She blinked back tears, suddenly overwhelmed with more emotions than she could handle. Surprisingly, a sense of joyfulness surged through her along with a host of doubts and uncertainties. She was with child. She would bring a precious new life into the world.
Charlotte stepped forward and reached for her hands.
“We will help you, dear. Have you any family who might take you in during this time of need? If not, there are places to go. You’ll get proper care, and your baby will be placed in a good home with a loving family.”
Your baby.
It was the first time the words had been spoken aloud. They thudded inside Hattie’s brain, an insistent echo growing louder and louder. But then the meaning of Charlotte’s speech cut through her thoughts like a sharp knife stabbing at her heart.
“A good home? A loving family?” Hattie burst into sobs. “No, I won’t give my baby away to anybody.” She jerked her hands free and got to her feet. “For that matter, neither am I going anywhere.” Of course she must stay. She couldn’t imagine leaving Willie alone in Sunset. He needed her. “I’m going to stay right here and I’m going to have my baby. I can raise my child on my own.”
Too upset to remain a moment longer, Hattie rushed toward the door. A thousand thoughts whirled inside her mind. She needed time alone in order to sort them out, put them in order, and begin the process of making decisions. Her future was no longer her own. She shared it now with a precious unborn child.
“Hattie Mae, wait! Get back here.” Abner Kellerman stepped in front of her, blocking the exit. “You’re making a huge mistake. You’re upset, you’re not thinking clearly, and you’ll come to regret any hasty decisions you make while in this emotional state. Sit down, take a deep breath, and we’ll discuss the matter.” He placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her toward the chair.
She wouldn’t budge. “There’s nothing to discuss.” Hattie exchanged glances with first the doctor and then his stiff-lipped wife. “I won’t change my mind.”
“Listen to me,” Charlotte said, coming forward. She reached out to take Hattie’s trembling hands in hers. “I know what your life will be like. I know what your child’s life will be like. You’ll be poor, hungry, scrabbling to survive. People will shun you, and your child, too.”
The woman spoke from painful personal experience. Although Hattie had been shocked when she’d first heard of Charlotte Kellerman’s past, she’d eventually learned the entire story, knew how Charlotte’s parents had been brutally murdered while preaching the word of God. Hattie understood now how the horrors she’d seen had led Charlotte down the path of prostitution and drunkenness. She’d heard, too, how Charlotte’s son had been born in a barn while she was too inebriated to even know where she was. Truly the woman had suffered, but wasn’t she at least partly to blame for her own mistakes? How could she now act as though she were morally superior, as though she had all the answers?
Hattie jerked her hands away. “I’m sorry you’ve had such an unhappy life.”
“Yours will be no better.”
The quiet warning gave Hattie pause. Following Dr. Kellerman’s suggestion, she returned to the chair, sat down, and drew in a deep breath. It calmed her somewhat, and in some ways, it did help to clear her head.
With clarity came purpose, and with purpose came strength and determination. No one would stop her from doing what she knew to be right. Hattie set her mouth in a grim line and rose from the chair.
She’d never thought of herself as an unkind person, nor had she ever considered herself an ingrate, but maybe those qualities had been lying dormant inside her for all the years of her life. Maybe human weaknesses were like those diseases of which Dr. Kellerman spoke, ones that hid inside the body for years before suddenly springing forth to cause horrid illnesses.
Whatever the cause, whatever the source, a sudden streak of meanness surged through Hattie, encompassing both body and soul.
“Don’t compare my life with yours, Charlotte,” she hissed. “You were a whore. You slept with men for money. You don’t even know who fathered your children.” She sucked in another breath, gaining more courage. “You were not only a whore, you were a disgusting drunk, and for that matter,” she rushed on, swinging herself around to face Abner Kellerman, “so were you. From all accounts I’ve heard, you were a worthless piece of swill for a good many years. Neither of you has any right to tell me how to live my life.”
Weak and shaking, Hattie made her way to the door, leaving behind two stricken individuals. At that moment, it mattered not that those two people were the ones who had helped her the most since she’d left school and set out on her own. It mattered not that Abner and Charlotte Kellerman had come to be like family to her—the only real family she’d ever known. It mattered not that she loved them both dearly.
All that mattered in that moment was getting away from them.
She needed air. She needed light. She needed to be outside where she could see the brilliant blue skies and feel the refreshing breeze cool against her heated, tear-stained cheeks. Once she got through the door, she’d be all right.
Of course, nothing could really be all right, now. She had problems to deal with, questions to answer, and decisions to make.
She would figure it all out later. Right now, she needed to be alone.
Chapter Twelve
Willie unlocked the office door and hurried inside. He didn’t work on Sundays—neither did Whitmore, of course—and the quiet morning offered the perfect opportunity for him to study undisturbed. Earlier in the week, he’d marked several pages on contracts and financial disputes. He looked forward to reading the texts. A conscientious student, he prided himself for the thorough notes he made. When time came to take his examination, his marks would be high. More than enough to earn him that coveted right to practice law.
For some strange reason, he found it impossible to concentrate that morning. A peculiar feeling nagged at him and left him restless. He wanted to see Hattie. She’d seemed distracted of late, and then there was the funeral yesterday. Willie suspected that would upset her greatly, even though she hadn’t known Emily Sue’s father.
And more than ever, he had to find a way to put a stop to their reckless affair. Loving Hattie allowed him to see their actions from a different light. They could not continue meeting as they’d done.
But he couldn’t live without her, and he knew it.
Willie returned to his books, more determined than ever to succeed. Once he’d taken his exam, once he’d been granted the right to practice, once he’d set himself up as a lawyer…
With a sigh, he let himself dream of all the future could be, once he became the sort of man who deserved Hattie’s love.
Still, the restlessness refused to leave him. He could not shake off the feeling that Hattie needed him, that he should be with her. He returned the law books to the bookcase, locked his notes away in the drawer of his desk, and hurried from the office, heading in the direction of the hospital.
At once, he saw her.
His pulse raced as Hattie Mae approached him. A grin spread across his face in anticipation. But she walked past without even looking at him.
Of course, they’d agreed not to call attention to themselves by meeting in town. Yet something in the way she walked, something about the expression on her face—shock, dismay, disbelief—made him call out to her.
“Hattie? What are you doing? Where are you going?”
She continued walking, acting as though she hadn’t heard.
He scratched at his ear, puzzled by her strange behavior. Tugging at his cap, he turned and followed after the retreating figure. She did nothing to even acknowledge him. Ignoring the pain, he walked faster, then broke into an awkward, stiff-legged run as she reached the corner and disappeared from view.
“Wait up, Hattie. You know I can’t move too fast. I want to talk to you.”
Finally, she stopped, and from his vantage point, Willie noticed the way her shoulders st
iffened, the way her entire body seemed to suddenly go rigid.
Slowly, Hattie turned to face him. “I don’t feel much like talking right now. Please, just go away and leave me alone.”
“But, why? What’s happened?” Getting closer, he saw the streaks of tears across her cheeks. Her gray eyes held a look he couldn’t decipher. Fear gripped him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing for you to be concerned about.” Once again, she turned and began walking.
Willie limped along after her. “Don’t shut me out. Something’s happened, and—” He nearly said he had a right to know, but did he? Really? They shared an intimate relationship, but an illicit one. That, alone, gave him no claim on her. He cherished her friendship; he yearned for her understanding. Above all, he wished for her love.
But he had no right to demand she give him any of those things. She owed him nothing. Not a moment of her time, not a single bit of care, concern, or consideration.
“Yes, something’s happened, but there’s nothing you can do about it,” she snapped. “I truly made my own bed, as they say, and I have no choice but to lie in it now.”
She’d stopped walking again. Willie reached out his big hand and placed it to her cheek, using a thick thumb to wipe away her tears.
“You and your platitudes,” he said, his voice quiet and gentle. “Stop talking in adages and tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, it can’t be all that bad. I’ll help you, Hattie. You know I will.”
“No, I’m not blaming you, Willie. I knew the risks I was taking. I was the one who threw all caution to the wind, so to speak.” She lowered her gaze. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but there’s no way you can help me. It seems my life is about to take a momentous turn, and I’m afraid I haven’t quite got my mind wrapped around it yet.” Tears spilled from her eyes.
The truth smacked him so hard he doubled over.
“Dear God in heaven, Hattie Mae. You’re going to have my baby.”
Her head jerked up. “Who told you? How did you know?”
“I’m not as stupid as I sometimes look,” he said with a chuckle. “I figured it out. Just now.” And then, it hit him again. Overwhelmed, he nearly lost his balance, catching himself with a hand on Hattie’s shoulder. Instinctively, she reached out to steady him. “How long have you known?”
“I only got confirmation a short time ago, but I’ve suspected it for several weeks.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you think I had a right to know?” His mind raced at breakneck speed, moving from past to present to future. Lately, he’d given thought to marriage, but knew it couldn’t happen yet. Not until he was in a position to support a wife. As for fatherhood, he’d never really given it a thought. At some level, he’d presumed marriage and parenthood would be decisions he would come to make at some far distant time—when the circumstances were right. Instead, they’d been suddenly thrust upon him without warning.
Divine intervention, he thought. This was the good Lord’s way of ensuring that Willie made all the right choices, that he accepted all he’d been given and became the man he was meant to be. His heart swelled inside his chest as he took Hattie’s hand in his.
“As God is my witness, Hattie Mae Richards, I’ll do right by you. We’ll go to Reverend Gilman right now and make arrangements to be married—”
She pulled her hand away. “We’ll no do such thing. This is precisely why I didn’t plan to tell you.” Once more Hattie started walking, but now she moved slowly, allowing Willie to easily keep pace with her. “I don’t want your pity, Willie. Most of all I don’t want any self-righteous proposals from you.” Tears gleaming in her eyes, she looked at him. “I won’t marry you.”
“Why not? We get along nicely. We do enjoy one another’s company.” His gaze swept over her, straying to her mid-section and lingering there. If only he could somehow see inside her body. Was their child a little girl? A boy? Excitement pumped through his chest. “It’s the only logical thing to do,” he pointed out.
“It’s not logical at all.” Hattie folded her arms. “You’re not able to take care of a wife, let alone provide for both a wife and a child. Willie,” she said in a quiet voice, leaning forward, “you can’t even take care of yourself. You’re barely getting by.”
“I’ll work harder. I’ll work longer.”
She kept shaking her head, refusing to listen to anything he said.
“Hattie, please.”
“No. Absolutely not.” Her gray eyes bore into him with uncompromising honesty. “I know you’re trying, but it’s not enough. I won’t entrust my future to a man whose heart still holds so much anger and bitterness. I do care about you,” she whispered. “But that’s not enough, either.”
With a rush of tears and a swish of her skirts, Hattie wheeled around and took off running back in the direction from which she’d come. Willie stared after her, knowing better than to make chase. He’d never catch her, and even if he did, it wouldn’t matter.
Hattie had her mind made up.
Her words hurt, but she’d only spoken the truth.
He wasn’t good enough for her.
* * * *
Willie’s head throbbed as he struggled toward consciousness. The familiar softness of his pillow assured him he was at home in his own room, and the blinding sunlight pouring through the window told him morning had come. Nothing else was clear. Painful questions wracked his brain as he pieced together the events of the previous afternoon and evening.
He remembered talking to Hattie. A groan slipped out when he recalled how she’d turned away from him, how she’d hurried off, leaving him standing alone on the street.
She was going to have his baby, but she wouldn’t marry him.
Oh, yes, he remembered talking to Hattie.
Gradually more memories returned. The Red Mule. Thick tobacco smoke filling the air, mingling with the stench of sweaty miners and the overpowering scent of cheap perfume. Willie put his hands to his ears, hearing it all again: the noise, the shouts, Old Pete clanging away at the piano, the off-key voices and the bawdy songs that filled the air as the dancing girls paraded across the floor.
Most of all, he remembered the sweet, fiery taste of the liquor he’d downed, and the blessed oblivion that soon followed.
Only he no longer felt quite so blessed in the light of the new day.
He shut his eyes, pulled up the covers and groaned. Any minute, Mrs. Godwin would be calling him for breakfast. He wasn’t sure he felt like eating.
Prying one eye open again, he peered toward the window. Too late for breakfast, he realized at once. Probably closer to noon.
Holy shit! He was supposed to be at the law office. Damn it, he had to get up, had to get to work. Whitmore would probably boot him right out for being late, but maybe Willie could come up with a good excuse.
His movements slow and ungainly, Willie managed to roll himself out of his bed. Damned leg still hurt, especially when he first woke up. Always took him a minute or two to steady himself when he arose. Having a rip-roaring headache sure as hell didn’t help, but whose fault was that? He staggered toward the wardrobe, his arms outstretched to catch himself as he stumbled through the room.
Willie’s hands shook as he lifted the pitcher and poured its tepid contents into the washbowl. A good splash of water to the face brought him slightly more awake, but did nothing to ease the excruciating pain in his temples.
Hattie would be furious with him when she found out he’d been drinking again. Hell, he was furious with himself. Hadn’t he just proved her point?
Bending forward, he dunked his face into the water then came up coughing and sputtering. A little trick he’d learned, it usually helped clear his head. Not today. As more memories returned, Willie had a feeling it would be a long, long time before he got himself out of this new muddle.
“Damn it to hell!” He slammed his fist on the dresser. Water sloshed from the washbowl. Somehow he’d have to persuade Hattie to do the right thing
. Drowning his misery at the Red Mule and getting drunk on his ass was not the way to do it.
Sober up. Clean up. Go pay a call on her.
An intelligent young woman, Hattie would listen to reason. Yesterday, she’d been in a state of shock. So had he. Neither of them had known how to handle the situation. Today, they would discuss matters in a calm, rational manner. She would see that there was, indeed, only one correct choice to be made. They had to get married. It was as simple as that.
He quickly dressed. Grateful to see a few coins left on the nightstand, he pocketed them, then gathered up a clean change of clothing. No time for breakfast—or lunch—now. He’d drop in at the law office, tell Whitmore something urgent had come up, and then he’d head to the bath house and wash off the stink. Maybe he would visit Floyd, too, for a shave and a decent haircut.
Willie cocked his head and groaned at his bleary-eyed image in the mirror.
A man ought to look his finest when he got down on one knee to propose to his best girl. He looked a wreck, but under the circumstances, it would have to do. At least he’d have clean clothes and a sweet-smelling aftershave.
He winked at his reflection, and almost grinned. But before the corners of his mouth had the chance to turn up, a knock at the door called his attention away from the mirror.
“Mr. Morse?” Tansy Godwin’s loud voice called out as the knocking continued. “You need to wake up—”
“I’m wide awake,” he told her, catching her a bit off guard as he pulled the door open. “I guess you’re going to scold me for missing breakfast. I’m sorry. I won’t be here for lunch either.”
The woman—as broad as she was tall—blocked the door. “Western Union man’s at the door, Mr. Morse. There’s a telegram for you. Says it’s from Denver.”
His mother, of course. He knew a lot of folks in the capital, but only his mother would summon him with a wire…and only if she had urgent reason to contact him.
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