In Every Heartbeat (20 page)

Roy was making perfect sense. And Pete didn’t like it at all. “Listen, Roy, if you think you can blackmail—”

“Now, let’s not use ugly words.” Roy sat back, his expression so friendly anyone looking on would assume they were best friends enjoying a chat. “Let’s just call it a trade-off. You know what Martin wants—to be a member of Beta Theta Pi. Poor sap—growing up in an orphanage, never having a family.” Roy clicked his tongue on his teeth, his brow puckering. “Understandable why becoming a member of the fraternity is so important to him. But that’ll only happen if you choose to join, too. And I’ll only invite you if you help me get what I want: Miss Elisabet Conley on my arm.”

Roy’s grin turned smug. “You pitch a mean baseball, Peg leg. Are you as skilled when it comes to pitchin’ woo?”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-TWO

W
hy hadn’t he gone straight to the train station and skipped breakfast? Pete could have avoided—or at least postponed— being placed in an impossible position by Roy. Already uptight at the prospect of seeing his parents, he didn’t need another worry added to the list. “Roy, I—”

Roy threw his hand in the air. “Don’t answer now. I expect you to think about it. Take a day. Or the weekend.” His gaze shot somewhere behind Pete’s shoulder, and his smile grew. “Or if you’d rather not put it off, you’ve got a chance right now . . .” As he spoke, he pushed away from the table and lurched into the aisle. “Miss Conley, good morning.”

Pete jerked his head to find Libby standing at the end of the table, blocked from passage by Roy’s body. Her eyes darted back and forth between Pete and Roy, confusion reflected in their velvety depths.

“Good morning,” she said without smiling.

“Peg leg and me were just talking about you.” Roy flicked a grin at Pete then tipped toward Libby. “But I think we’re done. I’ll leave you two alone to . . .” He twirled his pointer finger in circles at Pete then ambled off with his hands in his pockets.

Libby watched him go, her face marred by a scowl of displeasure. She spun back to face Pete. “What are you doing, talking with him about
me
?”

She sounded hurt. Betrayed. Heat rose from Pete’s middle and filled his face. “Libby, I . . .” He swallowed. How could he explain?

Sinking into the chair across from him, she searched his face. “He was just trying to get under my skin, wasn’t he? You weren’t really discussing me.” She blew out a big breath, nodding as if assuring herself. Sending a venomous look at Roy’s retreating back, she pursed her lips. “Just like Roy, trying to create problems where none exist.” Then she licked her lips, a pained expression creasing her brow. “At least . . . I wish no problems existed between us, Petey.”

Without thinking, Pete reached out and took her hand. He squeezed. “None that can’t be fixed.”

Relief broke over her face. The beauty of her innocent smile nearly tied his heart in a knot. How he wished he had the freedom to openly profess his love for her. But he couldn’t—not without taking something precious away from her. He quickly released her hand and stumbled to his feet. “I . . . I have to go. I have a train to catch.”

She rose, too. “A train? Where are you going?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he observed Roy in the far corner of the dining hall, watching them. The man no doubt would assume Pete was convincing Libby to consider him as a potential beau, so he probably should end the conversation quickly. Yet he didn’t want to leave Libby’s presence just yet. “To Clayton.”

Her eyes flew wide. “You are? Why?”

“To see my . . . to visit the Leidigs.”

Libby gasped. Did Petey already know about Oscar Leidig sitting in a jail cell, awaiting execution? “You’re going to see your brother?”

Petey looked confused. “My parents. I . . . hadn’t thought about seeing my brothers or sisters.”

So he didn’t know. But maybe his parents intended to tell him. “Did they summon you?”

“It’s my idea. Something I’ve needed to do for a long time.”

Petey sighed, and his gaze drifted away.

She darted around the table and touched his arm. He gave a start and looked down at her. Peering into his sad, haunted eyes, Libby felt as though she were looking once more at the artist’s drawing of the courtroom scene. She couldn’t let him go by himself. If Oscar Leidig was Petey’s brother, then his parents would certainly tell Petey. She couldn’t allow him to receive this news from people who cared so little for him they’d cast him aside when he was just a child.

“I’m going with you.”

Petey shook his head. “You can’t do that, Libby.”

“Why not?”

“Several reasons.” He flicked one finger upward. “I only have one train ticket.”

“I can buy my own.”

He put a second finger in the air. “You have assignments to do.”

“I can work on them away from the campus.”

Shaking his head, he held up three fingers. “It would be unseemly for us to travel together, unchaperoned. I won’t sully your reputation.”

Libby suspected, based on Alice-Marie’s scathing diatribe from a few days ago, that Libby’s reputation was already in question by a few people on campus. But she didn’t want to damage Petey’s. Especially when he intended to become a minister. She bit down on her lower lip.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “I appreciate your willingness to go with me, but—”

An idea struck. “What if Alice-Marie came, too? Could she serve as chaperone? After all, you and Bennett and I all traveled together and no one questioned it. If there was a third person, it would eliminate ill conjecture, wouldn’t it?”

Petey scratched his head. “Libby, I—”

“Her family lives in Clayton, too, and last weekend I . . . I offended them.” The idea grew in merit the more she thought about it. Not only would she be where Petey needed her to be, she could set things right with Alice-Marie’s family, which would end the uncomfortable icy silence between the girls. “If I returned with Alice-Marie, I’d be able to apologize to them and restore myself in their good graces. Please, Petey? Will you wait long enough for me to ask her? If she says no, then I’ll—” She broke off, unwilling to finish the sentence. She wouldn’t let him go alone. She’d follow on a later train, if she had to, but she wouldn’t let him go alone.

He heaved a sigh. “Hurry and ask her. My train leaves at ten, and it’s already past eight.”

Joy filled Libby’s heart. “I’ll be right back.” She dashed across the dining hall to where Alice-Marie sat with several girls from Kappa Kappa Gamma. They all sent unsmiling looks in her direction, but she ignored them and went straight to Alice-Marie. “Alice-Marie, I have a favor to ask.”

The girl sniffed. “I’m quite certain the answer will be no, but go ahead and ask.”

A part of her wanted to blast Alice-Marie for her self-important behavior, but Petey needed her. She could swallow her pride for Petey’s sake. “Would you allow me to purchase train tickets for the two of us to travel to Clayton so I can apologize . . . in person . . . to your parents?”

Alice-Marie’s haughty expression softened a smidgen. “Apologize?”

Libby nodded. “I was wrong to sneak away and then hide what I’d been doing.” A flurry of whispers carried around the table.

Libby remained focused on Alice-Marie rather than allowing the gossipy girls to distract her. “I would feel much better if I could make things right.”

Alice-Marie raised one shoulder in a slow shrug. “I . . . suppose we could do that. I’m free this weekend.”

“I want to go today.”

Alice-Marie gawked at Libby. “Today? But it’s Thursday. I have classes.”

“We could make them up. This is important, Alice-Marie. It can’t wait.” She held her breath, her heart pounding, while she waited for Alice-Marie to decide. If they didn’t leave until Saturday, it might be too late. Petey would gain the information another way.

“Well, you
do
owe my parents an apology, and I suppose I could make up my classes when I return. . . .”

Libby’s breath whooshed out. “Thank you!” She grabbed her roommate’s arm. “Hurry now. We need to pack. The train leaves at ten!”

While Libby tossed necessary items into a suitcase, Alice-Marie made up for her days of silence. Libby’s ears rang from the girl’s nonstop commentary on everything Libby had done wrong since the very first day of classes. Libby pretended to listen, nodding and agreeing, while rushing Alice-Marie across campus to meet Petey. Alice-Marie’s tongue never stilled the entire cab ride, but her voice came to an abrupt halt when they reached the train station and found Bennett waiting on the steps of the depot with a suitcase dangling from his hand.

Libby bounded toward him. “What are you doing here?”

“Goin’ to Clayton, of course. Didn’t think you’d leave me out of the fun, did you?”

Alice-Marie fluttered her lashes. “Why Bennett Martin, you rascal. Libby didn’t tell me you were accompanying us.”

“Because I didn’t know,” Libby said. She suspected if she’d mentioned it, Alice-Marie wouldn’t have hesitated to miss her classes.

Petey hitched forward. “How did you know we were going to Clayton? I didn’t say anything to you.”

Bennett shrugged. “Came by your room this morning to drop off the pen I borrowed, and—”

“Is that where my pen went?” Petey released a little grunt. “I didn’t know you borrowed it.”

“Now you do.” Bennett laughed, clopping Petey on the arm. “I saw your suitcase on the bed, peeked in it, and found the train ticket.”

“Bennett!” Alice-Marie looked scandalized. “You’re a common snoop!”

“No, I’m an exceptional snoop,” Bennett replied without an ounce of remorse. “I figured, why let Pete have all the fun? If he could skip out on classes, so could I. So I packed my bag and bought a ticket.” He waved a rectangle of stiff paper. “I’m ready to go.”

Libby squealed. “Tickets! I still need to buy mine and Alice-Marie’s!”

“Better hurry.” Bennett gave Libby a little push toward the ticket window. “There’s a long line, and the train’ll board in less than half an hour.”

Libby dashed to the window. As Bennett had indicated, several other travelers were already in line. She bit her nails and danced in place, watching the round clock on the wall while praying the train wouldn’t leave without her. At last her turn arrived, and she handed the money to the tired-looking man behind the counter. Alice-Marie hovered at her shoulder, watching the transaction. The moment Libby had tickets in hand, Alice-Marie snatched one and hustled to the lobby.

Alice-Marie sank down beside Bennett on a long wooden bench, scooting close. She fanned herself with the ticket and grinned at Bennett. Libby could hardly believe this was the same girl who’d been giving her the cold shoulder all week. Being around Bennett had melted her frostiness completely.

Alice-Marie hunched her shoulders and giggled. “Isn’t this exciting? It’s like an adventure.”

Sitting beside Alice-Marie, Libby decided she wouldn’t have defined the trip as exciting. Perhaps nerve-racking. Or even heartrending. But Alice-Marie didn’t know the true purpose for this excursion.

“You must be certain to come by my house,” Alice-Marie nearly purred, adjusting Bennett’s lapel. “I’d adore the opportunity to introduce you to Mother and Daddy.”

“Alice-Marie,” Libby said, a sudden worry striking, “your parents won’t be angry at us, will they, for arriving without any warning?” If Alice-Marie’s parents wouldn’t allow the girls to stay at their home, this trip might turn out to be a bigger adventure than Libby had imagined.

Alice-Marie placed her hand against her bodice and stared at Libby with wide eyes and open mouth. “Mother and Daddy would
never
turn me away, expected or not. And of course you’ll be welcome to stay there, too, once they’ve accepted your apology.” She assumed a pout. “But the boys will need to find other accommodations. My parents are welcoming but very traditional. They’d never allow someone of the male persuasion to reside under their roof while I’m there.”

Bennett sent Libby an amused look, but she ignored it and turned to Petey. “How long do you think you’ll need to stay in Clayton?”

Petey grimaced. “I’m not sure. Maybe just a day. It . . . depends.”

“On what?” Alice-Marie chirped the question, seemingly unaware of Petey’s pale, pinched face.

“On how things go,” he answered so softly Libby almost didn’t hear him over the voices of other waiting passengers and the hiss of steam engines outside on the track. But her heart wrenched at the anguish in his tone.

She started to rise, intending to sit beside him and offer a few words of encouragement, but before she could speak a blue-suited conductor stepped inside the waiting room and swung a brass bell. The room hushed as the man cupped his hand beside his mouth. “Boarding the ten-o’clock train for Clayton! Let’s go, folks—time to board!”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-THREE

P
ete stood on the curb and looked again at the letter Jackson had sent. The words were smudged from being carried in his jacket pocket, but he could make them out. The address on the page matched the one etched into a flat stone on the front of the tall brick building across the street.

Although he’d itched to come straight to his parents’ apartment building upon arriving in Clayton yesterday, he’d carefully chosen today’s mid-morning arrival. Since his pa worked from noon to eight, he’d be home in the morning. Plus, if he came during school hours, he could avoid subjecting his younger siblings to an altercation. No sense in getting innocent children involved in his differences with their folks.

After depositing Alice-Marie and Libby at Alice-Marie’s parents’ fine home yesterday afternoon, he and Bennett had rented a room in a cheap, run-down hotel on the riverfront. Bennett had slept soundly, his snore rattling the windows, but Pete lay awake far into the night, too nervous and restless to sleep. Anticipation for the moment when he would confront his parents had robbed him of his sleep, but oddly he didn’t feel tired this morning. He was ready.

Pete’s pulse sped as he imagined his father slumped in a chair, drowsing away the hours prior to leaving for work, unaware that his oldest child planned to step back—albeit briefly—into his life. These last few hours of waiting had been the hardest.

Drawing in a fortifying breath, he stepped off the curb and crossed the street, his eyes traveling from the flat roof of the building to the cracked foundation. A slab of chipped concrete served as a porch. Two little boys with matching mops of blond hair sat on the edge of the slab, poking at a dead beetle with a stick. Frowning, Pete peeked at his pocket watch. Nine thirty. Why weren’t these boys in school?

Uncertainty made him pause at the edge of the sidewalk. He’d counted on his parents being alone, no younger siblings underfoot tempting him to soften his words. Hardening his heart, he determined to proceed with his plan. He’d come too far to back out now. He’d ask his parents to send the youngsters outside for a while. If they refused, then he’d just have to shame Gunter and Berta in front of their other children.

Pete pushed the letter back into his pocket, smoothed the front of his suit jacket, and approached the concrete slab. Both boys looked up, fixing him with wary stares. Pete smiled at them. “Hello. Is there a school holiday today?”

For several seconds, neither boy spoke. Then the older one, who appeared to be nine or ten, set his chin at a challenging angle and peered at Pete through a fringe of heavy, unevenly cut bangs. “You a copper?”

Pete chuckled. “Me? No. Just a university student.”

“Didn’t think so. Never saw a one-legged copper.”

The younger boy licked his chapped lips, his eyes pinned on Pete’s peg leg. With his thick shock of blond hair and dirty face, he reminded Pete of himself at that age. The boy pointed at Pete’s leg. “That hurt?”

The phantom pain that never completely disappeared stabbed Pete with its presence, but he forced a smile. “Not anymore.” The little boy’s shoulders heaved in apparent relief, and Pete warmed toward the child. He repeated his earlier question. “Did your school close for the day?”

The older boy crunched his lips to the side, as if determining whether or not to answer. Finally he gave his shaggy head a quick shake. “No. Just didn’t go.”

“How come?”

The boy used the tip of the stick to flip the beetle onto its back. “Didn’t wanna.”

“Don’t your folks send you?”

The younger one continued to stare at Pete with round, unblinking eyes. He wrapped his scrawny arms around himself.

Although they were well into autumn, the child was barefoot and had no jacket. Pete swallowed. Memories from the past—of being thrust into the cold without the protection of warm clothes or a full belly or even a tearful good-bye—stung. He rested his hand on his good knee and bent forward, smiling at the little boy.

“You cold?”

The boy nodded wordlessly.

“Why don’t you go inside? Get warmed up?”

The child’s eyes flitted to his brother. The older one replied. “Ma told us to get. Pa’s fractious today. Too much drinkin’ last night. She’ll call us when it’s safe to come in.” The detached recital pierced Pete deep in his soul. Children shouldn’t live like this.

Pete jerked upright. “Well, your brother here needs a jacket and something on his feet. Don’t you think you could go in and—”

“You sure you ain’t a copper?” The older boy glared at Pete.

Pete looked directly into the boy’s hostile face. “I’m not a copper. My name is Pete Leidig.”

Both boys jolted, and the younger one’s eyes flew wide. He grabbed his brother’s arm and the stick went flying. “Dennis! You hear him? His name’s the same as ours. Marta used to say we had a brother named Pete, but I never believed her.” The child bounded to his feet, his hand curled over his brother’s shoulder. He stared, awestruck, at Pete. “Mister, are you
really
Pete Leidig?”

The older boy—Dennis—brushed the young one’s hand from his shoulder and rose. He pressed protectively in front of the smaller boy, his skinny shoulders squared. “Stay back, Lorenzo.” He growled the warning, and Lorenzo remained behind his brother, but he tipped sideways and peeked out with curious blue eyes. Dennis crossed his arms over his chest. “If you’re really Pete Leidig, then what’s our folks’ names?”

“My folks are Gunter and Berta. Who’re yours?”

Lorenzo danced in place, tugging at Dennis’s shirt. “That’s our folks, too! See? He is our brother, Dennis! He is!”

“Shut up, Lorenzo.” Dennis jabbed Lorenzo in the ribs with his elbow. The smaller boy yelped and fell silent. Dennis’s eyes squinted into sullen slits. “Why’re you here? You never come before—not in our whole lives.”

Pete’s chest ached. Anger, resentment, and an underlying fear shimmered in Dennis’s eyes—emotions Pete understood all too well. A hardscrabble life had ingrained those emotions into the core of the boy’s being, but none of those feeling belonged in a child’s life. Why hadn’t he sought out his siblings sooner? He might have been able to help . . . somehow.

Swallowing the bitter taste of regret, he said, “I didn’t come because I didn’t live in Clayton. I lived in a town called Shay’s Ford.”

Lorenzo rose up on tiptoe to peer over Dennis’s shoulder. “Why din’cha live with us?”

Dennis didn’t hush his brother this time but looked at Pete expectantly.

Should Pete tell these boys how their father had sent him out to fend for himself? Knowing would only add to their insecurity. He didn’t want to lie, but he couldn’t tell the truth. Instead, he asked a question. “Are your other brothers and sisters here, too?”

Lorenzo answered. “Marta ain’t—she’s married. An’ Oscar, he’s gone, too. Ma don’t know where. But Wendell an’ Orel an’ Elma live here. They went on to school, though.”

Pete figured Marta must be seventeen now. He only had vague memories of Oscar, Wendell, and Orel as runny-nosed toddlers. Elma had been just a newborn when he’d left. He tried to picture what they might look like now, but no images would form. The thought saddened him. He had siblings—seven of them—and they were all strangers to him. All because of Gunter and Berta Leidig’s hardheartedness.

Lord, give me strength.
Despite the fury stirring his middle, Pete managed to speak kindly. “I need to talk to your folks. Can you take me to your apartment?”

Lorenzo turned and darted for the doors, but Dennis reached out and grabbed for Lorenzo’s shirt. “We have to stay outside!”

A soft
rip
sounded. Lorenzo cried out, “Oh no!” He examined his shirt, and tears filled his eyes. “Look what you done, Dennis!

Pa’s gonna be so mad—he’ll give me a whippin’!”

“Stop sniveling,” Dennis ordered, but he bit on the corner of his lips, his eyes reflecting fear.

Pete moved toward the younger boy. “Let me see that, Lorenzo.” Pete examined the shirt and smiled. “It’s just a tear in the seam. This can be fixed easily. Don’t worry.”

But neither boy looked reassured. One plump tear rolled down Lorenzo’s face, leaving a clean track on his dusty cheek. “Pa’ll whip me for sure.”

Pete glanced toward the building. He had to visit his parents today; he needed to return to Chambers tomorrow.

But how could he leave the boys to face their father’s wrath? He felt partially responsible for the damage done to Lorenzo’s shirt. With a sigh, he curled his hand over Lorenzo’s shoulder.

“Tell you what, partner. I know how to fix that shirt.”

Dennis squinted one eye. “Men don’t do stitchin’.”

Pete laughed. “Haven’t you ever seen a tailor?”

The boys stared at him blankly. Their clothes were probably hand-me-downs from older brothers. Why would they ever have visited a tailor’s shop? He told them, “The lady I lived with taught me to stitch so I could sew on my own buttons and fix things like rips.” For the first time, he appreciated Isabelle’s insistence that he learn to wield a needle and thread. “Come with me to my hotel, and we’ll get your shirt fixed. Then I’ll come back here to visit your folks, all right?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Lorenzo slipped his grubby hand into Pete’s. Pleased more than he could understand by the child’s trust, Pete turned to Dennis. He sensed Dennis wouldn’t be so easily won. “You coming?”

Dennis drew in his lips and stood unmoving for several seconds. Then he kicked at a stone on the ground. “Ain’t gonna let you take off with Lorenzo without makin’ sure you bring ’im back. Yeah, I’m comin’.”

Pete held out his free hand, but Dennis ignored it and crowded on the other side of Lorenzo. With his little brothers scuffing along beside him, Pete headed for the corner to hail a cab.

“Unless you’re that boy’s court-appointed representative or a family member, you ain’t gonna visit him.” The scowling guard folded his arms over his portly belly. His jowls quivered as he added, “Now scoot on outta here, missy, before I arrest you for bein’ a public nuisance.”

Libby twisted her lips to the side, knowing such a charge would be dismissed without a second glance. The basement of the courthouse was hardly a public gathering spot. Besides, she’d come a long way to see Oscar Leidig, and one overweight jail guard was not going to best her. Lifting her pad of paper and pencil, she smiled sweetly over its top edge. “Very well. Your name, please?”

The man’s forehead puckered into a series of deep furrows. “Why?”

“I’ll need it for the article.”

“Article?”

“Why yes, sir.” Libby aimed the pencil tip at the paper. “I’m sure my readers will be very interested in the name of the man responsible for guarding such a vicious felon as Oscar Leidig.”

The guard scratched his flubbery cheek. “You say you got readers?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m a journalist.”
At least, I will be
. “And I’m here to document this case. Of course, the article will be dreadfully short and no doubt relegated to the last page of the paper unless I have the opportunity to interview the prisoner, but . . .” She dangled her bait, watching to see if the man would pounce.

The guard looked her up and down, his lips curled in skepticism. “You’re awful young to be a reporter.”

Libby drew herself as tall as possible and pinned the man with a regal look. “I can assure you I am very qualified. As a student from the University of Southern Missouri, my publishing credits are quite expansive.” She’d stretched the truth, but how else would she convince this bulbous-nosed dunderhead to let her talk to Oscar Leidig? “So . . . your name?”

Her heart pounded. Would vanity reign supreme or would he send her away?
Please, please. I must speak to this boy.
She thought her lungs might explode while she waited for the man to make up his mind.

“It’s Holloway. Wallace Holloway.”

Hiding her smile, Libby dutifully recorded his name. “Wallace Holloway. And you’ve been employed with the Clayton justice system for how long?”

His chest puffed. “Seven years.” Leaning forward, he added in a whisper, “But this is the youngest murderer I ever seen come through. He’s a bad’un, I tell you. A real bad’un.”

Libby’s mouth went dry at the man’s statement. Did she dare proceed? Yes, she must gather every fact she could.

She assumed a friendly yet professional air. “I know my readers will be most interested in your bravery in protecting society from this dangerous criminal.” She tapped her chin with the pencil. “Of course, the article would hold much more interest if we could determine how this young man became so hardened at such an early age. Perhaps the information I uncover today might assist those who work with our youth, even provide ideas for preventing another young man from making a similar mistake.”

Pacing back and forth in the dank concrete-block hallway, Libby hugged the pad and crunched her forehead as if deep in thought. “Just think, Mr. Holloway . . . someday, there could be a criminal-prevention program named in honor of the man who guarded Oscar Leidig. The Holloway Plan.” She scrawled the title in the air with her pencil, then swung a beaming smile at the man. “Why, you could become famous!”