by Janet Dean
A collective gasp rose from their neighbors. Rebecca gathered the children and ushered them out of the door, shooting one last glance at Elizabeth.
The words tore through Elizabeth with the impact of a gunshot. The blood drained from her head and she staggered. Papa kept her on her feet.
Ted took a step back, his face pale beneath his farmer’s tan. Their gazes locked. The repentant look in his eyes said it all.
Bile rose in Elizabeth’s throat, choking her as hope for their future drained out of her.
She’d been right. She couldn’t trust this man.
Will Wyatt scratched his head. “Ted’s a riverboat gambler? You must be mistaken. Why, he’s a pillar of the community.”
Jim Johnson slapped his hat against his leg. “Ted’s lived in New Harmony for what, nine years? Never left except’n to pay a visit on Rose’s folks and that ain’t near no river.”
A knot of pain settled in Elizabeth’s chest, squeezing against her lungs until she fought for air. Her husband, the man she’d given her heart to, was just like Papa. Ted might not have gambled in the past two months while she’d lived in his house, but what did that mean? Two months was nothing.
Her father had stopped on occasion, each time promising a new start. But in the end, he chose the thrill of risking everything over his family. That craving had killed her mother. Ruined their lives. Driven her to marry Ted.
At the irony, a harsh laugh left her lips, the sound bitter, defeated. Ted reached for her. She slapped his hand away.
“Elizabeth, you have to believe me. That’s in my past.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I thought you knew me,” Ted said.
“I thought the same.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “After everything I told you, how could you hide this from me?”
His pale blue eyes filled with misery. A calculated bluff, no doubt, to win her sympathy. Well, she wasn’t stupid.
“I was afraid of your reaction. Afraid of what it would mean for the children if the truth came out. Please believe me. I’m not the man your father remembers.”
Seymour gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I wasn’t the father I should’ve been, but I won’t let you remain under this man’s roof. You and Robby are coming home with me. I know better than anyone—a man like that can’t be trusted.”
“Just where would home be, Papa?”
Her father looked as if she’d slapped him, gnawing at her conscience. But Elizabeth was sick of all this posturing. Papa. Ted. They’d both caused her enough pain to last a lifetime.
“I’d thought it would be here in New Harmony. But home will be wherever we make it. Martha, Robby, you and me,” he said.
Richard Stevens pointed a finger at Ted. “Did Rose have to live with that burden? It must have hastened her death. Lily and I aren’t inclined to leave our grandchildren with a gambler.”
Soon neighbors surrounded them, all taking sides. Pastor Sumner waved his hands, trying to calm the crowd while Lydia’s lips moved in silent prayer.
“Stop it! This isn’t your fight.” Elizabeth turned on Ted. “I’ve been such a fool, worrying that a godly man like you, a man called to preach wouldn’t understand my father’s compulsion.”
She snorted. “You told me once that the truth sets a man free. Every word out of your mouth was a lie!” She pounded her fists on his chest, watched him flinch, but he made no attempt to stop her. “Did you find deceiving me amusing?” Her hands fell away. “Well, I won’t be fooled again.” She wheeled on her father. “Not by any man.”
She looked around the room, so quiet she could’ve heard a pin drop. “I’m sorry for flinging our dirty laundry in your faces. There will be no celebration, but please, stay, have dinner. It’s all part of the show.”
With that, Elizabeth strode out of the café on wooden legs, holding herself together with her fury, and walked the short distance to the ladies’ club. Her hands shook so badly, it took three attempts before she could get the key in the opening. Once inside, a moan escaped her lips. She clamped her jaw, then sank into a chair, numb, sick to her stomach.
Tears slipped past her cheeks. She swiped them away with a hand. Why cry? Why mourn the loss of a man she never knew? Even as she thought it, her heart shattered. She thought she’d found love, home, family.
Why had she fallen in love with her husband?
Look where love had gotten her. She knew better. She knew the risks. She knew she couldn’t trust him. But no matter how much she’d kept expecting that shoe to drop, the reality hurt. Hurt more than she’d ever imagined.
Now she lived Mama’s life.
Well, she wouldn’t take to her bed. But what would she do? Where would she go? She was caught in the same trap as Mama.
“Elizabeth, can I have a few words with you?” Hat in hand, Pastor Sumner stood in the doorway. “I’ll only take a minute.”
“I don’t want a lecture on forgiveness.”
“I’ve learned hurting people need a good meal or a helping hand or maybe just someone to hold their hand. What they don’t want is advice. But I can’t seem to stop myself. I apologize for that in advance.”
“You’re right about all that, you know.” She sucked in a breath. “So what’s your advice? Besides to forgive. Besides submitting to my vows until the marriage destroys me?”
“Marriage is a holy bond. And yes, forgiveness is a command. We’re forgiven as we forgive, but there’s something else I need to say.”
She raised her head, daring him to sermonize when her world had turned upside down. Yet she wanted an answer, a way to get through this mess. “What?”
“A couple weeks ago, Ted told me about this strong Call to ministry, certain he’d misread God’s will. Then he told me why. I wasn’t as shocked as he’d expected. You see, I’ve got a past I’m not proud of.”
He let that statement hang in the air between them.
“I pointed out that many men God used in the Bible had done shameful things. Yet God used those imperfect men. In fact, He handpicked them for His service.”
Elizabeth didn’t speak. She didn’t trust her voice or the words shoving to get out of her mouth.
“There’s a story in Luke’s seventh chapter of the sinful woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. The woman proves that those who are forgiven much love much. Ted’s a grateful, changed man. I believe him, Elizabeth. Ted gambled in the past. He’s not a gambler now.”
He peered into her eyes. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive him?”
“He’s lost my trust. He could return to that life. My father did time and again.”
“Do you really believe Ted would return to a life that would put his family’s security at risk? Do you believe he loves gambling more than he loves his family? More than he loves God?
“You’re strong, Elizabeth. Lydia said she’d never have had the courage to leave her home, her family and travel alone without money to marry a stranger. But you have more than courage, Elizabeth. You have God. He’ll get you through this. Talk to Him.”
“Why didn’t Ted tell me?” The words ripped from her throat. “Especially after I told him about my father’s gambling.”
“Ah, that would be fear. Fear of losing you.”
“Ted doesn’t care enough about me to hold such a fear. Our marriage is a business arrangement, a convenience for us both.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, I wish you could’ve been there when Ted asked for my help to convince you to come back home.” Pastor Sumner patted her hand. “Let me pray with you.” He bowed his head and beseeched God to give her wisdom, strength, all she needed. “God will reveal the truth.” He opened the door to leave. “Will you talk to Ted?”
What was the point? Papa’s gambling had taught her how easily the dice could flip. “I’ll talk to him, but I won’t be taken in by his promises.”
Pastor Sumner nodded. “Pray, Elizabeth. Talk to God. He loves you both,” he said, then closed th
e door behind him.
Feeling drained, she rose and walked to the back room where she and Robby had stayed. She’d stay here tonight until she could think. She looked out the window at the creek running along the edge of the property, low from the lack of rain.
On past the mercantile she glimpsed a man sitting on a rock, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands dangling in front of him, staring down into the creek. Even from here those powerful shoulders and that windblown blond hair told her the man’s identity. Ted. Probably praying.
Tears streamed down her face. Ted’s arms had come to mean acceptance. Home. Joy.
How could she ever trust him again?
What did God think about all this? As Pastor Sumner said, she needed to talk to God. Then she’d talk to Ted.
Though talking to Ted would be a waste of time.
Ted rose from his position on the rock and Elizabeth stepped back from the window, not ready to talk to him. Yet.
Papa wanted her. Martha, too. But had Papa changed, really? “Lord, I don’t know what to do. Show me the way.”
A gloved hand clamped over her mouth, stifling the scream pushing up her throat. Rough hands hauled her back against a man’s chest.
Fear gripped her and confusion muddled her thoughts. Who had her? What did he intend? Nothing good.
Heart pounding and tasting blood, she thrashed against him. Failing to get free, she bit the gloved hand covering her lips but didn’t reach skin.
A mouth lowered to her ear. “If you’re smart, Elizabeth, you’ll forget about God and take orders from me.”
Adrenaline shot through her. She twisted, turned, battled against the viselike grip, lurching until she heard the sound of ripping fabric. Pins fell from her hair, clinking against the wooden floor. God, help me!
She smashed her heel into a shin. Her captor cursed, then slammed her to the floor and pulled a bandanna between her lips. Dragging her into a sitting position by her arm, he shoved her hands behind her back and bound them with a length of rope he’d tugged from his jacket. Then, smirking at her, he tied her feet.
Her efforts to scream sucked the fabric into her mouth, gagging her. The man scrambled to his feet and pulled a gun, a snarl on his face. “Shut up that bellyaching! You’re making my trigger finger jumpy.”
She quieted.
“That’s better, doll face,” he said with an ugly smirk. “Now I can introduce myself proper like. I’m Vic Hammer, remember? We met in Seymour’s library in Chicago. I’m here to collect the gambling debt your pa owes me.”
Heaving for breath, Elizabeth eyed her captor warily, a little snake of a man, full of self-importance. Anger. Greed. By the shabby clothes he wore, he, and most likely his family, paid a high price for his habit.
Ted had rubbed shoulders with such a man. Rubbed shoulders with her father, a man blessed with every material advantage, yet for some reason had been determined to throw it all away. Rubbed shoulders with every sort of a human being who believed a life of ease could come from the turn of the cards.
Vic walked to the window. “Just what I need—a messenger,” he said then slipped out the door.
Ted stared into the creek. Much-needed rain would fill it to overflowing but only a trickle of water ran through it now. He felt numb. Just when he and Elizabeth had gotten closer, everything good he’d tried to make of his life had blown up in his face. Not that he blamed Seymour. It was his fault for not telling Elizabeth before this. His throat clogged. The town would never accept him as a pastor now. And Elizabeth…
He’d lost his chance with her.
She fit him, her shape, her lively mind and her energy. Everything about her fit him perfectly, as if God had ordained their marriage.
Last night he’d come close to telling her he loved her. But knew he couldn’t until he’d told her everything. He dropped his head into his hands. From the look in her eyes as she learned about his past, all her feelings for him had been shattered. He’d deceived her, given her half-truths, omitting things he’d feared she’d discover.
How had he fallen into this trap? The same trap of deception his father had lived? He’d told Elizabeth truth would set a man free. Yet he hadn’t behaved as if he believed it. He’d kept silent to protect what he had, a dangerous motivation.
Why had he taken the same path as his father and turned to gambling to earn his way? He hadn’t intended to. He’d hired on to the riverboat as a deckhand. But one night he’d sat in on a game and won. Then he competed every night, getting little sleep. Unlike his father, Ted had a knack for sensing when to hold and when to fold. He lost, sure, but the money piled up.
One windless night his life changed forever. He’d left the game, walking along the upper deck toward his quarters, listening to the raucous laughter from the gallery, the faint call of an owl on shore, the soft slap of the paddles as the boat moved through the murky waters of the Mississippi.
He heard footsteps behind him. Smelled whiskey. Then felt the end of a barrel in his back. “Hand it over, all of it. Or give me the great pleasure of putting a bullet in you.”
Ted whipped around, caught the man with an elbow to the throat, tossing him against the hull. The gun clattered across the wood as Ted trapped him against the side of the boat. In the faint glow from the half-moon, he recognized Alex, the redhaired, mouthy kid who’d lost every dime—then accused Ted of cheating.
“Go on to bed, Alex. We’ll forget this ever happened.”
“You ruined me!” He sprang at Ted, hands reaching for Ted’s throat, coming full tilt. The intoxicated young man stumbled and teetered to the right. Before Ted could get hold of him, Alex tumbled over the rail and sailed down the side, arms and legs flailing. Down, down, down into the water. In his nightmares, Ted still heard the boy’s screams. Still felt the whisper of his shirt as he tore out of Ted’s grasp.
Ted grabbed a life preserver, tossed it to the river, then dashed to the deck below and dove into the water. Time and time again, he dove, searching. But Ted never found him.
Weak with exhaustion and shaking from the cold, he’d been forced to give up, barely making shore with the last ounce of his strength. He was certain Alex had gotten entangled with the paddlewheel and died.
He collapsed on the bank of the river. As he sputtered water out of his lungs, half-frozen, Ted did what he’d never done before. He prayed. Under the stars, weary with guilt and grief at the terrible end of this young man’s life, Ted pleaded for God’s forgiveness. In a moment of total surrender, he felt the peace of God wash over him. He met God that night and knew he’d never be the same again.
The next morning, Ted made it to the nearest town and heard from a shopkeeper that a young man named Alex had arrived half-drowned after falling overboard. God had brought this second miracle into Ted’s life. He hadn’t caused the young man’s death.
Sick at how close he’d come, Ted boarded the riverboat one last time. He packed his belongings and got his money from the safe. He’d found Alex huddled over the rail and returned every dime he’d won from him, reminding him that gambling had almost cost him his life.
From that moment with God the night before, he made a clean break from his existence as a riverboat gambler and gave his life to the Lord and never looked back.
In one of the many towns he’d traveled to, looking for a new beginning, he’d met Rose. She wanted the same thing he did. To work the land. To rear a family. To love God. He’d been drawn to her goodness and proposed. He’d found a farm he could afford in New Harmony and a niche in the community. A chance to give back what his father had stolen from the good people of this town.
He and Rose had been content, something he prized. He’d seen little evidence of it in his father’s life and among the gamblers he’d known. He’d grieved when Rose’s life had been cut short. He cared for her and she’d believed in him.
But then gambling hadn’t destroyed Rose’s family as it had Elizabeth’s. Whatever feelings Elizabeth had for him, he’
d destroyed them now.
He hurled a small stone into the water. It skipped across the creek then disappeared beneath the surface. Waves flowed out in ever-growing circles wherever the stone had touched. Ted’s silence had produced ramifications that rippled outward, affecting the good folks in this town, all three children but most of all Elizabeth. If only he’d admitted his past.
Well, he couldn’t change that now. Could he and Elizabeth get beyond all the lies? Start anew?
There was only one thing to do.
Chapter Twenty-One
The rope was embedded in the skin of Elizabeth’s hands and feet, cutting off her circulation. She battled against the fear tingling in her limbs and despair clawing up her throat by reminding herself God would protect her. God would save her.
But as she looked into the dark, ominous eyes of her captor, doubt whispered in her ear. Victor Hammer—Vic—demanded money Papa didn’t have.
As he checked her bindings, she caught the sweet scent of whiskey on his breath, the thick stench of sweat, and something more—an odor of desperation oozing off him in waves.
She’d felt that same desperation when she’d come here. Knew it now. The hope fluttering in her chest a moment ago ebbed.
Vic stepped back. He was short, stocky, with a scar that carved like a scythe along his cheek, ending at his downturned mouth. She’d never forget the man or his appearance. That he didn’t hide his face now could only mean one thing. Nausea climbed her throat. He didn’t intend to let her live.
He paced the room, his steps calculated like a panther circling its prey. With each footfall, the gun in his hand beat against his thigh. Tap. Tap. Tap.
She wanted to scream. To run. To do something. But he had all the power, and she…she had nothing.
No, she had the power of prayer. Closing her eyes, she raised her head and sent an entreaty to God.
