Carol Ritten Smith Page 20

  He kissed her head, and Beth wanted to turn in his arms and hold him and be held, but time wouldn’t allow it.

  “I’d better finish getting ready.” She headed to the parlor, then came up short, remembering her other brother was still upstairs asleep. “What about Davy?”

  “Don’t worry about him. Just get ready. I’ll bring him over later.”

  That morning, school started ten minutes late, but the children didn’t seem to notice, or if they had, they kept quiet. And if any of them wondered about her untidy hair or her sooty dress, they were too polite to ask.

  • • •

  Despite Beth’s valiant efforts to keep the family together, ultimately it was her actions that drove Bill away. Back at their own place, after the black filth had been scrubbed clean, he went to his room to pack his things.

  “Please, don’t go,” she pleaded, standing in his doorway, watching him drag his clothes from the closet and toss them on the blanket spread out on his bed.

  Davy cried. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and dropped into his small lap. “Did I make you mad, B … Bill?” He swiped at his cheek. “I p … promise I won’t do it again if you just t … tell me what I did.”

  He paused to look at his little brother. “It ain’t nothing you did, Bud,” he reassured softly, and then realizing he had used Tom’s endearment, abruptly resumed lugging things out of his closet. “I’m just going to the livery. You can come visit me whenever you want. Hey, some night why don’t you sleep over?”

  “Really?” Davy brightened somewhat and turned his tear-streaked face to Beth, seeking her consent.

  Bill seemed to think she had forfeited her right to comment. “Sure,” he continued, “I think the room behind the livery is big enough and if it ain’t, you can sleep in a feed bunk.”

  “Wow, just like the baby Jesus in the manger.”

  “You bet. Now get to bed, squirt, so I can get going.” He drew the blanket’s four corners together and slung the bag over his shoulder. He stopped in front of Beth, refusing to look directly at her, waiting silently until she moved aside to let him through.

  “What will you do for food?” she asked, following him into the kitchen, twisting her hankie into a white knot.

  Bill dropped his things at his feet while he dragged on his coat. “I’ll figure something out.”

  “I could send something over with Davy.”

  “Don’t bother.” He hoisted his belongings over his back and looked around the room in a final farewell. He gave Davy an affectionate punch on the shoulder. “See you around, kid.” And then his eyes met Beth’s.

  Tears pooled in hers, threatening to spill over. She dabbed at them with her abused hankie.

  Bill grabbed her hand and pulled her out to the front stoop, closing the door so Davy couldn’t hear what he had to say. His words came out hurried.

  “You ain’t nothing like Miranda Parsons and if anyone should go to hell, it’s me for saying you was.”

  “Oh, Bill — ”

  “Wait, I ain’t finished yet. I know you never would have done what you did if Tom hadn’t tricked you. He’s older and smarter about them things and I hold him responsible for what happened.”

  “No, Bill, you’re wrong. He didn’t trick me. He loves me and I love him.”

  “Well, if that’s so, why ain’t you married?”

  She tipped her head back as if beseeching the stars above to help her explain. “You know why. I killed Uncle Mead.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “But I pushed him. If I hadn’t pushed him — ”

  “You were protecting Davy.”

  “That doesn’t change anything. Mead is still dead and it’s my fault. What do you think it would do to Tom’s reputation if folks found out he was married to a murderer?”

  “Is it any better he sleeps with her?”

  Suddenly they were both silent. They had come to an impasse. Bill shifted his heavy bag. “I gotta go.”

  “You don’t have to. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  He looked at her, his eyes emotionless. “Yeah, it’s too late.” He stepped off the stoop, and headed toward the livery. Soon his form was swallowed by the darkness.

  • • •

  The next day, when school was dismissed, Davy raced over to the shop to tell Tom about Bill’s leaving.

  Tom was stunned. The last thing he wanted to do was come between Beth and her brothers. He hung his leather apron on a wooden peg. “Listen, I want you to go to Betner’s store for a while. Tell them I sent you. I need to step out for a bit.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “To see your sister.”

  “Then I’ll come with you.”

  “Nope.”

  “Then I’ll stay here and look after the place until you get back.”

  “No, Davy. You go to Betner’s like I said. I’ll come get you later.”

  Tom gave no more thought as to whether Davy would obey him. It was the furthest thing from his mind as he headed toward the schoolhouse.

  He found Beth inside, sitting at her desk. Her head was bowed. Tom stood in the threshold not sure what to say.

  “I heard about Bill. Davy just told me.”

  He made his way up the aisle, watching for her reaction, but there was none. She kept her head down, her finger tracing aimlessly along a crack in the desktop. Tom’s hand covered hers.

  “It won’t hurt Bill to be on his own, you know. Plenty of boys his age do it. They like to be independent.”

  She shook her head slowly, then pulled her hand away, letting it fall into her lap.

  “We can’t change what happened, Beth.”

  “I know.” She looked up at him then, her eyes brimming with tears. “But we can prevent it from happening again.”

  He leaned over the desk until his face was mere inches from hers. “Is that what you want?” he asked softly.

  His nearness suspended coherent thought and she fought to concentrate. “What I want is to have Bill back home where he belongs.”

  Tom straightened. “That’s up to him now.”

  “It’s our fault he’s gone.”

  Fault? How it pained him to hear her put it that way, as if Bill had convinced her what they had done had wronged him personally. Tom came around the desk and put his hands on her shoulders. He felt them stiffen and he ached knowing this woman whom he had held so intimately mere hours ago now tensed at his touch. “Beth.”

  “He’s my brother, Tom. I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary to get him home again. I’ve decided it would be best if we didn’t see each other for a while.”

  So it had come to this. He closed his eyes against the pain. “Ah, Beth. Don’t say that.”

  She blinked and tears dropped to her lap. “I think you’d better go. It’s just for a while.”

  Rage and frustration rose in Tom. “And how long is a while? A week? A month? Beth, we can’t put our lives on hold indefinitely.” Tom spun her about, chair and all, and when she looked away, he firmly grasped her jaw and forced her to look up at him. When he saw her face, etched with as much anguish as he felt, his voice softened. “It’s not right. Either you love me or you don’t.”

  “I do love you,” she said quietly.

  “Then don’t shut me out. Please.”

  “But I have no choice.”

  “Yes, you do. There’s always a choice.”

  Another tear slipped over her lashes and ran down to the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away with her palm. “You’d better go,” she choked.

  Tom’s shoulders slumped. “All right. I don’t want to argue with you, but with all my being I know this is wrong.” He went to the door and paused, as if to try one more protest, then changed his mind and left without another word.

  • • •

  If one thought it coincidental that Tom entered Betner’s General Store only a few moments after Beth did, he’d be wrong. Tom knew she was there. He had watched her go in a f
ew minutes ahead of him and had followed her on purpose. Though he was acutely aware of Beth standing behind a tall shelf, he strode right past her.

  Earl was at the front counter, dividing large sacks of sugar into smaller portions. “Hello, Tom. Haven’t seen you all week. Keeping busy?”

  “So-so. Things are a little slow this time of year.” Tom lifted the lid of a glass jar sitting on the countertop and helped himself to a peppermint. “I’m taking off for a while. I hired Pat Flanagan’s two teenage boys from Tannerville to mind the shop for me and look after my horses. Told them they could come to you if they ran into any trouble. Is that all right?”

  Earl stopped measuring. “Sure. Where are you going?”

  “Toronto.”

  Mary came out from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. “Did I hear you say Toronto? Whatever for?”

  “I got a letter from Abigail yesterday. She’s getting married and I’m invited to the wedding.”

  Mary beamed. “How nice for her. Did she say anything about her intended? It certainly must have been a whirlwind courtship.”

  Tom shrugged. “All she said was he’s a widower with two little girls.”

  Mary clasped her apron and pulled it to her bosom, holding it like a bouquet. “Oh, I’m so happy for her.”

  Earl glanced at his wife. “Woman, you’re happy when two horses get hitched.”

  “And you’re just as sentimental, Earl. Don’t give me that,” Mary scolded, all the while smiling.

  Their easy display of affection keenly reminded Tom how lonely he’d been this past week and a half. Staying away from Beth had proven far more difficult than he’d expected.

  “At first I thought I wouldn’t go, but then, with things being slow and everything, I thought, why not. There’s nothing holding me back.”

  “So when are you leaving?” Earl asked.

  “Tomorrow noon.”

  “Can’t say as I envy you. It’s a long train ride.”

  “Yeah, well if I get bored with the scenery, I can read. And I’ve got some thinking to do.”

  “Don’t forget, I’ll expect a full account of the wedding when you get back,” Mary instructed.

  Tom grinned. “I’ll make notes.”

  “Now don’t get cheeky, Thomas Carver.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it, Mary dear.” He stretched across the counter and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a month, give or take a few days.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll check your place,” Earl said and Mary added, “Give our love to Abigail.”

  As Tom headed for the door, he saw out the corner of his eye that Beth hadn’t moved from her hiding spot. He hesitated, debating whether she deserved a personal good-bye, but then he thought against it. She had made the rules; he was just abiding by them. He left the store.

  • • •

  With blurry-eyed vision, Beth started putting items from her basket back on the shelves, too upset to purchase anything now. A month. The last week and a half without Tom had almost been unbearable. How would she be able to endure four more? The thought made her miserably ill.

  Mary came around the corner. “Oh, thank heaven it’s you, Beth. I heard this rustling and I thought we had another mouse.”

  Beth couldn’t reply, certain if she opened her mouth a sob would come forth. She turned her head away, blinking back her tears.

  Mary put a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right, dear? You look a little peakish.”

  Shaking, Beth sucked in a long unsteady breath. “I’m not feeling very well. I think I’d better go home.”

  Mary’s maternal instincts took over. She put a hand on Beth’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Do you feel sick to your stomach?”

  Suddenly a sob burst through Beth’s lips. “Oh, I’ve made such a mess of things.”

  Mary wrapped a consoling arm about the young woman, recognizing Beth’s ailment as a serious case of heartache. “Come in the back, Beth, and let’s have a talk. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

  Beth shook her head and then sniffled loudly as she dug in her pocket for her hankie. “I don’t want to bother you with my problems. I’ll be okay in a little while. Really.” She flashed a valiant smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally a crybaby.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a good cry once in a while. Tears cleanse the soul.”

  Beth thought her soul must be sparkling clean by now, for she’d wailed a bucketful every night since she’d broken off with Tom. She had no idea she would miss him this much, miss his kisses, miss his touch. Another small sob escaped her lips.

  Mary led Beth to the back of the store, through the archway and down a short hall to the adjoining living quarters. Beth recognized the parlor where she’d sung songs with Tom at Christmas and the memory pulled painfully at her heartstrings. They passed through the parlor into the kitchen, and Mary sat Beth down at the table. The mistletoe of course was gone now, but Beth remembered clearly her first innocent kiss in this room, and then all the other kisses and so much more she and Tom had shared. Flooded with emotions, it was all she could do not to break down completely and sob all over Mary’s crocheted tablecloth.

  Mary set about making tea, humming to herself. She poured them both a cup and then sat down. “Here, dear, sip this.” She reached for a plateful of cookies sitting on the sideboard beside her and set them on the table. “And have a cookie. Food is very calming.” She patted her round girth. “It works for me, anyway.”

  In spite of how dismal she felt, Beth managed a smile and removed her coat. “Thank you.”

  Mary studied Beth and then stated, “Unless I miss my mark, Tom has something to do with this. Am I right?”

  Beth nodded, staring at the tea leaves swirling to the bottom of her cup through tears welling in her eyes. One round tear escaped and dropped into her tea and the tea leaves lifted before settling again. Mary handed Beth a napkin before tears diluted her tea further.

  “He never told you he was planning to go to Toronto, did he?”

  Beth shook her head.

  “Oh dear, I thought that tiff you and he had at the Valentine’s dance would have been resolved by now.”

  The Valentine’s dance? That night seemed almost a lifetime ago. So much had happened since then, none of which Beth could possibly share with Mary. She raised her hands to her face, wishing she could just crawl inside herself and die.

  Mary patted her shoulder. “There, there. It can’t be as bad as that.”

  “It’s worse. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore.”

  Mary huffed. “Well, if that’s true, then pigs fly and flies oink. Look at you. You don’t look like a girl who’s getting what she wants.”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know what I want,” Beth bemoaned, though in her heart she knew exactly what she wanted. Tom. And now he was leaving, because “he had nothing holding him back.” She didn’t think she would ever forget those words.

  “Then maybe a little time apart is just what you two need to sort things out.”

  Fresh tears brimmed. “But he’s going to see Abigail. What if he finds out he still loves her?”

  “Heavens! Do you really think if he still had any amorous feelings for her, he’d want to attend her wedding?”

  Beth swallowed a sob, shook her head and then dabbed at her eyes. “I guess not,” she conceded and then sat in miserable reticence, sipping her tea and nibbling at a cookie, which contrary to Mary’s advice, did nothing to soothe her. Beth still felt ill at heart.

  Mary chatted on and on about how the time would fly by. Beth listened, but didn’t believe a word. After some time, she resigned herself to the fact that life in Whistle Creek would carry on without Tom’s presence, and so would hers.

  Mary took another cookie. “I hear Bill is staying at the livery now.”

  Beth nodded. “We had a disagreement and he moved out. I was hoping he’d be ready to come home, but apparently not. Mr. Compel has fixed
up a bit of space for him and Bill says he likes having his own place.”

  “Well, don’t you go worrying about Bill. What I’ve heard of that boy, he can take care of himself.” Mary gave Beth’s arm a squeeze. “And don’t you go worrying about Tom either. Knots always have a way of working themselves out if you don’t pull too hard. Some just take longer than others.”

  Beth nodded, rose and donned her coat. “I have to go and pick up Davy. He went to see Bill after school and I don’t want him interfering with Bill’s work.” On impulse, Beth gave Mary a hug. “Thank you. I do feel a little better.”

  “It’s amazing what a little cup of tea can do,” Mary said as she saw Beth out.

  Chapter 19

  If it were possible to be sick from missing someone, Beth was. A good dose of melancholy had hold of her and all weekend long she fought the urge to stay in bed and cry. She had no appetite and cooked merely for Davy’s sake, nibbling sparingly at her own food because he insisted. “Remember how sick I felt when I didn’t eat after Jack died?” he reminded.

  Monday morning she felt even worse, but she forced herself to get up. There was school to teach and moping about in bed on a school day would only get her fired. Besides, pining for Tom wouldn’t bring him back any sooner.

  Her legs were weak and she felt dizzy when she crawled out of bed, and little wonder, she thought as she wrapped her shawl about her. She’d hardly eaten for two days. Davy is right. I’d better eat.

  Resolutely, she made a hearty breakfast for the two of them — eggs, thick slabs of bacon, toast with puddles of melted butter. Beth forced down the breakfast, only to race to the outhouse minutes later where it all came up.

  When she returned, pale as egg whites, Davy was concerned. “Are you okay?”

  Beth mopped her brow with a cool damp cloth. “Not really.”

  “Were you throwing up? I always throw up when I’m sick.”

  If Davy said the words “throw up” once more, Beth was certain she would have to make a run for the outhouse again. Feeling wretched, she sank into a chair. “Just go get ready for school.”