A Love Transformed

by Tracie Peterson

  Otto snatched the paper from him, hoping it would reveal where Clara had gone. Instead he found nothing but a brief request that he was to help the servants find other positions. He crumpled it and glanced toward the stairs. “Is Mrs. Oberlin at home?”

  “No, sir. She left earlier this evening to attend the opera.”

  “Thank goodness. She was the last one in the world I wanted to have to deal with.” Perkins assisted him to remove his coat. With that done, Otto handed him his hat. “Hopefully I’ll be long gone before she returns.”

  “Very good, sir. Would you care for any refreshment?”

  Otto had always enjoyed the meals he’d shared in this house. The cook was quite talented—much more so than the old woman who cooked for him and cleaned his small apartment.

  “Yes. I’m afraid I’ve been quite busy today and missed partaking of dinner.”

  “Would you care for a casual meal in the office, or do you prefer a more formal arrangement in the dining room?” Perkins asked.

  “The office is fine. There needn’t be any big fuss.”

  “Very good, sir.” Perkins turned to tend to the hat and coat.

  Otto left the butler in the foyer and made his way to the library. He passed through the chilly room and opened the door to his brother’s office. He turned on the lights and found most of the furniture had been covered. The desk and chair in the center of the room were the only exceptions.

  As he made his way to the desk, Otto tried to remember anything that Adolph had said about his hiding places. Otto knew there was a safe behind the large gilt-framed painting of a group of hunters on horseback. The only problem was, he didn’t know the combination.

  It was highly possible, however, that Adolph had left the combination written down somewhere. His brother was never good about remembering details. It was one of the reasons he kept exhaustive notes of their activities. Otto had often cautioned him against such things, but Adolph had assured him that the information was safely concealed. Apparently that was true, because Otto hadn’t been able to find the much-needed information in over a month of searching.

  He sat down behind the desk and opened up one drawer. He pulled out papers and scanned them. Most were bills that held absolutely no interest to him. Next he found several letters, responses to personal items that Adolph had been trying to purchase. One letter was from a boarding school in Massachusetts that declared that although the twins were younger than they normally accepted, they would be most happy to accommodate them in the fall when school began. Provided Adolph was still of a mind to pay the price they’d previously quoted. Otto wondered if Clara had any idea of his brother’s plans.

  Finding nothing of interest in the right-hand drawers, Otto moved to the left side of the desk. Here he found writing paper, envelopes, and other necessary things for correspondence. The lower drawer revealed a stack of ledgers that detailed years of household spending.

  Letting out an exasperated breath, Otto thumbed through the ledgers just in case there could be any incriminating evidence. Badeau might have his suspicions of their participation in treasonous espionage, but there was no sense in giving the man proof.

  For years Otto and Adolph had supported the cause of their ancestral homeland. When the war had first started, they had been approached by a distant relative explaining the money they could earn should they agree to simply furnish information about the ships coming and going and any other news that might pertain to America’s clandestine involvement in the war.

  Adolph had been hard to convince. He hadn’t wanted to participate. He didn’t like the idea of involving the jewelry business in affairs of war, but Otto had convinced him that with America standing by idle, it was their duty to help. Germany needed them. Their ancestors and living relatives needed them. Finally his brother had been convinced, believing Otto when he assured him that innocent lives would be saved by giving their assistance. When the Lusitania sank, taking with it nearly twelve hundred passengers and crew, Adolph had been horrified. Germany had broken the Cruiser Rules, and innocent lives had been lost. Otto had explained that their sources knew full well that the ship had also carried a great number of munitions for Great Britain’s use against the Germans, but Adolph hadn’t cared. He was heartsick, and from that point on lost his interest in the war.

  Finally Otto opened the center drawer. On top of some papers was a small black book. Inside he found names and addresses of associates and friends. On the very last page he found the combination to the safe. He smiled at his brother’s predictable nature and memorized the numbers before shoving the book into his pocket. No sense letting anyone else know how to get into the safe.

  He’d only just managed to secure the book out of sight when Perkins arrived with a tray. To Otto’s delight the cook had put together a sumptuous feast, including thick slices of roast beef smothered in gravy with long slices of roasted potatoes. Beside this on a separate plate was a large piece of apple pie and next to that a slim silver pot. He couldn’t help smiling as Perkins poured him coffee.

  “A meal fit for a king. Please give Cook my compliments. I hadn’t expected anything quite so grand.”

  “I will tell her you are pleased. Mrs. Oberlin had ordered the meal prepared for dinner, but that was before the arrival of a Mr. Badeau.” He replaced the pot and began moving the dinner plate and silver to the desktop.

  “Mr. Badeau was here?” Otto lowered his face lest Perkins see that this news had upset him. He forced himself to keep a calm, steady voice. “I didn’t realize he would want to search the house.”

  Perkins set the plate in front of Otto. “Do you know this gentleman?”

  Otto looked up and smiled. “Not well. He came to the offices and demanded to go through all of our papers. He believes my brother to have been a German spy. I told him the entire thing was ludicrous. We were born and raised here, and I told him we were just as much American as he was. He still had his strange notions, however, and took most of our files.”

  “I am sorry, sir.” Perkins finished the task of moving the food from the tray to the desk. “Mrs. Oberlin was quite enraged and refused to allow him admittance. She admonished the staff to refuse him entry if he returned.”

  “I am surprised that Badeau allowed her to keep him from entering. Legally he has the right and no doubt has a search warrant. With the war going on, sedition won’t be tolerated, and since Badeau is convinced of our guilt, I’m certain he will return to storm the place and confiscate whatever he deems usable in his case against us.”

  Perkins nodded. “I believe Mrs. Oberlin felt the same was possible.”

  “Well, all I can say is the man is demanding and will no doubt return with a force of men. You should prepare yourself, Perkins, and accept that it will be exactly as they wish.” Otto picked up the china cup and savored the rich aroma of the coffee. “We are completely at their mercy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Perkins exited the room, leaving Otto to consider all that he’d just learned. For once he was grateful for Harriet Oberlin’s obnoxious nature. He looked with longing at the food, then decided it would be best to get the safe opened and then get away from the house. He drank the coffee nearly in one gulp, then left the tray and headed for the safe.

  He lifted the painting from its hook and set it aside. Quickly recalling the numbers, Otto turned the dial and then opened the safe. Inside were stacks of papers and a small amount of cash. Otto pocketed the cash and then thumbed through the papers. Here he found the deed to the house as well as stocks and bonds, which were, of course, all in his brother’s name. No sense in leaving them for someone to find and prove that he’d lied to Clara about her husband’s foolish spending.

  Otto quickly undid the buttons on his coat and vest, as well as his shirt. He stuffed the papers inside, then redid the buttons. He had barely returned the painting when he heard a commotion that could only be Mrs. Oberlin. Once again he noted the tray of food and decided to forego the pleasure. With Harri
et Oberlin in the house, eating would only result in indigestion.

  10

  Curtis could only stare in dumb surprise as Clara came to the narrow bed and carefully sat down beside him. Her eyes filled with tears as she lifted his hand to her lips.

  “My poor, sweet love.” She kissed his fingers tenderly. “What in the world has happened to you?”

  She was here. He wasn’t dreaming. His Clara had returned, and she was declaring her love for him. For a moment Curtis very nearly gave in to the race of emotions that coursed through him. He wanted nothing more than to speak her name and feel her in his arms. But then, even as he imagined that wondrous moment, the past came crashing down on him like the posts and rock had at the mine.

  The things he’d done were unforgivable. She would never be able to reconcile the fact that he’d given himself to women, drink, and gambling. She would be mortified at the knowledge that he had served time in the penitentiary.

  “Oh, Curtis, speak to me. Tell me what happened.”

  He fought his tender feelings for her and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  She straightened and looked at him oddly. “Didn’t Aunt Madeline tell you I was coming?”

  “No.” He kept his tone curt. “Why are you here?”

  She smiled and his heart seemed to flip. “I’ve come to make a new start . . . a new life in Montana. My mother would say I’ve run away, but I believe I’ve come home.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Montana isn’t your home. You don’t belong here. Just look at you.”

  “Oh, I know I’m a mess, but—”

  “You aren’t a mess. You’re fashionable and beautiful. You wear expensive clothes and no doubt have learned in fourteen years to have equally expensive taste. That isn’t something you’re going to find out here.”

  Her smile faded. “I love Montana. Just as I love you.”

  “Have you forgotten that you have a husband?”

  She shook her head. “He’s dead. He was shot and killed by an unknown assailant.”

  Curtis felt like a complete heel. “I’m sorry. Even so, you don’t belong here. Montana demands hard work out of its women. You should remember how difficult it was. I know Madeline kept you busy with chores.”

  “Aren’t you . . . happy to see me? You’ve been on my mind ever since I started this journey.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow. “No, you’ve never been out of my thoughts at all. Even when Adolph proposed and my mother forced me to accept, I thought of you. I thought of you when I took my vows and wished it was you to whom I pledged my life.” She flushed and looked away. “I’ve always thought of you.”

  A part of him thrilled to hear her declaration, while the stiffness caused by his cast reminded him he might never again leave this bed. Clara deserved so much more than to keep giving her heart to a cripple.

  “I’m sorry that you thought so much on me. That must have been very hard on your husband.”

  She fixed him with a very serious look. “Adolph always knew how I felt. I confessed it to him when my mother first put us together. I reminded him of it when he proposed and again on our wedding day. I told him I loved you—that I’d pledged myself to you and that I would never love another.” She squared her shoulders and looked like a soldier about to head into a battle. “He said he didn’t care. He didn’t love me either.”

  Her statement nearly broke Curtis’s resolve. How terrible it must have been for her to spend twelve years in a loveless marriage. This beautiful woman with her gentle ways and loving heart deserved to be loved above all else. He wanted to say something to offer her comfort. He wanted to tell her the truth—that he still loved her.

  “Adolph loved making money. He cared nothing for having a family. In time we learned to have a reasonably amicable relationship. He gave me everything but love, hoping it might be enough to keep me content. I in turn kept his home and hosted his parties. I was everything society demanded I be, but my heart was never his.” She let go her hold on Curtis. “I kept hoping he would leave me to myself. I even prayed he might one day release me—divorce me. I didn’t even care about the stigma that would follow. I only wanted to come back to Montana—to you.”

  Curtis didn’t know what to say. Here she was finally at his side once again, declaring her love just as he’d always dreamed she might . . . and he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t impose on her a life of shame. Everyone in the valley knew of his past and the wrongs he’d done. They loved only too well to talk about him behind his back—just loud enough to make certain he knew they would never forget. Or forgive. It hadn’t mattered to him . . . until now.

  After several long and painful moments of reflection, Curtis finally spoke, keeping his tone serious. “Go home, Clara. Go back to New York. You don’t belong here. I’m sorry you’ve wasted your heart—your life—on forgotten childhood promises.”

  “Forgotten? Have you truly forgotten what we meant to each other?” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Curtis bit his tongue to keep from declaring it was all a lie—that he loved her—wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. He had never wanted to be the cause of her tears.

  “I can’t give you what you want. I can’t pretend to feel something I don’t feel.” He turned away from the look of heartbreak on her face. In that moment he’d never hated himself more.

  “What are you saying, Curtis?”

  He knew what he had to say and turned back to her with an expression that he prayed was void of the raging emotions within. “I don’t love you anymore.”

  A sob broke from her as Clara jumped to her feet and ran from the room. He heard her crying all the way down the hall. It tore his heart in two. If he could have gotten out of the bed, Curtis knew he would have run after her.

  Gritting his teeth, Curtis felt a primal cry rise up inside him. He stuffed it down with reminders of his worthlessness. She was better without him. It was for her own good that she deal with this here and now. Once she realized there was no reason to stay, hopefully she would leave the ranch and go back to New York.

  Paul stepped aside as Clara came running and sobbing down the hall. He called to her, but she ran on to her room and slammed the door behind her. Glancing back in the direction she’d come, he saw that Curtis’s door was open. Apparently she’d just seen Curtis and his injuries had caused her grief.

  Deciding he’d let Madeline help Clara understand what had happened and how Curtis was making good strides in his recovery, Paul went to Curtis. He walked into the room with a smile.

  “I see you and Clara lost no time getting together. She’s grown into a real beauty, hasn’t she?”

  “Why did you tell her I was here? Better still, why didn’t you tell me she was coming?”

  Paul thought for a moment that he hadn’t heard right. “What did you say?”

  “I want to know why you told her I was here. I’m no good for her anymore. You know what I’ve done—who I was. You know what’s going on with me now. I’m busted to pieces and nobody knows if I’ll even get out of this bed again. It’s cruel to bring her here to me.”

  Crossing his arms, Paul gave Curtis a stern look. “Before you go reprimanding your elders, you ought to get your facts straight.”

  Curtis’s angry expression softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I’m just . . . just . . . flummoxed. I never thought I’d see her again and never wanted her to see me like this.”

  Paul pulled up a chair. “Her husband died.”

  “I know. She told me.”

  “Did she also tell you that she just up and decided to come here? She didn’t give us much of any warning. Sent a letter saying she was planning to come for a visit, but not when she’d get here. We got a telegram barely half an hour before we needed to leave to fetch her.”

  “That was why you had to go to town?” Curtis asked.

  Paul nodded. “It was. We figured Joe could keep track of you and see you were fed and we could fetch Clara.”


  Curtis shook his head. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. It was just such a shock.”

  “Well, apparently it was pretty hard on her too. She’s sobbing her heart out. What in the world happened? Was she upset by your injuries?”

  “No. She was upset because I told her I didn’t love her anymore.”

  “You what?”

  “You heard me.” Curtis shook his head. “Sorry. I’m just irritated—angry, really.”

  “I guessed that part,” Paul replied sarcastically. “What in the world are you angry about? The woman you’ve pined away for is back—and she’s available.”

  “But I’m not.” Curtis looked away. “I can’t expect her to ever overlook what I’ve done—who I am.”

  “You’re a new creation in Christ, as I recall.” Paul once again folded his arms against his chest. “Are you doubting now that God forgave you?”

  “I don’t doubt He forgave me, but where others are concerned, I know they didn’t.”

  “So what?” Paul frowned. “You don’t think for one minute our Clara won’t forgive you, do you?”

  “It’s not that.” Curtis drew a ragged breath. He honestly felt close to tears. “Where she’s concerned—I can’t forgive myself.”

  “Can’t or won’t. Seems to me that holding on to the past puts a high wall between you and future plans. I’ve never known you to be a coward, but it seems to me you’re afraid.”

  “It’s not fear driving me,” Curtis protested. “It’s practicality.”

  Paul laughed. “Practicality is as good an excuse as any to avoid dealing with your feelings for Clara.”

  “I’m no good for her. Even if the past didn’t matter to her, I’m stuck with this body and these injuries. I don’t know if I’ll ever walk again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get out of this bed again.”

  “And I don’t know if I’ll wake up tomorrow,” Paul countered and started for the door. “But it sure doesn’t mean I’m not going to live life to its fullest in the meantime.” He stopped just before exiting the room. “I think it’s time for some hard thinking, son. You need to figure out what kind of future you really want. You can go on feeling sorry for yourself and wallowing in self-regret, or you can do something more productive.”