NoRegretsColeNC (17 page)

The woman—as broad as she was
tall—blocked the door. “Western Union man’s at the door, Mr. Morse. There’s a
telegram for you.
Says it’s from Denver.”

His mother, of course.
He knew a lot of folks in the capital, but only his mother would summon him
with a wire…and only if she had urgent reason to contact him.

Good Lord, what now?

* * *
*

Hattie
slowly turned the pages of the calendar, embarrassed now by all the markings
she’d made. Oh, how clever she once believed herself to be, thinking that she
could outwit nature. She and Willie had certainly danced a merry tune, and now,
of course, the piper must be paid.

Frowning,
she wondered what use any of her platitudes had been. So much good advice, yet
none of it had saved her from the making so many huge mistakes. She frowned,
too, as she skipped over the pages.
August.
September.
October.

She’d
not seen Willie since that fateful summer’s day when he’d learned she was
carrying his child. Autumn had come, summer was gone, and so was he.

Gone
to Denver, according to George Whitmore.
She’d gone to his office one morning. Yes, she’d been bold
enough to march right in and inquire as to Willie’s whereabouts. Whether he
meant to return or not, his mentor couldn’t say. Personal reasons, he remarked.
That was all Willie had told him.

Hattie
did no more than nod, thank the man for what little information he’d provided,
and walk out with her head held high. At least she still had her dignity.

Now,
alone in her upstairs room, even dignity deserted her. She put her head down on
the desk and sobbed. How was she supposed to cope with all the changes taking
place?
Changes around her, changes within her own body,
changes within her heart, as well.

She
truly cared about Willie. She missed him more each day and yearned to be with
him. Incredibly, even now, her unrepentant soul craved his touch, longed for
the warmth of his kisses and caresses. Would she ever see him again? Would he
ever again hold her in his arms?

He’d
sent messages, of course. Hattie had not replied. No reason to lead him on.

One
thing had not changed. Even had Willie been there at that very moment, going
down on bended knee, Hattie would not agree to marriage. He might ask a
thousand times, and always her answer would be the same.

He
wasn’t ready for marriage.

If they
were to wed now, he would come to regret it later.

Sniffling
back tears, Hattie lifted her head and listened. Yes, someone—Charlotte, of
course—stood in the hall, tapping at her door. The woman had appointed herself
as a guardian of sorts, always coming around in the evening to check on Hattie,
always questioning her about how she was feeling, asking if she’d eaten enough,
rested enough, and offering more unsolicited advice than any young woman should
have to hear.

Somehow,
she found Charlotte’s kindness profoundly disturbing.

Wiping
the tears away with the back of her hand, she called out for the woman to
enter.

“I’m
doing fine. I’ll be going to sleep in a few minutes, and honestly, I don’t feel
much like talking,” she said as soon as Charlotte stepped into the room. “I
suppose that sounds rather rude, but it’s the truth, and I don’t see any point
in pretending otherwise.”

“I’ll
speak the truth as well. You look like hell, Hattie.”

“I
don’t care how I look.”

“You’ve
been crying again. It’s high time you learn that those tears won’t solve your
problems.”

“I
never thought they would. That’s not why I’m crying.”

“You’re
crying over Willie.”

“No,
I’m not.”

“What
else would you have to cry about?”

Hattie
stared up at the woman, determined not to shed another tear. “My entire life is
in turmoil, Mrs. Kellerman. I’m sick every morning, I can’t concentrate on my
studies, and I’m so tired all the time I can barely make my rounds when we have
patients to tend.” Thank goodness that wasn’t too often. “The last thing I’m
going to worry about—or cry about—is Willie. He’s gone to Denver, and I don’t
care if he never comes back.” She lifted her chin another notch, proud of
herself for standing up to the woman. Proud, too, that she could take such a
self-righteous stance toward the man who’d put her in such a predicament. Or at
least, that she could so convincingly pretend not to care.

Charlotte’s
laugh had a softness about it that touched Hattie’s heart. But it was the words
she spoke that made it beat faster.

“He’ll
be back next week. He’d like to see you.”

Hattie
jumped from the chair, nearly overturning it. “How do you know?”

“He
sent word earlier. He’s been staying in Denver with his mother, helping her
settle her affairs there. Willie is bringing her back to Sunset with him.”

“I’m
glad. It’s good of him to help his mother.”

“Yes,
he seems to have done a bit of growing-up.”

“Is
there any word about Judge Morse?” Hattie chewed at her lower lip. She would
never push Willie to make amends with the man, yet she suspected much of his
anger and bitterness would dissolve if he somehow came to terms with the past
and found a way to forgive his father. Until then, she feared, even his best
efforts at rebuilding his life would fall short of the mark.

“Not so
far as I know. I suspect he’s left the country, probably taken on a new
identity, and he’s most likely living a good life. It’s wrong, but like I’ve
said so many times, life is never fair.” She turned toward the door. “Now, stop
fretting and get some rest.” Placing a hand on the knob, she looked at Hattie.
“Will you see him when he comes back?”

“I’m
sure I will.”

“Do the
right thing, Hattie. Marry him.”

* * *
*

Before
he turned the key, Willie sucked in a slow, deep breath. He hated occasions
like this, times when one simple act brought irrevocable changes. Folks often
lamented uncertainty, but to his mind, anything was preferable to that dreadful
sense of finality that accompanied these awful moments when some part of life
came to an end.

Every ending is a new beginning
.

Willie
chuckled, imagining Hattie’s sweet voice. Not only did she always have a
platitude to pull out of her head when needed, she truly believed them all.

And
maybe she was right.

Exhaling
again, he locked the door to the house,
then
turned
toward the street. His mother sat perched atop the bench in the rented wagon,
staring straight ahead, her shoulders rigid, her bearing stoical. Leaving her
home had to be painful, but Letitia Morse was far too proper to show such
tawdry emotions.

The bed
of the wagon held a dozen wooden crates, some packed with clothing, others
containing the hearts and flowers and carefully-wrapped vases that, for years,
had graced the parlor. The larger furnishings would remain and would be sold at
auction with the house.

“I
think that’s everything.” It required a bit of effort, but he managed to put a
cheerful note in his voice. He suspected it was more for his own benefit than
for his mother’s sake. She, at least, seemed to have accepted her fate. He
couldn’t yet grasp the fact that this red brick residence with its stone lions,
wide windows and fashionable address would never again be his home.

Even
with what little they’d taken with them, packing had required far more time
than he’d anticipated.
Already the rosy glow of
sunset blazed
across the western skies. Night would fall long before
they reached Sunset.

The
long day would end…

Willie
blinked as the thought crossed his mind. As sure as the sun went down in the
evening and rose again on the morrow, a new day would begin.

Endings.
Beginnings.

Maybe
Hattie was right to believe in all those old adages, and maybe this terrible
day of locking away the past would lead to a bright new future.

He
reached the wagon and climbed aboard.

“Anything
more to do before we leave?”
He wondered if his mother might yet break down. He glanced
toward the house, now locked, shuttered and dark. They would not step inside
again, but perhaps she’d want to walk one last time through the sorrowful
garden with its dead and dying remnants of the season past.

“No,
nothing.”
Sadness shone in her eyes, but she squared her shoulders, shook her head, and
gave her son a reassuring smile. “It’s time to go, William. It’s time to go.”

They
set off at a slow and steady pace.

By the
time they reached Sunset, Willie’s patience had been worn thin. His mother had
done nothing but complain as their overloaded wagon jostled over the rutted,
dusty roads. Now, with the day nearly done, he hoped her whining would be over,
as well.

“I hate
this horrid little town,” she said, casting a gaze over the quiet streets. “I don’t
know why you came here, William. You should have stayed in Denver. We could
have found a decent place to live, and I wouldn’t have to leave all my friends
behind.”

“Mother,
you no longer have any friends,” he reminded her. His hopes of a pleasant evening
dashed, Willie sagged against the wooden bench. His arms ached from the long
drive home. So did his legs.

His
heart ached, too.

“Come
on, let’s get inside and get you settled. Things will look brighter tomorrow.”
Or so he hoped. As Willie assisted his mother down from the wagon and helped
her inside, a sense of loss overwhelmed him. For God’s sake, how was he going
to help her when he could barely take care of himself? At least, he was still
young. He still had a future worth fighting for. His mother had nothing.

The
morning brought only more misery.

His
mother hated Sunset, thought Tansy Godwin’s boarding house very tired-looking,
and for that matter, she didn’t have anything good to say about the widow woman
herself. Willie had arranged to take a larger suite of rooms in the house, but,
of course, his mother found them altogether unsatisfactory. Too small, too
dingy, too cramped and crowded with mismatched furnishings.

“Where
am I supposed to put my belongings?” she asked, her arms lifted in a gesture of
entreaty.

The
boxes and crates were still loaded onto the wagon. Willie had no idea where,
precisely, all those china vases, knick-knacks, and figurines would go.
Probably best to throw them all in the rubbish bin. He dared not make the
suggestion.

“We’ll
figure it all out, Mother.” He doubted she heard him. She wasn’t listening.

“I
don’t see how you can expect me to live in a wretched place like this.” She
buried her head in her hands and sobbed. “You’ll have to find better
accommodations for me.”

“This
is the best I can do.” The words shot out like an artillery assault and served
much the same purpose.
Defense.
Protection.
“I’m damned tired of apologizing for everything I do. If you don’t like it
here, then find your own place, Mother. Make your own way.”

No man
should speak to his mother like that. He knew it, but hadn’t she once thrown
him
out with a spate of hateful words?
Willie fought for composure. He was about to crack.

Other
than her pitiful crying, his mother remained silent.

“I’m
sorry,” he said in a low voice, going to her. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.
But you have to understand that life isn’t going to be the same as before.
Things have changed. We have to put it behind us, and we have to adapt.”

“Yes,
you’re right.” She lifted her tear-streaked face to him. “But it’s so hard,
William.”

“We’ll
make it. I promise.”

She
made an effort to smile, but it proved too difficult. The corners of her mouth
turned down again. “Why did everyone desert us? I know what your father did was
wrong, but why do we have to suffer for it? Why do people look at me as though
I’ve committed some awful crime?”

“I wish
I knew how to answer that.” He settled onto the sofa next to his mother and
took her into his arms. “You’ve done nothing wrong,” he assured her.

Neither
had he.

The
realization came like the fresh autumn wind blowing through the opened windows.
It stirred within him, lifting his spirits, and offering yet one more breath of
hope. He sucked at it, held it, and for the first time, he believed it.

He had
done nothing wrong. He still deserved a chance at happiness. He could yet have
his dreams.