Ridiculous! My things are still here.
With Errol’s assistance, Grace gained the seat of the wagon. His hands lingered at her waist and caressed her back fleetingly as he dropped them away from her. The lightning-charged touch caused her to shiver involuntarily. How she wished it was a shudder! But no, her body welcomed his touch even while she rejected his intrusion into her life.
Liza popped her head out of the back of the wagon and climbed over the seat with her skirts hiked high over her plain cotton bloomers. “We’re going on a trip!” She gripped Grace’s hand as she chanted the words repeatedly until Grace ordered her to stop. She’d noticed the little girl loved to turn phrases into songs and chants. Probably she had natural musical talent. It was a shame she couldn’t be trained to play the piano.
Liza’s presence surprised her. She hadn’t realized the daddy the little girl spoke of was Errol. Now that she studied the girl she saw the similarities to Errol in the shape of her nose and her curling black hair.
The team pulled the wagon out of Belle. Errol hadn’t said anything to her yet. His face turned again and again in her direction, his eyes burning into her. Questions hung in the air. The little girl that sat between them kept him silent. Grace felt sure of it.
After a time, Errol began to ask about her life in Belle. As Liza dozed against her shoulder, she told him how long she’d been there and recalled stories about the people who lived in the town and the surrounding area. He nodded or made small noises during her stories to encourage her to continue. Finally, he asked a question that dripped with pain. “Why did you leave Evergreen?”
She paused to filter her response and then decided to say as few words as possible about the topic. “Neither my aunt nor the townspeople wanted me there. I’d ruined my reputation and had to leave.”
Liza responded to that, confirming that she’d only been catnapping. “That’s mean! I want you with me, Miss Winkleman.”
Patting the little girl’s back, Grace looked at Errol instead of Liza. “The people in Belle want me and welcomed me with open arms.” Then she looked at Liza and squeezed her shoulders gently in a hug. “You are a sweetheart! I appreciate your kind words, but I allowed a man to tell me lies and it led to many problems.” Silence followed that. Liza looked confused. From his expression, Grace knew Errol wanted to argue but bit off his words because of Liza’s presence.
The hour and a half trip to Glenda passed more quickly than she expected. Liza chattered about the places she’d traveled to for her father’s work while they ate the buttered bread. While Grace waited to hear why Errol chose to travel as an itinerant cobbler rather than to manage one of his father’s businesses, he never said a word. When the train depot at Glenda came into view, Grace realized she felt disappointed at not learning more about either Liza’s mother and about Errol’s reasons for roaming the West.
He stopped the wagon by the depot. Pulling out a turnip watch, he checked the time. “Still a half hour before it arrives. Plenty of time!” Jumping down, he swung Grace through the air and deposited her on the ground, along with her carpetbag. She waited for his goodbye or even a promise of a future meeting. He said nothing, leaping back into the wagon and driving it quickly away.
She hoped he’d left angry. He hadn’t begged for her forgiveness, as she’d once dreamed he might, if they met again. Because of that, she hoped he’d left unhappy and angry. Then, perhaps, he’d never bother her in the future.
Even as she thought that she knew it to be a lie. She’d wanted to hear that what she’d been told was a lie and that he did love her. Liza’s presence confirmed that he’d been married and had a child, though. A little bit of her heart started to break once again as she recognized that.
Moving through an archway, Grace stepped to the tracks and stared into the west. Not seeing anything, she settled herself onto the wooden bench next to a small wooden building and watched a few others trickle in to board the train. To her surprise, she viewed them through a sheen of tears. After three years, how could she have any tears left to shed for Errol Marsden!
At a whistle in the distance, a railroad employee appeared out of the small building with a flag in hand. When the train rounded a bend in the distance, he began to wave it to signal that passengers waited. She realized then that it must take some time for the train to slow and stop.
Like the other passengers, she boarded without a ticket. Someone would sell her a ticket on board after the train had started again. Settling into a seat away from the others who traveled in the same car, she kept her head bent to hide the fresh wave of tears that threatened to dissolve her composure.
Even after someone sat in the seat next to her, she didn’t look up as she forced herself to take calming breaths. A small hand gripped hers and squeezed. Startled, her head jerked up and she looked into Liza Marsden’s tender gaze. “Don’t be sad, teacher. I’ll take the trip with you.”
Had the girl sneaked away from her father to join her? He did allow Liza a great deal of freedom and she might take it into her head to ride the train.
As Grace opened her mouth to ask, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. When she looked in that direction, she realized Errol now sat in the seat that faced her. He flashed the triumphant smile of a predator. “Isn’t this perfect for a cozy talk, Miss Winkleman?” He stressed her name to remind her that, once, she’d been known by a different one.
No wonder he hadn’t said goodbye to her! “What are you doing on this train?” She forced the foolish joy out of her voice at seeing him again so that indignation flavored her words. He had betrayed and lied to her, she reminded herself.
“Well, Miss Grace Winkleman, there’s a cemetery I’d like to take you too. I know of a headstone I insist that you see.”
Chapter 4
He appreciated her stunned expression since he’d always enjoyed surprising people. Errol liked pulling into a new town and seeing the excitement and startled expressions on the faces of people who never imagined a cobbler would go from place to place. Bethany’s face—he refused to think of her as Grace—satisfied him greatly.
With a hand held out in front of her pleadingly, she stared for a moment. “But what about your wagon and your team? Did you just abandon them on impulse?”
He chuckled at her need to understand all the details. She’d always been unsettled if anything was left either unsaid or unexplained. “They’re at the livery, safe and sound. Once I learned about your trip, I planned my own. That moment was the sum total of my impulsiveness.”
Her look changed from shock to speculation and he welcomed it. He wanted her to realize he wouldn’t go away now that he’d found her alive and well. “I don’t believe you’re traveling all this way just to visit an empty grave. You’re following me. After three years, I can’t imagine why.”
Her tone became wistful. If she wanted him to find her three years earlier, why had she changed her name and left Evergreen? Errol thrust his hand through his black curls, shoving his hat off his head in the process. Catching it as it tumbled, he busied himself with positioning it again and didn’t answer her for a moment.
Looking at her, he caught hurt in her eyes. While he might have savored her surprise, he never wanted to hurt her. “We need to sort this out. After all, we’ve already lost three of the years we pledged to spend with each other. I’m on this train so we don’t lose any more.”
Bethany pointedly looked down at Liza and then at him. He wanted to tell the little girl that he and the teacher were married. Only the fact that they hadn’t talked out all the misunderstandings and deceptions yet kept him from saying anything. Soon, he knew, Liza would fall asleep because of the train’s motion. Then they would talk.
One of Liza’s two bags contained books. Errol watched her bring out her nursery rhyme book to share with Bethany. The woman read the rhymes to his daughter and giggled along with her when the words seemed silly.
At the end of the book, his little girl removed a little box an
d put out her cherished tea set between her and the teacher. She pretended to pour liquid into a cup and handed it, by the saucer, to the woman beside her. “Now, Miss Winkleman, we must talk about the weather and other grown-up boring stuff.”
At her serious expression, both he and Bethany laughed. Liza looked confused at their reaction and Bethany hurried to reassure her. “We couldn’t resist giggling at that, sweetie. That kind of talk doesn’t seem boring to us.”
The little girl still seemed baffled by their amusement. Errol decided to distract her. “Where is my cup of tea, Miss Marsden?”
At his formal speech, Liza once again assumed her pretend role as hostess. “Daddy, this is for ladies. I’m pretending you’re somewhere else. You need to act like you’re fixing shoes and can’t see us.”
Turning in her seat to face the woman next to her, she took a pretend sip and made a soft slurping noise. “Try your tea, Miss Winkleman.”
Liza took another noisy slurp of her invisible liquid.
Errol could tell that Bethany felt silly. Still, the woman made a sound as she pretended to sip the tea. Her nurturing and caring behavior with Liza didn’t surprise him. It had been one of the things that drew him to her when they’d first met at his friend’s wedding. Children had clustered around her then too.
As the August heat intensified, Bethany drew out her fan. Liza watched, mesmerized. Probably by the painted scene on it. He remembered bringing it to Bethany and telling her to pretend they were the man and woman in the garden scene. “I want to somehow be with you every minute of the day. Promise you’ll keep the fan near you so we can at least pretend to be together.” It had been a silly thing to say. He’d been in love, though, and knew he had to leave her to be with a very ill Sandra.
A question from Liza brought him out of his thoughts. “Where did you get your fan, Miss Winkleman?”
He listened, hoping that her answer would help him better understand how she felt about him now. He wasn’t disappointed. “A man I love very much gave it to me. Then he went away and broke my heart.”
Liza’s face crumpled and tears slipped down her face. He knew she cried easily when she became tired and soon would need a nap. The little girl put down her cup and hugged her arms as best as she could around Bethany. “I don’t like people to go away. Mama went away to Heaven and I’m still sad.”
Gulping sobs erupted from his tired daughter. Errol moved forward in his seat to reach for her. Once she sat on his lap, he looked at the woman who had proclaimed herself heartbroken. “Would you box up the tea set for her?” At her nod, he smiled reassuringly. “Don’t let this upset you. She cries easily when she becomes overly tired.”
Already, he heard Liza’s even breathing. Just cuddling her had allowed her to slip into a restful sleep. Rising slightly, he stretched her out on the seat and took her place by Bethany. She shifted away and looked out the window. Refusing to allow her to avoid him, he tenderly put a hand to her jaw and pulled her lovely brown eyes back to his. Her skin under his fingers felt like satin, softer than he remembered.
“Time to tell our stories and put together what happened.” He watched her nervousness turn to anger and marveled at the bitterness he saw twist her mouth.
“Liza is proof of why we’re no longer together. I know about Sandra.” She pushed away his hand and folded her arms protectively across her chest.
Her reaction surprised him. “I didn’t expect you to hold that against either Liza or me. Certainly, you can forgive Sandra’s poor judgment. After all, she was seduced by someone who made a practice of it.”
She released a sort of eek and looked at him aghast. Her harsh whisper still carried all the emotion of a shout. “You mean there are more ladies involved than just Sandra and me! You bounder!”
His face changed from surprised to perplexed. “What do you mean? Just who do you think Sandra is?”
Her voice rose slightly in volume, though she still spoke in a low tone. “I don’t think. I know! She’s your wife. Your father explained it all to me.”
His father! The mention of him brought some reason to this befuddling conversation. He’d had a woman picked out for his son to marry. The arranged marriage would have benefitted the businesses of both families. When Errol had told his father about his secret marriage to Bethany, the man had been coldly furious. He’d vowed that Errol would learn to follow his mandates.
Now he knew that, somehow, his father had managed to make Bethany disappear from Errol’s life. Even after seeing her grace, he’d refused to bend his father’s will to marry the Simmons girl. The pressure from his father to do so, along with his grief over Sandra and Bethany, had driven him away from St. Louis.
“My father had plans for me that didn’t include marrying you. His lie was contemptible! I can’t believe he would stoop so low.” He pounded one fist into the other and felt his face turn red with outrage.
The alarmed expression on Bethany’s face forced him to bite off his angry words and focus on her. Before he could explain anything to her, she unfolded her arms and shook a finger in his face. “But you have a daughter. What about Liza?”
He gently swatted the finger away and grabbed onto her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it before turning it over to graze her wrist with his lips. She attempted to pull away, but he threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed it tenderly.
“When I left you, I told you my sister needed me. Sandra was in the last stages of consumption. As much as I wanted to be with you, I couldn’t stand the thought of my sister dying alone.” He looked into her eyes as he spoke so she could see the truth of his words.
“But the house you paid for? And Liza calls you daddy.”
He nodded. “Poor little one. I adopted her officially so she would know she had a family. Too, her father had refused to marry my sister and I didn’t want him to come back and try to take Liza.”
“And about the house.” He couldn’t believe his father had used that kindness against him. “When Father turned his back on Sandra because of her pregnancy—” She blanched at his very public use of a word that should only be spoken in private. He gave her an apologetic smile. “Well, I rented a house for Sandra and later paid for a nurse to care for her and the baby. She never seemed to recover from Liza’s birth, though she lived another three years after it.”
Regarding her, he watched comprehension and hope bloom on her face. They were short-lived expressions as suspicion became evident there instead. “How can I know what you say is the truth? It’s not fair to ask Liza. She’s only a child and shouldn’t become a pawn in our problems.”
“I can think of only one thing to absolutely prove the truth to you.” He paused to watch her features as he spoke. “I’ll take you to see the family bible. It lists births and marriages.” Making sure his voice carried his confidence to her, he hoped that simply making the offer might settle it and she’d admit that his father had lied to her.
Bethany nodded at him. “I think I need to see the bible. Both my aunt and your father swore that you’d duped me. It’s hard to think that they’d hurt us so deeply. Why would my aunt lie?” Even as she said that, Errol saw an expression of sudden understanding on her face.
She knew her aunt’s motivation. Thank God! That would help her believe him. It was a good time to press for answers from her now.
“Why didn’t you confront me? And changing your name, Bethany? Were you trying to hide from me?” He switched from being confident and convincing to hurt, allowing the anguish to be evident in his voice.
Her lips clamped shut and she looked away. His wife wouldn’t be as open with him as he’d been with her.
When she did speak clipped syllables marked her words. He sensed that hesitation rather than anger was behind her speech. “I needed to start again and couldn’t use a name that might be associated with Evergreen. It’s as simple as that.”
Even though she didn’t want to bring her into the conflict, Grace asked Liza about her m
other. After her conversation with Errol the previous day, she had refused to discuss their marriage. With a frown, he grudgingly accepted her excuse that she needed time to weigh what he’d told her against the evidence her aunt and his father had produced.
While the train had stopped at a depot, Errol left his daughter with her and promised to purchase food from a woman they could see from the window. She sat behind a table on which several repurposed shoe boxes sat. Her clean but worn clothes and neat hair boded well that the food had come from a clean kitchen and Grace had urged him to purchase something to eat.
With her perhaps-husband gone for a few minutes, Grace asked the little girl what she remembered about her mother. Liza scrunched up her face in deep thought. “She had hair like Daddy’s and me. Black and curly.”
Was that physical likeness enough to confirm that Sandra and Errol truly were brother and sister? She decided to probe for more information.
“Did you always call him daddy? Maybe you called him something else, like uncle?”
The girl shrugged. “I can’t remember. Mama said Daddy would take care of me and always be with me. I watched her sign a paper to be sure he would.” Liza wore a triumphant grin. “I remember that. She said one day soon I’d live with Daddy.”
Shame and regret rolled in waves over her at Liza’s memory. She must be referring to a will or a custody agreement of some kind. Errol had mentioned adopting the girl so perhaps those were the adoption papers. Grace forced herself to face the possibility that she had forced both of them to face three years of agony because she hadn’t trusted him.
Regret filled her at the realization that she wasn’t the same girl he’d married. Could they make a go of marriage as two very different people? After all, she could tell he had a hardened edge to him that hadn’t been evident when they’d said their vows. As much as she’d like to pretend the separation had never happened and fall into his arms, the two of them needed to become reacquainted before once again living as a couple.
Grace for a Drifter Page 3
