Hubert and Pearl exchanged glances. The evening had started out badly and was going downhill. Hubert mentioned a few new items he’d ordered for the mercantile—idle chat designed, Pearl suspected, to fill the cold silence.
Pearl’s gaze slid in Everett’s direction, and she found him scowling at his plate from which he’d barely eaten a bite. Perhaps preparing all Hubert’s favorites had been a mistake. Should she have inquired as to Everett’s preferences?
Finally, just as she was about to bring the apple pie and coffee to the table, Everett abruptly scraped his chair across the wooden plank floor and stood. “If you will excuse me…” He tossed his napkin on his plate and exited the kitchen.
Pearl started to rise. “But Everett—”
Hubert reached over and caught her arm. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. “Let him go, Pearl.”
Pearl could barely keep her voice steady. “But I made apple pie for dessert.” Her throat tightened. “Hubert, what did I do wrong?”
“You did nothing wrong.” Hubert shook his head. “This is between Everett and me; things we still need to discuss to…clear the air.”
They both rose and Hubert took her hand. “I’m sorry, my dear. You worked hard to make this evening special, and everything was lovely.” He pulled her into a gentle hug and the comfort of his embrace eased the sting of Everett’s rebuff.
Hubert cupped her chin. “I’m going to go talk to him, and then I’ll be back. You keep a piece of that pie warm for me, all right?”
Tears burned the back of her eyes and a vise gripped her middle. All she could do was nod before Hubert let himself out the back door.
“Doesn’t she know that servants eat in the kitchen?” Everett’s arrogance rang in Hubert’s ears. “I was insulted, as you should have been.”
By the time Hubert caught up with Everett, his son had already crossed the threshold of Hubert’s house. He clamped his teeth down on the anger he wanted to lash at his son. Instead, he pointed to a chair. “Sit down, son. There are some things we need to discuss.”
Instead, Everett tromped across the room, then spun to face his father. “You know I’m right. Mrs. Dunnigan is hardly the type of woman you should be considering for a wife. I doubt there is anyone in this town suitable—”
“You’re wrong, son. There is one person and I am engaged to her.” Anger warred with compunction in his breast. “Your behavior tonight was completely unacceptable. I asked you before, now I’m telling you—you will treat Pearl with respect.”
He rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin, shoved the other hand in his pocket, and took three steps toward the window. He could see the rooftop of the boardinghouse from his front window. Pearl must be distraught. She’d worked so hard on the preparations for the dinner, and it turned into a disaster.
An insolent huff sounded across the room as Everett continued pacing back and forth. “This isn’t really about your engagement, is it, Father? This is about you doing whatever you want to do, no matter what anyone else thinks.”
Hubert turned to face his son and saw contempt on Everett’s face. “Son, there is no way I can turn the clock back and make the wrongs right again. I’ve told you how sorry I am, how much I regret the choices I made twenty years ago.”
Everett turned his back on his father, not saying a word for a full minute. His shoulders rose and fell as if a great battle were taking place within. “How was I supposed to understand, Father? I was eight years old.” When he turned, Hubert saw the sheen of tears in his son’s eyes despite the shadows in the room. “I couldn’t understand why my father was always gone, or why my mother left me at my grandparents’ house and never came back. It was your fault Mother left, because you didn’t care about anybody but yourself.”
The words stung, but Hubert did nothing to stop the torrent. He pulled off his jacket and sat in one of the chairs facing the cold fireplace. This was the real reason Everett came. After so many years of bitterness building up in him, he wanted—no, he needed to spew it all out at his father. Hubert sat quietly and let his son rant.
When Everett finally ran out of accusations, he slumped in the chair across from his father. Hubert leaned forward. “Son, I’m sorry. I wish I could undo my past choices, but I can’t. All I can do is love you right now, and pray you will one day find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Everett raised his head, looking drained of the anger that initiated the tirade. The rage that burned in his eyes minutes before now smoldered into resignation. “In spite of everything, I finally realized that I love you, too. But knowing that just seemed to make me angrier.” He pulled his tie off and loosened the top button of his shirt. “There are a lot of things I still don’t understand, Father.”
Hubert nodded. “My engagement to Pearl is one of those things, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Everett lifted his chin and pointed a recriminating look at Hubert. “I know you don’t want me speaking ill of her, but I still feel this engagement is wrong.”
“Why?” Bewilderment dug a hole into Hubert’s chest. “Is it because she doesn’t have the social standing you and your grandparents were accustomed to? Because if that’s your only objection to her, I can counter by describing her standing in this community.”
Scorn lifted one corner of Everett’s mouth, and before he could reply, Hubert went on. “Pearl Dunnigan is a fine Christian woman, loved by just about everyone in this town. No, Willow Creek isn’t much compared to Baltimore, and we may not have a social register, but we have something better. We have a fellowship, a family of faith. Wealth, influence, and prestige aren’t the means by which we measure a person’s worth. We look at their character, integrity, compassion, the way they love others and serve God. Those are the qualities that make Pearl the woman I love. That, and the way she loves me.”
Hubert sat back, waiting for Everett’s retort, but it never came. Instead, his son pulled himself to his feet. “I apologize for ruining the evening. If it’s all right with you, I believe I’ll retire. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Hubert let his head fall back against the leather-covered upholstery and heaved a sigh. The bitterness Everett had carried for so many years was like an infection that needed to be lanced and drained. He could only pray that when the surgery was over, their relationship would be healed.
He picked up his jacket and started toward his room, only to stop short. He’d told Pearl he would be back. She’d be wondering where he was. He pulled out his pocket watch and squinted at the hands. It was past ten o’clock. He couldn’t risk Pearl’s reputation by knocking on her door at such a late hour.
“In the morning,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll stop by first thing and explain why I didn’t go back.” He shuffled to his bedroom. “Lord, please comfort Pearl tonight.”
Chapter 7
Dawn stained the eastern sky pink and gold as Hubert climbed the back porch steps of the boardinghouse. He tapped on the kitchen door before poking his head inside.
“May I come in, or are you angry that I didn’t come back last night?”
Pearl closed the oven door and straightened. Her face reflected a combination of relief and anxiety. “Come in, Hubert. I’m not angry, but I was worried.” She wiped her hands on her apron and poured him a cup of coffee. “Did you and Everett argue?” Lines creased her brow.
Hubert accepted the steaming brew and took a tentative sip. “I’m not sure one could call it an argument.” He sat on the same chair he’d occupied hours before at dinner. “There are many issues Everett and I need to work through. The letter writing has opened the door, but painful things from the past still need to be addressed.”
Pearl paused in the middle of cracking eggs into a bowl. “I don’t understand. What does any of that have to do with me? It’s as if he dislikes me for something I’ve done…or not done.” She resumed cracking and beating the eggs. “What is it about me—”
“Nothing.” Hubert quickly rose to close the space between
them. “His behavior has nothing to do with you.” He filled his lungs slowly and blew the air out. Was it a lie to tell Pearl that Everett carried no grudge against her? Regardless, Hubert refused to allow Pearl to blame herself for Everett’s arrogance.
He took her hand and turned her to face him. Silver strands of hair hugged her ears, begging his fingers to trace their path. Instead, he tipped her chin up and gently stroked her jawline with his thumb. “Pearl, please don’t fret about this. Everett did a lot of talking last night, and I did a lot of listening. His anger and bitterness go back several years, long before I met you.” He hoped his tone sounded reassuring.
Pearl’s eyebrows dipped and her lips formed a tight, thin line. She shrugged and turned back to the stove. “It’s not any of my business, but why is Everett so angry? You never really told me what happened between you that caused the rift.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. I just thought you might find it easier to get it off your chest to me, since I’m not the one who’s angry.”
Her offer of a listening ear, however innocent, hit him like a fist in the gut. He owed her his honesty, but once she knew all the details of his failed marriage, she could very well rethink accepting his proposal. Not telling her the whole truth wasn’t an option. At some point he’d have to sit down with Pearl, reveal his selfish past, and leave the outcome up to God. He returned to sit at the table and finish his coffee.
“Perhaps you’re right, my dear. If the weather cooperates, maybe we could take a stroll down by the creek this Sunday afternoon. It will give us time to talk.”
“That sounds lovely.” She bent and pulled a pan of fat biscuits from the oven.
Hubert cleared his throat and steered the conversation in a different direction. “Last night wasn’t all hopeless. Everett said he realized that he loves me.”
Her eyes brightened along with her beaming smile. “Well, that’s certainly something to praise God for.”
“Indeed.” Remembering Everett’s words filled him with swirling emotions. Although gratifying to hear, they were followed by Everett’s insistent objection to Hubert’s engagement. No use troubling Pearl with that revelation.
“Will Everett be joining us Sunday for church?”
“I haven’t mentioned it yet.” Hubert turned in his chair, the recollection of a smidgen of conversation with Everett tapping him on the shoulder. “He said something a few days ago about a minister back in Baltimore who came to visit his grandfather. Apparently this man spent some time talking with Everett as well. I didn’t have the opportunity to ask him about it at any length, but I intend to.”
He imagined the three of them sitting in service together. What would Everett think of the little Willow Creek community church? Wood floors instead of marble, no cushions on the pews, no fancy stained glass windows, not even enough hymnbooks to go around. But the Spirit of God was evident in the way the believers worshipped, and Pastor Witherspoon preached God’s Word with fervor. Hubert prayed Everett might attend with an open mind and heart.
He drained the last swallow of coffee and stood. “I’d best be going or folks will think I’ve taken the day off.”
Pearl reached into the pantry and handed him a plate covered with a blue-checked napkin. “I wrapped up a piece of pie for you. You can have it at lunchtime.”
He grinned and leaned to brush a quick kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Pearl Dunnigan, and not just for your apple pie.”
She shook her head. “How can a girl resist a line like that?”
Pearl hummed as she ran her dustcloth over the mantel in the parlor. Since today was Saturday, it was doubtful she’d see Hubert unless she went to the mercantile. Many farm folks came into town on Saturdays, and he would be busy the entire day, but she looked forward to spending a leisurely afternoon with him tomorrow.
She moved from the parlor to her bedroom and dusted the dresser and washstand. When she came to the bedside table, she paused to pick up the silver music box and rub it until its brilliance resembled a mirror. Taking a moment, she turned the key on the side and opened the lid. Strains of Strauss’s “Love Serenade” caressed her very soul, and she swayed gently back and forth, a soft smile of remembrance tickling her heart. She closed her eyes and invited the sweet memory to accompany her again.
“Yes, Hubert. I would be honored to marry you,” she whispered.
A loud rapping on the front door intruded into her woolgathering.
“I’m coming,” she called out, scurrying down the short hallway to the foyer. When she opened the door, she blinked in surprise.
“Everett.” She stopped herself before blurting out “What are you doing here?” But the question stood front and center in her mind. “Please come in.” She stepped aside to allow the young man to enter.
“Mrs. Dunnigan.” He handed her his hat. “Since my father is quite busy today, I thought we might take this time to talk.”
“Why of course.” She hung the hat on the hall tree and gestured toward the parlor. A rueful pinch in her stomach told her Everett wouldn’t appreciate being invited to sit in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. “Please sit down. May I fix you some tea?”
“No thank you.” He sat in the maroon wingback chair closest to the door. Pearl speculated that he looked as if he wanted an unobstructed exit in the event he felt the need to escape. But an awareness pressed in on her that perhaps she might be the one wishing to escape by the end of this conversation. She schooled her expression and pasted on a warm smile.
“I’m so glad you stopped by. I’ve been hoping we could have an opportunity to get to know each other better.” The last time the young man graced her with his presence wasn’t the happiest of memories. Hopefully they could start out fresh this afternoon.
“I, too, have desired the chance to talk to you.” Everett propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and interlaced his fingers. “There are some things I’d like to clarify, and I feel the only way to do that is to meet the issues head-on.”
Pearl nodded and took a seat across from him. The thought winged through her mind that she was glad she’d just finished cleaning this room. “I like straightforwardness as well. There’s nothing to be gained by beating around the bush.”
Everett raised one eyebrow in a speculative arch. “That’s an interesting choice of words, Mrs. Dunnigan, because I’ve been wondering the same thing.”
His meaning was lost on Pearl. “What is it that has you wondering?”
He sent her a skeptical look as if he doubted the validity of her question. “I don’t presume to know the depth of your motives, but I can surmise.”
He glanced about the room, and for the first time, Pearl felt embarrassed by the simple furnishings. But that was silly. Why should she be ashamed of the blessings God had given her? She shook off the thought and directed her mind to focus on Everett’s puzzling statement.
“I’m sorry, Everett. Since we’ve agreed to speak plainly, perhaps you should come to the point and state the purpose for your visit.”
Everett pressed his fingertips together and looked straight at her without blinking. “I am wondering about your motives, Mrs. Dunnigan. What exactly do you hope to gain by marrying my father?”
The question stole Pearl’s breath. Was he implying what she thought he was implying? “Gain?” She paused to regulate her breathing. “I hope to gain a husband who loves me as much as I love him.”
A sardonic twitch lifted the corner of his mouth. “Mrs. Dunnigan, let’s not pretend we don’t understand each other. I’m sure you’re tired of working so hard here.” He waved his open hand in a sweeping gesture of the room. “My father was well paid by the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, which included a substantial retirement bonus.” He leaned his head slightly forward. “Of course, you already knew that. Why else would you pursue a man whose class is far above your own?”
Pearl couldn’t have been more shocked if Everett had slapped her. “Wh–what?�
� A tremor jolted through her and nausea stirred in her stomach. “What are you saying?”
Everett sat back in the chair, his chin raised, eyes narrowed. “I think you want to marry my father so you can live a life of ease. Marrying a man of substance would elevate your position in the community and afford you comforts you don’t currently enjoy.”
She sat, dumbstruck and paralyzed. Her mouth moved but nothing came out. The words stuck in her throat along with her breath. Even the muscles required to shake her head refused to work.
“Not that I blame you, you understand.” His condescending tone poured buckets of humiliation over her. “Running a boardinghouse must be drudgery. You certainly wouldn’t be the first woman who tried to improve her situation by marrying into money.” He lifted his gaze, as though a list of offending women was written in the air. “Those gold-digging creatures who prey upon wealthy, lonely men are rather pathetic in their own conniving way.”
Pearl’s protest froze within her. How was she to respond to such outrageous charges? Would Everett even allow her a defense? Did he truly believe she didn’t love Hubert, but rather sought to marry him for whatever material benefits might come her way? Before words could form logically in her mind, Everett rose.
“I would ask that you ponder the ramifications of your intentions. You understand, of course, that if you go through with the marriage, you will effectively drive a wedge between me and my father. Now that you know I am aware of your purpose, perhaps you’ll rethink your unseemly plan.” He stepped into the hallway and retrieved his hat. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dunnigan.”
Long after the door closed behind him, Pearl sat unmoving on the settee, the words she couldn’t speak locked in her heart.
Pearl clasped her hands in her lap trying to keep them from trembling. During the hymn singing, she’d moved her lips in a vain attempt to add her voice to the worship, but no music rang in her heart and the ache in her throat hindered words from escaping. Her Bible now lay open in her lap, but the numbness in her mind prevented comprehension of the minister’s words when he announced his text. She could feel Hubert’s disconcertment as he sat next to her on the pew. She dared not look at him. One glance at his tender gray eyes would be her undoing, and she must not turn back now. The pressure in her chest built with every passing minute.
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