Unbridled Dreams (24 page)

“Irma’s fine, Willa. Better than fine, really.” He looked away. Then, with a sigh, he began to explain. “I’m deeply sorry that you’ve cut your holiday short and come home to find out about it this way. I had . . . I had plans to meet the train next week. Plans to try and—” Swearing softly, he let go of her and stood up. He began to pace back and forth between the oak bookcases on one wall and the filing cabinets on the other. Back and forth, back and forth. Finally, he shoved his hands in his pockets, planted his feet, and said, “I took her and Minnie on a little trip while you were gone. To see Monte in the Wild West in St. Louis. One thing led to another. . . . Bill invited her to audition . . . and . . .”

Willa held up both hands to signal him to hush. He did. When she didn’t speak, he came back to sit in the chair beside her. He reached for her, but she pulled away. Swiping his hand across his mustache and goatee, Otto waited. It was amazing how the noises from beyond the office door seemed to reverberate in the silent room. The door to the street opened and closed a few times. Tellers called out greetings. Boots clunked as customers made their way toward the tellers’ windows. And still, Willa could not speak as her mind and heart reduced a thousand thoughts and emotions to one painful realization—given the opportunity to choose between Irmagard and his own wife, Otto chose . . . Irmagard.

“She’s happy, Willa,” Otto said. “If you could have seen her face. You should see the rules Bill has in place to protect the girls’ reputations. They never leave the grounds without an escort. And their privacy is absolutely sacrosanct. Think of it, dear—the education. The travel. When I arranged for the audition, I made it clear she could only be gone for the summer. But then . . .” He swept his hand across his forehead. “They’re going to
England
next year, Willa. Can you imagine? Our daughter could meet the Queen.” He cleared his throat. “I just couldn’t let anything stand in the way of that.”

Willa swallowed. Why, she wondered, did any of it surprise her. Otto never denied Irmagard anything. Still, he’d never gone so completely against what Willa wanted. At least not in such an overt manner.
Dear God in heaven, help. Please. Help me. Help me now.
She could feel herself trembling. In a moment she would be in tears, and she must not cry. She stood up. He did, too—and reached for her.

She stepped back. “Don’t,” she said. “Just don’t.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. But Irmagard—”

But Irmagard.
As if that justified everything. He was blathering on, but she wasn’t listening. She needed to get away from Otto so she could calm down. She needed a place where the storm of emotions inside her could wear themselves out without threatening her carefully reconstructed relationship with her husband. She interrupted him. “We’ll talk later.” She headed for the door.

“Wait,” Otto said. “Please—darling. Let me explain.”

She stopped in midstride. Lifting her chin, she said, “I’m certain you have a thousand reasons why you believe what you’ve done is right.” She clutched her bag and motioned him aside. “Now let me out. I want to go home. I need to think.”

She could hear the relief in his voice as he said, “I’ll see you at home, then.” She stole a glance at him. He wasn’t even looking at her.
He was relieved to be rid of her.
In fact, he’d already shifted his attention to the piles of papers waiting atop his desk. Willa exited the bank and walked home.

“I didn’t know what he was up to, ma’am,” Ella Jane called after her as Willa headed upstairs.

She paused on the landing and gazed down at the worried housekeeper. “I’m not angry with you, Ella Jane. I’m just . . .” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m just tired.”

“I’ll make you some tea.”

“No. Don’t. I just . . . I’ll call you if I need anything.” Willa looked down at her. “Did you have plans to spend the evening with Samuel?”

“I did, ma’am. But I’ll send him away.”

“Don’t. I won’t be needing anything tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” With a sigh, Willa put her hand on the banister and hauled herself up the stairs. Taking her hat off and unbuttoning the waist to her traveling suit, she retrieved the mail from her bag and headed downstairs to put it back on Otto’s desk. She was in Otto’s office before she noticed the flowery script on the second letter. Her heart pounding, Willa opened it. And her world fell apart.

At first she thought she was having a heart attack. Sinking into Otto’s chair, she put her head in her hands and wept. It had been a dozen years since Otto’d had an affair. At least that’s what she had believed. Of course things between them weren’t perfect, but what married couple achieved perfection these days? Willa had learned to be content. Otto was a driven man, and living with him had never been easy. Still, when he promised “never again,” she’d believed him. She did what she could to be a good wife. And now . . . this. She closed her eyes and leaned back in Otto’s chair.

The longer she sat there, the angrier she became. How long had their marriage been a sham? How could she not have known? How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn’t she listened to Philip? If she had, this wouldn’t be happening. In fact, if she’d listened to Philip, Irmagard wouldn’t be off on some wild theatrical jaunt, either.

Back upstairs, Willa changed from her black silk traveling suit into a simple calico frock and emptied the trunk Johnny Dolan had delivered while she was at the bank. She refilled it with her simplest dresses, a few toiletries, and her Bible. Where she was going, she wouldn’t need silks.

She wrote out a bank draft and then, sitting down at her writing desk, scribbled a note.

To Mr. Wilber Cranston
From Mrs. Willa Friedrich

Enclosed is a bank draft I wish to have converted to cash. I realize
this is an unexpected and rather sizeable withdrawal requiring Mr.
Friedrich’s authorization. Please remind him that this bank draft
represents only the principal amount of the personal funds I inherited
from my brother. I do not at this time require that the interest on my
investment be paid. I anticipate making this withdrawal in about
half an hour and would appreciate the cash being assembled prior
to my arrival
.

Calling for Ella Jane, Willa handed her the note and sent her off to deliver it, then sat back down to write the note she would leave Otto.

Years ago when I learned that I couldn’t trust you to be faithful in
the way most women expect faithfulness, I made a conscious decision
that, for the sake of our daughter, I would accept whatever love you
could give me. I am proud of the fact that Irmagard has grown up in
a family with two loving parents.

No.
She didn’t need to explain any of this. She should just get to the point. Laying that sheet of paper aside, Willa took another.

I stayed with you because of Irmagard. I thought we had rebuilt a
life worth keeping. I was deluded. Given opportunity, you encouraged
our daughter’s most egregious foray into deceit in her eighteen years.
You’ve shown her how to get her own way and how to manipulate
circumstances to her liking. You’ve helped her ignore my wishes and
allowed her to break her promises. But that is not all. It is not even
the real reason I am leaving you. The real reason lies beneath this
note. I have taken what I want from the house, and I have enough of
my own money to live comfortably. Willa.

She began to weep as she wrote, but by the time Willa had rewritten the letter a fourth time and reduced it to one paragraph, she was past weeping. She got up, closed her trunk, and pushed it out into the hall. Downstairs she laid the day’s mail and her note atop Otto’s desk. Hearing Ella Jane’s return she called for her to help her bring her travel trunk back downstairs.

After Ella Jane had helped her hitch up the buggy, Willa climbed aboard. “I’m going to the bank. I’ll be back in a few minutes. There’s a note in Mr. Friedrich’s office that explains what’s going on. You have my permission to read it.” She drove away.

Hatless, his arms pumping, Otto came barreling down the road toward her. When Willa didn’t slow the buggy, he called out for her to stop. Shaking her head, she flicked the reins, and Nellie moved into a trot. Once at the bank, she pulled up and climbed down with a glance behind her. There was Otto, fast on her heels. She ducked inside and headed for the teller’s window. When she asked for her money, Wilber shook his head.

“Please, Mrs. Friedrich.” His pained expression went from Willa’s face to the bank entrance and back again. “You know I can’t—” He cleared his throat. “I need to have Mr. Friedrich’s authorization or—” He paused and leaned forward. Lowering his voice, he pleaded, “I’ll lose my job, Mrs. Friedrich.”

Just then Otto came storming through the door. He reached for the carpetbag Willa had tried to give Wilber.

“I insist that you stop causing a scene. This is ridiculous.”

“
You
are the one causing the scene,” Willa hissed. She shoved the carpetbag at Wilber. “It’s my money. I want it.
Now.
”

“What, exactly, are you going to do?”

“First, I’m going to pay you for Nellie and the buggy. Then I’m going to drive back to the house and give Ella Jane a very generous wedding gift. And then I’m leaving you.”

“Leaving me?” He lowered his voice. “You’re blowing this all out of proportion. Irmagard is perfectly safe. She’s going to have a wonderful education. If you don’t believe me, I’ll take you to see her.” He put his hand on her arm and leaned close, “Please. Darling. Come into my office so we can talk in private.”

She could barely look at him. She did, however, glance around the bank enough to realize that while Otto’s employees were busily looking busy, they couldn’t have avoided hearing at least part of the spat. She didn’t want to be the topic of supper conversations that evening. She didn’t want to be “that poor Willa Friedrich. Had no idea the old boy was playing the old game with a little hussy out Denver way.”

“I don’t want a scene, either,” she said softly. “But I intend to finish this transaction one way or the other.” She looked him in the eye. “And when I’m gone, you’ll be free to attend to your little friend in Denver without my interference.”

Otto went pale.

Willa nodded. She looked away.

After what seemed like an eternity, Otto ordered Wilber to “do what Mrs. Friedrich has requested.” He touched her arm. “It isn’t what you think,” he croaked. When Willa didn’t move, he crossed to his office. She heard his footsteps retreat. The door close. Once again she was aware of how quiet things were in the bank. Weariness descended. Wilber counted the money. Finally Willa composed herself enough to ask, “What’s a good horse and buggy cost these days?”

The balding teller stammered, “I-I . . . about sixty dollars.”

“Take sixty dollars off that pile of bills and hand it to me. With an envelope, please.”

She scrawled Otto’s name on the envelope, inserted the money, and handed it back. The door to Otto’s office remained closed as she walked past.

Back at the house Willa spoke to Ella Jane. “I’m leaving now, and I won’t be coming back. It comforts me to know that I can trust you to take good care of things until Mr. Friedrich decides what to do.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ella Jane nodded. “Of course.”

Willa peeled off several twenty-dollar bills and held them out. “This is for you.”

The dark-haired girl stared at the pile of bills and backed away, shaking her head. “I can’t, ma’am,” she said. “It’s too much.”

“It’s a rare young lady who can witness the things you’ve witnessed while working in this house over the years and keep from gossiping all over town, Ella Jane. You’ve been loyal and kind. And this doesn’t even begin to be enough.” Willa almost broke down. She cleared her throat. “You know, I doubt that Reverend Coe would want to know this, but your quiet faith has been more of an encouragement to me over the years than all his sermons combined.”

Ella Jane started to cry. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Now you take this money, or I’m going to have to—” Willa changed her tone. “Please. Please take it. I need for you to take it.”

Ella Jane looked up, her eyes luminous with tears. She took the money.

“There’s a good girl,” Willa said. “God bless you.”

“I’ll pray for you, ma’am,” Ella Jane said. “I’ll pray for you and I’ll never stop.”

The tears were spilling out of Willa’s eyes now. She nodded toward the house. “Would you pray for him, too, dear? I don’t think I can right now.”

Willa’s buggy topped the last rise just as the sun was setting. As she pulled up and looked down in the valley at the little ranch bathed in golden light, she wiped away the last of her tears. Here, she thought, was the ultimate irony. After spending years resenting Charlie Mason and blaming him for turning Irmagard into a cowgirl, after railing against what ranch life had done to Laura—when Wilhelmina Ludvik Friedrich needed sanctuary . . . here she was looking down on the Mason ranch.

Charlie and Laura Mason would be able to give her the quiet strength and faith-based wisdom she so desperately needed. But it wasn’t just the Masons who brought her out here. Willa knew that the prairie itself had a role to play, too. It had happened in times past when she rode out to sit beneath a lone cottonwood tree. It would happen again. She reminded herself of the things she believed. The God who loved her and told her to cast her cares on Him was the Creator and Sustainer of everything stretched out before her. The God of this endless sky cared about her. The God of these seemingly empty plains knew what was going on in her life. She might not have always been able to live out those truths, but she believed them with all her heart. And she knew that if she would listen to His voice in the midst of the worst things, He would teach her eternally good things. Out here, she would be able to listen.

Looking down on the ranch, Willa prayed. The first word that came to mind after she’d said amen was the last word she wanted to hear.
Forgive.
She flicked the reins and headed the buggy down the trail. She didn’t
want
to forgive Otto. She was
tired
of forgiving Otto.