For Such a Time as This: A Women of Hope Novel

by Ginny Aiken

  “Of course, you wouldn’t Addie. It’s not you, it’s me. And… it’s private. And embarrassing.”

  “And it has everything to do with your husband.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “I can’t dishonor him, Addie. You must understand.”

  “As if I’d ever ask that of you.”

  “You’re right. You haven’t. You wouldn’t. It’s just that I don’t want to put him in a poor light.”

  “Your tears have done that, all on their own. He’s done something that’s hurt you. I don’t have to go too far to figure that out.”

  Then, because Olivia couldn’t hold it in any longer, and because in a corner of her mind she knew she needed perspective, she told Addie the story of her marriage. She didn’t like shattering the notion Addie had of her romantic, whirlwind courtship and wedding, but it couldn’t be helped. It took a very short time to tell it all.

  For a moment, the two women remained silent. Then Addie shook her head. “Well. I never would have imagined such a thing. I can understand his experience with Victoria would leave scars, and it was quite a scandal. I’m surprised you didn’t know about it. I thought everyone in Hope County had heard.”

  Olivia shrugged. “I’ve never been one to mind others’ business. I had plenty to keep me busy out at home.”

  “I’m not a nosy woman, either, but I heard about it at a church social, I think it was.”

  “At church socials, I usually spend my time making sure everyone one has plenty to eat,” Olivia chuckled. “Doesn’t leave me much time to chat—or gossip.”

  Addie leaned back, both hands raised shoulder height, palms out toward Olivia. “Whoa, there! I’m no one’s gossip. And you know it. I’m just saying the matter of Victoria’s criminal family was well known around these parts.”

  “I understand.”

  “I hope so.” Addie stood and crossed her arms. “I also hope you’ll listen to me. There is something wrong about Eli’s stubborn refusal to listen. Especially since he’s the one who created the problem. I never would have thought him the kind of man to go back on a business agreement. Then, for him to hold you to that same kind of agreement? No one’s ever called him a hypocrite, and hypocrisy is what it all smells of. Something is wrong, Livvy, and I’m not sure it’s a matter of a man who’s changed his mind on a deal. Something stinks as bad as horse droppings on Main Street in late August.”

  Olivia wrinkled her nose at the image. “So I’m not making too much of this?”

  “Not unless there’s something you’ve left out.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ve told you everything.”

  “Well, then. There’s nothing more to be said. You must find out what is going on. Then you have to find a way to make Eli listen to you. You’re not being unreasonable. He is. This is a serious matter. It could mean the difference between someone’s life or their death.”

  “That, Addie, is what I most fear.”

  “Then you know what you have to do. One way or another.”

  “One way or another.”

  “I’ll be praying for you.”

  As would she. Only God could work this out.

  Chapter 22

  Later that week, as Olivia strung berry chains and cheery red ribbons onto the evergreen garlands she planned to hang at the dining room ceiling, the doorknocker clapped against its brass plate.

  She stood. “I’ll be happy to see who that is, Cooky. I know you’re busy. Don’t bother coming out.”

  When she opened the door, the sight of her father on the porch sent a pang of alarm through her. “Oh, no! What’s happened? Who’s hurt?”

  “Why is it, Olivia, that every time I come to your home, you immediately think it’s for a disaster?”

  She took a long, slow breath. “Because both times you’ve come alone I’ve recognized that look of worry on your face. Over the years, I’ve grown to know it more than well.”

  With a crooked smile, he gestured toward the door. “Will you let me come inside?”

  “Oh, dear me. Of course, Papa. Come in, come in.”

  As they stepped into the entry hall, she took her father’s coat and hat, then led him into the parlor. She laid the coat over the back of Eli’s chair and set the hat on the seat.

  “Please join me on the sofa,” she said. “We can be comfortable while we visit.”

  When both were seated on the plum velvet piece, Papa studied his work-roughened hands for a moment before he dragged his gaze back to meet Olivia’s stare.

  “I must confess,” he said. “I’m here not only to see you, but because I also have something important to discuss with you.”

  Olivia’s stomach plummeted. “Oh, Papa…”

  “Let me explain, dear.” He took her hand. “While I can’t tell you where I learned this—you know I would never betray a friend’s confidence, right?”

  At her nod, he went on. “I have learned that there’s something shady about the letters we received from the bank. It has everything to do with that railroad spur line your husband’s been working to bring to Bountiful.”

  Olivia’s thoughts raced. Unfortunately, the race came to an end at an unsavory spot. Before she voiced her newest fear, she wanted to make sure she understood what her father was trying to say.

  “First came negotiations to bring a railroad to town,” she said. “A rail line that will need a great deal of land to run track. Then came the letters calling in mortgages the owners can’t pay.”

  She paused and her father nodded.

  “The railroad will buy that land,” she added, “and one would expect them to want to buy it for as good a price as possible. Good from their perspective, of course.”

  Stephen Moore nodded again. “Don’t forget, Livvy. The bank is in business to make money.”

  “Oh, I haven’t lost track of that, Papa. Not one bit.” Dread burned in her gut again. “What better way to offer the railroad land at the best possible price, while at the same time making the best possible profit for the bank, than to force struggling landowners off their property?”

  “That’s my fear.”

  The ever-present tears welled up in her eyes again. “How could Eli do such a thing? How could a man face God when he was capable of something so evil?”

  “That, dear, is what I thought, too. That is, until I learned that Eli might not be the one who’s behind this. The man who told me this information is certain someone else has been acting on his own. That person would have to be someone who stands to gain by swindling not just the farmers, but the bank and your husband as well.”

  The tiniest hint of hope lit up in her heart. Caution restrained her enthusiasm. “How could Eli not know about this? I saw his signature at the bottom of that letter you showed me.”

  “I don’t know how it’s happening, but there is the chance that someone got him to sign the letters without his noticing what they really were about.”

  Thinking back on his determination to never be a victim of a criminal’s actions, Olivia couldn’t give that possibility too much weight. “Never. Eli’s too meticulous for that. He wouldn’t sign anything he hadn’t read. With great care, too.”

  “Don’t say never, my Livvy-girl. All it takes is a determined crook, and one who knows his victim well.”

  “It’s also possible someone forged his signature. I suspected that earlier. That means it must be someone close to him.”

  A slow nod from her father tightened the knot in Olivia’s middle. “But, Papa. I can’t see anyone at the bank doing that to Eli. True, I don’t know everyone who works for him, but Mr. Colby and Mr. Holtwood seem loyal to him. I couldn’t imagine either of those two men setting up my husband for such an awful thing.”

  “There are more folks who work for Eli,” her father said.

  “I don’t know them. Perhaps it’s time for me to take another trip to the bank, no matter what Eli has said about keeping business and family apart. I’ll have to make sure I meet all his employees this ti
me.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that? Won’t Eli object?”

  Her laugh bore no humor. “Oh, he’ll object, but knowing what you’ve told me, I can’t let his objection stop me. I need to do whatever I can to protect you. You, and everyone else. I could never live with myself if I stood by and let this happen.”

  “That’s why I came today. I can’t let a snake in the grass bring down everything so many have worked so hard to achieve. Not even Eli.”

  The spark of hope in her heart buoyed her. “The more I think about it, the more I believe there is someone working against everything Eli stands for.”

  “It could very well be, Livvy, but you should also prepare yourself for the possibility that your husband is involved.”

  “I’ll try. But I can’t see the man I—” Olivia caught herself before she spoke such a meaningful word, one that could again bring her to tears. “I can’t see the man I married guilty of something so dirty, so cruel.”

  “I don’t want to see you hurt, dear. A father’s heart breaks when one of his children is let down by someone who matters as much to them as Eli does to you.”

  Once again, Olivia called herself a fool. Then, as Papa donned his hat and coat on the way to the door, she began to wonder if she really was a fool. It seemed Eli had good reason for wanting to keep his business separate from all other parts of his life. He’d been harmed by his late wife and her family, and now it seemed someone else was working to do it again.

  Maybe she needed to be more understanding. And forgiving.

  Then, too, Eli needed to learn she would never betray him.

  Olivia felt God leading her to the best way to do so.

  “Thank you for telling me this, Papa. It’s not an easy subject to talk about, but you did it anyway. Maybe we can not only save you and the other farmers, but also keep Eli from being ruined again.”

  He hugged her and gave her his trademark kiss on the forehead. Olivia clung to her father for a bit longer than usual, blinking away tears, but then let him go. It was time for her to take action. Time for her to be not just the newlywed, but the wife she’d become.

  It was time to tear down the wall Eli had put up between them. She just hoped when it came down, it wouldn’t crush her.

  The next day, Olivia made good use of the remaining Christmas cards she hadn’t sent already. She took the time to write them out to various acquaintances, packed them into her purse, put on her forest-green cloak and the cream wool scarf Mama had knit for her, and then headed down the street to the bank.

  Eli couldn’t very well avoid speaking with her while his employees watched. He had too much self-respect for that, and, she hoped, too much respect for her to humiliate her by chasing her out to the street.

  Her plan was to identify each employee of the bank and, at the very least, introduce herself to the ones she didn’t know. She was still trying to think of a reason to spend time with them, get to know them better, when she found herself on the sidewalk outside the bank.

  Unfortunately, nothing came to her.

  Since she couldn’t stand out in the chilly wind much longer, not if she didn’t want to call attention to herself, she breathed a prayer for courage and for God’s will to be done in the situation that grew more dire as the deadline approached. She then went up the six steps and opened the door.

  The respectful quiet reminded her how significant the bank was to the town. Everyone brought their money there. It protected everyone’s livelihood.

  It was also her husband’s legacy from his late father. No wonder it meant so much to him. Now some greedy someone wanted to steal from the bank to line his pockets. That would ruin Eli.

  The longer she thought about the situation, the more certain she grew that her husband was not in any way involved in the swindle.

  She had to ferret out who was.

  She stepped further into the polished lobby. On either side of the room, she saw the two cashiers, Mr. Holtwood on the one side, Mr. Colby on the other, both behind the protective bars on the windows of their enclosed booths.

  “Good morning, Missus Whitman,” Mr. Colby said, scurrying out of the cagelike space. “Let me fetch Mr. Whitman for you.”

  “You needn’t bother,” she hurried to say. “I can find my way. I’ve been here before, you know.”

  “Unfortunately, ma’am, I do know.” He shook his head, making his glasses bobble. “It’s not a memory a man will soon forget, meeting up with a bank robber like that.”

  “I understand.” She’d never forget the gut-wrenching fear that struck her when she saw the quantity of her husband’s blood on the floor. “I can’t say I’ll forget it anytime soon either.”

  Mr. Holtwood approached from the other side. “I still have that wretched knot on my head.” He rubbed the spot. “I’ve half a mind to carry a weapon with me. I intend never to be ineffective or powerless again.”

  “We all had a horrid experience.” She looked around the room, trying to find the other employees Papa had mentioned.

  She spotted a man she didn’t know at a desk toward the back of the room, studying an open ledger book. There were at least four other tomes spread out before him, while stacks of paper, covered in neat rows of small writing, littered the space between them.

  She leaned toward Mr. Colby. “Who’s he?”

  “He’s Mr. Whitman’s bookkeeper.” The cashier blinked furiously. “He’s the one who knows where the skeletons lie.”

  Olivia shuddered. “What a dreadful thought.”

  Mr. Colby flushed all the way to the roots of his red curls. “Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ve grown accustomed to our bankers’ humor. My mistake.”

  “I’m sorry I’m unfamiliar with your kind of humor.” She looked back at the bookkeeper. “Would you introduce us?”

  “I’d be honored.” Mr. Colby nearly tripped over his feet in his eagerness to help.

  At the heels of his response, the front door opened. Mr. Mitchell, the owner of the best apple orchard in the area, walked straight to Mr. Colby’s window. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Whitman.” He swiveled his head from Mr. Mitchell to her much like one of Randy’s porcelain dolls. “I have a customer, but I was about to introduce you… oh, goodness—”

  “Go ahead,” Mr. Holtwood said, his voice clipped. “I’ll take care of Mrs. Whitman.”

  The young cashier made his way to his customer, his greeting loud, revealing his nervousness.

  “Is Mr. Colby always like that?” she asked Mr. Holtwood.

  “Like what? Restless?”

  She nodded. “Nervous. Frightened.”

  “That’s just Colby. Reminds me of my departed grandmother when she’d have one of her spells.”

  Olivia squelched a chuckle. “Poor man. It must be quite difficult to live like that.”

  Mr. Holtwood shrugged. “Here we are.” He turned to the slender, balding man at the ledger-littered desk. “Andrews. Look up. I’ve someone for you to meet.”

  The introduction went smoothly, as did the pleasant chatter that followed. The impression Olivia got from the brief contact was that of a man devoted to his sums. Mr. Andrews flicked his gaze toward the ledger full of neat columns of numbers every few seconds. The whole time they spoke he held his pen at the ready. He clearly itched to return to his work, so Olivia excused herself and approached Eli’s office door, a determined thought in her mind. This man could easily manipulate the bank’s books. He knew, more than likely to the penny, what everyone owed and what they had in their accounts.

  If only she could discuss her suspicion with Eli. But that wasn’t to be. She knocked. Prayed.

  When he responded, she let herself in. Half of her mission had been accomplished. From what she understood, she only had one more employee to find. That is, if Papa was correct about those who worked for Eli.

  As she approached his desk, the line of Eli’s jaw reminded Olivia of the craggy, stony mountains she’d seen when her family had come to Oregon all those
years ago. Those hard and sharp peaks had posed a daunting sight, one never to forget.

  He wasn’t going to make this an easy meeting. “Good morning again, Eli.”

  “What brings you here?”

  She held her head high and continued with her mission. “I finished more Christmas cards, and wondered if perhaps you could take care of sending them.”

  For a moment, she thought he’d refuse. Then he nodded and held out a hand. She placed the envelopes in his broad palm. He set them on the corner of his desk and met her gaze again.

  “Anything else?”

  She shook her head. “That was it. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She squared her shoulders. “Oh… um… on my way in, Mr. Holtwood introduced me to another of your employees. Your bookkeeper struck me as a devoted worker. Mr. Andrews couldn’t wait to get back to his ledgers. He seemed a very nice man.”

  “Andrews is a good worker. He keeps the bank’s books in excellent shape.”

  “I’m glad. For you. I mean, I could never spend that much time worrying over figures, tracking down every last cent, staring at endless lists and numbers and… and… certainly not without making all sorts of errors. I’d wind up with tangled accounts in no time. I don’t suppose your Mr. Andrews suffers from a similar affliction.”

  “No, Olivia, he’s outstanding with figures, and honest to the penny. He stayed late one time to follow the trail of a mere forty-four cents missing at the close.”

  As Olivia tried to think of a way to ask more questions, Eli jammed his hands in his trouser pockets, tapped a toe, and arched a brow. While he didn’t say a word, his stance broadcast his impatience.

  “I’ll be on my way now,” she hastened to say. “Thank you so much for your help with those invitations.”

  “Again, you’re welcome, Olivia. Next time you have something for the post, you can simply send it out with Cooky when she goes to the Mercantile.”

  Olivia used all her strength to prevent a wince. He knew she’d cooked up the flimsy excuse, but she’d felt she had no choice. He’d made things impossible between them, and she wasn’t about to let anyone harm those she loved.