Beloved (23 page)

In the days since the Rough Riders landed, Tyson had more than once wished he’d drowned like Roosevelt’s horse before coming ashore. But he hadn’t drowned, and so far he’d lived through every battle and skirmish with nary a scratch.

Something told him this day would be different. Word was combined forces of fifteen thousand American troops were to take Santiago today.

Take it or die trying.

TWENTY-TWO

“Diana,” Gloria said tersely, “please sit down. Your pacing is giving me a frightful headache.”

With a sigh, her daughter obeyed, sinking onto the empty chair near Gloria’s bedroom window.

“Now tell me again who it is we’re expecting to visit today and why you’re so upset.”

“Pauline and Quentin Kingston. Friends of Tyson’s. He met them during his travels overseas. In Europe or Egypt or someplace like that. They’re not from America.”

“A married couple?”

Diana shook her head. “No. Brother and sister. Twins.” She closed her eyes and groaned softly. “Mother, you should have seen the way Miss Kingston acted around Tyson. When she saw him in the park last night, she kissed him. On the mouth.”

“On the mouth! What did you do?”

“What could I do?”

Gloria drew herself up. “Since you’re his wife, it would seem to me you could have expressed your displeasure, at the very least.” Diana opened her eyes. “I suppose I could have.”

“Does Tyson seem … interested in this woman?”

“No.” Diana shook her head. “Yes.” She nodded. “I don’t know.
Possibly. I think … I think they may have been … lovers. What if … What if he … What if they …” Her words drifted into silence.

Gloria saw her daughter was in real distress. But she recognized something more important than that. Diana was in pain because she cared for Tyson, because she feared losing her husband to this Miss Kingston, because maybe she’d even learned to love him again.

“Well, my dear,” she said, leaning toward Diana, “I believe the first thing you should do, the next time you see her, is to remind her that Tyson is
your
husband.”

Tyson didn’t have an opportunity to talk to Diana before their guests arrived, and he knew it was intentional on her part. She was avoiding him. But she arrived to stand by his side as Upchurch opened the front door to admit the Kingstons.

“How good of you to let us come before luncheon,” Pauline said as she clasped Diana’s hand and leaned in to kiss her cheek, as if they were the best of friends. “Americans are so much more relaxed about the timing of social calls than the British. Thank goodness, I say. My brother and I never have been very good when it comes to adhering to proper etiquette. All those rules are so dreadfully confining. Don’t you think?”

When Pauline turned her attention to Tyson, he hoped she would settle for a handshake. She wouldn’t. She rose on tiptoe to kiss him too. But though he was helpless to do anything but allow it, lest he be rude, he did turn his head so she couldn’t kiss him on the mouth as she’d done the previous evening.

“Mrs. Applegate,” Quentin said as he bowed over Diana’s hand, “you have a lovely home. We are grateful for the invitation to spend the day with you and Tyson.”

“We’re happy to have you both,” Diana answered. “And please, call me Diana. No need for formality when you are such good friends of my husband’s.”

Tyson doubted the others could see behind her smile to the tension coiled inside of her, but he knew her well enough to see it, to feel it. Perhaps even to take some comfort in it.

Pauline moved into the parlor. “Quentin’s right. It is a beautiful home. I shouldn’t be surprised, I know, but whenever I think of Tyson, I always imagine him living in a tent.”

“Why a tent?” Diana followed Pauline into the parlor.

The two men joined them, Tyson moving to his wife’s side.

Pauline sent a smile in his direction, even though it was Diana she answered. “Because that was his humble abode when we first became acquainted. Remember, Tyson? We were in India where the nights are sultry and the air smells of spices.”

Tyson didn’t respond.

Over the past few weeks, he and Diana had spoken little about the places he’d traveled. She’d seemed curious to know more, while at the same time reluctant to hear anything in great detail. Certainly he hadn’t told her about the other women whose company he’d shared. Especially not Pauline Kingston. He wasn’t proud of the way he’d lived, and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt her more. It was a delicate balancing act, telling the truth in love.

Pauline wandered over to the window that looked out upon the front lawn. After a moment she turned to look at Diana again. “I suppose you didn’t travel with Tyson because you didn’t want to leave your home. I can’t say as I blame you. But you did miss some grand adventures.”

Tyson was tempted to wring Pauline’s neck.

Into the silence Quentin said, “I would love to see your stables,
Tyson. I know how much you admire good horseflesh. Is there time before luncheon for me to have a look?”

Tyson didn’t want to leave the women here alone, but good manners demanded he agree to Quentin’s request. “Of course. Come with me.”

“I want to see your horses too,” Pauline said.

Relieved, Tyson offered his elbow to Diana. “Then I suppose we’ll all go.”

Diana took his arm but kept her eyes averted, her expression guarded.

When the small party exited the house through the back door, Tyson saw his father and Diana’s mother seated on the stone bench, his mother-in-law’s favorite place. It seemed his father’s favorite place was wherever Gloria Fisher was.

He frowned. Was that true or had he imagined it?

Jeremiah rose from the bench when he saw the foursome’s approach.

“Father, may I introduce Pauline Kingston and her brother, Quentin.” He looked at his guests. “This is my father, Jeremiah Applegate. And this is my mother-in-law, Mrs. Byron Fisher.”

Quentin stepped forward to shake hands with Jeremiah. “A great pleasure to meet you, sir. And you, Mrs. Fisher.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Kingston,” Jeremiah returned. “Miss Kingston.”

“Tyson told us you own several silver mines.”

“Yes. And I understand my son made your acquaintance in India. Or was it Africa?”

“India was where we first met,” Quentin answered.

Tyson cleared his throat. “We are taking our guests down to the stables, Father. Would you and Mrs. Fisher care to join us?” He shifted his gaze to his mother-in-law.

Gloria shook her head. “Thank you. No. Your father and I have decided to eat our lunch out here in the shade.”

Jeremiah sat beside her again.

Looking at them, Tyson thought they looked like a … a … couple. But that was absurd. Perhaps they’d formed a cordial friendship. But more than that? Preposterous. Why, his father was sixty and his mother-in-law fifty-one. And even if their ages didn’t put them beyond the age of romantic attachments, his father’s temperament would prohibit it. No, he had to be imagining things.

As the small party continued their walk to the stables and paddocks, Quentin asked Tyson about his decision to run for public office. He was grateful for something to take his mind off the two older people they’d left behind on the stone bench.

Diana was certain Quentin Kingston, when asking about the Senate campaign, hadn’t expected Tyson to share first about his faith in Christ. In fact, when she glanced over her shoulder at the brother and sister, she thought both of their expressions were a bit shocked. Seeing their reaction lifted some of the tension she’d felt.

Tyson reached the end of his story at the same time they reached the wide entry into the stables.

“Never would’ve guessed you’d become the religious type,” Quentin said after a lengthy silence.

“No reason you would, based upon what you knew of me. But I can tell you that now my faith is central to all I am and all I do.”

“Mercy me!” Pauline rolled her eyes. “Could this conversation become any more tiresome? Show us your horses, Tyson. That’s why we are here in your barn.”

Before Tyson could respond, Claude Romano approached. “Pardon me, Mr. Applegate. May I speak with you, sir?”

“Yes.”

“The new carriage stock have arrived, but I’m concerned about one of them. Would you have a look?”

“Of course.” To the others, he said, “Please excuse me.” Then he walked with the head groom toward the rear entrance of the stables. Not waiting for an invitation, Quentin followed right behind.

“Men,” Pauline muttered under her breath. “I suppose it is up to you to show me the horses, Diana.”

Old feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness rose up, leaving Diana close to tears. And she would rather die than let this cosmopolitan, world-traveling, sophisticated woman—who had obvious designs on Tyson—see those feelings. Drawing a quick breath, she turned away, saying, “I’ll show you my mare first.”

The two women moved to the stall, and Diana motioned for Pauline to look over the door into the enclosure.

Pauline released a sound of delight. “She is magnificent. How does she go?”

The mare thrust her head over the half door, and Diana stroked the horse’s neck affectionately. “As smooth as a child’s rocking horse.”

“A gift from Tyson?”

“Yes.”

“Thought so. It is exactly the sort of horse he would give a woman. He knows how to please the fairer sex.” Pauline faced Diana, her head tipped slightly to one side, her eyes narrowed. “Why
did
you let Tyson go traipsing around the world without you? If he were my husband, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight.” She laughed softly. Suggestively. “Or out of my bed.”

A gasp escaped Diana’s throat, and she felt her heart skip a beat, then another.

Pauline laughed again. “Yes. I know. Scandalous, aren’t I? My
brother is forever telling me I need to mind what I say, but I don’t find that very enjoyable. Do you? I’m afraid I shall never be considered conventional.”

Diana turned away from Pauline and pressed her cheek against the mare’s sleek neck, needing to compose herself, to quiet her thoughts.

After a brief silence, Pauline said, “I believe I shall see what is keeping the men so long.”

“If he were my husband, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight. Or out of my bed.”
The words stung Diana’s heart a second time. There was no room for doubt now. Pauline and Tyson had been lovers. Did he care for her still?

Memories from recent weeks flitted through Diana’s mind. Kind moments. Tender moments. Her heart told her Tyson wouldn’t betray her with Pauline or any other woman again. He was, indeed, a changed man. A good man. But that truth didn’t guarantee he would learn to love her.

And what did that matter? She didn’t love him either. In four months, Idaho voters would choose their new senator. If Tyson was elected, he would go to Washington, DC. If not, he would find another occupation. Either way, Diana and her mother would move to a place of their own and she would start building a new life. That was their agreement, hers and Tyson’s. She meant to hold him to it.

Tyson and Quentin were returning to the barn when Pauline stepped into the sunlight. She stopped and shaded her eyes with one hand, smiling when she saw the two men approach. He knew that look. Self-satisfied. Smug. Like the cat that swallowed the canary, if he understood what the adage meant.

“Tyson, dear boy, that mare of Diana’s is truly magnificent. I really must take you with me next time I’m looking to buy a horse.”

“I could only do that if you were looking for a horse near Boise.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t mean to remain in this small city year round.”

“No. God willing, Diana and I will spend a great deal of time in Washington, DC.” He didn’t smile as he moved past her. His gaze swept the inside of the barn for his wife. She wasn’t in sight. He spun about on his heel. “What did you say to her, Pauline?”

“Say? Nothing much at all. I told Diana the horse was beautiful and asked if it was a gift from you. She said it was and that the mare’s gait was like a rocking horse.” Pauline gave a small shrug. “Then I decided to come outside to see what was keeping you two. I thought she would follow.”

He didn’t believe her. There was more that had been said. He was sure of it. And whatever it was, it had made Diana run away from him rather than to him.

August 1898

Diana saw the headline on the second page of the newspaper and felt her body grow cold: “SON OF IDAHO SILVER MAGNATE JEREMIAH APPLEGATE BELIEVED DEAD IN CUBA.”

“Diana,” her mother said, “is something wrong?”

She looked up. “It’s Tyson. He’s dead.”

“What? When? How?”

Her gaze returned to the brief article. “He was fighting in Cuba. His body is missing.”

“They must be mistaken, dear. Tyson wasn’t in the army.”

Odd, that pinched feeling in Diana’s chest. She’d learned to hate the very sound of Tyson’s name. She’d hated him with every fiber of her being. But eventually hate had cooled into indifference. Complete indifference. He didn’t matter to her any longer. She didn’t care if he was in Europe or Africa or the South Seas. She didn’t care where he went or who he went with. He simply did not matter to her.

But dead? Had she wished him dead?

She pictured the two of them on the evening they’d first met. She, a girl of not yet eighteen. Him, a man of twenty-five. She was such an innocent. He seemed so sophisticated. She remembered the sound of his laughter as they sat on the dock in the dark, splashing their bare feet in the water. She’d learned to love him that night. She’d loved him for a long, long time. Far longer than she’d hated him. Far longer than she’d been indifferent to him.

Tyson was dead.

TWENTY-THREE

Diana stood beside Tyson on the front porch and watched as the Kingston twins followed the walkway to the waiting carriage. Once there, the sister and brother turned and waved, then Quentin assisted Pauline into the carriage and they drove away.

Never in her life had Diana been so grateful to see the back of a vehicle as she was this one.