“Ask your brother how kind he was. Dieter often faced his wrath.”
“Well, Vater said Dieter often defied him and that it was important for a boy to know who was master of the house. Dieter never complained to me about it.”
“No, I don’t imagine he did.” Mutter leaned back in the rocker. “Phoebe, I know you don’t wish to hear these things, but I promise you they are true. When you were twelve I found I could no longer bear your father’s violence. I had been putting aside some of the household money, and I still had a few pieces of jewelry from my mother. I decided I would take you and flee to England to stay with a relative. Unfortunately, the opportunity to get you didn’t present itself, and I decided I would send for you.”
“Send for me? You meant to have me join you?”
“Yes.” Her mother fixed her with a pleading expression. “I never wanted to leave you behind. It was never my intention. You must understand this if nothing else. I knew Dieter was devoted to his father, despite the occasions of harsh treatment. Frederick had great plans for him and had already arranged for his education. I knew Dieter would be leaving shortly for the school your father had chosen. Then it would be just you and me. I asked your father if I might take you and visit England, but he refused. After that, I knew if I wanted to escape the madness, I would have to leave in secret, but I always planned for you to go with me.”
Phoebe tried to make sense of it all. She knew her father could be a hard man. She’d seen him lose his temper with the staff and even with Dieter, but she’d never witnessed the physical violence her mother insisted had taken place.
“But if Vater knew you were alive . . . that you had only gone away, then he would have wanted you to come home. He would have sought to find you and bring you home.”
“Your father would have wanted to find me, but not to bring me home.”
“Then what?” Phoebe asked.
“To kill me.”
Phoebe jumped to her feet. “That’s preposterous. You cannot sit here and expect me to believe such lies.”
“Please, Phoebe. Let me finish, and then you can decide whatever you like.”
“But I see no sense in it.” Phoebe glanced at the door. “Besides, Vater will wonder where I am. We were to have dinner together.”
“I won’t take much more of your time. But I want you to know that I did try to get you back. I paid someone to discover your whereabouts, and once I knew where you were, I sent you a letter at your boarding school. The letter was returned. I sent many more, but all were returned. I decided I would go to Switzerland and see you, but just as I arranged this, a letter came from your father. He told me if I tried to get in contact with you again or ever let either you or your brother know that I was alive—he would see to it that I wasn’t. He also threatened your life, telling me he would sooner see you dead than with me.”
“No. I don’t believe you.” Phoebe shook her head. None of this could possibly be true.
Mutter got to her feet and went to the small corner desk. “When I learned you were here, I dug these out. I had them stored away in my trunks for years.” She produced a stack of letters tied together with a blue ribbon. “I had hoped one day we would meet again, just as we are now, and I could give you these letters and let you see for yourself the truth of our past.”
Phoebe began to tremble as her mother came forward with the letters. A sickening feeling washed over her. What if it all was true? How could she ever face her father again if he was truly the monster Mutter professed him to be?
“Phoebe, please give me just a bit more time. Sit and read these and then . . . well . . . if you still don’t believe me, I won’t bother you with any of this ever again.”
For a moment all Phoebe could do was stare at the letters in her mother’s hands. The envelopes were marked from posting, and the paper was yellowed with age. They seemed authentic enough, but Phoebe couldn’t quite bring herself to reach for them. If she took them and read them and learned that all her mother had said was true—what then? To know her father had betrayed her by insisting her mother was dead was hard enough. But to imagine he had threatened not only Mutter’s life but her own was difficult to stomach. How could there ever be any explanation for such ugly declarations?
“Please, Phoebe. I know you’re hurt. I know you don’t owe me a thing, but my love for you has never died. These letters will show that . . . and more.”
“Very well.” Phoebe took the letters and reclaimed her seat. “I will read them.”
She noted that the envelopes hadn’t been opened. They had clearly printed demands that they be returned to the sender, and the postmarks bore proof that they had originated ten years earlier. Phoebe opened the first envelope as her mother added a log to the fire. The evening temperatures were growing cooler, but Phoebe found her mother’s news had already chilled her to the bone.
My dearest daughter,
I have missed you so very much. By now you know that I am in England. I pray your father has not grieved you overmuch in my absence. No matter what, you need to know that I love you and I want you with me. I never planned to leave you behind, but your father made it impossible for me to take you. I plan to rectify that as soon as I can make arrangements to have you brought to England.
The letter went on to tell Phoebe an abbreviated version of what her mother had just explained. She said nothing about the beatings but hinted at the unbearable pain and sorrow Phoebe’s father had been responsible for causing.
Phoebe opened the second letter and read much the same. By the third letter, her mother mentioned wanting to come see her, but since the letters were being returned unopened, she wasn’t at all certain Phoebe even knew she was alive.
I have learned that your father is telling you and your brother that I am dead—that my ship sank while crossing to America. Obviously this is untrue, but your father fears that if you know the truth, you will want to come live with me.
The fourth letter sounded more desperate. Her mother spoke of letters sent to the headmistress of the school and of her plans to come to the school and insist on seeing Phoebe.
And then Phoebe noticed that the last letter wasn’t in her mother’s script, nor had it been a letter returned from the school. This one was from her father, written in German.
Elizabeth,
No doubt you felt that in order to assert your independence you would embarrass me by leaving our home. And no doubt you have relayed to your aunt all of the marital miseries you endured. However, as we both know, a wife is subject to her husband’s discipline and approval. The first of which you were in constant need of, and the latter of which you rarely were capable of winning. You have caused no small amount of trouble with your childish action of running away. Should the truth of your departure be learned among my peers, I would suffer great embarrassment and ridicule. Therefore you will not return, nor will you make it known that you are even alive.
I have told the children you are dead, that your ship sank as you made an emergency trip to America. What you need to understand now is that if you do not cease in sending letters and trying to see our daughter . . . I will see that my story comes true. Of course, there would be no sinking ship, but the end result would be just the same. I will see to it personally or have it done, but you will no longer be a problem to me. If you ever try to contact our children or return to this estate, I will have you dealt with before either of them has a chance to see you.
Furthermore, if you attempt to visit our daughter at school, I will arrange it so that you will never see Phoebe again. I would rather she be dead than with you. If you love her as you claim, you will not challenge me in this, for you cannot doubt that I would see this through to the obvious conclusion. Your life . . . her life . . . both are quite uncertain unless you cooperate.
Phoebe’s eyes widened at this final declaration. Her father’s signature was affixed to the bottom as if to pound home the truth. Tears clouded her vision. How could this be? How could her father
have been so cruel?
Mutter seemed to understand. She came and took the letters from Phoebe’s trembling hands. “Now you know the truth.”
Phoebe fought back her emotions. “Yes, but I don’t know what to do with it.”
6
You’d best put that book away for now, Kenny. I need to get you back to your mama.” They’d eaten supper and now lounged in the living room reading. Ian had taken the time to scan the newspaper and was now reading the Bible, surprised that his mother hadn’t yet returned. She had told him to keep Kenny there until she came for him, but it was already growing dark and there was no sign of her.
“But Tom Sawyer just saw Injun Joe kill Dr. Robinson,” Kenny said, clearly excited as he jumped up from his chair. “Can’t I read just a little while longer?”
Ian smiled. “Your mama will be wondering where you are. The book will still be here when you visit next time.”
The sound of someone coming in the back door drew Ian’s attention. His mother entered the living room shortly thereafter, and the look on her face was one of grave concern.
“What’s wrong?”
She smiled, but it was forced. “Kenny, I need to talk in private with Ian. Your mama said it would be all right for you to spend the night with us, so why don’t you go on upstairs and get ready for bed. You can read until I’m able to come tuck you in. Would that be all right with you?”
“Sure, Grandma!” He jumped up with his book. “This is the best book ever.” He headed for the stairs, his nose already back between the pages.
Ian’s mother motioned him to follow her into the kitchen and close the door. “There’s trouble brewing.”
“Elizabeth?”
Again she nodded. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “There are all sorts of complications. The woman you saw at the pool is Elizabeth’s daughter.”
“I figured such a resemblance was no coincidence.”
“Not only that, but Elizabeth is no widow. Her husband is there at the hotel with their daughter.”
“What?”
“Shhh. We mustn’t let Kenny hear us.” His mother pulled on his sleeve and led him out of the house and into the back garden. “Elizabeth is terrified of her husband finding out about her being at the hotel. She’s even more terrified that he’ll learn about Kenny.”
“He doesn’t know he has a son?”
“Elizabeth escaped before he learned she was expecting.” She filled Ian in on all the details that Elizabeth had given her. After several minutes of explanation, Ian’s mother paused. “So that’s why the situation is so grave.”
“I see.” Ian let out a heavy breath. “And what is she going to do now?”
“Well, she wants us to keep Kenny here in town so that her husband can’t find him. She hopes he won’t know that she’s here either, but if he does happen to spot her, at least he won’t know about the boy.”
“She wants us to lie?” Ian shook his head. Such things didn’t sit well with him, especially given the past.
“She hopes to take Kenny and leave the area until her husband and daughter return to Germany. He knows she’s alive, but not where she lives. And she certainly doesn’t want him to know about Kenny.”
“Mother, it’s hardly right for us to come between a husband and wife whom God has joined together. You know how I feel about such things.”
His mother reached out and patted his hand. “Ian, I know how badly Nora’s parents hurt you by trying to tear the two of you apart. I know that Nora’s lies destroyed your happiness, but this is different.”
“How? How is it any different for us to put a barrier between Elizabeth and her husband? To keep a man from his son?”
“The man is horribly violent. He’s a monster who used to beat Elizabeth whenever the notion took him. Would you want to see that happen to her again? Or to Kenny?”
“Of course not, but neither do I want to dishonor God, nor the covenant they made before Him. Mother, have you prayed or sought counsel from Pastor Clearwater?”
“I haven’t had time, but the thought did come to mind. My immediate concern was Elizabeth. She was so upset. She was going to just take Kenny and flee, but I convinced her to wait. I thought perhaps I would have you take a letter to your aunt and uncle near Townsend. I thought with all that’s going on this time of year they could use Elizabeth’s help to cook and help in other ways. That way she and Kenny could be well out of harm’s way.”
“You mean they could hide there until her husband is gone.”
“Yes.” His mother frowned. “I know this is a delicate matter. I can’t say that I’m completely comfortable with such a solution, but, Ian, I am worried for them both.”
“And so am I,” Ian agreed. “Even so, there has to be a better solution. What if Elizabeth were to meet with her husband so that they could talk things out? Surely if there were witnesses, no harm could come to her.”
“I don’t know, Ian. I just know that she’s terribly afraid and fears for Kenny. She might lose him if her husband finds out about him.”
Ian shook his head. “I need time to think and pray. Why don’t you go be with Kenny while I take a walk.”
“Of course.” His mother put her hand on his arm. “I know Elizabeth and I have responded to this with our hearts. It’s our nature, I suppose. However, I also know you are right in saying we must seek the Lord. I’m glad for the reminder.”
Ian kissed her atop the head. “You are both good women who love the Lord. I know God will make the way clear.”
He walked around to the front of the three-story brick house where he’d spent a good portion of his life and paused for a moment. His father had built this house for his mother in 1888. It had been the height of fashion in an Italianate style that many envied. It wasn’t a mansion, nor really all that opulent, but Ian had grown up knowing they had more than most. When he had determined to marry Nora, he had talked his father into helping him build a little house beside the family home, where the couple could live. Having more than enough acreage, his father had eagerly agreed. Then within a span of seven years Nora died, then Ian’s brother, and finally his father. It was then that Ian had moved the gem shop from its cramped quarters on Main to the small house he’d built for Nora next door—a house they’d scarcely had a chance to share. And it was there that Ian quietly shaped gemstones and carried on his father’s business.
If anyone were to look at it, however, they might never know it was anything other than a small two-story home. A neighborhood had grown up around them as the city spread, and there were dozens of beautiful homes along the treelined street. Ian and his mother had sold off all of their land, save that upon which the two houses stood. That money, along with insurance and savings, had set Ian’s mother up for life. He’d even tried to convince her to hire a housekeeper so she could relax and enjoy doing nothing. He smiled. His mother had never been one to sit idle. She loved being busy and being with other people, which made her job at the hotel ideal.
Ian stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to walk. His mother was precious to him, but he wouldn’t lie for her or anyone else. It would never bode well for either party. But how could he just cast Elizabeth and Kenny aside and leave them to whatever fate they might have with Von Bergen?
He sighed. It was nearly dark, but that only made it better. The quiet of the evening comforted Ian as he prayed.
This is quite a mess, Lord. I don’t honestly know what part we are to play in it, but you know that we care greatly for Elizabeth and young Kenny. Father, I had no idea Elizabeth was bearing such a heavy load. I want to help, but I don’t want to do anything wrong. I pray you’ll give us all wisdom in dealing with this situation.
He paused for a moment and let his mother’s earlier comments really sink in. Elizabeth had suffered much at the hands of this violent man—her husband. Kenny didn’t deserve to be thrown into such danger, but neither did he deserve to be robbed of his father. Ian knew that under the law, women had very few rights
. Perhaps in Europe it was even worse. Still, might there not have been a better way? Or was leaving her husband the only choice Elizabeth had in order to protect the life of her unborn son? She had suffered the pain of losing three other children because of her husband’s abuse. Surely God would not want for another such precious life to be taken in the raging fit of one man’s actions.
Ian started walking again, and this time Nora came to mind. Her parents had hated him for taking their daughter away from them. Hated him further because in their minds it was his fault she had died.
She’d been gone for ten years. Ten years, and still Ian felt guarded when he thought of ever allowing himself to love again. Lies and manipulation from the woman he loved had tainted his heart. He had no desire to love again if it meant having to live with that again.
“How can I be a part of encouraging Elizabeth to continue her lie?” he said to himself. But then again, how could he not?
Elizabeth expected to see her daughter that morning. Phoebe had left the evening before in such a state of confusion that Elizabeth had made her promise to return the next morning for at least one more discussion. She had said nothing to Phoebe about Kenny, nor would she unless she felt certain the boy would be safe. Phoebe had agreed to say nothing to her father for the time, and Elizabeth could only pray that her daughter would be true to her word.
When a knock sounded on her door, Elizabeth hurried to open it and found Georgia instead of Phoebe.
“I thought you were Phoebe.”
“Phoebe? You’ve seen her? She came here?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth ushered Georgia into the house. “I’m expecting her back this morning. We ran into each other as I was returning from visiting with the manager. She was coming around the back corner of the kitchen area and we collided.”
“I would imagine that was quite a shock.”
Elizabeth nodded. “More than I can say, but it seemed God had it ordained that we should meet. She agreed to come here, and I told her everything. Well, except for Kenny. I even let her read the letters I’d sent to her and the one her father had sent to me.”
A Beauty Refined Page 6
