by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
“Tomorrow. I have a lot of work to do.” He needed one more day of believing she was Randolph’s respectable widow. But he knew the truth. In his gut. Her face told it, too.
She sat in the chair opposite his desk. She wasn’t leaving. He had to face this now.
He sank back down into his chair. “Vivian, please don’t say it’s true.”
“I wish I could. I wish I could change many things about my past, but I can’t. That’s not the way I wanted to live my life.” Her voice shook more.
He swallowed hard. “But you were a … a …?” He couldn’t say it. “Like my mother?”
She nodded. “A prostitute. I’m not proud of it. I never wanted to live that way.”
Disgust and anger rose in him, and he stood. “But you did.”
“Let me explain.”
“I don’t want to hear it. Leave.” He strode around his desk and grabbed the doorknob, but when she continued to speak, he froze with his hand in place, unable to look at her.
“I had no money and no place to live. I was hungry and sick. A man, a doctor, took me in. He was nice to me and took care of me.”
He wrenched open the door and turned on her. “And for that you sold yourself?”
“I didn’t have any other choice.”
He clenched his teeth. “There are always choices.”
“I didn’t know the Lord. I didn’t know the depth of my sin.”
Tears flooded her eyes, but he wasn’t going to let them sway him. She was no different than his mother. If he could walk away from his mother, he could walk away from her. “I never want to see you again.”
“I’m not leaving until I make you understand.”
Then he’d leave. He grabbed the railings and took the stairs three at a time.
“I love you,” she said behind him.
He tried to block it out but couldn’t. He ran all the way to Admiralty Inlet, trying to outrun her words and his feelings for her. He reached the beach exhausted and fell to his knees. He cried out as his heart ripped in two.
Chapter 18
Vivian wrapped herself in a quilt and sat out on her widow’s walk all night with her unopened letters to Conner in her hand. She’d hoped when Conner’s anger cooled he would at least read one of them, but every letter came back to her unread like a slap in the face. This was the eighth night in a row that she had watched the dark waters by night and slept by day. Now she felt like a widow. Why couldn’t Conner see she had changed? She wasn’t a strumpet anymore. She was a new creation. Why couldn’t he forgive her?
The eastern sky began to gray as dawn approached. William and Sarah had sent word that they would arrive today but not until the afternoon. She would sleep until then, so she went inside and curled up in her bed.
She woke to Maggie shaking her. “Time to get up.”
“What time is it?”
“Three o’clock. Your company will be here in a couple of hours. We have to get you presentable.”
She didn’t care if she was presentable or not, but it would be good to see Sarah and William again. They would lighten her heart.
As Maggie helped her bathe and dress, she did feel better. She didn’t even mind putting on the black mourning dress. It seemed to suit her now. Or at least her mood. She would have Maggie dye all her dresses black.
“Scotty has gone to the dock to pick them up as soon as they get off the ship; and I’ve fixed you a little something to eat, and I don’t want to hear no fuss about it.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Hungry or not, you’re going to eat. You haven’t eaten hardly a thing in a week. It won’t do you no good to be fainting as soon as your guests arrive.”
She nodded and followed Maggie downstairs, but she was the one who would be the guest now. The house was William and Sarah’s. She would need to move. But where? Seattle? She could find a job as a housekeeper there.
Vivian hurried outside when she saw Scotty arriving with the carriage. “Sarah!”
“Vivian!”
William, looking dapper in his suit, jumped down and took the baby from Sarah, then gave his wife a hand to help her down. Sarah gave her a hug then turned and took the baby from her husband. “I’d like you to meet our daughter, Vivian.”
She caressed the sleeping baby’s cheek. “What’s her name?”
Sarah giggled. “I just told you. Vivian.”
“You named her after me?”
Sarah nodded. “William insisted. We have some other good news.”
“You’re having another baby?”
“No. We’re staying in Port Townsend.”
“That’s wonderful. Come inside.”
They sat in the parlor, and Maggie served them tea.
“It only makes sense for you two—I mean three—to move here. You have this beautiful house.” She almost wanted to cry at the thought of leaving it.
Sarah put her hand on Vivian’s arm. “We’re staying to be close to you and to Conner. We know there are no blood ties, but you’re the only family that either of us has. William can’t say enough about Conner.”
At the mention of his name, the breath froze in her lungs.
“Speaking of Conner, he wrote to me several times about Randolph not updating his will before he died.” William took a sip of tea. “I agree with Conner that you should have a full third of Carlyle Shipping, and Sarah and I have discussed it and think you should have half the house, as well. We want to uphold the will that Randolph never signed.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes. She had to tell William what she’d done. “I can’t accept it. Randolph was right in not putting me in his will. I never should have married him when I harbored such a dark secret. I know you warned me not to, but I told him the truth just before he died. He was furious with me. He wouldn’t want me to have anything.” And Conner certainly wouldn’t want her for a business partner.
“Nonsense. You’re my brother’s legal widow, and I’ll see to it that you are taken care of. If my brother hadn’t been so greedy to marry you, you wouldn’t have had to keep your secret from him.”
“I kept it from Conner, too, but he knows now.”
William grimaced.
Sarah squeezed her arm. “How did he take it?”
“Worse than Randolph. He never wants to see me again.” She turned to William. “William, you have never held my past against me. Why are you so forgiving and accepting when your brother and Conner aren’t?”
“ ‘All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’ ‘While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.’ Randolph and Conner could never separate the person from the sin. They couldn’t see that our mother and Conner’s mother were wounded, sinning people like the rest of us. To them, our mothers were their sin. But God loves us all in spite of our sin. He doesn’t rank our sins on severity. They are all putrid to Him, but He covered them with Christ’s blood.”
That’s what she believed. “Conner told me about his mother being a prostitute, too. Why can’t he understand that sometimes a woman has few choices?”
“His mother did have a choice. Our mother only did it for a while to feed and clothe us. Conner’s mother chose it over honest work. She worked as a maid in the same house as our mother and quit to go back to prostitution because the honest work was too hard. She was mean and vile. I don’t know if Conner has ever forgiven her.”
“He hasn’t. If he can’t forgive his own mother, then he’ll never be able to forgive me.”
“I’ll speak to him,” William said.
“He won’t listen.”
“He’ll listen to me. I’ll make him listen. I’ve known him since childhood.”
Could William really make the difference? She desperately hoped so.
Conner sat in the Carlyle Shipping manager’s office and held his head in his hands. It was getting late, and he had a headache again. He hadn’t slept well since he had sent Vivian away—no—since he’d learned of her scarlet past. A knock mercifully i
nterrupted his thoughts. “Come in.”
A young Randolph filled the doorway of the shipping office.
He stood. “William?”
The man nodded and broke into a wide smile.
“You grew up.” He came around his desk and hugged his oldest friend. Though he hadn’t seen William since they were children, he’d learned all about what he was doing through Randolph; and since Randolph’s death, he’d corresponded regularly with him. “You look good.”
“You look like something the dog dragged in.”
Conner raked his hand through his hair. “I’m having quite a time keeping up with my store and Carlyle Shipping.”
“Where’s Randolph’s manager? Don’t tell me you fired him?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t have a chance. He and the bookkeeper ran off with the money in the safe months ago. Fortunately, there wasn’t much there at the time. I’d taken most of it to the bank. I don’t know for how long they were pinching from Randolph. I wrote you about that.”
William nodded. “You didn’t hire a new manager?”
Conner shook his head. “I didn’t know who I could trust.”
William took a deep breath. “Me. I’m staying in town. I’ll run the shipping company for the three of us.”
“Three?”
“You, me, and Vivian.”
He’d forgotten about her being part owner. “I’d rather just sell you my share.”
“I don’t have the money to buy you out.”
“Then I’ll turn it over to you.”
William narrowed his eyes and studied him. “Have you eaten?”
He shook his head.
“Let’s go get something and talk.”
Conner locked up the shipping office and took William back to his store, where he made some scrambled eggs and bacon. William didn’t eat much. He’d probably already eaten.
“You have to forgive her, Conner.”
“Forgive who?” He knew whom.
“Vivian. Your mother. The world. I can see that it’s eating you up inside.”
“Vivian was a prostitute.” The word felt like poison in his mouth. “But you knew that, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she’s completely turned her back on that life. She’s a good person.”
“How can you say that?”
William picked up Conner’s Bible from his bedside table and flipped through it. “ ‘For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.’ ” He flipped a page. “ ‘And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?’ ” More pages rustled. “ ‘Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.’ Refusing to forgive is just as much a sin. When are you going to let go?”
Conner wanted to say never but knew that wasn’t right. He didn’t like William beating him over the head with scripture verses. “I can forgive, but that doesn’t mean I have to see her or talk to her.”
“But you haven’t. You haven’t forgiven your mother for being the person she was, so you can’t forgive Vivian for being the person she was forced to be.”
“She had choices just like we all have.”
“But sometimes you get pushed so far you can only see one choice.”
“There is always a right choice, always.”
“Randolph told me something once I refused to believe, but now, seeing the hatred in your eyes, it might be true. He told me that you hated your mother so much that you thought about killing her. He wanted to save you from that and so got you that job on the ship to take you away.”
Conner clenched his hands into fists. “I wouldn’t have done it.”
“Are you sure? If you were pushed to the point you thought you had no other choice?”
Defeated, he sagged in his chair. “Yes, I’m sure.” A man his mother brought home had been slapping her around. He’d stepped in to protect her. The man left and his mother had been furious with him for losing her the money that man would have paid. She’d said it was all part of it and started hitting him. He’d found his hands around her throat but couldn’t squeeze. He just held his hands there, and she laughed at him. He’d left and gone to Randolph, who smuggled him on board the ship he worked on. No, as much as he hated his mother, he could never kill her. The years had cooled his anger, and his hatred had turned to loathing pity, then apathy. But never forgiveness.
“Vivian’s choices were to become a prostitute or to die not knowing the Lord. I’m not condoning what she did, but becoming a prostitute afforded her the time to meet her Lord and Savior, thus saving her soul from eternal damnation. She would rather die now than go back to that life. Separate the sin from the sinner.”
“I don’t want to talk about Vivian or my mother.”
“You have to forgive them sometime.”
Did he? “Tell me about your wife and child.”
Thankfully, William allowed the change in conversation. It was almost like having Randolph back, at least in his looks. It was very late before William left, and Conner spent the remainder of the night tossing in his bed. If he’d gone back, would he have tried to kill his mother again? He didn’t know. How could a son come so close to doing something like that?
He raked his hands into his hair. Heavenly Father, forgive my unforgiving spirit. He felt no relief in that prayer.
At breakfast, Sarah was incensed. “He won’t forgive her at all?”
William wiped the last of his egg yolks up with his toast. “Give him time.”
“You said that five days ago when you went to talk to him that first night.”
“His wounds go back to when he was a little boy.”
“So do yours.”
William pulled his eyebrows down but didn’t counter.
Vivian sat quietly. She had allowed a small portion of hope to seep into her heart that William would be able to change Conner’s mind. “I’m going to move to Seattle or Port Angeles and get a job.” Her voice came out as small as a little child’s.
“You can’t.” Tears immediately filled Sarah’s eyes.
She wanted to cry, too, but no tears came. She felt numb inside. “I can’t stay here. It hurts too much to be this near him and know he hates me.” She stood and left the room. She didn’t want to hear any arguments for why she should stay. She’d thought Sarah and William being here would bring her joy, but knowing she would lose them, too, by moving away just deepened her sorrow.
A young brunette woman entered Conner’s store and approached Martin behind the counter. “I’m looking for Mr. Jackson.”
He was near enough, so he answered. “I’m Conner Jackson.”
She gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. This stranger seemed to be mad at him, but he didn’t know why. “I’m Mrs. William Carlyle.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” William had chosen well.
“I wanted to meet the unforgiving cad who broke Vivian’s heart.”
So it wasn’t going to be a pleasure meeting her. “Would you like to come into the back?” If this woman was going to give him an earful, he didn’t want it to be in front of Martin, Todd, and his customers.
“I just came to give you this.” She opened her reticule and pulled out a rock.
He flinched, not knowing if she was going to throw it at him.
She handed it to him.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s the first stone.” She turned and walked out.
He stared at the rock in his hand, still asking himself the same question, what was it for?
“What did she give you?” Martin asked.
“A rock.” He turned the rock over into his other hand. On the back side was written, “St. John 8:1–11.” He tucked it into his pocket.
That night after he’d gotten ready for bed, he
took the rock along with his Bible and sat on the edge of his bed. He’d been curious all day about the one passage from God’s Word she’d chosen. Fred jumped out of the box with her three sleeping pups and crawled up next to him. What one passage had Mrs. Carlyle thought would make a difference? He’d read the whole Bible. If this passage hadn’t made a difference before, why would it now? He opened his Bible and began to read:
Jesus went unto the mount of Olives. And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst, they say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned.
Conner slammed his Bible shut and stared at the cover. He didn’t want to read any more. A stirring in his spirit told him this would change his life. It would make a difference. If he finished the passage, he could never go back to his old way of thinking, his old way of not forgiving.
Fred pawed his arm and whined.
“I don’t want to read it.” He didn’t want to forgive. Forgiveness was for those who deserved it.
Fred tilted her head sideways.
He tossed his Bible onto his bed and strode across the room to the window. The dark, moonless night reflected his empty soul. After a while, he went back to his bed, compelled to open the Bible again:
Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what say-est thou? This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not. So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you …
Conner choked on these words.
Let him first cast a stone at her.
Conner squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then continued:
And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground. And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst. When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers?