Hannah’s Beau (15 page)

No, Hannah’s memory was clear. Rachel had willingly committed the acts in the first place. When caught, she hadn’t stepped forward. Not once.

Did you give her the chance?

Hannah didn’t know for certain. However, there was one incident that ran firm in her mind, the one time when Rachel hadn’t tried to step forward. The night of Hannah’s banishment.

“Even if what you say is true, what about your affair with Mr. Beamer? That night, I waited for you to come forward. You never did.”

“I know.” Rachel’s face contorted with annoyance but not remorse. “I miscalculated that one. I never
thought Father would disown you. And once he had, I knew he wouldn’t believe the truth.”

Hannah stared at her sister. “How could he? By pretending to be me throughout the affair, you made it impossible for
anyone
to believe the truth. That was very badly done of you, Rachel.”

“Perhaps.” And yet,
still,
she didn’t ask for forgiveness.

“Why didn’t you at least warn me?” Hannah asked.

“Because I thought you would take it badly, or worse, lecture me.” She blessed her with an ironic smile. “Good thing I was wrong.”

Hannah ignored the sarcasm. “You could have confessed all this in Chicago.”

“I met Tyler,” Rachel said, as though that explained her lapse. As though finding her one true love erased her from any further blame.

Hannah stared at her in disbelief. Surely, she didn’t think resolution came that easily. “Rachel—”

“Don’t look at me like that, with that self-righteous snarl on your face. You played your own role, Hannah. If you hadn’t set the precedents, I wouldn’t have pulled it off.”

“Maybe.” All right. Yes. Hannah
had
played her role. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. Regardless of the fact that Rachel had taken advantage of the situation, Hannah owed her sister an apology. “I’m sorry.”

Rachel said nothing.

And in that moment, Hannah finally saw the truth for what it was. Rachel would never ask for forgiveness. Hannah could either love her as she was, flaws and all, or carry the burden of her own bitterness in her heart forever.

Hannah chose freedom.

She chose to give forgiveness where forgiveness wasn’t earned. As her Lord and Savior had done for her.

It wasn’t easy, and she would probably lapse, but wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t the path Christ asked His followers to walk a narrow one?

Lord, please fill me with Your forgiveness. I can’t do it on my own power. It’s too big for me.

“It’s over, Rachel. I hold no ill will toward you.” She wanted to mean her words. Perhaps one day she would. “I pray you and Tyler have a lifetime of happiness together.”

Relief washed across Rachel’s face, and she yanked Hannah into a hard, bone-rattling embrace. “Thank you, Hannah. Thank you.”

Hannah knew it was as close to an apology as she would get from her sister. It was enough. It had to be enough.

Beau and Tyler joined them just as Hannah pulled out of the hug.

Ever the gentleman, Beau took Rachel’s hand and kissed the knuckles with a theatrical O’Toole flair that had amusement beaming in Tyler’s eyes.

“Be happy, my new sister,” Beau said to Rachel.

“I already am,” Rachel said.

Tyler bent at the waist before Hannah. “Thank you, my good friend, for bringing the love of my life to me.”

At the genuine note of joy on Tyler’s face, Hannah’s heart softened toward the rogue. “It’s the least I could do. After all, you taught me the finer points of my craft when I knew nothing.”

He wrapped her hands in his and squeezed. “You deserve the best in life. And I think you know what I mean.”

He slid a sly glance in his brother’s direction, but, thankfully, Beau wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Hannah. Looking at her with his pastor face on, steady and unwavering, unrelenting strength in the set of his jaw.

Her heart thumped one strong, powerful knock against her ribs. The truth had been there from the start. God’s hand in the process all along. All this time she’d thought this journey had been about her past. She’d been wrong.

Beauregard O’Toole was the man of her dreams. The man of her heart. The man of her future. He just didn’t know it yet. But with God’s help, and a little nudge from Hannah, he would.

Tyler lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Don’t let him blow it. He’s just foolish enough to ruin it for you both.”

“Don’t worry, Tyler. I have a plan.”

Well, not precisely. But Hannah had every intention of making sure Beau came around very soon. Very soon indeed.

T
he next morning, the sun shone brighter, the sky blazed bluer. Hannah’s mood, however, failed to navigate the atmosphere quite so well. Unable to calm her sporadic thoughts, she’d spent a sleepless night sorting through all the mistakes she’d made with Rachel over the years.

By dawn, she’d been completely worn out. Thus, it was with leaden feet that she followed the others to the local church for Sunday meeting. Wanting to file away every detail in her mind of the town where her life had taken a dramatic turn, she scanned the streets and buildings. But she found her eyes focusing on the townspeople instead.

They seemed as unfriendly as she herself felt. They stared. Unashamedly. Their eyes filled with open curiosity tempered with…disdain?

Hannah shook the ugly thought aside and continued watching them watch her.

Their strange attitudes notwithstanding, what struck Hannah as most odd was their homogeneous nature. The
men were dressed identically in clean black suits of understated fashion. The woman wore nondescript dresses in pale, lifeless colors, buttoned tightly to their necks. Their bonnets were tied snugly around their chins.

On the surface, they were typical churchgoers. Yet there was something different about them, a definite note of scorn in their stares that put Hannah on edge.

Surely she was seeing disdain where there wasn’t any. She was simply feeling vulnerable after her encounter with Rachel and Tyler from the night before. Yes, that must be it.

Then again…

She took a quick survey of her companions. They certainly stood out. Hannah was considerably over-dressed in her favorite blue silk dress. While Mavis was underdressed in her men’s pants worn under a homemade dress.
Burlap,
no less.

And then there were the two men. Logan wore a suit identical to most of the men in the city, but his cowboy hat, tin star and pair of six-shooters set him apart. Beau, smooth, slick and neat in his brown suit and gold brocade vest, could pass for a man of distinction in any large city.

Hannah couldn’t help but notice how he caught the eye of every woman that passed by.

Most probably focused on his physical beauty. Hannah, however, saw his reliability. His strength of character. And his…All right, yes, his outward appeal, as well.

Just looking at him now, her throat went dry, turning her speechless. Following the others a full step behind, she silently mulled over how she would approach her father after all these years.

As much as she wanted to blame Rachel for putting her in such an unpleasant predicament, Hannah also knew it was long past time she confronted Thomas Southerland with the truth.

The truth shall set you free…

Yes, in truth there was power. The power of Christ.

Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, Beau slowed his pace until he came alongside her.

Logan took the lead without question.

Beau didn’t speak right away, and so they walked in companionable silence side by side for several minutes.

A cloud crossed over the sun, deadening the light at the precise moment he broke the hush between them. “I have something to tell you before we get to the church.”

At his serious tone, her heart stumbled. “You do?”

As they drew closer to the church, people nodded at Beau. He smiled and nodded back. A few times he responded with a personal greeting.

Waiting until they were alone again, Hannah asked, “Did you give a sermon here before? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

Beau stopped walking.

She stopped, as well.

A grimness passed over his features. For the first time in their acquaintance, Beauregard O’Toole looked unsure of himself. “You could say that.”

There was an odd note to his voice, and an apology in his eyes. Hannah had to work hard to keep her throat from slamming shut. “You don’t have to join us this morning,” she offered. “If you—”

“I wouldn’t miss this opportunity to worship. But I
wanted you to know there might be a woman here, a woman from my past.”

She concentrated on his voice, on his words, anything but the implication of what his declaration meant.

“I asked her to marry me.”

Hannah’s heart took a tumble at the news.

“She said no.”

The muscles in Hannah’s stomach quivered out of control. Oh, but she was glad. Glad, glad, glad the woman had turned him down. But her joy came from purely selfish reasons. So she made herself respond, made herself speak with sincerity. “I’m sorry, Beau.”

He cast a look to the darkening sky, frowned, then gave a short laugh. “I’m not.”

Although his tone was mild, he held his shoulders tense and unmoving. No matter what he claimed, the woman’s rejection had hurt him.

“I just wanted you to know,” he said, lowering his gaze back to hers.

“Why?” she asked. “Why are you telling me this now?”

He planted considerable O’Toole charm in his expression. “Because I wanted you to know about my past. All of it.”

He kept his eyes on hers as he spoke—
directly
on hers. And then his gaze filled with a quiet intensity that sent a promise of the future dancing along her skin.

“I don’t want any secrets between us,” he said.

She laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you for telling me.”

Before she could comment any further, Logan stopped short of joining the queue entering the church and stepped slightly back from the crowd.

“Are you two joining us?” he called out.

“Of course.” Beau took Hannah’s arm and steered her forward.

“Please, go ahead Miss Southerland,” Logan said. “You too, Miss Tierney.” He offered a smile that encompassed both women.

Mavis hesitated.

Logan held his smile.

Mavis cocked her head at him.

“Ma’am.” He winked at her, and then removed his hat. “Ladies first.”

At last, she smiled. Sort of. Perhaps it was a baring of teeth; one could never be sure with Mavis.

Before climbing the steps, Hannah slid a final glance toward Beau. His face was a cool mask of indifference, but she could feel that he was wound tighter than before. Wondering at the cause, she followed his gaze to the top of the stairs.

At the threshold of the church stood a young man and woman greeting each person as they walked in.

Looking respectable, yet somehow hard, the man wore a black suit, black tie and crisp, white shirt. His dark hair was cut meticulously close to his head. And his eyes held a severe, hawklike expression.

Hannah ignored the little flutter of uneasiness in her stomach and turned her attention to the woman standing next to the serious man in black.

She looked irritable, and not at all welcoming. Her dark blond hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her face held a pinched expression. She was thin, also perfectly groomed, and yet the most uninviting woman Hannah had ever seen.

They couldn’t be the pastor and his wife. And yet, who else would they be?

The young woman’s gaze widened as she caught sight of Beau. Her eyes held just a hint of joy at the sight of him but then just as quickly flashed with anger before becoming a blank slate.

Taking an audible breath of air, Beau moved in front of Logan and led their group up the steps himself.

“Why, Reverend O’Toole, we didn’t expect you to grace our humble little church with your presence again so soon.” The woman’s voice came out colder than Hannah would have expected of someone standing outside a church.

Nonetheless, Beau smiled at her. “Amelia, you are looking well.”

Amelia fiddled with one of the buttons at the neck of her dress.

Was this the woman Beau had once wanted to marry? The woman who had turned him down?

Beau shifted to look at the stern-looking gentleman and offered his hand. “Jim, that is, Reverend Smith, I understand congratulations are in order.”

“Amelia and I were married two months ago.” There was a flash of derision in Reverend Smith’s eyes as he pumped Beau’s hand. Behind the contempt was a challenge, as if he were saying,
Ha, the better man won after all.

“I bet you could build a mighty large snowman in that bedroom,” Mavis whispered through her teeth.

Hannah shushed her.

Taking notice, Amelia’s gaze shifted to Hannah. Her
eyes turned flat and her nose went up. “And who is this?” she asked.

Beau boldly took Hannah’s hand and gently drew her forward to join him. “This is Miss Hannah Southerland. She is a dear friend of my family’s.” Still holding her hand, he gave Hannah a smile that spread warmth all the way through her. “And of mine.”

Amelia didn’t seem impressed. In fact, her eyes bulged and then narrowed. “A family friend, you say?”

“Yes,” Beau said, with a flick of iron in his tone. “She tours with the same acting company as my brother.”

“I see.”

Hannah had a strong urge to slap the smirk off Amelia’s face. But she held back. She had experienced this sort of petty reaction before, especially once her profession was revealed. She wasn’t here to start an argument. And after the turmoil of the past week, she just wanted to forget about herself and focus on praising the Lord.

Obviously finished with Hannah, Amelia’s eyes searched the rest of their group. The moment her gaze landed on Mavis, she gasped, blinked hard and then whispered to her husband in a furious manner.

Hannah’s heart dropped to her toes when she heard the words “prostitute” and “how dare he bring that person here.”

Mouth thin, Reverend Smith stuck out his chest. “Reverend O’Toole,” he said in a haughty tone that carried halfway down the block. “You cannot bring that woman in here.” He pointed directly at Mavis.

Hannah tugged her hand free of Beau’s and rushed to Mavis, shifting her slightly behind her. “Mavis is a remarkable woman and I’m honored to call her friend,” she said.

Amelia lifted her chin higher still. “I know for a fact that
woman
worked in the brothel at Laramie. I did charity work there once. One doesn’t forget a woman like that.”

Reverend Smith clicked his tongue in disapproval. “That makes her a—”

“Don’t say another word, Jim,” Beau warned. There was a quick flash of rage on his face, and almost as quickly it was banked.

His control was impressive.

Just then, a bell tolled the top of the hour. People continued to rush past them as they made their way inside the building. Most looked at their unhappy little group, but none stopped to speak to them.

“Service is starting. We must get inside, Amelia,” Reverend Smith said, pivoting on his heel.

Amelia followed suit.

“Not so fast,” Beau said. “You would deny us access into the Lord’s house on a mere impression from years ago?”

Reverend Smith spun back around. His unsmiling face looked harsh under the bright morning sun. “That woman is a sinner, O’Toole. And thus is not welcome in my church.”

“
Your
church? Jesus came to call sinners into His church, Jim, not the righteous,” Beau said, his eyes hard. Clearly, he wasn’t bothering to hide his anger from them now.

Reverend Smith’s gaze was just as unrelenting. “You know we have a covenant. Sinners who have failed to repent publicly are not allowed inside our church. It’s how we protect our congregation from evil.”

Hannah actually saw the pulse jump in Beau’s throat. “How do you know she hasn’t repented?” he asked.

“I…
know.
”

“You can see into another’s heart?” Beau asked, stepping in front of both Mavis and Hannah and easing them behind him. “And here I thought only God could do that.”

Amelia snorted. “We all know what she is. Just look at her. It’s obvious she’s a harlot.”

Beau lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. “She is a child of God.”

Hannah had never seen Beau so angry. She reached out and touched his forearm. “I think it’s time we left.”

Beau’s gaze still burned, but he covered her hand with his and leaned slightly toward her.

Wide-eyed, Amelia blinked at Hannah’s hand on Beau’s arm, clearly shocked at the public intimacy.

Hannah quickly dropped her hand. The woman could easily spew poison over the innocent gesture. Beau deserved better. “I don’t much care for your brand of Christianity,” Hannah blurted out.

“Nor I,” Beau agreed.

Amelia gurgled in indignation.

“You cannot bring that woman in my church,” the pastor boomed. His face a study in scorn.

At the unconcealed insult, Logan joined in Mavis’s defense. “I don’t care if you are a minister. Nobody talks to Miss Tierney like that.
Nobody.
”

He pushed all three of their party aside and stood toe-to-toe with the pastor, prepared to do bodily harm to the man.

Beau nudged Logan back. “Let me handle this,
Deputy.” He looked at Hannah. “Take Mavis back to the hotel. I’ll rejoin you in the lobby and escort you to the depot before our train leaves.”

Nodding, Hannah pulled gently on Mavis’s arm. Mavis turned to look at her then. Devastation wavered in the other woman’s eyes.

Hannah blinked back tears of her own. “Let’s go, sweetie,” she said.

Mavis shook her head. “We leave together.” She twined her other arm with Logan’s. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

“That’s right, Miss Tierney.”

“You may call me old woman, if you like.”

Logan leaned over and kissed Mavis on the cheek. “I’d be honored.”

Amelia snorted at the show of affection between the two.

Beau’s eyes narrowed coldly. “I don’t know how you both got so hard of heart. You’ve read the same Bible as I have. If we are to follow Christ’s example, that means we should bring up a person’s past only so that we may point to the future with love, not condemnation.”

Tossing his shoulders back, Reverend Smith glared. “You dare lecture me?”

Beau sighed, and although his eyes still blazed with anger he lowered his voice. “You’re right. It’s not my place.” He turned on his heel and looked at the rest of their group. “Let’s go.”