Rekindling Trust

by Sandra Ardoin

  A chill skittered up Barrett’s back and his gaze slid to the second floor of the Danby house. Andy no longer stood at the window. In his place Judge Hayden Danby stared down at Barrett. If the judge’s hostile expression were a sword, it would have sliced him in two.

  Barrett stared back, determined to show the man that any effort at intimidation would fail. He’d stand in this spot for hours to prove he was no longer a young man crushed by an older man’s power. The judge might rule his house with an iron fist, but he didn’t rule Barrett’s life.

  The man disappeared from behind the glass, which meant the judge had lost a battle twice in a matter of minutes. Like a wounded bear, the indignity made him more dangerous and unpredictable. That begged the question...most dangerous to whom? Barrett or Edy?

  Possibly both of them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Mother, I’m going outside.”

  Edythe looked up from her embroidery to see Andrew standing in the foyer. He was a different child now that he had the run of the house again. “Fine, but don’t leave the yard.”

  “I won’t.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe over the marble.

  “Is there something else?”

  “I...uh...I’m sorry.”

  Edythe dropped the tablecloth on the sofa. Joy, curiosity, relief—all the motherly emotions combined in a swirl of eagerness that sent her to her son. She barely contained her steps to a walk when she really wanted to run to him. “What are you sorry for?” She held her breath, awaiting his answer.

  “Doing stupid things and causing you problems.”

  If only an apology would save him from the possibility of reform school.

  “Honest, I only smoked one time—that day you caught me—and it made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t burn that shed, either, or hit Mr. Stark.”

  The passion in his confession brought the assurance she’d longed for since the whole debacle began. “But you were there. Why?”

  He stared at his shoes and shrugged. “I told you. I was mad.”

  Edythe dropped to her knees in front of him and clasped his hands. “Andrew, the past few years have been difficult for all of us. I know I haven’t handled everything as I should. I haven’t stood up for you and the twins enough. I’m so sorry. Things will change. I will change.”

  After a slight hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her neck, nearly choking her. She leaned back and pulled him onto her lap. The weight strained her knees and the hard marble dug into them, but she didn’t care. “I love you, Andy.”

  “I love you, too, Ma...ma. I do.”

  Edythe laughed. “Ma. Mama. Mother. I’ll answer to it all.”

  The twins rushed down the stairs and dropped on each side of her, their arms encircling their brother and her. Together, the four of them sat bunched in a circle on the floor. Smiling. Happy. Momentarily free of fear and dread.

  She had argued with her father and won. Amazing. More amazing was how it had earned her the renewed regard of her children.

  A knock on the front door separated them. Decked in their cheeriest mood in days, the children bolted down the hall toward the kitchen. The door off the mudroom slammed.

  Edythe opened the front door to find a boy on the porch.

  He held out an envelope. “Are you Mrs. Westin?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was asked to deliver this, ma’am.”

  She took the message and thanked him.

  “I’m to wait for a reply.”

  Edythe turned the envelope over, slid her finger under the flap, and pulled out a piece of note paper. Unfolding it, she sought the signature and wasn’t surprised to learn it was from Mr. Treadway.

  My dear Mrs. Westin,

  Please accept my sincere appreciation for the delicious meal you served Saturday evening. I must also thank Judge Danby for allowing me the pleasure of sharing the company of his lovely daughter.

  As such, I would consider it a delight to escort you to supper in the restaurant of the Patton Place Hotel on Saturday evening. Should you honor me with your acceptance, I will arrive at your home at seven o’clock.

  I am ever hopeful,

  Ansel

  Supper with the banker? Edythe’s stomach muscles tightened.

  “Ma’am?”

  The question broke through her pondering. Before she could respond, her father climbed the porch steps and stood behind the boy. “I see you received Ansel's invitation.”

  Edythe held up the note. “You know about this?”

  “We spoke at the bank a short time ago. This boy had already left, but I took the liberty of accepting for you.” He paid the messenger and gestured for him to run along.

  She followed her father into the drawing room. “You accepted this invitation for me?”

  “Yes. You deserve an evening away from the children...a quiet evening with an adult.”

  An adult man. Her spirits deflated. This sounded too much like her father arranging her future yet again. This time, she hadn’t the possibility of Barrett saving her from his choice of husbands—not that it had done her any good last time. “Did you even consider asking me if I wanted to go to supper with Mr. Treadway?”

  “Don’t get on your high horse, Edythe. Of course, you’ll go. I saw the two of you on Saturday. A perfect couple.”

  “We are not a couple.”

  “Give him a chance.” He glared at her and spoke as though she had no choice in the matter.

  Only minutes earlier she’d promised Andrew she would be a different person. But could she win another argument against her father so soon, or was it best to choose her skirmishes more wisely? After all, it was only supper. Ansel was a gentleman, and it wasn’t as though other men had called on her.

  It wasn’t as though Barrett cared who she saw.

  The image of Ansel sitting on the porch Saturday evening faded, replaced by Barrett sitting across the table from her as they ate Eggs à la Benedict and discussed Andrew’s situation. Notwithstanding the topic of conversation, it was much as she’d imagined many times when she was younger.

  Edythe shut her eyes, willing the image to go away. She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t allow Barrett to tiptoe into her emotions and her life. She couldn’t allow him the opportunity to abandon her again. “Yes, I’ll go to supper with Ansel.”

  She opened her eyes to see a satisfied grin on her father’s face.

  BARRETT REINED IN THE carriage horse at the curb in front of the Danby residence. He sat inside the conveyance finalizing what he would say should the judge answer his knock. In that event, he expected to be told Edy wasn’t home—not to him.

  Before he left the carriage, the front door opened. Edy descended the porch steps and followed the walkway toward the street. Head down, she focused on the bricks under her feet rather than her surroundings.

  In all their years apart, he’d never found her equal in elegance, in kindness—in appeal. Truth be told, he’d rarely taken the time to look.

  When she finally glanced up, she halted, her eyes wide. “I see you made it all the way to the house this time.”

  Barrett controlled his grin. Evidently, her recent victory over her father had sharpened her tongue.

  Before their lives turned upside down, he had enjoyed playing the part of Edy’s protector, her strength. Having her lean on him for comfort made his younger self feel more like a man, the only one she could count on. But, honestly, this side of her was something to behold and drove him to test how far he could push her.

  He left the carriage and closed the distance between them, stopping within breathing distance of the flowery perfume she wore. “Who was I to disturb your Saturday evening visit with your beau?”

  “He is not my beau.” Just as the resentment in her voice brought a surprising warmth to his insides, a tiny smile formed on her face. “Not yet.”

  Maybe he preferred her to be less sure of herself.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the house. “You shouldn’t be he
re.”

  Barrett clasped her elbow. “If it’s too uncomfortable to ask me in, let’s take a ride.”

  She raised her arm to pull away, then relaxed and allowed him to lead her to the carriage.

  They said little while he drove to a quiet spot by the river. He’d had no idea what she’d been thinking as she stared ahead. As for him, his thoughts swirled, bouncing off one side of his brain, then the other.

  They strolled down a narrow and winding path to their old meeting place on the bank. Unsure where to start their conversation, he picked up a small stone and skimmed it across the surface of the water. It bounced half a dozen times before it sank, leaving ripples to fan out over the surface. “Remember when I taught you how to do that?”

  Edy wrapped her arms around her waist. “I was never very good at it.”

  “I hear your father’s belittling voice.”

  She bent down and picked up a stone. Positioning her fingers around it as he’d taught her, she gave it a quick side-arm toss. It skipped once, twice, three times before it plopped and sank to the bottom. She glanced at him and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Not bad.” He stared at a squirrel digging in the dirt on the other side of the river, probably burying an acorn. He should have taken Edy straight to his office. They could talk in a business setting rather than this spot where they had spent so much time in years past.

  “Tell me about Andy’s smoking habit.”

  Her eyes flashed. “How did you find out?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re honest with me.”

  Her lips drew taut. “I caught him with cigarettes a few weeks ago and took them away.”

  “And since then?”

  “That was the only time.”

  What about times she hadn’t caught him? According to Timmy, Andy could get more of the tobacco whenever he wanted it. “If what happened was an accident and Andy admits to it, things might go better for him.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’re convinced my son set that fire?”

  “You have proof otherwise?”

  “If I did, I would have gone to the police. When the Stark incident occurred, I asked my son if he had been smoking again. He denied having smoked at all around the Stark property.” She bit her bottom lip when it began to tremble. “I think you’re right to say he’s not telling me everything. Do you understand how awful it is to think you can’t trust in your own son’s word?”

  He had an inkling of the pain and guilt. He’d suffered through moments when he dealt with his own doubts about Wynn’s truthfulness concerning the robbery.

  “But I do not think my son was responsible for the fire, Barrett, or the injury to Mr. Stark.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We talked on Monday...really talked. He was adamant that he hadn’t smoked since the day I caught him with cigarettes. That was before the incident at the Stark property. He said he didn’t even like smoking and had only done it the one time.” Her chin rose with confidence. “He’s a different boy, so yes, I believe him.”

  “I’d like to think he told the truth about what happened, but you should be prepared in case the police provide evidence that your son set the fire.”

  Edy rubbed the area above her eye as though her head hurt. “What about the injury to Mr. Stark?”

  Yes, there was that. “I don’t know.”

  “He might have set his own shed on fire by accident.” Her voice rose with hope.

  “It’s possible.” Anything was possible at this stage.

  “Oh, Barrett, if it were that simple.”

  If. The world was filled with “ifs.”

  If Wynn hadn’t paid the price for Barrett’s deceit.

  If the judge weren’t so bitter and domineering.

  If his brother had not been drunk that night and been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Most of all, if Barrett had never fallen in love with Edy.

  Even as he wanted nothing more in this moment than to take her in his arms, repeating the past was a mistake. Things would never work between them if he couldn’t trust in her devotion.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Barrett tapped a pencil on the paper in front of him. For the past hour, he’d studied the book on the desk, taking notes on cases that might help him with Jeremiah’s. At least, he’d tried to take notes.

  Bouncing up from the chair, he was eager to get away from the thoughts that spun round and round like a whirlpool inside his head—thoughts having no business being there. For two days, he’d fought to concentrate on something other than those few minutes with Edy beside the river and how he’d longed for more than a business relationship.

  He needed someone to converse with, someone who understood what agitated him. Wynn. His big brother always knew how to take his mind off whatever bothered him.

  An hour later, Barrett parked his carriage in front of the sanitarium. He hopped to the ground, snatching a package from the seat.

  Nurse Hammond met him in the front hall, her bearing inflexible and disapproving. “Good evening, Mr. Seaton. It’s a little late for a visit.”

  “I apologize, ma’am. I won’t stay long, but may I see Ned?” Would he ever get used to calling his brother by that name? He held up the bag. “I brought him something to cheer him up.”

  “What is it?”

  “Gumdrops. They’re his favorite candy.”

  Her head waggled side to side. “That isn’t part of his approved diet.”

  He thought to argue that it wouldn’t hurt to let Wynn have something enjoyable once in a while, but he’d brought his brother here to improve his health not contribute to its decline.

  She held out her hand and stared at him until he handed over the bag. What good would it do his brother for Barrett to ignore the rules?

  “Mr. Flannigan is in his room. Please don’t stay long. It hasn’t been a good day for him.”

  “He’s worse?”

  “The tuberculosis is weakening him.”

  “I brought my...Mr. Flannigan here based on the good reports I heard about Oakcrest. Dr. Ellis is well-known for successful treatments. Is Ned not responding to them?”

  For the first time since his arrival, her authoritative expression slipped into something softer, more sympathetic. “The doctor keeps a careful eye on the progress of all his patients, but as he informed you, tuberculosis is an incurable disease and your friend was in poor health when he arrived.”

  She needn’t remind him it was a killer.

  “Don’t be discouraged, Mr. Seaton. With faith comes hope.”

  Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

  Yet faith and hope weren’t the same as assurance, and Barrett wanted the assurance that Wynn would survive for many years, even with this breath-stealing disease. While he asked for a miracle for Wynn, Barrett also asked God to make the judge understand what he had done to the Seatons.

  “Thank you, Nurse Hammond. I won’t stay long.” He strode down the hallway to his brother’s room before she could barrage him with more well-meaning platitudes.

  Barrett studied Wynn, who lay in a semi-upright position in the bed, his frail body not much more than a series of lumps under the covers. His chest rose and fell as though he’d finished a sprint around the sanitarium’s building mere moments ago. The darkened skin of sickness and fatigue ringed his closed eyes, and his cheekbones stood out like spikes under his skin.

  God, he’s getting worse, not better. Is my faith too small to save him?

  Maybe his desire for Wynn’s survival—even with the illness—was a selfish one.

  Barrett’s throat tightened, threatening to cut off his own supply of air. As much as he despised Edy’s father, he despised himself even more for having failed his brother.

  “Stop it...Barrett.”

  He started at the weak voice. Immersed in self-pity, he hadn’t noticed that Wynn had opened his eyes. He whipped off his hat and paste
d a smile on his face. “I was about to leave and let you sleep.”

  Wynn snorted. “Plenty of time...for that...later.”

  “I brought you a bag of gumdrops.” Barrett glanced over his shoulder. The hall was empty. “The dragon at the door snatched it from me.”

  His brother’s chest bounced a couple of times and one side of his mouth drifted up. “Don’t worry...I’ll get them. She can’t...resist my sweet talk.”

  Barrett laughed. “I’ve no doubt. You’ve always had a silver tongue.” This was the reason he drove out to visit his brother this evening. Based on Wynn’s condition, though, he shouldn’t stay. “You’re tired, and I promised Nurse Hammond I wouldn’t be long.”

  “I’m glad you came.” Wynn drew in a deep breath and coughed. “I saw Edy...a few days ago.”

  “She came to visit you?” Her coming to see Wynn would only draw attention to him. It wouldn’t be long before his brother’s identity was revealed.

  “No. She brought books...for a library.” He coughed again. “I told her I was sorry.”

  “Sorry? For what?” Wynn was the last person to owe anyone an apology.

  “I need to tell you...” Deep, wracking coughs interrupted him, snatching his breath and leaving Barrett struggling to know how to help.

  As he ventured farther into the room, Nurse Hammond rushed past him as if she’d been loitering outside, her face covered with a cloth mask. She helped Wynn to sit straighter and propped another pillow behind his back. During the continued coughs, she eyed Barrett. “Please leave, Mr. Seaton.”

  “But—”

  “He’ll be fine and ready to see you in a few days. For now, he needs less talk and more rest.”

  Barrett slapped the hat on his head. “I’ll be back when you’ve built your strength, Wy...Ned.”

  He escaped out the front door and onto the wide porch, his chest heaving as much as Wynn’s. He leaned his forehead against a column, wanting to forget the pitiful sight of the man he once believed to be stronger than anyone he’d ever met.

  “I’m trying to have patience, God, but when does Your justice take hold?”