by Davis, Mary
Home. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to stay, either. She didn’t want to do anything.
Ivan turned to her in the backseat. “But I’m not old—”
“Oh, who cares?” The sheriff certainly wouldn’t do anything about it. She leaned her head against the side and stared out the window.
She felt the Ford rock as Daddy got in and shut the door. Ivan started the motor and drove off jerkily all the way home.
“What happened to your hair?” Daddy said.
She didn’t want to talk to him. He could see perfectly well what happened.
“It looks awful.”
Good.
Before Ivan brought the Ford to a complete stop, Lizzie jumped out and ran inside the house and locked herself in her room. Soon there was a knock on the door. It was Daddy. She’d heard his distinct walk with the thump of his wooden leg. She couldn’t face him or talk to him right now, so she ignored him. Soon, he went away. He’d gotten what he wanted. She was back home.
She tossed and turned most of the night and finally fell into a fitful sleep in the early morning hours. A knock on her door woke her. She donned her housecoat and answered it, barely able to open her eyes.
Ivan stared at her. “Daddy’s ready to leave for work.”
“I can’t go. You drive him.”
“But. . .but. . .”
“But he’s going to be late. Go.”
Ivan ran off down the hall. She crawled back into bed and soon heard the Ford start up and drive away, then drifted back to sleep.
❧
First thing that same morning, Merle and his friend Timothy showed up at Pete’s cell. Merle looked distinguished as ever in a three-piece suit and sporting a full, well-trimmed beard and mustache. Something Pete could never pull off.
Timothy looked to be about Merle’s age, in his upper forties. He adjusted his spectacles. “I’ll be honest. It doesn’t look good. They are trying to pin the murder of old man Sutton on you. You weren’t even in town. Seems they are saying you flew back into town during the dark of night to kill the old man for no apparent reason and left again.”
Pete raked a hand through his hair. “This is Agatha’s doing. She’s trying to get me to agree to marry her.” He told Timothy the whole history with Agatha.
“So the man she was going to marry four years ago is the father of her children. Why doesn’t she try to get him to marry her?”
“He’s not the father, either.” Pete would not divulge who the real father was.
“Do you know who the father is?”
“I won’t say.”
Timothy frowned. “It would help you an awful lot if we could expose her whole torrid affair.”
He wouldn’t do that. “Too many people would be hurt.”
Timothy’s voice rose. “People need to take responsibility for their actions, not you.”
“I won’t do it.”
Timothy shook his head. “He’s not making this easy on me, Merle. I’ll see what I can do, but you talk some sense into him.” He walked away.
Merle had remained quiet until now. “I’m proud of you.” He stuck his hand through the bars and shook Pete’s hand. “You are the son I never had, and I couldn’t be more proud if you were my own flesh and blood.”
Pete’s eyes stung. He was a grown man. How could he feel like crying? Merle had always treated him like family. “I never told you how much I’ve appreciated everything you’ve done for my aunt and me.” Merle had found a job for Aunt Ethel when they were hungry and about to be thrown out onto the streets. He’d bought food and left it by their front door, though he’d never ’fessed up to it. Merle had known Aunt Ethel would insist on paying him back. He’d fallen madly in love the first time he’d met Aunt Ethel, but she was afraid of marriage and would agree only to live with Merle. Merle had refused at first, then figured maybe it would get Aunt Ethel to soften up and marry him. Fifteen years later, he was still trying to soften her up.
“About this Agatha.”
“I won’t rat her out. I can’t stand her, but I won’t hurt everyone else involved to get revenge on her and gain my freedom.”
“The real father means something to you?”
He shook his head. “It’s someone else who would be hurt by all this. I would rather be the one he hates.” Pete’s best friend, David, had felt betrayed by him and refused to believe Pete wasn’t the father of his ex-fiancée’s child. David had rejected both Pete and Agatha. Agatha had tried to get David to move up the wedding so she could pass off another man’s child as his. When that hadn’t worked, she’d tried to seduce David. And when that hadn’t worked and she had begun to show and David had turned her away, she had pointed her finger at Pete. Why Pete? Because he knew who the likely real father was. “I feel like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego thrown into the fiery furnace. I may survive this or not, but God is still in control. And for the first time in my life, I’m trusting Him to do His will, whatever that is.”
Merle nodded. “Timothy doesn’t understand your honor. I’ll explain to him that you can’t, in good conscience, betray this confidence.”
“Thank you.”
Merle looked to the ground, then back up at him. “He may not be able to help you.”
“I understand. I’m trusting God to make this all work out. And Merle, don’t let Aunt Ethel do anything foolish to try to secure my freedom.”
“That’s a tall order, boy. I’ll do my best.”
Pete had the utmost confidence in Merle and could rest easier knowing Merle was looking out for his aunt.
❧
Lizzie stayed in bed all that day, thinking and crying about Pete when she wasn’t sleeping. She’d given herself this one day to mourn. Tomorrow she’d go to the warehouse and start packing apples like the rest of the girls had done last week when she was helping Pete. And next week she’d begin rolling chewy Aplet candies in powdered sugar as the season started into full swing.
She got up long enough to make supper but didn’t bother to change out of her nightclothes to do the task. She peered out the kitchen window and saw Ivan motoring wildly up the road. He needed to learn to make smaller adjustments. When they came to a stop at the house, she went back to her room.
This was her time, and she would not allow Daddy in it.
Awhile later, she heard an automobile and looked out her bedroom window but couldn’t see who it was. Still in her heavy flannel nightgown and housecoat, she shimmied out the window and tiptoed across the cold ground around the corner of the house. Bill and Grandpa stood next to Bill’s old truck. Daddy came out onto the porch.
Grandpa stepped forward holding up some papers. “Robert filled your head with a bunch of lies.”
“You expect me to believe a man who wouldn’t even own up to his own responsibilities?”
“That’s not true. I loved your mother, and we were married. Robert dissolved our marriage because he didn’t approve of me.”
Daddy shook his head. “Go away, old man.” He went back inside.
Lizzie came around the corner. “What are those?”
“Letters from Lilly.”
“May I take them? I’ll bring them back tomorrow.”
Grandpa stared at the two letters, then reluctantly handed them over. “It’s all I have from her.”
She hugged them to her chest. “I’ll take good care of them.” She crawled back up to her window, clambered into the room, and sat on her bed.
The letters were well worn and nearly falling apart. She unfolded the first one carefully: “My Dearest Cullen, I’m so torn. I love you bo—”
The words in the fold were worn away. BO? What word could that be? Boy? That didn’t make sense. The next word only had the last four letters ther. Mother? Father? Brother? Peter?
She knew it couldn’t be Pete but stopped and pictured his carefree smile and the way he’d looked at her when he’d refused her repeated requests to fly his Curtiss JN-4D. That’s the Pete she’d fallen in love wit
h. She didn’t want to think about the Pete he really was.
She read on: “—ther is being so unreasonable. I promise to get him to accept you.”
Him. So ther must be father. She went back to the beginning.
“I’m so torn. I love you. . .both.” It must be. “Father is being so unreasonable. I promise to get him to accept you before”—something, then—“aby comes.” It must be the baby comes.
“Don’t give up my love. Your faithful and loving wife, Mrs. Cullen Finnegan.”
Her great-grandparents had been married. Lizzie had gotten the impression from Daddy that they weren’t.
She set the letter aside and gently unfolded the other one. It was in as bad shape as the other. She took the letters to her writing desk, pulled out clean paper, and began copying what she could make out, then read the letter for meaning and content and was able to fill in all the blanks. She wasn’t sure if it was exactly right, but it all made sense:
My Dearest Cullen,
Father is still unmoving. I have promised him that I will steal away with you. I shouldn’t have told him. He watches me always. And locks me in my room! I’m not a child! I am going to pretend I am content after the baby comes. Pretend I have forgotten about you. He will let down his guard, and I will run away with our baby. I’ll meet you in our special place on our first anniversary. Come to me, my love.
Your faithful and loving wife,
Mrs. Cullen Finnegan
Lizzie copied the first letter. Then she made a second copy of both for herself.
So legally, she was Elizabeth Finnegan. Lizzie Finnegan. She liked that. She might have been Lizzie Garfield. She shook her head. Even if Pete hadn’t been married and had a family, he never would have settled down. He was a flying gypsy, never staying anyplace very long. And she was rooted in place by Daddy.
❧
A jail guard opened the door separating the cells from the rest of the world. “You’re a popular boy. You have another visitor.”
Pete’s jaw unhinged when he saw his best friend approach. David had sworn never to talk to him again. He rose from the cot, walked cautiously across the cell, and waited for David to speak first.
“I can’t say I’m disappointed to see you behind bars. Just tell me why? Why my girl when you could have had any girl you wanted?”
Pete grabbed the bars. “It wasn’t me. I swear to you.”
David shook his head. “I’ve heard your song and dance before. You know who it is but won’t spill the beans. I think you’re just saying that. Why wouldn’t you want to tell and clear your name?”
“I have my reasons.” He wanted his oldest friend to believe him just on his word.
“They say you killed old man Sutton.”
He seemed to attract lies like garbage attracted flies. “I wasn’t even in town. I didn’t do it.”
David glared at him. “You may be a cad, but you’re no murderer.”
Pete guessed that was something.
“I talked to Agatha. She said if you married her, she’d see to it that all the charges were dropped. If you won’t do it to save your own neck, do it for your daughter and the one on the way.”
Pete gritted his teeth. He’d rather have his best friend believe him about Agatha than the murder charge. “I’m not the father.” How many times did he have to say it?
David shook his head. “I just came to tell you that if you won’t be a man and own up to your responsibilities, then I will.”
“What?”
“I’ll marry her if she’ll get you cleared, but then you have to leave town and never return.” David pointed a condemning finger at him.
“You’re going to marry Agatha? You can’t. You said you’d never marry her. You said she made you sick.” Pete shook the unyielding bars.
“You’re the one who makes me sick now. I thought you were a better man than this. Don’t you care at all about your own children?”
“For the last time, there is no way I could possibly be the father of Agatha’s daughter or of the one she’s carrying.”
“Be honest for once in your life.”
How ironic. When he was telling the truth, no one believed him. “For the friendship we once had, please don’t marry her.”
“The only way I won’t marry her is if you own up and take care of your responsibilities.”
He couldn’t let his best friend ruin his life this way, not when he had the means to stop it. He could marry Agatha, or he could tell David who the real father was. If he married Agatha, then he’d have no chance of winning Lizzie’s heart back and convincing her of his innocence. But if he told the truth, David would be crushed.
“If you don’t leave town after we’re married and you’re released, I’ll have you thrown back in jail.” David walked away.
Pete’s gut twisted, and his heart ached. “David, wait.” He couldn’t let his friend ruin his life.
David shook his head and kept walking.
“I’ll tell you who it is.” David deserved better than Agatha.
David hesitated, then came back. He folded his arms and waited without a word.
“Four years ago, I saw Agatha and a man. She was coming out of a hotel in the middle of the day with him. And they were kissing, right there in the open. She turned and saw me.”
“So why didn’t she point the finger at the real father? None of this makes sense.”
“Because he’s married.”
“Married?” David clearly didn’t believe him.
“It would destroy his marriage if his wife found out.”
“Why would you protect a married man who is unfaithful to his wife? That makes no sense.”
“He’s not the one I’m protecting.”
“Agatha? You should have thought of that before you got her pregnant.”
“Not Agatha.”
“Then who?”
“You.”
“You’re crazy.” David turned to leave again.
“It’s Saul.”
David froze for a full half minute. Then he turned and said, “My brother? You want me to believe that my happily married brother would betray me and his lovely wife and have an affair with my fiancée? Is that what you expect me to believe?”
“It’s the truth.”
“He has a beautiful wife and three children.”
“Make that four with another on the way. And a mistress.”
David came at him and reached through the bars swinging at him. Pete stepped back out of reach, for once grateful for the bars. David gritted his teeth. “My brother would never do that to me. Never. He was a father to me.”
“I’m sorry, David.”
David pulled his arms back and straightened his coat. “I hope you rot in here.” He walked away.
Pete slumped onto his cot. Lord, let him hate me for the rest of his life, but don’t let him marry Agatha. She’ll ruin him more than this ever would.
Twelve
The next morning, Lizzie rose early and readied herself, then went out and prepared Daddy and Ivan’s breakfast and left it on the stove to stay warm until they came out to eat. She put on her coat and went out to feed the chickens and do her other outside chores. When she’d finished, she sat in the Ford and waited on Daddy and Ivan. Neither said a word when they came out and climbed in. She let Ivan off at school and drove to the post office.
“How long are you going to refuse to speak to me, Elizabeth?”
“I prefer Lizzie.” She knew Daddy hated that nickname.
“I can’t bear having you mad at me.”
She didn’t look at him. “You hurt me more than I thought you ever could.”
Daddy sat silent a moment. “I love you, Elizabeth.”
She knew he did but couldn’t return the words. She sat staring ahead, willing him to get out of the automobile.
He climbed out and hobbled with more effort than usual, no doubt for her benefit. She drove away and to Bill’s Garage. Fred ran out with his tail wagging in ci
rcles. She picked him up. Grandpa met her at the door, and she handed him his letters. “I kept them safe.” Then she handed him one set of the copies. “Some of the words are hard to make out, so I made copies so you could always read Grandma’s words to you.”
Grandpa put his hand on his chest. “They are all right here. I have every word memorized. I just like to look at her script.”
Tears welled in her eyes. That was so sweet. “At the end of the second letter, Lilly mentioned your special place. Where is it?”
Grandpa gave a faraway smile. “Down Memory Lane.”
Was that a real place? “Where’s that?”
“There was an old wagon trail out by that field Pete landed in. There was a single wild rosebush alongside the ruts. Lilly said it probably greeted the new settlers to the area and was now there to greet us and usher us into our new life together. I plucked a blossom off it for her. She said she was going to press it and keep it in her Bible.”
Bill stood, went upstairs, and came back down several minutes later. “I nearly forgot she gave this to me.” He handed an old Bible to Grandpa. “It was Lilly’s.”
Bill had Grandma’s Bible? That was strange. “Why do you have her Bible?”
“Lilly and I were second cousins. She asked me to hold onto it for her.”
Grandpa opened the Bible and in the crack of the pages found a small, pressed wild rose. He smiled. “She kept it. I’s never sure if she did.” He presented the flower to Lizzie. “She would want you to have it.”
Lizzie knew where the wild rosebush was. It grew on the dividing line between the Johnsons’ property and the Shorts’. When she was in school, there was an old legend that an Indian maiden named Night Moon sat there waiting for her true love, Little Elk, to return to her. Little Elk drowned in the river and never came back. She cried many tears, and the bush grew to keep her company. The bush was said to be Little Elk. When Night Moon died, a black-capped chickadee sat on the bush, and the two lovers were always together. People at school believed if you got a boy to kiss you by that bush, he would marry you.
Maybe she should have taken Pete there for their first kiss. She shook her head. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Pete had been married long before she’d met him.
