stood her to her feet. “It’s rough country, sugar, and that’s all I can promise you. You won’t have the comfort and convenience you’re accustomed to. We’ll be scratching out a life from nothing.” He studied her eyes. “It’ll be hard work, and you’ll be leaving behind everything you know. It might change you.”
She cocked her head at him. “Do I have to wear fancy shoes all the time?”
“You don’t have to wear shoes at all, unless you want to. There’s no one around to care.”
She raised her hands. “Hallelujah! Humble won’t change me. It’ll set me free.”
His expression turned grave. “Now the important question. What would you say to a yard full of bloodhounds?”
She giggled. “Woof, woof?”
Laughing, he picked her up and hugged her until her sides hurt. Then he set her on her feet and kissed her cheek. “We’d best go. I told your papa I’d find you and bring you home. If we don’t show up soon, he’ll send a posse.” He grinned. “I don’t want to get on the bad side of Francis Biddie. Especially tonight.”
She grinned, too. “What’s so special about tonight?”
“If
you must know, we men have a lot to talk about. I plan to ask your father’s permission to marry his lovely daughter.” He winked and offered his arm. “I think I’ll wait until he says yes before I tell him about Humble.”
Bertha slid her arm through his and winked back. “Considering who we’re dealing with, you’d best wait until after the wedding.”
Saturday, March 10
Bertha gazed around her bedroom one last time. The dressing table, cluttered since her youth with sundry items necessary for her toilette, looked oddly bare with everything packed away. It reminded her of the front window last Christmas after Papa took down the tree.
Remembering her cameo brush set still in the bedside table drawer, she lifted it out as she’d done a thousand times before, only this time she’d never put it back. It would soon be on its way to a place called Humble, Texas, in the company of Mrs. Thaddeus Bloom.
Shoving the brush and comb deep inside her velvet drawstring bag, Bertha set it near the rest of her luggage then smiled at the container of tooth powder, the one thing left behind on purpose. She caught sight of her image in the looking glass and backed away from the dressing table to see more. Preening a bit in her dress of white dimity with matching wedding bonnet, she jumped when Magda cleared her throat.
Bertha looked back and grinned. “Fiddlesticks. You caught me.”
“It’s all right to admire yourself today, sugar. You’re a lovely bride.” She pointed toward the hullabaloo in the dining room. “Everyone out there agrees.”
Bertha gave a playful laugh. “It’s unanimous, then.” She held her dress out to her sides and twirled. “It’s because I’m so happy, don’t you think?”
When Magda didn’t answer, Bertha glanced up. Her friend sagged against the door frame, both hands hiding her face.
Bertha hurried over and gripped her shoulders. “Don’t you dare. It’s bound to be bad luck for the maid of honor to cry at the wedding party.”
“I’m not crying,” Magda protested from behind her hands. “There’s something in my eye.”
She swiped her thumbs across Magda’s cheeks then held them up for her to see. “Which one? They’re both leaking.”
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