NoRegretsColeNC (16 page)

“I’m terribly sorry. It seems my
breakfast didn’t set too well with me.” She forced herself to smile. “I’m fine
now. Really, I am,” she insisted when Abner and Charlotte both turned to her
with questioning gazes.

But she wasn’t, and she knew it. She
suspected Dr. Kellerman and his wife knew it, too.

“All the same, young lady, I want you
in my office tomorrow. We’ll make a thorough examination.” He patted her hand.
“Now, stop fretting. It’s going to be all right, Hattie.”

* * * *

The
next afternoon—Sunday—Hattie sat on the edge of the chair in the doctor’s
examination room, nervously bouncing her knees. She’d stayed home from church
again, but she’d definitely spent the morning praying.

She
pressed her lips together, clasped her hands in her lap, and squeezed her eyes
shut. Maybe that would help. If she didn’t have to look at the doctor and his
wife, she could pretend this wasn’t happening. She could imagine herself
somewhere far
away,
maybe even imagine herself as a
child again.
Young.
Innocent.

The
absurd thought that Willie should be with her, standing at her side, crossed
her mind. She nearly bolted from the little room, suddenly desperate to seek
him out and bodily drag him back with her to hear this momentous pronouncement.

She
knew the truth. Dr. Kellerman’s exam would reveal nothing new but would only
confirm what she had already come to know in her heart. When spring arrived,
she would bear a child. She would become a mother, and in her unwed state, she
would also become a pariah, outcast from society and looked upon as wicked,
evil, and unworthy of respect. Even simple human kindness would be withheld
from her. The women of Sunset were sticklers for propriety. Having a child out
of wedlock was—in their minds—an unforgivable sin.

Yet it
happened all the time. Of course, most girls found ways to disguise the truth.
If they were poor, they quickly married then claimed their firstborn came
early. Girls from well-to-do families were sometimes
sent away
, that’s what it was called.
Sent away
to spend a summer in the east.
Sent away
because
of a strange, rare ailment requiring specialized medical care.
Sent away
to care for an
elderly relation.
In truth, of course, they were sent away to have their
babies and give them up for adoption, returning home after their ordeal with
sad faces, quiet demeanors, and an aching in their hearts that never went away.

Hattie
shuddered. Giving her child over to a foundling home was unthinkable.

Opening
her eyes, she peered up at Charlotte Kellerman. The woman stared back,
disapproval obvious in her weary blue eyes.

“Mrs.
Kellerman, please. If you’re thinking to deliver a lecture, there’s no need.
I’m well aware of my short-comings.” Unable to bear the woman’s harsh look,
Hattie turned away.

Across
the room, Abner Kellerman cleared his throat. “Miss Richards…”

He
stopped speaking, came to stand beside her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.
Never before had Hattie seen the man appear so flustered and unsure of
himself
.

“You
needn’t say anything, really,” she assured him. “I’ll admit I was hoping that
perhaps my body was playing tricks, that maybe there was another explanation
for my recent malaise, but of course, what’s done is done.”

She
blinked back tears, suddenly overwhelmed with more emotions than she could
handle. Surprisingly, a sense of joyfulness surged through her along with a
host of doubts and uncertainties. She was with child. She would bring a
precious new life into the world.

Charlotte
stepped forward and reached for her hands.

“We
will help you, dear. Have you any family who might take you in during this time
of need? If not, there are places to go. You’ll get proper care, and your baby
will be placed in a good home with a loving family.”

Your baby.

It was
the first time the words had been spoken aloud. They thudded inside Hattie’s
brain, an insistent echo growing louder and louder. But then the meaning of
Charlotte’s speech cut through her thoughts like a sharp knife stabbing at her
heart.

“A
good home?
A loving family?”
Hattie burst into sobs. “No, I won’t give
my baby away to anybody.” She jerked her hands free and got to her feet. “For
that matter, neither
am
I going anywhere.” Of course
she must stay. She couldn’t imagine leaving Willie alone in Sunset. He needed
her. “I’m going to stay right here and I’m going to have my baby. I can raise
my child on my own.”

Too
upset to remain a moment longer, Hattie rushed toward the door. A thousand
thoughts whirled inside her mind. She needed time alone in order to sort them
out, put them in order, and begin the process of making decisions. Her future
was no longer her own. She shared it now with a precious unborn child.

“Hattie
Mae, wait! Get back here.” Abner Kellerman stepped in front of her, blocking
the exit. “You’re making a huge mistake. You’re upset, you’re not thinking
clearly, and you’ll come to regret any hasty decisions you make while in this
emotional state. Sit down, take a deep breath, and we’ll discuss the matter.”
He placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her toward the chair.

She
wouldn’t budge. “There’s nothing to discuss.” Hattie exchanged glances with
first the doctor and then his stiff-lipped wife. “I won’t change my mind.”

“Listen
to me,” Charlotte said, coming forward. She reached out to take Hattie’s
trembling hands in hers. “I know what your life will be like. I know what your
child’s life will be like. You’ll be poor, hungry, scrabbling to survive.
People will shun you, and your child, too.”

The
woman spoke from painful personal experience. Although Hattie had been shocked
when she’d first heard of Charlotte Kellerman’s past, she’d eventually learned
the entire story, knew how Charlotte’s parents had been brutally murdered while
preaching the word of God. Hattie understood now how the horrors she’d seen had
led Charlotte down the path of prostitution and drunkenness. She’d heard, too,
how Charlotte’s son had been born in a barn while she was too inebriated to
even know where she was. Truly the woman had suffered, but wasn’t she at least
partly to blame for her own mistakes? How could she now act as though she were
morally superior, as though she had all the answers?

Hattie
jerked her hands away. “I’m sorry you’ve had such an unhappy life.”

“Yours
will be no better.”

The
quiet warning gave Hattie pause. Following Dr. Kellerman’s suggestion, she
returned to the chair, sat down, and drew in a deep breath. It calmed her
somewhat, and in some ways, it did help to clear her head.

With
clarity came purpose, and with purpose came strength and determination. No one
would stop her from doing what she knew to be right. Hattie set her mouth in a
grim line and rose from the chair.

She’d
never thought of herself as an unkind person, nor had she ever considered
herself an ingrate, but maybe those qualities had been lying dormant inside her
for all the years of her life. Maybe human weaknesses were like those diseases
of which Dr. Kellerman spoke, ones that hid inside the body for years before
suddenly springing forth to cause horrid illnesses.

Whatever
the cause, whatever the source, a sudden streak of meanness surged through
Hattie, encompassing both body and soul.

“Don’t
compare my life with yours, Charlotte,” she hissed. “You were a whore. You
slept with men for money. You don’t even know who fathered your children.” She
sucked in another breath, gaining more courage. “You were not only a whore, you
were a disgusting drunk, and for that matter,” she rushed on, swinging herself
around to face Abner Kellerman, “so were you. From all accounts I’ve heard
,
you were a worthless piece of swill for a good many years.
Neither of you has any right to tell me how to live my life.”

Weak
and shaking, Hattie made her way to the door, leaving behind two stricken
individuals. At that moment, it mattered not that those two people were the
ones who had helped
her the
most since she’d left school
and set out on her own. It mattered not that Abner and Charlotte Kellerman had
come to be like family to her—the only real family she’d ever known. It
mattered not that she loved them both dearly.

All
that mattered in that moment was getting away from them.

She
needed air. She needed light. She needed to be outside where she could see the
brilliant blue skies and feel the refreshing breeze cool against her heated,
tear-stained cheeks. Once she got through the door, she’d be all right.

Of
course, nothing could really be
all right
,
now. She had problems to deal with, questions to answer, and decisions to make.

She
would figure it all out later. Right now, she needed to be alone.

Chapter Twelve

Willie
unlocked the office door and hurried inside. He didn’t work on Sundays—neither
did Whitmore, of course—and the quiet morning offered the perfect opportunity
for him to study undisturbed. Earlier in the week, he’d marked several pages on
contracts and financial disputes. He looked forward to reading the texts. A
conscientious student, he prided himself for the thorough notes he made. When
time came to take his examination, his marks would be high. More than enough to
earn him that coveted right to practice law.

For
some strange reason, he found it impossible to concentrate that morning. A
peculiar feeling nagged at him and left him restless. He wanted to see Hattie.
She’d seemed distracted of late, and then there was the funeral yesterday.
Willie suspected that would upset her greatly, even though she hadn’t known
Emily Sue’s father.

And
more than ever, he had to find a way to put a stop to their reckless affair.
Loving Hattie allowed him to see their actions from a different light. They
could not continue meeting as they’d done.

But he
couldn’t live without her, and he knew it.

Willie
returned to his books, more determined than ever to succeed. Once he’d taken
his exam, once he’d been granted the right to practice, once he’d set himself
up as a lawyer…

With a
sigh, he let himself dream of all the future could be, once he became the sort
of man who deserved Hattie’s love.

Still,
the restlessness refused to leave him. He could not shake off the feeling that
Hattie needed him, that he should be with her. He returned the law books to the
bookcase, locked his notes away in the drawer of his desk, and hurried from the
office, heading in the direction of the hospital.

At
once, he saw her.

His
pulse raced as Hattie Mae approached him. A grin spread across his face in
anticipation. But she walked past without even looking at him.

Of
course, they’d agreed not to call attention to themselves by meeting in town. Yet
something in the way she walked, something about the expression on her
face—shock, dismay, disbelief—made him call out to her.

“Hattie?
What are you doing? Where are you going?”

She
continued
walking,
acting as though she hadn’t heard.

He
scratched at his ear, puzzled by her strange behavior. Tugging at his cap, he
turned and followed after the retreating figure. She did nothing to even
acknowledge him. Ignoring the pain, he walked faster,
then
broke into an awkward, stiff-legged run as she reached the corner and
disappeared from view.

“Wait
up, Hattie. You know I can’t move too fast. I want to talk to you.”

Finally,
she stopped, and from his vantage point, Willie noticed the way her shoulders
stiffened, the way her entire body seemed to suddenly go rigid.

Slowly,
Hattie turned to face him. “I don’t feel much like talking right now. Please,
just go away and leave me alone.”

“But,
why?
What’s
happened?” Getting closer, he saw the streaks of tears across her cheeks. Her
gray eyes held a look he couldn’t decipher. Fear gripped him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing
for you to be concerned about.”
Once again, she turned and began walking.

Willie
limped along after her. “Don’t shut me out. Something’s happened, and—” He
nearly said he had a right to know, but did he?
Really?
They shared an intimate relationship, but an illicit one. That, alone, gave him
no claim on her. He cherished her friendship; he yearned for her understanding.
Above all, he wished for her love.

But he
had no right to demand she give him any of those things. She owed him nothing.
Not a moment of her time, not a single bit of care, concern, or consideration.

“Yes,
something’s happened, but there’s nothing you can do about it,” she snapped. “I
truly made my own bed, as they say, and I have no choice but to lie in it now.”

She’d
stopped walking again. Willie reached out his big hand and placed it to her
cheek, using a thick thumb to wipe away her tears.

“You and
your platitudes,” he
said,
his voice quiet and gentle.
“Stop talking in adages and tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is, it can’t be
all that bad. I’ll help you, Hattie. You know I will.”

“No,
I’m not blaming you, Willie. I knew the risks I was taking. I was the one who
threw all caution to the wind, so to speak.” She lowered her gaze. “I
appreciate what you’re trying to do, but there’s no way you can help me. It
seems my life is about to take a momentous turn, and I’m afraid I haven’t quite
got my mind wrapped around it yet.” Tears spilled from her eyes.

The
truth smacked him so hard he doubled over.

“Dear
God in heaven, Hattie Mae. You’re going to have my baby.”

Her
head jerked up. “Who told you? How did you know?”

“I’m
not as stupid as I sometimes look,” he said with a chuckle. “I figured it out.
Just now.”
And then, it hit him again. Overwhelmed, he
nearly lost his balance, catching himself with a hand on Hattie’s shoulder.
Instinctively, she reached out to steady him. “How long have you known?”

“I only
got confirmation a short time ago, but I’ve suspected it for several weeks.”

“Why
didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you think I had a right to know?” His mind raced at
breakneck speed, moving from past to present to future. Lately, he’d given
thought to marriage, but knew it couldn’t happen yet. Not until he was in a
position to support a wife. As for fatherhood, he’d never really given it a
thought. At some level, he’d presumed marriage and parenthood would be
decisions he would come to make at some far distant time—when the circumstances
were right. Instead, they’d been suddenly thrust upon him without warning.

Divine
intervention, he thought. This was the good Lord’s way of ensuring that Willie
made all the right
choices, that
he accepted all he’d
been given and became the man he was meant to be. His heart swelled inside his
chest as he took Hattie’s hand in his.

“As God
is my witness, Hattie Mae Richards, I’ll do right by you. We’ll go to Reverend
Gilman right now and make arrangements to be married—”

She
pulled her hand away. “We’ll no do such thing. This is precisely why I didn’t
plan to tell you.” Once more Hattie started walking, but now she moved slowly,
allowing Willie to easily keep pace with her. “I don’t want your pity, Willie.
Most of all I don’t want any self-righteous proposals from you.” Tears gleaming
in her eyes, she looked at him. “I won’t marry you.”

“Why
not?
We get
along nicely. We do enjoy one another’s company.” His gaze swept over her,
straying to her mid-section and lingering there. If only he could somehow see
inside her body. Was their child a little girl?
A boy?
Excitement pumped through his chest. “It’s the only logical thing to do,” he
pointed out.

“It’s
not logical at all.” Hattie folded her arms. “You’re not able to take care of a
wife, let alone provide for both a wife and a child. Willie,” she said in a
quiet voice, leaning forward, “you can’t even take care of yourself. You’re
barely getting by.”

“I’ll
work harder. I’ll work longer.”

She
kept shaking her head, refusing to listen to anything he said.

“Hattie,
please.”

“No.
Absolutely not.”
Her gray eyes bore into him with
uncompromising honesty. “I know you’re trying, but it’s not enough. I won’t
entrust my future to a man whose heart still holds so much anger and
bitterness. I do care about you,” she whispered. “But that’s not enough,
either.”

With a
rush of tears and a swish of her skirts, Hattie wheeled around and took off
running back in the direction from which she’d come. Willie stared after her,
knowing better than to make chase. He’d never catch her, and even if he did, it
wouldn’t matter.

Hattie
had her mind made up.

Her
words hurt, but she’d only spoken the truth.

He
wasn’t good enough for her.

* * *
*

Willie’s
head throbbed as he struggled toward consciousness. The familiar softness of
his pillow assured him he was at home in his own room, and the blinding
sunlight pouring through the window told him morning had come. Nothing else was
clear. Painful questions wracked his brain as he pieced together the events of
the previous afternoon and evening.

He
remembered talking to Hattie. A groan slipped out when he recalled how she’d
turned away from him, how she’d hurried off, leaving him standing alone on the
street.

She was
going to have his baby, but she wouldn’t marry him.

Oh,
yes, he remembered talking to Hattie.

Gradually
more memories returned.
The Red Mule.
Thick tobacco
smoke filling the air, mingling with the stench of sweaty miners and the
overpowering scent of cheap perfume. Willie put his hands to his ears, hearing it
all again: the noise, the shouts, Old Pete clanging away at the piano, the
off-key voices and the bawdy songs that filled the air as the dancing girls
paraded across the floor.

Most of
all, he remembered the sweet
, fiery taste of the liquor he’d
downed, and the blessed oblivion that soon followed.

Only he no longer felt quite so blessed
in the light of the new day.

He shut his eyes, pulled up the covers
and groaned. Any minute, Mrs. Godwin would be calling him for breakfast. He
wasn’t sure he felt like eating.

Prying one eye open again, he peered
toward the window. Too late for breakfast, he realized at once.
Probably closer to noon.

Holy shit! He was supposed to be at the
law office. Damn it, he had to get up, had to get to work. Whitmore would
probably boot him right out for being late, but maybe Willie could come up with
a good excuse.

His movements slow and ungainly, Willie
managed to roll himself out of his bed. Damned leg still hurt, especially when
he first woke up. Always took him a minute or two to steady himself when he
arose. Having a rip-roaring headache sure as hell didn’t help, but whose fault
was that? He staggered toward the wardrobe, his arms outstretched to catch
himself as he stumbled through the room.

Willie’s hands shook as he lifted the
pitcher and poured its tepid contents into the washbowl. A good splash of water
to the face brought him slightly more awake, but did nothing to ease the
excruciating pain in his temples.

Hattie would be furious with him when
she found out he’d been drinking again. Hell, he was furious with himself.
Hadn’t he just proved her point?

Bending forward, he dunked his face
into the water then came up coughing and sputtering. A little trick he’d
learned
,
it usually helped clear his head. Not today.
As more memories returned, Willie had a feeling it would be a long, long time
before he got himself out of this new muddle.

“Damn it to hell!” He slammed his fist
on the dresser. Water sloshed from the washbowl. Somehow he’d have to persuade
Hattie to do the right thing. Drowning his misery at the Red Mule and getting
drunk on his ass was not the way to do it.

Sober
up. Clean up. Go pay a call on her.

An intelligent young woman, Hattie
would listen to reason. Yesterday, she’d been in a state of shock. So had he.
Neither of them had known how to handle the situation. Today, they would
discuss matters in a calm, rational manner. She would see that there was,
indeed, only one correct choice to be made. They had to get married. It was as
simple as that.

He quickly dressed. Grateful to see a
few coins left on the nightstand, he pocketed them,
then
gathered up a clean change of clothing. No time for breakfast—or lunch—now.
He’d drop in at the law office, tell Whitmore something urgent had come up, and
then he’d head to the bath house and wash off the stink. Maybe he would visit
Floyd, too, for a shave and a decent haircut.

Willie cocked his head and groaned at
his bleary-eyed image in the mirror.

A man ought to look his finest when he
got down on one knee to propose to his best girl. He looked a wreck, but under
the circumstances, it would have to do. At least he’d have clean clothes and a
sweet-smelling aftershave.

He winked at his reflection, and almost
grinned. But before the corners of his mouth had the chance to turn up, a knock
at the door called his attention away from the mirror.

“Mr. Morse?” Tansy Godwin’s loud voice
called out as the knocking continued. “You need to wake up—”

“I’m wide awake,” he told her, catching
her a
bit off guard as he pulled the door open. “I
guess you’re going to scold me for missing breakfast. I’m sorry. I won’t be
here for lunch either.”