Bennett lowered his spoon and gave her his full attention.
“You all right?”
“Not really.” She sniffed hard, bringing her emotions under control. “I foolishly let myself fall in love with Petey even though I know we’re completely unsuitable for each other. You said it yourself, we just don’t . . . fit.”
Bennett chewed the corner of his lip. “Yeah, I said that. But you know somethin’, Lib? I might’ve been wrong.” He tapped his spoon on the edge of his plate, reminding her of Petey’s habit of tapping his peg leg. “Lately you’ve been different. Calmer. More settled. More like Pete. What you said about finding God? It changed something in you.”
He squirmed in his chair, as if the conversation were making him uneasy. But when he continued, his voice was strong. “Now, I’m not saying you should run out and ask Pete to marry you, but . . . in time . . . if you both still love each other and he should ask you . . . I don’t think it would be so ludicrous anymore.”
“Oh, Bennett.” Without thinking, Libby threw her arms around his neck. He didn’t hug her back, but he gave her shoulders some half-hearted pats. While she clung to Bennett, an idea seemed to sail through the air and hit on the back of her head. “Oh!” She pulled loose. “I have to go.”
“Go? Go where?” He half rose as she jumped from the chair and began buttoning her coat.
Alice-Marie hustled over, a tray in her hands and a frown on her face. “Elisabet Conley, did I just see you hugging my . . . hugging Bennett?”
Libby waved away her roommate’s concern. “Yes, but don’t worry—Bennett will explain.”
“I will?” He looked panicked.
Libby gave him a fierce look and hissed, “Just talk to her, Bennett!” She spun and headed for the door.
“Libby?” Alice-Marie’s voice called after her. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
She didn’t even pause. “I’m not hungry!”
“But—”
“I’ll talk to you later!” She dashed out the door, ignoring the rain that continued to fall. Eating could wait. This task could not.
“And so Mr. Branson agreed to give Oscar a job when he’s finished serving his sentence, whenever that may be.” Pete leaned back and beamed across the table at Aaron and Isabelle.
Oscar would be in good hands with the Bransons. The couple reminded him of his own foster grandparents, Ralph and Helen Rowley, who’d been a wonderful influence on his life. He might have entered a life of crime had they not offered him a safe retreat and treated him like their own. He prayed Oscar would now make better choices with the second chance he’d been given.
“We’re so happy things have turned out well for Oscar.” Isabelle took Pete’s hand. Even though they sat in a public restaurant in Clayton, Pete felt no embarrassment. He loved this woman as much as he could have loved his own mother. It seemed good and right that she would hold his hand and offer her support.
He said, “I’ve been praying for leniency. Justice, yes, but leniency. I trust the judge will be fair in dealing with Oscar.”
Aaron leaned his elbows on the table. “I spoke with Jackson last night. He believes the judge will give Oscar a light sentence since it was his first offense and he was only acting in obedience to his father. Besides, he’s already served many days in jail.”
Pete’s chest constricted at the mention of Gunter Leidig. He couldn’t wait to become Peter Rowley, erasing his father’s imprint on his life. “I think Oscar will be less likely to get into trouble if he’s kept busy in appropriate ways, and he’ll be able to help contribute to the family income. That will be a big help to me.”
Aaron and Isabelle exchanged a look, and then Aaron cleared his throat. “Pete, Oscar isn’t the only person Jackson and I discussed. He told me you were considering dropping out of school to take care of your mother and siblings.”
Isabelle pulled her hand away, fixing Pete with a dismayed look. “And I must tell you, I am very much in opposition.”
Pete groaned. Why hadn’t Jackson allowed him to tell Aaron and Isabelle in his own way? “Would you at least talk to me about this? It’s important to me.”
Isabelle’s green eyes flashed fire. “Nothing is more important than you getting your education. Your scholarship was meant—”
Aaron put his hand over hers. “Isabelle, let’s at least hear Pete out.”
“But—”
Aaron shook his head slightly, and Isabelle drew in a deep breath. She released the breath slowly then faced Pete. “Very well. I’ll listen.” She pointed at him. “But don’t expect me to support any scheme that involves you quitting the university!”
In spite of himself, Pete laughed. Often Libby complained about Isabelle, but they were alike in many ways, including being hardheaded. He decided it might be best to keep that opinion to himself, however. “All right. Let me tell you what I’m thinking. . . .”
For the next few minutes, he shared his deep concern about his mother and his siblings’ situation. Without a man providing an income, the children would suffer. His throat tightened as he described his strong desire to take care of his brothers and sister. He finished with, “You took care of me. What would have happened to me if you hadn’t? My brothers and sister now need someone to look after them. I just want to do what’s right.”
During his explanation, Aaron and Isabelle had occasionally exchanged glances, seeming to communicate with their eyes, but they hadn’t interrupted. Now Aaron spoke. “First of all, we admire you, Pete, for wanting to be responsible for your family.”
Isabelle squeezed his hand again. “You could easily ignore your family’s plight, given the way they treated you when you were a little boy.” She gave him a warm smile. “Your willingness to meet their needs in deference to holding a grudge shows us what a fine man you’ve grown to be.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “We’re both very proud of you.”
Pete felt his chest puff at their approval. “Then you agree that I should quit school?”
Isabelle raised her chin. “Absolutely not.”
“But you just said—”
“We said we admired your desire. We did not say we agreed it was the best thing for you to do.”
Pete looked in confusion from Isabelle to Aaron. “Isn’t it the same thing?”
Aaron chuckled. “Not quite. All right, Pete. We listened to you. Now will you listen to us?”
Pete suspected he was going to hear the same arguments he’d already endured from Jackson. But he wouldn’t be disrespectful to the people who’d raised him. He nodded.
Aaron propped one arm on the table and his expression turned serious. “You see, Pete, Isabelle and I have been praying about a situation at home. We knew when Matt and Lorna got married, Lorna wouldn’t want to keep working at the orphans’ school forever. She agreed to continue cleaning and helping with the cooking until she and Matt started their family, but . . .” He grinned, gesturing toward Isabelle.
Isabelle clapped her hands together, joy lighting her face. “Lorna is in a family way. Already! She and Mattie will welcome a baby into their home midsummer. They are so delighted, as are we. Isn’t it exciting?”
“I’m very happy for them.” Pete had no idea how Matt and Lorna’s coming baby affected him or his family.
Aaron continued. “Now that’s she’s expecting a child, she wants to spend her days in her own home, preparing it. So she asked to be released from working at the orphans’ school.”
Isabelle cut in. “Of course, that has left us dreadfully shorthanded. Poor Cookie Ramona has been run ragged doing all the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry. I help as much as I can, but between my teaching duties and caring for the children, I don’t have nearly enough time to spare. So . . .” She once again deferred to Aaron.
“We’ve been praying for someone to come along and replace Lorna. It takes a special person to be willing to move into the school and dedicate so many hours to the job.” Aaron lifted one shoulder, as if hesitant to continue.
“After talking to Jackson last night, we got to thinking that maybe your mother would be interested in moving into the school and taking over those chores.”
Pete’s eyebrows shot up. “My mother?”
“Why not?” Isabelle’s face shone with enthusiasm. “We know she has the ability to be a housekeeper. She’s been caring for your father’s home and her own children for many years. And of course, if she comes, the children are welcome, too.” At that, her face pinched into a delicate grimace. “I am aware it wouldn’t be the same as sharing their own private apartment, but at least they’d all be under the same roof.”
Pete nodded slowly, liking the idea more and more. If his mother agreed, then he wouldn’t have to worry about the children going hungry, being cold, or going unsupervised. Aaron and Isabelle would see that they were educated and attended church. He’d had a wonderful upbringing at the Reginald Standler Home for Orphaned and Destitute Children, and he possessed no reservations about seeing his brothers and Elma settled there.
Having his mother live in the place that had become home to him, however, gave him pause. He’d spent so many years resenting her, wanting to erase all memories of her. Each time he visited Aaron and Isabelle, he’d be forced to see his mother in his place of refuge and security. Could he allow the two halves of his life—one half bearing unhappy memories and one half bringing peace— to blend?
He asked, “Have you mentioned any of this to my mother?”
Isabelle shook her head. “No.” Once again, she cupped her hand over his. “We thought perhaps you would like to pray about it first. Then, if you believe it’s in the best interest of your mother and your siblings, we feel you should be the one to suggest it. After all, you are the man of the family now.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Libby dropped her pencil and rubbed her aching knuckles. A glance at the clock confirmed she’d been writing for four straight hours. In privacy. Alice-Marie hadn’t returned yet, and Libby hoped she and Bennett had worked out their differences and were sharing a pleasant afternoon together.
She rose and stretched, unkinking the knots in her back, then picked up the sheets of paper containing her newest story. She smiled. Her best yet. Raising her face to the ceiling, she said, “Thank You, Lord.” In her hands she held a love story full of romance with a hero destined to melt the heart of any woman. Yet this was a story that would also meet Petey’s approval.
Looking at her work, she prayed it would also please the magazine editor. Her face filled with embarrassed heat as she recalled deliberately penning scenes of physical arousal in previous stories. As much as she wanted the opportunity to write for Modern Woman’s World, she knew she couldn’t send more stories of the kind she’d already submitted. In fact, she intended to ask to have her work withdrawn. She’d have to pay back the money they’d paid her, and she hoped they’d be patient about it, but she could no longer in good conscience allow those stories to be published. They didn’t honor God, and from now on, she must honor God with every part of her being.
Returning to the desk, she opened her Bible and flipped to the chapter the minister had used as a reference at Matt and Lorna’s wedding. The beautiful words from First Corinthians 13, outlining the meaning of love, stirred a sweet ache in the center of Libby’s chest. Verses four through six spoke so eloquently of God’s love for man as well as His expectation of how His children should love one another.
She glanced again at the story she’d created that afternoon. “This story reflects Your love, God. I want so much to be able to help Petey take care of his brothers and sister. If it’s Your will for me, let this story find acceptance so I can continue to use the writing abilities You gave me.”
On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Pete sat in the back of the courtroom with his mother. Beside Jackson, Oscar stood straight and proud in a new shirt and trousers, his hair freshly cut. He looked nothing like the bedraggled boy who’d curled on the cot in the basement cell.
The judge, sober and stern in his black robe, peered down from his seat behind the bench. “Young man, since you have pled guilty to attempted robbery, I sentence you to six months of hard labor, which will be served at the Missouri Penitentiary in Jefferson City.”
Oscar flicked a glance over his shoulder. Pete sent him a reassuring nod, and he faced the judge again.
“I must also express my gratitude that the truth concerning the murder charge made against you has been brought to light. You are a fortunate young man to have so many people fighting for you. It is my hope that you will emerge from this experience with the determination to be a law-abiding citizen, and will therefore prove that the trust offered by those who have given assistance is not ill placed.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
The judge rose, and Pete and Berta scrambled to their feet, as well. As the judge left, two officers approached from their post beside the bench, reaching for Oscar. Oscar drew back and threw a frantic look over his shoulder. Pete stumped forward as quickly as his peg leg would allow.
“Could we have a moment of time . . . to say good-bye?”
The officers glanced at each other and then one nodded. “Five minutes.”
Berta rushed up and stretched her arms across the wooden bar to embrace Oscar. Copious tears rained down her thin face. “Oh, Oscar . . .”
Oscar clung, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. “I’ll be all right, Ma. Only six months. Won’t be so long.”
“Me an’ the young’uns’ll write to you every day.” Berta shot a hesitant look at the closest officer. “He’ll be allowed letters from his family?”
The officer nodded. “Yes, ma’am. His lawyer here can give you the address.”
Pulling loose, Berta cupped Oscar’s face in her hands. “See there? That’ll give ya somethin’ to look forward to each day—a letter from us. An’ you write, too—keep up your writin’ an’ readin’. Who knows, maybe you’ll get to go to a university one day, too, like your brother Petey.”
Pete stepped close and reached past his mother to clamp his hand over Oscar’s shoulder. “Mind your manners and do what you’re told.”
Oscar nodded. “I will.”
“I’ll write, too, and I’ll be counting down the days until you’re free. Then we’ll do something special together—just you and me.
Sound good?”
“Sounds real good, Pete.” Oscar ducked his head for a moment, then his gaze bounced back up to meet Pete’s. “Thank you for comin’ to the jail. Thanks . . . for comin’ back.”
Pete curled his hand around Oscar’s neck and pulled him against his chest as tight as he could with the bar separating them. Oscar’s temple connected with Pete’s chin, his thick hair tickling his neck. Pete didn’t want to let go, but the nearest officer cleared his throat and said, “It’s time.”
Pete handed Oscar to Berta for one more hug, and then they watched the officers escort Oscar through a door at the front of the room. Berta pressed her clenched hand to her mouth, and her body convulsed in silent sobs. Hesitantly, Pete lifted his arm and wrapped it around her thin shoulders. She didn’t lean into him, but her face tipped upward, gratitude in her tired eyes.
“We’d better go.” Jackson picked up his briefcase and turned stiffly toward the door. With one hand bracing his ribs, he gestured for Pete and Berta to precede him. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor as they headed down the hallway together.
Outside, Jackson turned to Pete. “Since your train to Chambers leaves three hours earlier than ours to Shay’s Ford, I’ll say my good-byes here.” He stuck out his hand, and Pete gave it a firm shake. “Have a safe trip back.”
“I will. Thanks for . . .” How could Pete possible encapsulate all Jackson had done for his family in the past week? He shook his head. “For everything, Jackson.”
Jackson grinned. “My pleasure. I’m just glad it all turned out as well as it did.”
“Me too.”
“Will you come to Shay’s Ford at t
he end of the week for Thanksgiving?”
Berta sent a hopeful look in Pete’s direction when Jackson posed the question. As much as Pete wanted to go home for Thanksgiving— to make sure his siblings had settled in and spend time with Matt and Lorna and all the others—he’d been away from school too long. He’d need many days to catch up.
Reluctantly, he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. One of my professors, Pastor Hines, said I could stay at his home if I ever needed a place, so I’ll probably take him up on his offer and use the break to catch up on the classes I missed while I’ve been here.” The disappointment sagging his mother’s face pricked his heart, so he added in a cheerful tone, “But I’ll be there for Christmas—you can count on it.”
“I think that’s wise,” Jackson replied. “Well . . .” He bounced his leather satchel against his leg and looked at Berta. “Maelle is probably still at your apartment, helping the children pack for your move. Let’s go there and finish up. That train will leave before we know it.”
But Berta remained rooted in place, her pleading eyes aimed at Pete’s face. Pete knew what she wanted. What she needed. And he wished he could give it. But it was too soon. Maybe one day he’d find the ability to put his arms around his mother, to hold her close, but God needed to do a little more work on him before he was ready.
Giving her a smile, he said, “You’ll be in good hands with Aaron and Isabelle—they’re some of the best people God ever planted on this earth.” He raised his hand in a wave. “Bye now.”
Berta’s lips trembled. “Bye, Petey.” She turned and followed Jackson to the curb, where he flagged a cab. Pete waited until they climbed in and the cab clattered away before he turned toward the hotel. He’d retrieve his bag and then catch a cab to the train station. By this evening, he’d be back in Chambers. He’d only been gone a week, but it seemed like a year, so much had transpired in such a short amount of time.
Kim Sawyer Page 28
