Margaret Brownley (37 page)

The doctor gave him a beseeching look. “I would do anything—anything—to change the past if I could. To make it up to you—”

“Tell me the name of the fourth man,” Wolf said quietly. “That’s all I ask.”

Myers held up his hands, palms out. “I can’t do that.”

“I have the right to know.”

“I’m telling you, it won’t do you any good.”

Wolf turned to leave.

“You think you’re the only one who suffered because of that night?” Myers said behind him.

Wolf spun around. “You dare to stand there and tell me you suffered.”

The doctor didn’t even flinch. “We’ve all suffered. All of us. You most of all.”

Wolf gestured in disgust. “I saw Barnes and there was no suffering there.”

“He was just better than the rest of us at hiding it.” He nodded to the daguerreotype on the mantel.

“My daughters,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I haven’t seen them in ten years. My family left after Fairbanks’s wife confronted me.”

Wolf stiffened.
Lucy’s mother
. “Was that the same night Mrs. Fairbanks was thrown from a horse?” Wolf asked.

The doctor nodded. “Somehow she found out what we did to you and she showed up on my doorstep. She said she wanted to understand how such a thing could happen. She was upset . . . I should never have let her leave in her condition, but my wife overheard our conversation and . . . I don’t think she was ever meant to be a doctor’s wife. Knowing what I’d done gave her an excuse to leave.”

Wolf felt sick. All these years he’d been caught up in his own world, in his own pain. Never once had it occurred to him that his tormentors had suffered too. He hated knowing that the events of the past had touched yet another generation. Had deprived Lucy and her brother of a mother. Had deprived two little girls of a pa. The invisible chains that bound him to the past just kept getting longer. Who else had suffered? And who was Myers protecting?

Why hadn’t he thought to come back and let the town know he was alive? It would have prevented so many problems, so much heartache. It simply never occurred to him. Left on the mission steps as an infant, discarded like an unwanted object, he’d known a lifetime of rejection. Not once had it occurred to him that his being alive would matter to his tormentors. It was a shock to know that it did.

“I didn’t harm Barnes,” he said quietly. “And I don’t think you did either. So that means he either left of his own accord or someone else harmed him. That leaves only Fairbanks and the man you insist upon protecting.”

The doctor shook his head. “You’re on the wrong track.” The doctor sounded oddly confident of the fact. What was he not saying?

“You can’t know that.”

“I do know it,” Myers insisted. “If anything happened to Barnes, it had nothing to do with you. He made a lot of enemies through the years. Any number of people might wish to do him harm.”

Wolf considered this possibility for all of a minute before discounting it. The very same night he visited Barnes, the man disappeared. Coincidence? He didn’t think so.

“It had something to do with my return,” Wolf said. “With or without your help, I intend to find out what.”

Shaken by what he now knew, he turned and walked out of the house. Outside he stood and stared at the sky. What the doctor said . . . could it be true? He thought back to the night on the boat. He’d always assumed he’d been purposely sent down the river. Now he wasn’t so certain.

Wolf waited on the porch of the Fairbanks house. He stood in the shadows until Lucy drove up in her wagon, the late afternoon sun behind the trees. He knew the moment she spotted him, sensed her hesitancy in facing him.

She set the brake and climbed down from the seat. “You shouldn’t be here. The sheriff is still looking for you.” She’d been crying and tears still shimmered in her eyes. It was yet another reminder of his own failings.

“I was worried about you,” he said. He held up her camera. “I found this in the middle of the road. The case is strong—it doesn’t appear to be damaged.” He had been shocked to see her camera lying in the dirt. Knowing how much it meant to her, he assumed it had somehow fallen out of her wagon without her knowledge. The look on her face told him otherwise.

“Don’t give up your photography,” he said. “You make people see what can’t normally be seen.” Maybe even what they don’t want to see.

She stared at the camera but said nothing. Instead she brushed past him and into the house.

He followed her inside and set the camera on the table, along with the locket he’d fixed for her. It was a small cabin filled with a riot of color. Sunshine filtered through sparkling clean windows. Curtains matched the blues and yellows in the painting over the fireplace. Vases of wildflowers and colorful rugs drew his gaze around the room.

The room waiting for him over at the Combes Furniture Company now seemed stark and empty by comparison.

Barnes’s big ginger cat greeted Wolf with a loud meow and weaved in and out of his legs. He stooped and ran his hands along the cat’s furry coat.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he explained, “not knowing how upset you were.”

“I
was
upset. But after talking with Papa, I now understand how it happened.”

He stood and Extra sauntered away.

She moistened her lips. “It was an accident, don’t you see? They never meant for the boat to get away.”

Myers had said basically the same thing. Even if it was true, Wolf couldn’t entirely pardon what they’d done. Not only had they endangered his life, they had taken something from him. “Are you asking me to feel sorry for these men?”

“I’m asking you to try and understand how it happened,” she whispered.

“Understand? Why? So I can forgive them?”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he felt something change between them. Like they were on opposite sides of a closed door. The silence that filled the room seemed to mute even the colorful surroundings.

“Monica knows,” she said, breaking the stillness. “I went looking for her but I couldn’t find her.”

“It’s better that she knows,” he said.

“You don’t still think that Doc Myers did something to Barnes, do you?”

He shook his head. “No.” As much as he hated to admit it after all this time, he believed the doctor was an honorable man. He certainly seemed sincere.

She lifted her head, bleak lines of despair on her face. “What they did to you . . . we’ve all paid for it in different ways. My brother. Me. Doc Myers. My mother most of all. Don’t you see how that night has affected us all? Is still affecting us?”

Something dissipated inside him. Not the hurt—not that—but maybe some of the anger. He began to feel less like a victim of that long-ago night and more like one of many actors in a very bad play. He had been so wrapped up in his anger he’d not once considered what that night had done to others—and for that he felt ashamed. Still . . . to forgive . . . how could she possibly ask that of him? How could anyone?

He stepped toward her, hand held out. He intended to apologize for all the trouble he’d caused her, but she didn’t give him a chance.

“Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me choose sides. Don’t make me choose between you and the others.”

By the others he assumed she meant Barnes, Myers, and her father. Arms by his sides, fists tight, a pain shot through his head. “It would seem you already have.” He turned and walked out the door, letting it slam behind him.

She called to him but he kept going. She ran after him but he didn’t look back. How could he? Divided loyalties would only rip her apart much as he had been ripped apart by two separate worlds. He couldn’t do that to her. Wouldn’t.

Still . . . he was used to people siding against him; people had sided against him all his life, but never had it hurt as much as it hurt at that moment.

The following night Lucy had just finished setting the table when Caleb walked in the door.

“Pa didn’t show up for work today,” he said, his voice strained.

Alarm shot through her. Unable to sleep, her father often wandered the countryside at night, but she’d never known him to miss a day of work. If anything happened to him . . .

She put the last of the silverware in place.

“What did you and Pa fight about?” Caleb asked. “Your photography or my being a doctor?”

“We didn’t fight,” she said.

Caleb looked unconvinced. “I think it’s time you stop treating me like a child and tell me what’s going on.”

“I . . . can’t tell you, Caleb.”

“I can.” Startled by her father’s voice, she turned to the open door where he stood. Never had he looked so awful. Dark bags skirted his hollow eyes. His ashen complexion emphasized an unshaven chin. Her concern for him momentarily overrode everything else.

Her father closed the door and moved to the sofa. “Sit down, son.”

Without a word she left to let her father and brother talk in private.

For the next hour she stayed in her room. As if sensing her distress, Extra jumped on the bed and stretched out by her side. She didn’t hear a sound from the parlor. Not a peep. Finally she could no longer stand the suspense.

Caleb was alone. He sat in front of the fireplace staring into the dark hearth. She sat next to him and rubbed her hand across his back.

He looked over his shoulder at her. His eyes were red and she tried to remember the last time she had seen her brother cry. “How could they do such a thing?”

“They were young,” she said. “They didn’t mean to.”

“I never thought Pa—” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “And Doc Myers . . . I wanted to be just like him. Now—” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be anything like him.”

She laid her hand on his lap. “You’ve always wanted to be a doctor.”

“Not anymore. Not if it means working with him.”

Lucy felt a squeezing pain in her chest. “I know you’re confused, but no one meant to harm David.”

“He was a little boy,” Caleb said. “Only ten.”

Lucy sighed. How could she expect him to understand when she, herself, had trouble understanding? “So many people have suffered already for what happened. Please, Caleb. Don’t let your dream become another casualty.” She glanced at her camera still on the table where David had placed it, along with her locket.

Caleb fell silent. He was a thinker, her brother. He never formed an opinion without first considering all the facts. She left him alone with his thoughts. She no longer had the heart to pursue her own dreams, but she wasn’t about to let Caleb give up on his.

Somehow they had to find a way to reconcile the mistakes of the past. What she couldn’t reconcile were her feelings for David.

Twenty-seven

When posing for your photograph, never draw attention to your
physical attributes no matter how suitable or attractive. And don’t,
whatever you do, speak disparagingly of another’s photograph or
suggest in any way that your image is superior. It will only make
others feel inferior.

– M
ISS
G
ERTRUDE
H
ASSLEBRINK, 1878

T
he banging on the door woke her. Grabbing her dressing gown, she slipped her arms through the sleeves as she ran barefooted through the house. She had no idea what time it was but it was still dark. “Who is it?”