Yet that wasn’t why he suddenly changed his mind and made the decision to see his father. In truth, Willie recognized his own failings, knew himself to be neither gracious, noble, nor generous.
“I’ll take you to the hotel and get you settled. After that, I’m going to go visit my father.”
He’d never seen such confusion on Hattie’s face before. “Why are you doing it?” she asked in a voice so quiet Willie guessed she must be afraid that speaking up would break the fragile moment.
“I’m doing it for the most selfish reason of all. I’m doing it because if I don’t, I’ll probably regret it. I don’t want guilt hanging over me for the rest of my life.”
“So, you’re merely doing your duty?”
“That’s right. Being the good son, living up to my father’s last expectations for me.” He shrugged. “The least I can do, don’t you think?”
But whatever Hattie was thinking, she wasn’t going to share. Willie thought of offering another penny as he’d done once on a lovely summer’s morning, back in a time when their love was young and still innocent. Yes, he’d loved her even then, but of course he’d been too much of a fool to realize it.
He probably didn’t want to know her thoughts, he decided.
“Let’s get you settled, Hattie.”
Chapter Eighteen
Doubts clamored through Willie’s head as he stepped into the small, shadowed room. Night was falling, and the approaching darkness closed in around him. His mother had warned him of what to expect, but despite her cautious advisory, he couldn’t imagine his father actually being on his death-bed—or anywhere near it.
His father had always been a big man, in so many ways. Judge Morse was strong, vibrant, loud, and at times, even jovial. At least, that’s how Willie remembered him.
His mother sat near the bed. She looked up, smiled, and slowly rose to her feet.
“I’m so glad you’ve come, William. I’ll step outside. You need a little time alone with your father.”
“Mother, no—” He desperately wanted her to stay, but she’d already reached the door.
“Do call me, if…” Her voice trailed off. No need to say the words.
If he takes a turn for the worse, if he quietly passes away, if he suddenly dies.
Alone with his father now, Willie turned his attention to the pale, shrunken form in the bed. There’d been a mistake, his heart told him. This wan, shriveled-up fellow bore no resemblance whatsoever to the father who’d raised him. The father he’d loved. The father he’d revered for such a long time.
But there was no mistake. Neither was there any room for doubt now. His father’s life would soon end. He would be dead and buried, and his mortal body would rot away in the grave. Yet his soul would live on—and would face the final judgment. He would be called to account for his sins and would be punished accordingly.
The reality staggered him, left him reeling and short of breath.
What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?
All he asks is forgiveness.
A few simple words, and his duty would be done. Willie realized at that moment he held the power to put his father’s mind at ease. He could give comfort. He could offer peace.
Stepping up to the bed with outstretched hand, he drew in a breath as his father reached out to him. The man’s touch was cold, as if the life had already left his body. Cold, and weak.
Willie couldn’t reconcile this dying figure with the father he’d known, the man who had always laughed so raucously, boasted so mightily, and walked with a slow, but purposeful stride. The man who talked long and loud, and who laid down the law—his own law—to the world around him.
For all his faults, his father had been a powerful man, one who grabbed life, took chances, and lived large—in more ways than one. He would die now with no regrets…save one. He wanted his son’s forgiveness.
What harm in saying the words? That’s all they were. Just words. A few simple syllables, and all would end as it should. Willie’s duty would be done.
He reached for his father’s hand. “I understand. Mother explained everything to me,” he said in a quiet voice. “It doesn’t matter really. You did what you believed you had to do.” He was doing the same thing, Willie realized. “That’s an important lesson, one that you taught me. I’ve learned a lot from you. I’ve learned how to be strong, how to be a good man.” Willie looked away. Maybe there was some truth to be found in his words, after all. Or, maybe there was no truth at all. Either way, his duty was done.
* * * *
Early the next morning, Hattie and Willie set off for home. She’d rested fairly well and wanted to go back to Sunset as soon as possible. Just as Willie had forgiven his father, she had a few amends to make as well. She hadn’t had any opportunity to offer apologies to Letitia Morse—the woman refused to leave her husband—but she could set things right with Dr. Kellerman and his wife. Although their plans to send her away hurt deeply, Hattie knew they were well-intentioned. She owed them not only an apology, but a good amount of money, too.
How she would ever repay it, she didn’t know, but she would find a way.
Most of all, she wanted to ask Dr. Kellerman to assist at the birth. Most women wanted to be surrounded by their lady friends, and attended by a friendly midwife. But Hattie had no women friends. Besides, she was nervous about the baby coming. Perhaps she’d come to trust Dr. Kellerman more because she’d worked with him. She respected him as a professional.
“You’re sure you’re up to it?” Willie asked as Hattie quickly gathered her belongings. They’d had a bite to eat at the hotel dining room earlier. She’d hardly had any appetite.
“I’m feeling better this morning than I have in a very long time,” she assured him. Placing a hand at his cheek, she smiled. “It’s good to see you. It’s good to be with you again.”
“Hattie, we need to talk about the future, don’t you think? Before very long, we’re going to be parents. That’s a huge responsibility, and I think we have some important decisions to make.”
She shook her head. “No, not yet. Please, Willie, don’t push me.”
“But, why? Or, I should say, why not? We’ve been over this before. I want to marry you. I want to support you and our child. You say you care about me, and obviously you do, or you wouldn’t have come back with me. Why won’t you marry me?”
“I hope someday I will be your wife, but not until you’re ready.”
“I am ready, Hattie. I’m sober, I’m working, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
She sighed. “Maybe I’m the one who’s not ready.” She didn’t want to argue with Willie. All she wanted was to be on the road, on the way back to Sunset. He’d done a lot to change his life over the last few months, but Hattie wondered how deep the changes went. People could change their circumstances easily enough. It was a lot harder for a man to change his heart, his soul. Willie didn’t respect himself yet. Maybe he never would.
“All right, we’ll discuss it another time. Let’s be on our way.”
* * * *
Two hours. That’s how long it usually took to make the drive from Denver to Sunset. But that was on a good day with clear skies, and most certainly not with a very pregnant young woman aboard. At the rate they were going, they’d be lucky to reach the little town before late afternoon. Already they’d been on the road for nearly three hours and they were barely halfway to their destination.
“Maybe we ought to turn back, Hattie.” He hated himself for jostling her around, bouncing her about in a rented wagon with stiff-springs. He’d been driving very slowly, but had seen Hattie grimace from time to time. She was obviously not comfortable. “I think it would be better if we stayed in Denver a little longer.”
Hattie shook her head vehemently. “No, we can’t.” She gripped his arm, and her features tightened. Then, a moment later, she smiled and let go. “Turning around now would be plumb foolish. It would take us as long to get back
to Denver as it will to get to Sunset.”
“You’ve got a point.” He patted her hand. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine.”
The word shot out, and she clamped her mouth shut.
“You’re sure?”
“Hmm-hmm.” This time, she said nothing. She merely mumbled and gave him a quick nod.
“Hattie, something’s going on. What is it?”
“Nothing, really.” A nervous little laugh bubbled up.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course. I should know how I’m feeling, don’t you think?” She stiffened and grabbed his arm again.
“For God’s sake, Hattie! What’s the matter? Is it the baby?”
She shook her head—first one way, then the other. Willie couldn’t follow the movement enough to decide if she meant yes or no.
Hattie smiled again. “Just a little twinge, that’s all. It’s perfectly normal,” she assured him.
“How often are you having these little twinges?”
“I don’t know…exactly. Just occasionally.”
“That’s it. We’re going back.”
“Willie, no, please.” Hattie grabbed for his shoulders, forcing him to put down the reins. “I want to have this baby in Sunset. With Dr. Kellerman. I don’t want to be somewhere with strange people looking at me.” She shook as the tears came. “Don’t you understand? I want to be with people I know. People who care about me.”
“I care about you.”
“That’s not enough.” She winced.
Another little twinge, he guessed.
“It will be hours before we get to Sunset. Are you sure you can wait?”
“Well, you could drive a little faster, Willie.” Hattie’s smile had returned, and she patted his hand. “I’m not some porcelain doll that’s liable to break.”
He nodded. “All right. Let’s go.”
But going proved more difficult than Willie anticipated. Earlier rains and the spring thaws had left the ground soft and squishy. The horse lumbered to pull the wagon over the mucky, rutted road. Worse, still, clouds were gathering again on the horizon. Another storm threatened.
But Willie drove on. Hattie wanted to go to Sunset, and he’d damned sure find a way to get her there.
Thirty minutes later, he pulled the wagon to a halt.
“Why are we stopping?”
Instead of giving a direct answer, he looked off toward the southeast where dark clouds scuttled across the skies. As the warm winds moved northward they would bring drenching rains. Although the storm might pass quickly, it would give them a soaking if they didn’t find cover.
“We’ll take shelter there,” he told Hattie, pointing to a natural indentation in a nearby hillside. “How bad are the pains?”
“Bearable.” She hugged her bulging stomach. “There’s really no cause for concern.” As Willie hurried the horse and wagon toward shelter, Hattie kept up a steady patter. “It’s natural to be a little nervous, a little anxious, but there’s no need. Firstborn babies take their time, according to Mrs. Quisenberry. This little one probably won’t make his or her appearance until sometime tomorrow.”
“Or more likely sometime in the middle of the night.” His own birth had come in those hours of darkness shortly before dawn. Maybe his son or his daughter would follow suit. He still hoped for a little girl with Hattie’s dark hair and clear, gray eyes. Of course, a son would be fine, too.
And he’ll want to follow in your footsteps, same as you followed in your father’s.
Turning his thoughts away from his father and the past, Willie concentrated on dealing with the present. Soon he had the wagon sheltered the best he could, and he climbed down to tend to the frightened horse.
A biting wind swirled over the earth. The first harsh drops of rain stung Willie’s cheek.
His thoughts went back to his earlier visit with his father. Emotions welled up inside him with a physical force almost as powerful as the blows Dan Southwick had once dealt him. He looked toward Hattie. She was shivering as the temperature dropped quickly.
“Hurry, Willie. The storm’s moving in.” Her hands clutched at her belly.
“Climb in the back,” he ordered. “Get under those blankets. They’ll keep you warm and dry.”
“Yes, will you help me, please?”
He soon had her settled and as comfortable as he could make her given the inclement weather and the hard floor of the wagon bed. At least they had a bit of shelter from the elements. The heavy blankets would ward off any chill, and with luck, the storm would pass quickly.
As they huddled together, powerful emotions swept through Willie. Another squall brewed, not on the horizon, but within his soul, this storm a tempest wrought by the frailties of human nature.
Guilt thundered through him. Sharp flashes of insight shot through his brain like the lightning crashing through the heaven. Bits and pieces of memories illuminated the darkness which had covered him too long. As though a shroud had been torn away from him, Willie felt raw and exposed, his eyes now opened but blinded by truth.
His thoughts returned to his father, to those moments when he’d stood beside the dying man. Willie had said all the words his father wanted to hear, but words were easy. A man could spit out all the right words, could let them roll off his tongue and skip like stones over the water, never touching the depths.
All his fine speech about strength, understanding, and lessons learned meant no more than the silent gusts of wind rising up around him. Such a wind might stir the grasses or bend the branches of a tall pine, but only for a moment. In the same way, the forgiveness he’d offered had comforted his father’s spirit and given him peace in that brief moment they shared. But no more.
Forgiveness, Willie now realized, wasn’t a gift to be given away but a precious healing power to be kept within the heart. It could do nothing for his father now. Forgiveness didn’t erase the mistakes the man had made. Forgiveness did not pardon the offenses committed.
What forgiveness brought was freedom.
For so long now, Willie had been a prisoner of his own anger and hatred. He’d allowed his father’s acts to define him, had locked himself in chains of bitterness from which there had been no escape.
Hattie’s love had given him hope, but only he possessed the key that would set him free.
“Hattie, I know this sounds crazy,” he whispered, smoothing her hair away from her cheeks. “Maybe it is, but I need a little time to be by myself.” His gaze took in the wet, grassy landscape. “Will you be all right for a few minutes?”
She understood. It showed in the gentle light in her radiant eyes, in the serene smile on her lips. Hattie nodded and closed her eyes. “Of course.”
“I won’t be gone long.”
He climbed down and set off in the rain, letting it wash over him as he withdrew to a small grove of trees. Willie got down on both knees—the pain came, but he would bear it—and for the first time, he prayed aloud.
Only a strong man could truly forgive. He asked for strength; he asked for courage.
* * * *
Tears streamed down Hattie’s cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and wondered what it would be like to die. Reaching down to place a hand beneath her ribs, she felt the baby’s head. For a time, she’d suspected something wrong, Now and then, when the child moved and kicked, she felt tiny feet low and to the left of her belly.
Babies were supposed to come head down, not feet first.
Gasping for breath as another contraction squeezed at her abdomen, Hattie clenched her hands into fists to hold back her frantic cries. She’d thought the baby would turn around before her time came. Of course, she’d also thought she’d be in a comfortable bed, attended by skillful hands.
She could not bring this child into the world on her own. Unless they reached Sunset soon, she would not live beyond the day.
* * * *
Willie limped back toward the wagon. The storm had ended, the
skies were clearing, and his heart felt light.
“How are you doing?” He leaned over the wagon’s rail and gazed down at the figure huddled beneath the blankets. “Are you bearing up?”
“I’ll be all right now.” Although her voice showed strain, she managed a smile. “How far are we from town?”
“No more than a few miles.”
“Good. I think this baby wants to come out sooner than we’d expected.”
Willie went numb. Shock and excitement held him fast. “The baby’s coming now?”
“No, not yet, but soon. Can we please get on the road again?”
Each word grew louder, the pitch higher, and the question ended with a keening wail that broke the spell. Willie went into motion, not letting himself acknowledge the pain in his leg—so slight and insignificant in comparison to what Hattie was going through.
Within moments they were on their way. Excitement hung in the air, thick and damp with the freshness that always followed a storm, heavy with promise. The horse strained at the traces, pulling the wagon over the rutted roads. The wheels slipped and slid, but nothing would slow this momentous journey to Sunset.
When Willie first spotted the obstacle ahead, he refused to believe what his eyes were seeing. Only an illusion, he assured himself. An optical trick of nature made from the mists rising up from the ground and the onerous dark clouds scuttling again overhead.
He gripped the reins and willed the road to miraculously open before him, all the while choking back a fear stronger than any he’d ever tasted before. The closer the wagon drew, the more obvious the truth became. A huge pine had fallen, apparently struck by a bolt of lightning. It covered the road, making it impassable and taking away all hope of reaching Sunset any time soon.
He stopped the wagon.
“Willie, what’s wrong? Why…” Hattie groaned when she lifted her head and saw the problem they faced. “You’ve got to do something. The baby won’t wait.”
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