“It was quite unwise of me,” Evan admitted soothingly.
Forrest eyed him challengingly. “I figured you were going to marry the woman,” he said, “if you could convince her to have you.”
“I was hoping the same thing,” Evan responded. “And I haven’t given up on that yet.”
“Good boy,” his father approved. “But what can we do about it?”
His own hope hung by the slender thread of the letter he’d gotten from Cynthia. It was his secret, held close to his heart, but Forrest needed cheering. He told him about the letter and the ones they’d exchanged before.
Forrest nodded when he’d finished, his face looking considerably less strained. “I consider that real good news. Those two have something special about them that allows them to cross over when the rest of us can’t.”
Evan didn’t tell him that Cynthia had written that she’d tried again and again to return without success.
His father slapped him on the shoulder. “I’d hate to think that when I passed on I’d be leaving you and Eddie on your own.”
“Papa!” Evan protested.
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere soon. It’s just that when the time comes I’d like to think you had your own family with you. You’ve got to get those two back, Evan. And the minute they’re here, you ask Cynthia to marry you.”
Evan was able to give a positive answer to his father’s command with all honesty.
Cynthia immediately looked to see the expression on her daughter’s face when she walked out, accompanied by the younger case worker.
She didn’t look one bit upset, but rather as though she’d enjoyed the whole experience. She was glad Betsy hadn’t been disturbed, but wondered about what had been said.
If she’d told the story of their months in Lavender, the judge might very well think that Cynthia was mentally disturbed and nourished her daughter on her own fantasies.
“He was a nice man,” Betsy confided as they walked toward their car. “He reminded me a little of Grandpapa Forrest.”
Cynthia couldn’t see the resemblance, other than they were both older men. “How is that?” she asked.
“It’s his voice. He has a kind voice and he really listened to me. Not all grownups pay attention to what kids say.”
Cynthia nodded. “So you had a good talk?”
“Yep. I told him about my dad and how we were sometimes scared of him and how he hit you in the face and then said he didn’t. I said I was afraid he might hit me too.”
Cynthia didn’t know how to respond to this. She didn’t want Betsy to be afraid of her dad, but at the same time she couldn’t help but believe the child had real grounds for her fears.
“I told him about Papa and Eddie and all our family and how we’re going to live in the big pink and gray house in Texas. And about my friends at school and how I think I’m going to get a pet for my next birthday.”
“A pet?”
“Well, I kind of hinted I’d like a pet.”
A kitten or maybe a small breed puppy, Cynthia thought. If she’s still with me. Michael won’t put up with animals. He says they’re too much trouble. Of course that’s the way he feels about children too. Dear Lord, don’t let him take Betsy away from me. I don’t count so much, but it would be awful for her.
“And I’m sure Mrs. Myers will make a cake.”
“We can have chocolate cake here any time.”
“I like Mrs. Myers’ honey cakes. They’re so good.””
Cynthia nodded, fear grinding within her. She still had no idea if Betsy had said anything that would get them in trouble.
That night before going to bed she read Evan’s letter again and then wrote to him. In her dreams they were in each other’s arms giving and taking all the passion they’d never had a chance to experience in reality.
The next day Moss had a surprise planned. Baby Jeremy, being too young for such an outing, was left at home with the housekeeper, while the rest of the family went south for a day at Disneyland as a late celebration of Betsy’s birthday. As a California girl, Betsy had been there before, but Moss seemed to have almost as much fun as his niece as they took advantage of the shows and rides and ate ridiculous food.
Cynthia was glad to see her daughter having a fun day away from all the stress and fear of the last few weeks, but for herself she couldn’t quite let go and enjoy herself. For Betsy’s sake, she pretended as hard as she could to be concerned with nothing more serious than Mickey Mouse and Snow White.
When they got home late that evening, she found Betsy had not been quite as unaware as she hoped. “It’ll be okay, Mom,” she murmured as she climbed sleepily into bed. “Someday we’ll take Eddie there for her birthday.”
Cynthia didn’t have the heart to tell her that was not in any way possible.
Waiting through the next two days was achingly hard and not made any better by the fact that no letter came from Evan. All she could do was read the last one again and again.
To pass the time, she took care of last minute business as though she was sure she and Betsy would soon be leaving for Lavender. She reassured herself that the trust she had set up for Betsy in case of her death, or supposed death, would not divert to Michael as the child’s next of kin, but would go to Moss and Lynne’s little Jeremy.
Remembering how she’d carried a handbag of useless money, checks and credit cards across with her last time, she selected a larger bag that she used as a carryon for air travel and, changing her mind frequently, tried to pack it with items that would be more useful in Lavender.
She stocked up with pharmacy items from aspirin to antibiotic creams and stuck in as many packets of coffee and chocolate bars as the bulging bag would hold. Most importantly, in a protective folder, she put in photos of her mom and dad and of Moss and his family, even taking out half a dozen chocolate bars to make that possible.
At a costume shop, she bought period dresses for herself and Betsy, the simplest garments she could find. The people of Lavender had their own version of 1880’s dress, understated styles suited to the busy lives that kept their isolated community going.
They tried on the new garments for the edification of Moss and Lynne. Lynne admired their long full skirts and decorative hats, but Moss protested that he thought introducing the people of Lavender to blue jeans and cowboy boots would be more practical.
“The men wear boots, but they’re the button up kind, and when they go fancy they wear stiff collars,” Cynthia explained, “but the ladies are much too modest to wear form fitting clothes.”
“Must be hard to milk a cow wearing an outfit like you’ve got on,” Moss argued.
“You’re telling me, but actually this is a Sunday going to meeting kind of dress. I wore something more casual to do the milking.”
Moss roared with laughter at the idea of his city bred sister actually milking a cow so she had to enlighten him with some of the details of their life in Lavender.
On the third day, the official call came. She and Michael were summoned to a meeting with the judge at three that afternoon.
Chapter Twenty Five
Though running a high fever and aching all over, Evan fretted because he was unable to write a letter to Cynthia. She would be worried when she didn’t hear from him, he knew that, and in spite of the fact that he really wasn’t thinking clearly, he tried to put pen to paper, but his shaking hands wouldn’t cooperate and the pen fell uselessly to the bed, strewing ink on the bed covers.
He had worse problems. His wasn’t the only case of influenza in town and his patients needed him, but all he could do was lie uselessly here in bed. When he tried to stand up, he fell to the floor.
So far the rest of the household stayed well and he’d tried to refuse any of them entrance to his sick room, though his father insisted on tying a kitchen towel over his face as a mask and seeing to his basic needs. Evan protested in his hoarse voice that flu was a great risk for a man Forrest’s age to no avail.
They to
ld him that so far only a half dozen other cases had broken out and the families were being kept isolated as he’d insisted. So far nobody seemed critically ill. Nobody had died.
Of course it wasn’t the first time they’d seen occasional serious cases of flu since the terrible epidemic, but it was something they all feared. And it was the first time their doctor had been so sick he couldn’t see to their care.
Two more letters came from Cynthia. Dad brought them to him, but he waited until he was alone to read them. I wasn’t easy. His hands didn’t seem to want to work right, but he did manage to get the envelopes open and scan the writing with watery eyes.
She was fighting for custody of Betsy. If only he could be there. If only he could just write her a few words of support. All he could do was lie weak and sick in his bed and pray for her efforts to be successful.
That day he seemed to be getting worse. As a doctor he recognized his own symptoms, his fever was high and from the pressure on his chest, he suspected the beginnings of pneumonia. When he heard Eddie’s voice, saying softly, “Papa, how are you?” he ordered her from the room.
“But Papa, Grandpapa’s sick now and Mrs. Myers is looking after him. She said she’d be up to check on you in a minute.”
“Lots of people sick?” he asked, hardly recognizing the hoarse voice that came out of his mouth as his own.
“More,” she said.
He must, he had to get up and go help them. He managed to push aside his cover and struggling to get to his feet, only to find himself once again on the floor without the ability to more than move a finger. He coughed and couldn’t stop, only managing to choke out the words to the frightened girl in the doorway. “Ed. Find someone. Tell them. Put up a sign by creek. Tell Cynthia not come back.”
“I will, Papa,” the girl sounded terrified, but she hurried away and as he sunk into unconsciousness Evan could only hope that Cynthia and Betsy at least were safe.
They met in the judge’s chamber, she and Michael, each of them accompanied by an attorney.
Cynthia tried to learn something by studying the judge’s face, but it was impassive, revealing nothing.
He waited until they were all seated before beginning. “This has been a troubling case,” he finally said in the low gentle voice that Betsy had said reminded her of Grandpapa Forrest. “I must admit that my first impression was that Mrs. Burden in her desperation to maintain sole custody of her child, had used her considerable financial resources toward that end. It is never my intention to allow wealth to be a factor in these decisions. My only concern is the best good of the child.”
Michael nodded, looking confident. Cynthia’s heart sank.
“I have examined all the documentation, listened to witnesses for both sides, paid even more intention to what each of you had to say. But in the final analysis, I must admit that it was the testimony of the girl herself who most influenced me.”
For just an instant Cynthia closed her eyes. What had Betsy, in her innocence, revealed? Oh Evan, if you could only be here, you would convince him that I am the best mother I know how to be.
But she hadn’t heard from Evan in several days. Something must be wrong in Lavender. She knew he would write to her if he could.
Or maybe it was no longer working and the mail just wasn’t getting through. He might not be hearing from her either.
The mention of Betsy’s testimony made Michael look a little less confident. He glanced uneasily at his lawyer. “Undue influence,” he spoke up, “Cynthia has . . .”
“Please, Mr. Burden,” the judge reproved, “let me continue.”
All eyes were fixed on him.
Cynthia barely could take in each individual word. She heard the judge say that Betsy had told him that her mother was going to marry a doctor who had a child of his own and that she already thought of them as family. She’d spoken of the gray and pink house in Texas as her home and seemed to love her school there and had many friends.
“Imagination!” Michael spat out the word. “Those people, that place, they don’t exist. Cynthia has caught our daughter up in her insanity.”
“Mr. Burden!” The judge frowned fiercely. He turned to Cynthia. “Is your daughter correct, Mrs. Burden, in saying that you are planning a life with this man?”
Cynthia smiled at the thought of Evan. She nodded. “Evan is a wonderful doctor, the only one in the small town of Lavender, Texas.”
“I come from Texas myself,” the judge said. “I grew up in Amarillo.”
“Lavender is northeast of Dallas.”
“Piney woods country?” he asked with interest.
“On the eastern edge of the county. Some good farmland in between. It’s kind of a change point as far as terrain is concerned. They grow some good cotton and wheat and corn.”
“Makes me homesick.” He brought his attention back to the matter at hand, frowning at Michael, who was whispered to his lawyer in a loud enough voice to be understood, “Do something, damn you!”
“Mr. Burden, evidence has been brought to me, sworn testimony from neighbors and others who have known you and your former wife over the years that you are an abusive husband and an inattentive father.”
Cynthia sat in shock. She hadn’t thought anyone had noticed, that anyone realized. Michael was so good at fooling people. She’d sent her law firm and the detectives they’d hired out to back-track the history between her and Michael and discovered a trail of infidelity that went back to the earliest year of their marriage, but knew that alone wasn’t enough to prove that just because he was a bad husband, he was a bad father.
“Mr. Burden, it seems to me you have given your daughter little of yourself,” the judge told him.
“But that’s not true!” Michael jumped to his feet. “She kept me away from Betsy.”
The judge rapped his gavel. “Mr. Burden, it is obvious even to me that you are more interested in your wife’s money than in your child. You would be wise to seek treatment for your gambling addiction. Be a man, let that little girl have a chance at the happiness this new family offers.”
All of Michael’s poise and charm vanished. He wasn’t used to being thwarted. His face twisted. He turned away from the judge, approaching Cynthia before anyone could stop him. He grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her in a way that had once been all too familiar. “It’s your fault,” he shouted, addressing her by an obscene term that was, again, not unfamiliar coming from his lips. “You owe me! You owe me lots!”
The judge must have pushed a warning buzzer because the room was immediately filled with uniformed policemen, who pulled Michael away from her and led him from the room.
The judge rapped his gavel. “Are you all right, Mrs. Burden?”
She nodded. Her neck hurt, she felt sick at her stomach from the jostling she’d received, but she could only be thankful that Michael had finally revealed his true nature.
“Full custody of the minor child Betsy Burden is awarded to the mother Cynthia Burden. No visitation rights for the father.”
Before she left the courthouse, an injunction against Michael approaching either his former wife or his daughter had been issued. Charges for his public attack on her person were also made.
All Cynthia could think as she left the courthouse on her brother’s arm was that she and Betsy were safe. They could go home to Lavender.
Chapter Twenty Six
They had talked all the way along the drive from the ranch in Oklahoma, she, Moss and Lynne. The baby and Betsy dozed on and off, though after they stopped for lunch in the last town before the end of their trip, Betsy got to be so excited she was practically bouncing in her seat.
Those last few miles Moss got really quiet and Cynthia knew he was mourning the separation that was to come. Nobody else but the man she loved could have taken her from her only brother and his wife and she would always miss them and their little son.
The only thing worse would be if she couldn’t get back to Evan and his daughter, who was alre
ady like her second child.
Even though it was a sunny late spring afternoon, Cynthia and Betsy put on heavy winter coats they’d brought with them at the ranch as they got out of the SUV and stepped on the green grass beside the paved highway that led past the spot where, somewhere, she knew the hidden community lay. If she’d guessed wrong and they didn’t find winter there, they would simply drop the coats along the road.
She hugged Lynne and Moss in turn and put a kiss on the sleeping Jeremy’s little face, then picked up the heavy bag she’d brought with her. At the last she’d removed all the little luxuries and replaced them with medical supplies, including a prescription for an antibiotic that she’d managed to obtain from her doctor on the plea that she was about to travel to a foreign country and wanted the medicine in case of illness. She’d been reluctant, but as Cynthia was a reliable and longtime patient, she’d finally agreed.
Now she walked away from her brother to get close to what she remembered as the line between this time and that other. Water from the creek sparkled in the warmth of the bright sun and from somewhere in the distance she heard the spring song of a bird.
Fearfully she looked ahead and saw nothing but more of warm, almost summery Texas. No little dirt road led her past the bend in the creek.
A choking sense of dread rose in her throat. Perhaps that one time was the only crossing she was allowed. Maybe when she had returned to her own time, she’d forfeited any right to Lavender and Evan.
She turned to look back and saw Betsy being released from her uncle’s hug. Tears were running down Moss’s face. She didn’t ever remember seeing him cry before.
Betsy ran to her side and took her hand and abruptly the narrow dirt road shimmered into view. It was nearly summer where she stood, but over there on the other side, it was still winter. Several inches of snow covered the ground and the trees along the creek were bare of leaves while ice frosted the water.
Letters From Another Town: A Time Travel Romance (Lavender, Texas Series Book 2) Page 17
