But he could offer her nothing of value…yet.
In time, maybe he could be the man she deserved. But that time had not yet arrived, and because he loved her, he had to put a stop to their reckless affair.
“Hattie, please,” he whispered, wishing he could set her aside, put her pretty silken bonnet back on her head, and send her on her way. But already her touch had stripped him of power. Already he had succumbed to her charms.
Returning her kisses with fervor, Willie plunged his hands into her hair. He pulled her close, threading his fingers through her loose, unbound tresses. Her arms came up to encircle his neck. Wild with desires, he could no longer think of anything but Hattie and her luscious, ripe body. All his good intentions flew from his mind.
He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
“You’re so beautiful.” He kissed the words across her cheeks, along her neck, down across the smoothness of her throat. His hands eagerly tugged at the simple work dress she wore.
Soon, she lay naked before him, the dress and her undergarments carelessly tossed to the floor. His clothes were gone, too, joining hers in a crazed heap of passion, yearning, and frantic need.
When they’d first come together that night in his rented room, their love-making had been tentative and uncertain. Now, thoroughly familiar with each other’s bodies, they each knew how to touch, how to tease, how to fully share the wonders of intimacy.
Their bodies writhed in passion, covered in sweat, glistening with joy. She lifted her hips to meet each powerful thrust, her muscles tightening around him as she neared her pinnacle. With one final groan of pleasure, he drove deeper still, his shaft pulsating as he, too, reached the peak with her.
He buried his face against her neck, holding her close. He dreaded those awkward, uncomfortable moments that would follow. Hattie would pull the sheet around her, stumble about the room as she gathered her clothing. She would turn her back to him as she washed up—he made sure each time to fill the pitcher with water from the nearby creek—then she would quickly dress, utter a hasty farewell, and hurry out the door.
Each time she came to him, he wished anew that he could give her the love, the respect, and the good life she deserved. Today, he wished it all the more. But he couldn’t.
Neither could he break off their scandalous affair.
Chapter Eleven
As soon as she returned to Sunset, Hattie knew something dreadful had happened. The somber looks on the faces of the townspeople were unmistakable signs of death, as were the hushed whispers that reached her ears as she passed by groups of men and women. On another occasion, she might have thought they were speaking of her, gossiping about her wicked behaviors, but, of course, nobody knew what she’d been up to, and besides, the gloomy atmosphere made it all too clear that the town had lost someone dear.
Frantic to find out who’d been taken from their midst, Hattie hurried her steps. She arrived at the hospital moments later to find both Dr. Kellerman and his wife standing on the porch, dressed in drab mourning colors.
Her stomach roiled. She despised death. She hated the fact that even modern medicines and skilled physicians were powerless to stop it. Most of all she loathed how it slipped in so quietly and unexpectedly to steal away the lives of good people.
Who had the reaper taken now?
The realization that someone had passed away while she’d been exulting in wanton passions, that someone had perhaps taken their last breath even as she was moaning with pleasure left her shaken. Hattie grasped hold of the handrail at the steps.
“Someone died?” she squeaked. “Who? When?” She knew it had not been a patient. No one had been admitted to stay at the hospital. Her mind raced to remember recent house calls Dr. Kellerman had made.
Charlotte came toward her, her face screwed up in an odd expression. “You certainly should know all about it.”
“Me? Why would I know? I’ve been gone all afternoon—”
“With your friend, Emily, I believe?”
Hattie started to nod, then checked herself. At once, she knew her lie had been exposed. She knew, too, who had passed away.
“Her father died.” Hattie lowered her head, both in respect for the late Mr. Phillips and as a way of avoiding Charlotte’s censure. “I’m so sorry to hear it.” Without looking up, she made her way onto the porch and opened the front door. “Give me a moment to change. I’ll come with you to pay my respects.”
Abner Kellerman nodded. “Just so you know, Hattie, he died earlier today at home. The body is at the mortuary. The family is already gathering together. I believe your friend is there now. You might want to offer a word or two of condolence.”
“Of course.” Her cheeks flamed as she ducked inside the house and slipped upstairs to her room. Had she actually been with Emily—as she claimed each time she left for an assignation with Willie—she would most likely have been present when word came of the man’s death. As a friend, she should have been there, Hattie told herself, although the thought was an irrational one. When the day began, only God knew that it would be the last for Dirk Phillips.
All the same, she wished she had been with Emily to offer comfort and to share whatever strength she might. A nagging sense of guilt followed her for the remainder of the day and long into the night.
Two days later, when she attended the memorial for Mr. Phillips, her guilt had eased only slightly. Although she and the Kellermans had gone to the mortuary the day of his death, Hattie had not yet had any opportunity to speak to her friend. Emily had stayed close to her mother and sister, close, too, of course, to her husband, Benjamin. That was what having a family was all about. Families shared blood, a heritage, a history. Families shared a single heart. They comforted one another. They supported one another.
Hattie had long ago given up wishing for a family of her own. No one had ever wanted to adopt her, and wishing for something you couldn’t have never changed anything.
Now, with the services over, she moved from table to table, passing around plates of fluffy biscuits along with jars of sweet jellies and freshly-made jams. She’d always thought it strange to serve food after funerals. Instead of a solemn occasion, it became a social event. Folks would sit down to eat, share a few remembrances of the departed one, and then gradually move the conversations along to more cheerful topics.
Maybe the food and the whole ritual of serving and sharing a meal with others was a part of the process of grieving. Hattie suspected it also served as a bit of a distraction for the members of the deceased’s family.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Emily Sue standing just outside the canvas shelter.
“Excuse me,” she said, handing the serving tray she carried to a woman standing nearby. “I want to offer my condolences.”
She hurried to her friend’s side and reached for Emily’s hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I wanted to tell you sooner, but you were with your family. I didn’t want to step in where I didn’t belong.”
“Thank you, Hattie. We’ve known for a long time that this day was coming.” She put on a brave smile. “That doesn’t make it any easier, though.”
“No, of course not. Will you be all right?”
Emily nodded. “I’ve got Ben, and Kat’s got Joshua.” She looked toward her left where her husband, her sister, and her brother-in-law stood talking to the undertaker. Kat’s children played nearby. “Those men are like solid rocks for us. I worry about Mama, though.”
“Dr. Kellerman was thinking she might want to help out at the hospital. He says she’s very skilled.”
“She is,” Emily agreed. “For a good many years, while Abner was drinking himself into a stupor every day and night, Mama was the closest thing to a doctor this little town had. She’s certainly delivered far more babies than the doctor has, and she’s probably stitched up as many cuts and set as many broken bones.”
The reminder of Abner Kellerman’s less-than-noble past left Hattie feeling a strange disco
ntent. Even though she knew it to be true, she found it almost impossible to believe he’d once been a good-for-nothing wastrel. Maybe she just didn’t want to believe it.
But why should that bother her? If anything, it should encourage her. It served as proof that a man could change, that even the lowliest human being could pull himself up from despair to make a good new life. Dr. Kellerman had done it. Willie Morse was doing it now.
“Hattie? Are you feeling all right?” Emily’s voice, soft and concerned, cut through her thoughts. “You look pale.”
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine.” She did feel a mite peculiar, most likely from the heat of the day and the large number of people crowding around her. “I’ve been working long hours,” she added. “Doing a lot of studying, too, of course.”
Emily crooked her arm around Hattie’s. “Come with me. Let’s take a stroll. I really need to step away from all these people and have a moment to myself,” she added in a shaky whisper.
“I understand. It is a bit close.”
They walked slowly through the cemetery, following a winding pathway through gravestones and flowers. Hattie read a few of the names but they meant nothing to her. For all she knew, some of the dead buried here could be her relations. Sometimes it hurt, not having a family, not knowing who she was or who her people had been.
Before she could stop them, tears pricked her eyes.
Emily noticed at once. “Hattie, you’re crying. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing at all.” She sighed. “I used to never think about it,” she said as she took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, “but lately I do wonder about my past, about my mother and father. I wonder if they were in love or if my conception was a terrible mistake, something they regretted later.”
“What’s brought this on?” Emily cocked her head slightly. “It’s Willie, isn’t it?” The question had an accusatory tone. “What’s he done? Has he tried to put you down or make you feel inferior because—” She stopped when Hattie shook her head.
“No, of course not. But he has made me think about who I am, about who I want to be.”
Emily leaned a bit closer. “Are you getting ideas about him?”
“Ideas? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Romantic ideas,” Emily explained. “I see it in your eyes. You’re falling in love with him. I’ve warned you about him before. Don’t do it,” she rushed on, grabbing Hattie’s forearms and giving them a shake. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
Hattie licked at her dry lips. “I know you don’t have a very high opinion of him, but he’s not the man he used to be. He’s working. He’s earning a living for himself.”
“And he’s got you right under his fat, squishy thumb.” Emily let out a rush of breath. “You’re so naïve, Hattie, you don’t understand men like Willie. He’ll put on a good act for you. He’ll say all the things he knows you want to hear, and he’ll make you believe every lie he tells.”
Hattie pulled away, folded her arms across her chest, and threw a pointed look at Emily. “You don’t know him anymore. I’m not so sure you ever really knew him. I’ll admit he’s made a lot of mistakes, but who hasn’t?”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Never mind. I’d better get back now.” She took a step toward the tent, then stopped and glanced back at Hattie. “Please, don’t be angry with me for speaking my mind, but I had to say something. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I appreciate your concern, but you needn’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She choked back a rush of tumultuous emotions. “You’re right, you’d better get back, and for that matter, so should I. I need to find Dr. Kellerman and his wife now. They weren’t planning to stay long.”
* * * *
The buggy bumped along over the rutted road. Golden sunlight poured down from the heavens. Its soothing warmth could not dispel the strange sadness that had come over Hattie. She pressed her handkerchief against her eyes and wept inconsolably.
“What’s gotten into you, Hattie?” Charlotte’s voice held an unusual sharpness. She eyed the girl closely.
“I feel so sad for Emily Sue, for her whole family.” Although the words were true, Hattie knew even as she spoke them that her sympathies for Dirk Phillips’ family did not account for her frantic sobbing.
“You never met the man. No need for you to take on so.”
Her husband cleared his throat. “And no need for you to stir up trouble, Mrs. Kellerman. The world’s got enough of that to go around.”
“I’m sorry,” Hattie wailed. “This is all my fault. It’s just like you’ve told me before,” she said, daring a glance toward the woman at her side. “I’m too emotional. I feel things too deeply. I have to learn to control myself.”
“Yes, it seems to have gotten worse in recent weeks. I’ve heard you crying late at night. On several occasions,” Charlotte added, her arched brows giving her a severe look.
Hattie pressed her lips together, determined to hold back any more tears. Oh, how many nights had she cried, missing Willie, longing to be with him, feeling so utterly alone in her little room in the huge old house. She’d had no idea her pitiful cries had been overheard.
“Are you all right, Hattie?” In contrast to his wife’s cold words, Abner Kellerman’s voice held warmth and genuine concern. “Do you want me to do a quick examination? Might be you’re coming down with something. Hot weather can do that, you know.”
“Mostly I’m just feeling very tired,” she said, sniffling in another attempt to quell her tears. “Sometimes I don’t sleep well,” she admitted. “And maybe I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, so to speak, trying too hard to do too many things.”
“Are you saying we’re expecting too much of you?” Charlotte’s voice softened a bit, but the glint in her eyes hardened. “If you’re finding it difficult to keep up with studies and attend to your responsibilities, you might want to reconsider nursing as a profession.”
“Oh, no, that’s not at all what I meant.” Suddenly worried that her time with the Kellermans might come to an unexpected halt, she gripped the edge of the seat. Her stomach jittered as the buggy hit another bump. “Excuse me, please.” Hattie twisted in her seat, hanging her head over the side of the vehicle.
“Abner, stop the buggy. She’s going to be sick.” Charlotte jerked her husband’s arm. As the buggy shuddered to a halt, the woman pushed at Hattie. “Well, go on. Get down and do your business.”
She didn’t need to say a word. Hattie had already pushed her way out. Her feet no sooner hit the ground than she doubled over, the queasiness easing only slightly as she retched again and again. Finally, she wiped at her mouth, then climbed back into the buggy.
“I’m terribly sorry. It seems my breakfast didn’t set too well with me.” She forced herself to smile. “I’m fine now. Really, I am,” she insisted when Abner and Charlotte both turned to her with questioning gazes.
But she wasn’t, and she knew it. She suspected Dr. Kellerman and his wife knew it, too.
“All the same, young lady, I want you in my office tomorrow. We’ll make a thorough examination.” He patted her hand. “Now, stop fretting. It’s going to be all right, Hattie.”
* * * *
The next afternoon—Sunday—Hattie sat on the edge of the chair in the doctor’s examination room, nervously bouncing her knees. She’d stayed home from church again, but she’d definitely spent the morning praying.
She pressed her lips together, clasped her hands in her lap, and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe that would help. If she didn’t have to look at the doctor and his wife, she could pretend this wasn’t happening. She could imagine herself somewhere far away, maybe even imagine herself as a child again. Young. Innocent.
The absurd thought that Willie should be with her, standing at her side, crossed her mind. She nearly bolted from the little room, suddenly desperate to seek him out and bodily drag him back with her to hear this momentous pronouncement.
She kn
ew the truth. Dr. Kellerman’s exam would reveal nothing new but would only confirm what she had already come to know in her heart. When spring arrived, she would bear a child. She would become a mother, and in her unwed state, she would also become a pariah, outcast from society and looked upon as wicked, evil, and unworthy of respect. Even simple human kindness would be withheld from her. The women of Sunset were sticklers for propriety. Having a child out of wedlock was—in their minds—an unforgivable sin.
Yet it happened all the time. Of course, most girls found ways to disguise the truth. If they were poor, they quickly married then claimed their firstborn came early. Girls from well-to-do families were sometimes sent away, that’s what it was called. Sent away to spend a summer in the east. Sent away because of a strange, rare ailment requiring specialized medical care. Sent away to care for an elderly relation. In truth, of course, they were sent away to have their babies and give them up for adoption, returning home after their ordeal with sad faces, quiet demeanors, and an aching in their hearts that never went away.
Hattie shuddered. Giving her child over to a foundling home was unthinkable.
Opening her eyes, she peered up at Charlotte Kellerman. The woman stared back, disapproval obvious in her weary blue eyes.
“Mrs. Kellerman, please. If you’re thinking to deliver a lecture, there’s no need. I’m well aware of my short-comings.” Unable to bear the woman’s harsh look, Hattie turned away.
Across the room, Abner Kellerman cleared his throat. “Miss Richards…”
He stopped speaking, came to stand beside her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Never before had Hattie seen the man appear so flustered and unsure of himself.
“You needn’t say anything, really,” she assured him. “I’ll admit I was hoping that perhaps my body was playing tricks, that maybe there was another explanation for my recent malaise, but of course, what’s done is done.”
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