Together Forever

by Jody Hedlund

  “Yes.”

  “There’s a difference between feeling responsible for a death and actually being responsible for causing it.”

  Drew had known there was no sense in arguing with his father. He’d learned long ago his father would win every time. Even if his father was wrong, he’d still win. There was a reason he was one of the best lawyers in the South.

  The sheriff hadn’t contradicted his father when he told him to release Drew and assist him to the house his father had rented for the duration of his time in Mayfield. The sheriff had apparently sensed Mr. Brady’s power and hadn’t been able to resist any more than Drew.

  Even now as Drew stared out the window, he felt the need to escape from his father’s clutches. But his joints were too stiff from his days of inactivity to move more than a few shuffling steps without pain shooting through his limbs. He turned away from the window and limped out of the room toward the winding stairway. One of the slaves followed a short distance behind, having been instructed by his father not to let Drew out of his sight.

  His father didn’t have to worry, at least not today. Drew wasn’t about to leave until after the trial. Of course, his father would win Drew’s freedom just like he had before. And if for some strange reason he didn’t win, then he’d pay the judge and any other official to reverse the decision and secure Drew’s release. Money wasn’t an issue for his father. The family plantation was thriving, and his father was making money faster than he could spend it.

  No, his father wasn’t worried about finances. The real issue was the Brady reputation. And his father didn’t want a convicted murderer for a son. It would blemish the family’s name. Since Drew had already done that once, he had no doubt this most recent incident caused his father to squirm with quite a bit of embarrassment. His wayward son, the irresponsible one, the black sheep of the family—once again in trouble.

  His father had likely hastened to Illinois just as fast as he could in order to fix the damage that had already been done as well as cover up the rest.

  Drew held on to the curved banister of the wide stairway, determined to rebuild his strength. But at the sound of voices coming from the front parlor, Drew stopped. A woman’s voice.

  Marianne was here.

  His heartbeat leapt in his chest involuntarily, and he continued down the stairs more quickly, causing the slave behind him to cluck her tongue. “Whoa now. Careful.”

  A warning sounded in his mind telling him to go back upstairs instead of down, telling him to rush away from Marianne instead of toward her, to let her go instead of wanting to hold on. But the hum of anticipation coursing through his blood drowned the warning.

  He’d been wrong to think he could let her go so easily. His time apart from her had been torture. When he wasn’t reading his Bible, his thoughts had turned to her. Even his sleep had been filled with images of her. And yesterday the agony had grown unbearable after Reinhold had walked out of the sheriff’s office. All Drew could think about was Reinhold wrapping his arms around Marianne and kissing her.

  The thought had driven him wild with jealousy. Even if he’d been the one to suggest Reinhold pull her into his arms, he couldn’t bear the idea of Reinhold actually carrying through with it. He’d wanted to punch the wall and pretend it was Reinhold’s face on more than one occasion throughout the long night.

  But now that Marianne was here, he had to see her. Maybe Reinhold hadn’t gone to her yet and asked her to marry him. Maybe he still had time . . .

  He halted outside the parlor door. Time for what? To tell her he loved her? What good would that do, except to shackle her to a man who had nothing to offer except a blemished reputation and a future as an outcast? No, he had to let her go.

  Once the trial was done, his father would expect him to return home like an obedient chastised son, then pick up his life where he’d left off five years ago. His father had already mentioned Drew finishing seminary.

  But Drew couldn’t return to Georgia any more than he could return to being an agent with the Children’s Aid Society. The only option left for him was to run away again. And this time he’d go west, maybe to California. Yes, he knew God had forgiven him for his mistakes. And he had no doubt God still loved him and would be there for him, no matter his failings.

  The trouble was, he couldn’t forgive himself for allowing another child under his responsibility to die.

  “So you didn’t know each other very long before my son proposed to you,” his father was saying to Marianne.

  “I’m sure you know your son is rather spontaneous and unconventional,” Marianne responded.

  “Yes, I’m quite aware.” His father didn’t sound pleased. “Which is why it’s a good thing you both came to your senses.”

  “I don’t think we came to our senses. Rather, Drew never intended to carry through with the plans. The murder charge allowed him an escape from his obligation to me.”

  Drew almost called out a word of protest. He most certainly had planned to marry her. He’d gone to Elise’s house the morning of the wedding, hadn’t he? He’d been nervous, but he had wanted to marry her. There was no questioning that fact or that he loved her.

  His father was quiet for a moment, and Drew pictured him, broad-shouldered and well built in his finely tailored garments. His sandy brown hair was untouched by age, his expression of displeasure unchanged as well.

  Drew leaned his head against the wall. He couldn’t remember too many times while he was growing up when he’d ever pleased his father. Maybe the time when he won first prize in the youth oratory contest. But otherwise he’d garnered more raised brows, frowns, and scoldings than praise. Granted, as a boy he was full of energy and enthusiasm, perhaps too much so. He could admit he’d gotten into his fair share of trouble. Drew always seemed to fall short of pleasing his father. And in recent years he’d been nothing but a headache for the man.

  “I can see why Andrew was taken with you,” his father said. “You’re very lovely and forthright.”

  “Thank you. I—”

  “But you have to realize a union between the two of you would never have worked.”

  Drew pushed away from the wall. Of course, his father would make that kind of conclusion without knowing Marianne.

  “I know all about your history and background, Miss Neumann,” his father went on. “Although you may think you can imitate your sister and marry into wealth and prestige, you wouldn’t fit into Andrew’s world.”

  Drew shook his head in frustration and moved forward, holding on to the wall for support. He wasn’t surprised his father had investigated Marianne. The man had a network of friends all over the East Coast, and information could be bought—especially for the right price.

  “Father,” Drew said, stepping into the room, “my relationship with Marianne isn’t any of your concern.”

  At the sight of her, all coherent thought vanished from his mind. She was as fresh and beautiful as the daisies someone had arranged in a vase on the side table. She wore her yellow silk dress that showed off her rich brown hair, which had been styled into a fashionable loop with a few dangling curls by her cheeks. The light contrast of the dress also set apart her eyes that were now fixed upon him.

  Although he could mask his hunger and need for her, hers was written in every line of her face. Not only could he see it, but his father was gauging her reaction as well.

  “Drew.” His name on her lips was an invitation, a plea and so much more. The longing in her eyes was his undoing. This was why he’d sent her away when he was in jail, why he didn’t ask for her even though he’d gone nearly mad with needing to see her. He couldn’t resist her; he was too weak. And even though he hated himself for his weakness, he wanted to hold her one last time, to feel the softness of her skin and breathe in her womanly fragrance.

  He shuffled forward a step, hating that he wasn’t physically strong enough to sweep her into his embrace the way he wanted. She took a tentative step toward him.

  He lov
ed her. How could he ever give her up?

  “It was so good of Marianne to send me the telegram regarding your imprisonment,” his father said. “Don’t you agree, Andrew?”

  His father’s words froze him into place, just as the man had known they would. While he wanted to be angry at Marianne for involving his father, he knew it wasn’t her fault. In fact, he wouldn’t doubt that was exactly what his father was attempting to do—cause a rift between him and Marianne. But he wasn’t falling for it.

  His father studied him shrewdly. “Perhaps we can credit Marianne for bringing us back together after so many years apart.” Before giving Drew a chance to reply, he said to Marianne, “Thank you, my dear, from the bottom of my heart. After not hearing from Andrew for five years, I’m delighted to be reunited with him.”

  “Drew told me he hadn’t gone back home,” she said, glancing between him and his father as though afraid of saying the wrong thing.

  “I don’t suppose he told you why he left—”

  “I told her enough.”

  “He mentioned an accident.” She answered at the same time he did.

  “Yes, it was a tragic accident,” Father continued. His tone was nonchalant, but from the calculated gleam in his eyes, Drew knew he was scheming and there was nothing he could do to stop him.

  “During the last week of school, Andrew took his students out of class for a picnic and to swim.”

  Drew’s stomach churned as his father dug up the buried memories. “There’s no need to talk about it—”

  “Of course there is,” his father said smoothly. “I’m sure Marianne would like to hear why you ran away from home.”

  Marianne’s eyes widened, and she started to shake her head. “If Drew doesn’t want to speak of the matter . . .”

  “His students were swimming. Instead of supervising, Andrew had decided to join them.”

  Drew swallowed hard and gripped the edge of the nearest chair to keep from sinking to his knees. It wouldn’t do any good to try to stop his father from telling Marianne what had happened. No one could stop his father from saying what he wanted, not the toughest judge or the most seasoned politician. Certainly not his lowly, irresponsible son.

  “Andrew was busy playing with the youngest boys and had his back turned on the older students. One of the boys decided to dive into the gorge. He hit a rock, snapped his neck, and died instantly.” His father paused for effect, and of course his voice was laced with tragedy. He was a good actor when he needed to be.

  Drew didn’t look at Marianne. He wouldn’t be able to bear her pity. And he didn’t want her censure either, although he deserved it. He’d been irresponsible with his students and that hadn’t changed in five years, even though he’d hoped it had.

  The parents of the boy who’d died were wealthy neighbors, the boy their only son. Heartbroken, their grief spilled over into the entire community. Just thinking about the sadness of the other students and families made Drew’s chest ache all over again.

  It hadn’t taken long before the grief turned to anger and then to blaming. All fingers pointed at him. At first he’d been defensive. After all, he’d warned the boys not to dive. And even if he hadn’t warned them, they knew it well enough for themselves. It was common knowledge the gorge was filled with boulders.

  Even so, the boy’s parents had gone after Drew with a vengeance, accusing him of being inattentive to his duties as a teacher. With their grief staring him in the face, he’d been too consumed with guilt and brokenness to resist.

  His father had stepped in and defended him, had used every oratory skill he possessed to push the blame onto the young boy who’d died, showing him to be a willful child, one who commonly questioned authority and who’d blatantly ignored Drew on that fateful day.

  In the end, his father had won Drew’s innocence with his smooth talking—or had paid the judge for it. Drew had never been certain. Whatever the case, after the trial, Drew left without a good-bye. He hadn’t spoken to his family or friends since.

  “You can imagine my gladness to see Drew again,” his father was saying, “but also my deep disappointment to learn my son was involved in another tragic accident and that I would have to save him from self-destruction once more.”

  “I already told you I didn’t ask you to come.” The vehement words escaped from Drew before he could stop them. “And I don’t need you to save me.”

  His father lifted his brows. “Really?”

  “I know I’ve never been anything to you but a disappointment,” Drew went on, the words spilling out now. “I know I’ve caused you untold grief, and I’ve been a miserable failure in just about everything I set out to do.”

  “No, Drew!” Marianne interjected, rushing to his defense. “That’s not true.”

  He shook his head. Even if she accepted him for all his faults, he was a man who bore the responsibility for two deaths, who would be forever running from his guilt and grief. She needed a much better man, someone who wasn’t so broken.

  “Go away, Marianne,” he said in a cold tone. He avoided looking at her. If he saw the pain he was causing her, he’d break down and go to her. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again and I meant it.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath and loathed himself for stabbing her tender heart. He turned and stumbled toward the door. He had to get out of the room before he admitted to her how much he loved her. The words rose and threatened to strangle him.

  “Drew, please . . .” Her footsteps padded across the rug toward him.

  If she touched him, he wouldn’t be able to pull away. He braced himself against the doorframe and held out a hand toward her to stop her.

  Her steps faltered.

  “Go marry Reinhold,” he rasped out. “He promised to take care of you. He’ll be able to give you a better life than I ever could.”

  She didn’t respond.

  His father didn’t say anything more either. Drew guessed his father felt he’d said enough. He’d accomplished what he set out to do—push Marianne out of Drew’s life.

  Drew straightened as best he could and forced himself to walk away. This time for good.

  Chapter 23

  Marianne sat on the edge of the claw-foot sofa and admired the pineapples carved into the mahogany armrests. She ran her fingers over the gold velvety material. A pedestal table next to the sofa was etched with a matching pattern and held a lantern with gold leaves painted into an intricate pattern around the globe.

  An enormous piano graced the opposite side of the sitting room and was polished to a glossy sheen. The wall sconces behind the piano dripped with crystals that glittered in the sunlight streaming through the open front windows.

  Marianne had arrived in Benton late last night and wanted to rush over to see Dorothea. But she’d forced herself to go to the inn and attempt to get a few hours of sleep. She’d arisen early and made herself wait for as long as possible before walking the short distance to the banker’s large home.

  From the outside, the Garners’ house rivaled the size of Elise’s new home in Quincy. On the inside, however, the Garners’ tastes far exceeded Elise’s. Elizabeth Garner had a flair for the extravagant. Everything was opulent, as if imported from a royal English palace.

  How could a little girl be happy in such a fancy place? Although Marianne was awed, her unease had grown with each passing minute. A servant had ushered her into the front parlor, informing her that Mrs. Garner was still eating her breakfast.

  If Marianne had her way, she would have preferred to visit the family unannounced. Then she’d have the chance to see firsthand the living conditions without Mrs. Garner having the chance to cover up any problems.

  “Miss Neumann.” Elizabeth glided into the sitting room, already immaculately attired. She was as pretty this time as she’d been the day Marianne met her in the church. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Marianne rose and returned the woman’s gracious smile, noting how she seemed happy to see her. Immed
iately Marianne’s thoughts raced in a hundred different directions. Why would Elizabeth be happy to see her unless something was wrong with Dorothea? What if something had happened to Dorothea, and Elizabeth was trying to smooth things over first before telling her the bad news?

  “How’s Dorothea?” The words fell out before Marianne could offer a return greeting.

  Elizabeth’s smile only widened, revealing the pleasure in her eyes. “I hope all agents are like you, Miss Neumann. Your love for the children is so commendable I’ve already written once to your superiors in New York City to praise your efforts, and now I really must write to them again.”

  The compliment brought an abrupt halt to Marianne’s careening thoughts. A peace settled in her spirit that she didn’t quite understand. “Why, thank you, Mrs. Garner.”

  “I am relieved every time I think about Dorothea having you to hold her and comfort her during those difficult days of her trip here.” Tears sparkled in Elizabeth’s eyes.

  Suddenly Marianne felt a pricking in her own eyes and a tightness in her chest.

  Elizabeth took a lacy handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at the corner of one eye. “I don’t know how you do your job with so much love and compassion and kindness.”

  Marianne swallowed the lump in her throat. “I honestly don’t know how I do it either.”

  “You’re a strong woman, Miss Neumann.”

  Marianne gave a wobbly laugh. “I’m afraid you have me mixed up with my sister. I’ve always been the weak one compared to her.”

  Elizabeth dabbed at the corner of her other eye. “I’ve always considered myself a weak woman too,” she admitted. “I’ve been particularly frail in health, and as you can likely deduce, I’ve never been able to conceive any children of my own.”

  Elizabeth lowered herself to the edge of the golden sofa. Marianne sat down next to her. “For the past several years, as I’ve accepted my barrenness, my dear husband said something I’ve never forgotten.” The pretty young woman turned toward the window that overlooked a spacious front yard full of blooming flower beds. “He told me he was proud of the way I’d adjusted to the news I couldn’t have children. He said it takes great courage to accept what I can’t change, and even more courage to move forward and live my life to the fullest in spite of how achingly hard it is to face each new day.”