by Sharon Ihle
His temperature on the rise as he recalled that his mother had been the party responsible for Libby's introduction into the saloon business, he glanced up at the seat with the best view in the house—the box dubbed the President's Suite—and saw that Lil was sitting at the rail waving a baton at the dancers like an orchestra conductor. He stared hard at her, willing her to look his way, and when she finally did, Donovan jabbed a finger in the air toward her office then headed that way.
Moments later when she burst into the room, he was staring out through the cracks in her painted window, his hands behind his back.
"Donovan?" Lil said breathlessly as she closed the door behind her. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. What is it? I have the girls working on a new routine, and I don't want them to get into any bad habits."
Feeling a chill settle over the room not so unlike the damp bone-chilling cold of San Francisco fog, he slowly turned to face her. "I'm sure they'll do just fine without you. I'm here about another... girl."
"Oh, that." She laughed, then turned toward the door as if the conversation were practically over. "I didn't do anything but make sure Libby had a place to stay for the night. You didn't expect me to turn her out on these streets, did you?"
"No, but thanks for reminding me that I do have a little score to settle with you on her account. We'll have to get to Libby some other time, though."
Her hand inches from the doorknob, Lil tilted her head toward her son. "If you're not here about Libby, what girl are you talking about?"
"Lillibeth."
Lil seemed to sag from head to toe, then might even have fallen had she not stumbled forward to lean against the edge of her desk. Donovan instinctively lunged toward her, even though, from the opposite side of the desk, there wasn't much he could do to help. When he saw that she'd managed to keep her legs under her, he backed away.
"I see her name is familiar to you," he remarked, pinning her with an accusing gaze. "Is there anything else you recall, maybe something insignificant, like the fact that she's your daughter?"
Still hanging onto the desk for support, Lil closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, looking as if she might faint at any moment. Although concerned about her, Donovan just wanted the truth, no matter how painful it might be or what he had to do in order to get at it. Trying to make her more comfortable and less likely to collapse, he carried his mother's chair from its spot behind the desk, and positioned it right behind her.
"Have a seat, Lil." It wasn't so much an invitation as an order. After she complied, Donovan circled her, clasped his hands to the wooden arms of the chair, and leaned close. "Let's talk about Lillibeth a while. When was she born?"
Her bottom lip quivering, Lil didn't look up at Donovan as she quietly admitted, "Shortly after your fourth birthday. On August twelfth."
"So it's really true?" His fingers tightened on the chair and he thought he might even have rattled it a little. "All this time, I've had a sister and you never thought to mention it to me?"
"I never wanted you to know about her at all." At last, Lil raised her head, but it was only to glare at him. "Now back away from me."
He didn't budge.
"Damn you, I said to back away. Now do it."
It cost him a lot, something Donovan didn't want to give until he had all the answers, but he reluctantly released his hold on the chair and stepped back a couple of feet. His voice hollow, almost devoid of emotion, he said, "This sister—she had a lot of curly red hair and big blue eyes, didn't she?"
Lil gasped. "Yes. Did R. T. remember that about her?"
"No. In fact, he didn't tell me a whole lot about her except her name. The rest came from my own memories. I used to pretend a lot about having a real and complete family—you know, a mother, father, sister, and even a couple of brothers. Did you know that?"
Looking miserable, Lil shook her head.
"Well, I did and I thought of this make-believe family often." He trained one eye on her. "Especially, all the times I was alone at night."
Lil flinched as if he'd struck her, but Donovan wasn't going to let up. Not until he had his answers. "I have kept that fantasy with me for a long, long time, and now I'm wondering if that baby sister with the curls-—" A sudden memory froze the words. "You called her Beth, didn't you?"
"Oh... oh, Donovan." Lil's hands flew to her face and then her head fell to her knees. The words, muffled but intelligible, she cried, "I swear I never dreamed you'd remember her. Never for a moment, did I think that. My God, what have I done?"
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me all about it?" Donovan was back at her chair again, and this time, when he hunkered down in front of it, Lil didn't try to send him away. "She was real, then, my fantasy sister wasn't something I made up?"
"No, no." Lil raised her head, looking haggard and worn. "She was with us almost a year, but I didn't know you remembered her, I swear it. I've never forgotten her for a minute."
Donovan raised a skeptical brow.
"Think what you will," Lil said, sounding defensive. "You probably haven't noticed that the dates are the same year after year. Every August around the time of her birthday, I have to take myself away for a couple of days to make peace with myself all over again."
Tears rolled over his mother's eyelids then and began to fall freely down her cheeks. Donovan couldn't ever remember seeing her cry. Not in his entire life. But the sight didn't keep him from asking the next question. "Why do you need that forgiveness so badly? What happened to Beth? Where is she now?"
Lil twisted in the chair, trying to turn away from him, but Donovan took her by the shoulders and held her in place. Beneath his hands, he felt her shrug as she said, "I honestly don't know where she is. Can't we just leave it at that?"
"I don't think so... Mother." He abruptly stood up. "I don't plan to leave any stones unturned now that I know how much you've deceived me all these years—first with my father, now with Beth. I want to know what happened to her, and I'm not going to let you out of here until you tell me." Her head hung low, Lil didn't even look up at him. Almost afraid to hear the answer, he asked the question anyway: "Is she dead?"
"I don't know." A new round of tears dampening her cheeks, Lil raised up. "I gave her to a nice family passing through the gold country on their way to southern California. I like to think she's still alive."
"Gave?" Donovan's fingers went rigid. For a moment, he wasn't completely sure what he meant to do with them, so he bunched his hands into fists and jammed them into his pockets. Trying hard, so very hard to understand, he repeated, "Gave. You gave my sister away like she was a stray puppy?"
Nodding miserably, Lil dabbed at her nose with the back of her hand.
"How could you have done such a thing?"
"I had to, don't you see?" Lil's eyes were bright with something close to fear. "I was barely managing when it was just me and you. I tried for so long as I dared, but couldn't make a go of it after Beth was born. I decided she'd be better off with folks who really wanted her and could care for her."
Suddenly, Donovan couldn't look at his mother any more. He stalked over to the file cabinet, careful to keep his back to her. "Am I supposed to get on my knees now and thank you for being generous enough to keep me?"
"It wasn't the same thing when you were born."
His mother's tone told Donovan that he'd overstepped the bounds, but in this, he felt he had a right to set the limits. "Tell me how it was different, while I can still stand to be in the same room with you." He heard a little cry from behind him, like that of a wounded animal. Ashamed of himself, Donovan relented a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean that, but I've got to know everything. Tell me, please, and don't leave anything out."
"I'll try." She sniffed a few times, gathering herself, then blew her nose. "As I believe I've already mentioned, I honestly thought R. T. would do right by me after you were born. Shortly after I figured out that he never meant a thing he'd said, I discovered Beth was on the way. I had no one to help me, a
nd by the time she was born, I was desperate."
"That's bull." Donovan wheeled around to confront her again. "I saw the look on R. T.'s face when he asked about Lillibeth. Surely he'd have done something to help, and maybe even taken her in himself. Did you even ask him if he wanted her?"
Lil lowered her head and stared down at the wrinkled mess her tears had made of her black velvet gown. "No," she said in a hoarse whisper. "I never asked him."
"Why not? He opened his home and his family to me without reservation. He cares about me, Lil, and I think he cares about Beth. Couldn't you at least have given him the option?"
"No." She sounded hard, emotionless. "Even if R. T. had offered to take her, which I doubt his wife would have appreciated, I couldn't have given Beth to him."
"Too much pride, Lil?" Donovan couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his tone. "So much pride, you thought strangers could do better by your own daughter?"
"Pride didn't have a damn thing to do with it." Lil looked as if she were weighing a very difficult decision. When she finally met Donovan's gaze again, she was her usual defiant self. "I won't pretend that I'm proud of everything I've done in my life, especially some of the mistakes I made when your father betrayed me with his wife. But I'll be damned if I'll sit here and answer any more questions, if you're going to condemn me."
"I haven't condemned you." He bit back the urge to add, 'yet.'
"I suspect you might want to when I tell you the reason I didn't give Beth to R. T."
Their eyes still locked, Donovan knew, if he was ever to learn the whole truth, this was one time he'd have to hold his tongue. Nodding slightly, he accepted her terms. "I'm not here to pass judgment on you, Mother. I just want the truth."
"And so you shall have it." She picked nervously at her fingernails, looking, oddly enough, a little like a schoolgirl. "I fell in love with R. T. almost the moment I met him. He's the only man I've ever loved."
Donovan had never heard his mother use the term "love" on any occasion, and certainly never in conjunction with a feeling she'd experienced. It was a shock to hear her talk this way, and to look into the face he thought he'd known so well, to discover human frailty and a distinct vulnerability. This, from a woman he'd always thought of as a rock. It humbled him a little, made him wonder for a moment about some of the more rigid rules he'd set for his own personal life.
"Back then," Lil went on to say, her voice stronger, "I was young and foolish. Foolish enough to believe in love and forever. When R. T. broke my heart, I thought I would die." She laughed bitterly. "Then, as I thought about it longer, I thought he should be the one to die. Since I'm incapable of murder, I punished him the only way I knew how. I, ah, went a little wild when I found out he never planned to marry me, and of course, only wound up punishing myself." She sighed, then brushed a teardrop from the corner of her eye. "R. T. isn't Beth's father. I'm not real sure who is."
Donovan was stunned. Even though he'd always known his mother was a little "loose," he had a sudden need to get outside, to fill his entire body with some fresh air. "I think you've managed to give me more information than I actually wanted." He started for the door. "But thanks for being so honest. At least now I know everything."
Lil leaped out of her chair and beat him to the door, positioning herself between him and the way out. "You can't leave yet—not until you understand why I did what I did."
"I think I understand perfectly."
"But you haven't heard why I gave Beth away. At least let me explain that."
Donovan did not want to hear any more. He did not. But he could no more walk out on his mother now than he could rid himself of the sick feeling in his gut. "All right. But make it quick, if you don't mind. I need some air."
Pain, or something like it, rolled across Lil's tired features, ironically making her look as if she really were old enough to be his mother. When she spoke, her voice cracked, and even made her sound more like how he imagined a mother would sound. "Even if I'd have known who Beth's father was for sure, I wouldn't have tied myself down with another prospector. That's no kind of life for a woman or a girl. I'd grown strong enough to protect myself by then, but a youngster would never have had a chance. I found a new home for Beth because I couldn't bear the idea of her growing up in the gold fields the way I did."
"You raised me there," he reminded her.
"That wasn't the same as raising a little girl under those conditions." Hatred shadowed her eyes, but Donovan knew it wasn't directed at him. "You were different," she went on to explain, "not only because you were a male, but because you were as independent as hell almost from the day you were born. The girl... Beth," a sudden tremor jerked Lil's shoulders, and she paused to collect herself, "I couldn't bear the idea of what might happen to her if we never got out of the gold country. I never wanted her to learn about men the way I did. You wouldn't have wanted that for her either."
Donovan couldn't argue with that. Though he was just past five when they left the mother lode country for good, he still remembered the way grown men would leer at his mother, some of them pawing her as if she were public domain, others making ribald remarks even though her young son stood at her side. He could understand her motives for sending Beth away, if not condone them, but for that reason he couldn't quite bring himself to offer what she obviously needed so badly: unconditional forgiveness.
"Have you ever thought about going to look for her?"
"Lots of times," she said, hanging her head again. "But it wouldn't have served any good purpose. That family is all she's ever known, and I doubt they've told her about me. What good would it do to show up now? It would only break her heart and ruin everyone's life. And for what? So I could see how my project turned out? I may not be the best mother ever to hit the earth, but I'm not quite that selfish."
Donovan considered her words, but just couldn't agree. "Is believing that the reason you can sleep at night?"
"If I didn't believe that, I couldn't even live with myself." She raised her chin and looked straight up at him. "I still think I did the best I could by her."
The best Donovan could do by his mother then, was to give her shoulder a squeeze. "Thanks for your candor. I do appreciate it, and promise to give everything I've learned some good hard thought." Thinking he might not be seeing her for a while, Donovan impulsively leaned forward and kissed Lil's forehead.
"Oh, Donovan..." Choking back her tears, she reached up and touched his cheek. "If I'd a thought you and R. T. would actually meet up the way you did, if I'd known you'd find out about him and Beth, I never would have kept all these secrets from you. Never. Please believe that much of me."
But he couldn't. Not yet. "It doesn't matter now. What's happened has happened, and we'll both have to find a way to live with it." He managed a short smile before informing her of the decision he'd just reached. "I intend to keep my interest in the saloon for the time being, but I need a break. You're going to have to get yourself another manager for the gaming end of things. Jack Thibbins ought to be a good man for the job."
"You're walking out on me? Just like that?"
"Not walking... just taking a little time for myself. I don't know what I mean to do right now. I only know that I'm not going to be coming back here for a while. Try not to take it too personally."
As he set her aside and reached for the doorknob, she stooped to begging, another rarity in this stone-woman mother of his. "Don't—please don't go this way. What do I have to do to make it right again? Just tell me, I'll do anything."
"It's not you, it's me. I just need to get away for a while." Then, because he could feel himself wavering, Donovan yanked open the door and blindly stormed out of the room, nearly colliding with the man who was standing on the other side—a man who had obviously been eavesdropping.
"Hello, Lil. It's been a long time." R. T.'s gaze traveled from her tear-stained face to her saloon-girl gown. "You're looking downright..." He didn't finish the sentence. The disillusionment in his expression said
everything.
Having fresh first-hand knowledge of how badly Lil's little secrets could hurt, Donovan slapped his father on the back and said, "You look like you could use a drink. Why don't we go somewhere and have a couple of belts?"
Chapter 14
By the time Donovan had returned to his house that night, Libby was beside herself with worry. She'd imagined him crushed in a cable railway accident a thousand times, shot by Thomas Savage during a jealous rage, and even swept off his feet by R. T.'s attractive secretary. When that last image had come to her, Libby unfortunately had been standing on a chair, putting the finishing touches on the wallpaper, which by then had shrunk away from the windowsill by close to two inches. After picturing Donovan with another woman, she'd manhandled the paper so badly, there was nothing left to do but leave it alone and hope that he never noticed.
When he finally had come through the door, Donovan had been grumpy and uncommunicative. He'd pleaded exhaustion, promising to have a long talk with her first thing in the morning, insisted that his stomach was too upset for him to eat, and then gone straight upstairs to his room, leaving Libby alone as she'd been all day. She hadn't taken his neglect well at first. And not just because he'd left her to dine alone—again. She'd gone upstairs after him, demanding information about his trip to Savage Publishing, and at last he'd grudgingly admitted that he hadn't gained her any concessions for the Tribune, even though that was the major reason he'd gone to see R. T. in the first place. Libby had tried to question him further after that, but Donovan declared that he would not discuss R. T., the publishing company, or even his mother, and had stomped off to his room.
It took a while, but after she'd fixed herself a snack, then retired to her own room for the night, she finally put her anger aside and started worrying about Donovan all over again. Libby lay in the darkness for at least an hour, her eyes squeezed shut, but she couldn't drift off to sleep. She kept hearing something sad in Donovan's voice when he'd spoken to her, recalled seeing something in his remarkable eyes, a glimpse, she thought, of the soul he claimed he did not possess. If that's what she'd seen, it was a lost soul, for sure. The thought made her too restless to sleep, too worried about Donovan not to make sure he was all right. She impulsively threw her covers aside and started for his room.
