by Janet Dean
As she stood outside the stable doors, Adelaide watched Charles brush Ranger’s coat. Stepping closer, she noticed lines, usually faint around Charles’s eyes, now deep and grooved. Dark smudges beneath his lashes revealed his fatigue.
Well, she was tired, too. Tired of waiting for trouble. Tired of handling that trouble alone. Tired of missing Charles.
If only she could move into his strong arms, have them close around her, and for a while, let him take her burdens. But she had no time for games, not when Ed Drummond held William in his clutches.
She straightened her spine. “Charles.”
He jerked up his head. “Addie!”
She steeled herself against the joy she heard in his voice. As much as she loved him, he didn’t love her. “I need a favor.”
He hurried around the horse, his gaze skimming over her, as if making sure she wasn’t a dream. “Anything.”
“Better hear me out before you make any promises.”
Her words slowed his steps. “I’m listening.”
“Frances Drummond wants to meet with the committee. To expose Ed’s abuse so she can get William out of there.” For a moment, too emotional to continue, Adelaide laid a palm over her trembling lips. “She spoke up because…of my columns,” she said, her words tinged with wonder.
He nodded. “You’re making things happen, bringing change.”
“She wants me to have both the children permanently.”
“That’s wonderful!”
He reached out and drew her into a hug. The scent of his skin, the hard plane of his chest and the heat from his body filled her senses—as familiar as coming home.
She lifted her face and met his gaze, wanting his kiss with a hunger that left her reeling.
But then the smile in his eyes slipped away. He released her and took a step back. “What are the chances the committee will allow you to have them, merely because Frances says so?”
“What she wants should count for something.”
Charles’s brow furrowed and he studied the floor, obviously hesitant to speak his mind. “You’re still a single woman.”
His words held the pain of a slap. Again, a man—or the lack of one—made the decisions in her life. “Being a single woman isn’t comparable to abuse. Surely the committee would rather I have those children than Ed. The committee only has to talk to Emma to see she’s happy with me.”
“Things aren’t always that simple, that fair.”
“No, but I’m not letting that stop me. You know more than anyone how I feel about Emma.”
“You’re a great mother.” He shook his head. “But I need to warn you—that doesn’t mean the committee won’t find another home for Emma and William, one with two parents. You need to prepare for the possibility.”
Behind them Ranger stamped his foot and Adelaide barely resisted doing the same. “Prepare to lose those children? Never! I’m through with my life—my future—being dictated by men.” She stepped toward him. “With or without your support, I intend to fight for Emma and William.”
He raised a hand then let it fall. “You could be hurt.”
She and Charles had spent their lives captives of their pasts, afraid to take a risk. “I may get hurt but at least I’ll be living.” She bit her lip to keep from crying and poked his chest with her finger. “Too bad you won’t do the same.”
“You don’t understand. I miss you, but—”
“The problem with you—there’s always a ‘but’ in the way.”
He flinched, but she didn’t care. Clearly he wasn’t going to fight for the two of them.
“When should I schedule the meeting?”
“Two o’clock tomorrow afternoon at the courthouse. Tell them Mrs. Drummond has something important to say.”
His gaze locked with hers. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you.” She moved toward the door, her reason for being there finished. But her feet dragged and her mind nagged at her, telling her to go toward Charles, toward the man who stood with his arms at his sides. She paused.
Put them around me, Charles. Take a risk.
But he didn’t. Instead he walked back to his horse. Anger churned within her, but remembering the lesson Fannie and James had taught her, she tamped it down. When you love someone, you never give up on that person. This might be her best chance to talk to Charles about trust and forgiveness. About God.
She pivoted to where Charles stood. “God loves you. Do you have any idea how much you matter to Him?”
Head down, he leaned against Ranger, quiet and tall, a silhouette against the open door at the other end of the livery.
At last, he lifted his gaze, his pain-filled eyes bleak. “Then why did He allow me to be beaten, Addie?” he said, his voice cracking. “I prayed and prayed God would stop my father. He didn’t.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. How did she answer that? Would Charles ever understand on this earth? And what of her own lonely childhood? They’d both paid a price for something they didn’t do. But she truly believed God had a plan for their lives.
“Charles, I’m not sure why God allowed you to suffer. Maybe we’ll never know. But could it be we’re the people we are today because of our childhoods? That you and I survived and are stronger for what we experienced?”
Please God, help me say this right.
“Maybe you went through that nightmare so you could help others—if you’d let God use you.”
Charles took a step back. “God wouldn’t use me. He isn’t close to me like He is to you.”
What did Charles mean? She wasn’t getting through to him. “God hasn’t moved. Let Him into your heart.”
Then the thought came—lifting a huge weight from her shoulders. Only God had the authority to bring Charles to Him. She’d do all she could, but in the end, saving Charles remained in God’s hands.
Still, before she left, something else needed saying. “Open the Bible. All you need is in there.”
He grimaced, his face etched with years of hurt and struggle, as easy to read as The Ledger. “You make it sound simple.” He picked up the brush, running it along Ranger’s side.
“It is simple. Let Him in.”
He turned to her, his gaze forlorn, ripping at Adelaide’s heart. “Which door do I open, Addie? All of mine were nailed shut a long time ago.”
Her eyes misted. “You said you believe in God.”
“Yes, but unlike you, I don’t believe He gets involved with people’s lives. If He did, He’d never tolerate my father, or the Ed Drummonds in this world.” Charles’s mouth thinned. “From what I’ve seen, evil goes unchecked and the innocent suffer.”
How could she get through the wall he’d built? “Your past and the newspaper business have skewed your view of mankind. Good people outnumber the bad.”
Down the way, a horse neighed and Ranger nodded his head as if he understood. God had created the animal world with care and purpose. How much more He cherished human beings fashioned in His image. Yet God demanded obedience.
“I can’t say what He’ll do with your father, with the evildoers of this world, but His Word promises He will judge.”
Charles’s eyes glittered. Were those tears? “I’m sure that’s true,” he said softly, returning to his brushing.
She wanted to touch him, to hug him to her like she did Emma, but she kept her distance, afraid she’d be rebuffed. “You’re thinking about your father. Well, I’ve been thinking about him, too. Wondering why he left such a will. Maybe, before he died, he repented.”
Charles snorted. “Why would you think that?”
“Couldn’t the will be his way of bringing us together? Trying to give us the life he and my mother never had.” She took a breath. “Maybe Adam wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“You have it all figured out, but it’s all conjecture. There’s no proof he repented. No evidence of that at all.”
As usual, Charles wanted tangible evidence, but weren’t a man’s actions proof
of change? “You believe your father gave me half of the paper to hurt you, but think about it,” Adelaide said. “If he’d wanted to hurt you, he could have sold the entire paper right out from under you or left it all to Mary.” She held his gaze. “With the two-month time frame, he gave us a chance and a way out. Isn’t it possible he regretted what he’d done to his family?”
“What if he did? It doesn’t change anything, except maybe he got to die in peace,” he said, his tone bitter.
“Oh, Charles, if your father truly repented, then he’d have enormous remorse.” She sighed. “I’m heartsick he used my mother as an excuse to hurt you and your family. I wish I could undo that, but I can’t.” She took a deep breath. “Any more than I can change the fact my mother couldn’t love life, couldn’t love me…or maybe she just couldn’t show it.” Trying to make him understand, her voice rose, filled with earnestness. “We aren’t responsible for their choices. You’ll never forget what your father did, but you can forgive.”
“Forgive him?” Charles hurled the grooming brush across the livery and it thudded against a post, falling into a pile of straw. “I can’t.”
“With God’s help, you can forgive. You can do anything.”
“Did it ever occur to you God might not want to help me? God knows me better than you do, Addie. I’m not His man.”
Charles had said something like this before. “Why do you say that?”
He turned his back to her. “God can’t approve of a man like me. There are things you don’t know. Things I can’t tell you.”
She laid a palm on the back of his head, letting her fingers settle into his thick hair. “You can tell me anything. Anything, Charles.”
He didn’t speak, didn’t even look at her. She’d done her best. She had nothing left to say. Her hand fell away and her throat constricted. She could barely get out, “I’m leaving now.”
Charles touched her hand, halting her. “I’ll be there tomorrow with the committee. I want you to have Emma and William. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Until you let God in and learn to forgive, you won’t be able to move beyond your past.”
“Can’t we at least—”
“No!” She started for the door. “Nothing has changed between us, Charles. Nothing at all.”
Chapter Nineteen
In the uneasy silence the ticking pendulum of the clock echoed off the courtroom walls. Dwarfed by the imposing two-story coffered ceiling, Adelaide struggled to keep her composure. Across from her, Charles leaned against the witness stand. The rest of the committee sat at the prosecutor’s table, staring at her, their eyes hard and suspicious.
The courtroom, the only room available for their meeting, had seemed a fitting place to mete out justice to Ed Drummond, but instead, Adelaide appeared to be the one on trial.
Her gaze darted to the cased walnut clock, its hands pointing to half past two. With each tick, her anxiety grew until her breathing grew rapid and shallow, bringing an odd tingling to her limbs.
Where was Frances?
Mr. Paul’s pocket watch clicked shut. “Miss Crum, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I, for one, am tired of it.”
These men were angry, ready to pounce. “It’s not a game, Mr. Paul. Mrs. Drummond wants to disclose Ed’s abuse of her and William.”
Mr. Paul scowled. “So you say, but I don’t see her.”
“Something must have detained Frances,” Adelaide said, trying to delay. “I’m sure she’ll arrive shortly.”
Despite her words, Adelaide wasn’t sure of anything and shot another glance at the timepiece. But clock watching didn’t make Frances materialize. Had Frances lost her courage and changed her mind? Had Ed learned of her plan and stopped her?
Adelaide closed her eyes and prayed harder for Frances’s arrival, her foot jiggling in rhythm to the ticking clock.
Charles folded his arms over his chest. “Mrs. Drummond isn’t that late. We’ll wait.”
Mr. Sparks scowled at Charles. “Graves, you’ve let this woman use The Ledger to spread her rebellion and disrupt the harmony of our little town. And now she claims the wife of one of our upstanding citizens is going to condemn her own husband.” He snorted. “She’s using this committee—”
“She’s doing nothing of the kind.” Charles’s gaze traveled around the group. “Gentlemen, let’s not take chances with a child’s life. Until we’re assured of William’s safety, the boy should be removed from the Drummond home.”
Grateful to Charles for standing up to the others, Adelaide gave him a wan smile.
Mr. Wylie shook his head. “Without Mrs. Drummond’s testimony, there’s no reason to disrupt William’s life.”
“Frances said she would be here,” Adelaide spoke up. “Her husband must have caught on—”
“And what, killed her?” Mr. Wylie leaned his chin on fisted hands, hunching his powerful shoulders, his tone scathing. “My, my, Miss Crum, you do have an active imagination.”
Bile rose in Adelaide’s throat, leaving behind the acrid taste of fear. “Oh, I hope not.”
“You’d better hope he has. Because, as things stand now, we won’t let Emma remain with you, a woman who’d accuse an innocent man to serve her own purposes.”
Adelaide felt the blood drain from her face and the room dipped slightly. Take Emma? Oh, God, help me.
Charles crossed to the table, crimson coloring his neck. “Miss Crum doesn’t lie. If she says Mrs. Drummond asked her to set up this meeting, then it’s true.”
Mr. Sparks’s eyes narrowed. “Spoken like a suitor, Graves.”
Adelaide gasped and clutched her seat for support. “It’s not like that.”
Mr. Sparks tapped a pencil on the table in front of him like a gavel. “Perhaps not, but from what Roscoe Sullivan has told this committee, and from what I’ve seen with my own eyes, you two are, shall I say, very friendly? One could even say wantonly.”
“Mr. Graves has been seen leaving your shop after hours, Miss Crum,” Mr. Paul said, rising from the prosecutor’s table. He strolled past her, speaking with eloquence as if addressing a jury. “Surely, women’s hats aren’t the draw.”
Charles stepped in front of Mr. Paul. “You owe the lady an apology, Paul. Miss Crum is a woman of virtue. I won’t allow you to imply otherwise.”
No apology came from Thaddeus Paul’s narrowed lips, but he scuttled back to the table.
How could Mr. Paul, who’d known her most of her life, believe her a loose woman? Had the times she’d questioned the committee and her suffrage views fueled this reaction? Or was he retaliating for her reporting Jacob to the sheriff?
Adelaide rose. “I can’t believe you’d imply I’m lying and Mr. Graves is in cahoots with me.” She took a deep calming breath. “When all you need to do is ask Sheriff Rogers to ride out to the Drummond farm and make sure Frances and William are safe.”
“The sheriff doesn’t have time to snoop into the lives of decent citizens, any more than we do. We have businesses and farms to run.” Mr. Wylie turned to Charles. “Well, unless you have time for such foolishness, Graves. From what I hear, the paper is losing subscribers.”
Adelaide’s gaze flew to Charles and read the truth of Mr. Wylie’s words in his face. Hadn’t she heard the same from others in town? Her own shop suffered for a lack of business thanks to her attempt to make change in a town that viewed change as anarchy.
Mr. Wylie spoke a few whispered words to Mr. Sparks and Mr. Paul. The men nodded and folded their hands. Mr. Wylie rose. “The committee has decided how to proceed.”
Charles frowned. “I wasn’t consulted.”
Mr. Sparks kept his gaze on Adelaide, ignoring Charles. “We feel Miss Crum isn’t the proper influence on a young girl.”
Charles threw up his hands. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Emma will be returned to the Drummond home today,” Mr. Sparks continued.
Adelaide’s knees buckled and she dr
opped into the nearest chair, fighting for control. God, help me keep Emma safe. “Emma is afraid of Ed Drummond. Leave her with me until the sheriff investigates.”
Mr. Sparks settled onto the edge of the table. “You knew putting Emma in your care was a temporary solution.”
Memories of Emma’s nightmares stomped through Adelaide’s mind. To remove the child from her home would be cruel. These weren’t cruel men, not really. They just didn’t see the truth.
“Please, don’t take Emma to the Drummonds’. Leave her with me until you find her a new home.”
“The Drummonds are her guardians,” Mr. Paul said. “If Mrs. Drummond supports your story, then we’ll relocate the children.”
Emma would be yanked from her arms and thrust into the terror-filled world of Charles’s childhood and she couldn’t find the words to stop it. “Frances won’t admit her husband’s abuse in front of him. She’s afraid of Ed.”
Charles laid a steadying hand on her shoulder. The others took note of his touch, their faces set in lines of disapproval at the small act of kindness.
“Miss Crum is right. Mrs. Drummond won’t speak openly in front of her husband. Don’t risk leaving the children there.”
Mr. Wylie sighed. “I can’t believe Ed would hurt anyone. I’ve known him for years.”
Charles pivoted to Mr. Wylie. “My father was a churchgoer, who battered, bruised and broke the bones of his wife and two sons,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “No one realized it, or if they did, they closed their eyes. Please believe me in this. You don’t know what goes on behind closed doors.”
The pain of the admission plain on his face, Charles stood silent. No one spoke. Adelaide wanted to soothe what his openness had cost him, but she didn’t dare, not with the suspicions the committee had already voiced.
“Talk to Sheriff Rogers. But whatever you do, don’t take Emma to the Drummonds,” Charles said in a pleading tone.
Mr. Paul cleared his throat. “All right, we’ll talk to the sheriff and bring the Drummonds in here for a meeting. See what they have to say. But let me make it clear, Miss Crum. Emma will no longer be staying with you.”
