It was well after midnight by the time Tom Garrett reached Mrs. Hoffmann’s Boarding House, a two-story brick building just outside of town. A headwind not only slowed his journey but chilled him to the bone. April sure had come in like a lion.
Normally he would have flopped down in an out-of-town hotel for the night, but he didn’t want to leave the boy any longer than necessary. It was good of his landlady to agree to watch him, but she had a bad back and was no match for an active eight-year-old. Especially one as wild as Eddie.
He still didn’t know what to do about his brother’s house. Would living in the home he shared with his pa make things better or worse for Eddie? Maybe it would be better to sell the house and buy another; one that wasn’t a constant reminder of all that they’d lost.
After settling his horse in the stable for the night, he climbed the stairs of the wraparound porch and let himself in the front door. The smell of cooked cabbage, no doubt left over from supper, mingled with the kerosene odor of the still-burning lamp in the front parlor.
He lit a candle and took the stairs two at a time, careful to make as little noise as possible so as not to disturb the other boarders.
His room was at the end of the hall, the door ajar. Mrs. Hoffmann must have left it open so she could hear the boy. He entered quietly and stopped. The light from his candle revealed an empty bed. A quick glance around confirmed it; Eddie was gone!
No longer concerned about waking the other boarders, he stomped down the hall and pounded on the widow Hoffmann’s door. The light at his feet told him she was still awake. It seemed to take forever but the door sprang open. Wearing a white dressing gown, the boardinghouse owner’s gray hair hung to her shoulders.
“Where’s Eddie?”
She looked startled and said something in German before switching to English. “I thought he was in your room.”
Drat! He whirled around and rushed down the stairs.
•••
Dan’s house was a little over a mile away from the boardinghouse. Tom didn’t bother saddling his horse. Instead, he ran most of the way, reaching Dan’s place in little more than ten minutes.
The house was dark and looked desolate even in the full moon. He’d only been here a couple of times since his brother moved back to town. Guilt cut through him every bit as much as the icy wind. Would things have turned out differently if he’d been a better brother? A more involved uncle? Likely not.
It wasn’t until he reached the porch that he noticed the curtains moving. Had Eddie opened the window? Or had someone else?
He pushed the door open and the hinges creaked. Moonlight streamed through the open window. If something happened to his brother’s son, he would never forgive himself. At the sight of the mound on the sofa, relief flooded through him.
But why was Eddie sleeping out here and not in his own bed? Garrett tiptoed across the room. The boy had kicked off his covers. He bent to pick the blanket up off the floor and caught an unexpected whiff of lavender. That was odd.
Straightening, he leaned forward to cover the boy and froze.
He would recognize the blond hair feathered across the pillow anywhere. Miss Parker . . .
But what was she doing here?
Her creamy complexion glowed softly in the moonlight. Long lashes shadowed delicate cheeks. A memory of blue eyes and proud turn of her head came to mind.
Could she have been telling the truth about Dan? Had his brother really neglected to tell her about Eddie? It didn’t seem likely, but what reason would she have to lie?
He covered her with the blanket, careful not to wake her. He straightened and when she didn’t stir, he tiptoed to Eddie’s room.
The boy was sound asleep. Thank God for that. Perhaps he owed the lady an apology.
He blew out his breath and pinched his brow. He’d fought in the war and chased down some of the meanest, most ornery criminals in the county. But he hadn’t the foggiest idea how to care for an eight-year-old boy, especially one who wanted nothing to do with him.
Satisfied that Eddie was all right, at least for tonight, Garrett let himself quietly out of the house.
•••
A picnic basket in one hand and a blanket in the other, Mary-Jo waited for Eddie to open the iron gate leading to the church cemetery. By now, she expected to be on her way home, but she couldn’t leave town until Eddie’s uncle returned.
White fluffy clouds chased across the sky, playing peek-a-boo with the sun.
Yellow flowers grew in wild abandon along the fence, lifting brown-bonneted faces to the sky.
Daniel’s grave wasn’t yet marked with a headstone, but the mound of fresh dirt made it easy to find. Someone had stuck a small wooden cross in the center of the soft soil.
Mary-Jo spread the blanket on the ground next to the grave and set the picnic basket on it. She dropped to her knees.
Eddie’s gaze was cast down, the toe of his shoe digging into the dirt. Her heart went out to him. He was trying so hard to be brave.
His trousers were still too short, but today his shirt was pressed and his hair neatly combed. She had even trimmed his bangs so they were no longer in his eyes.
“Do you want to go first?” she asked. When he failed to respond, she gave him a nod of encouragement. “Say good-bye to your pa.”
He stared down at the mound. “This is dumb. You can’t talk to someone you can’t see.”
She straightened the little wooden cross. “Don’t you talk to God?”
“That’s different. God can see and hear everything. Pa can’t.”
“I reckon, then, you’re gonna have to ask God to give your pa a message.”
The frown on his face made him look older than his eight years. “Do you think He would do that?”
She shrugged. “Why not ask Him?” If that don’t beat all. She sounded like she was an expert on God or something. Some expert.
Eddie dropped down on his knees and pulled off his cap. Head lowered, he began. “God, tell Pa I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye.”
“Go on,” she coaxed after a long silence. “Tell your pa everything you want him to know.”
Eddie rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Tell Pa it’s okay that he didn’t take me fishing. I don’t like fishing that much anyway. Amen.” He replaced his hat. After a long silence he glanced up at her. “It’s your turn.”
She hadn’t planned on talking to the Lord herself. She had no idea what to say, but since Eddie was waiting she clasped her hands and closed her eyes. Maybe something would come to her. She wanted to do this right, for the boy’s sake.
“God, tell Daniel . . .” Words caught in her throat. It seemed strange to say good-bye when she hadn’t even had a chance to say hello.
She swallowed, but the lump remained and everything hit her at once. The coffin—two coffins. The lies, the unfairness of it all.
“I . . . I am so angry I could scream.” She lifted her voice until she practically shouted to the heavens. “How could you do this to me, God? First Charles and now Daniel—” Words spouted out of her like water from a primed pump.
But after a while she fell silent. And she felt as though an awful weight had been lifted.
A hand on her arm startled her and she opened her eyes. Eddie stared up at her, his peepers round as wagon wheels.
Oh dear, what had she done? “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered. She felt terrible for making the poor child witness her shouting at the Lord. “Sometimes . . . it helps to tell God how you feel.”
Eddie pulled his hand away. “I reckon He knows now. Pa too.”
She sucked in her breath. “Yes, I reckon they do.”
“Who’s Charles?” he asked.
Hearing the name fall from Eddie’s lips made her wince. “He was a . . . friend. He died during the war.”
“My uncle fought in the war too,” he said.
“Did he now?”
Eddie gave an earnest nod. “Maybe he knew your friend.”
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that his uncle and her fiancé probably fought on opposite sides. “Maybe.” She reached for the picnic basket. “Time to eat.” She pulled out bread and cheese and slices of sausage. For a man without a wife, Dan’s kitchen was well stocked.
They ate in silence for several moments before Eddie spoke. “What’s gonna happen to me?”
She took her time answering, hoping to find the right words. “I guess you’ll live with your uncle and go back to school and grow up to be . . . someone really special. Maybe a lawyer like your pa.”
“I hate school.”
“I don’t believe that. A bright boy like you?”
“I got a four on my math test. That’s ’cause it takes me too long to figure out the answers. Miss Madison says I have to take it again.”
She knew precious little about school, but she did know that a four meant he’d flunked. “Addition?”
He shook his head. “Multiplying.”
“I have an idea.” She reached into her reticule for the deck of playing cards. “I may not be good at spelling or grammar, but I know ’rithmetic.”
Eddie watched her separate the jokers and face cards from the numerical ones, a doubtful look on his face. “My teacher says that playing cards are sinful.”
“Did she now?” She separated the cards into two piles. “It’s not the cards that are sinful, it’s what you do with them. And right now they’re going to help you turn that four into a one.”
For the next hour or so they worked on multiplying numbers. Eddie was a fast learner and was soon shouting out answers almost before she turned over the cards.
“Sixty-four!” he yelled when she held up two eights.
“Okay, now times these . . .” Just then a gust of wind swept across the prairie and through the cemetery, blowing a whirlwind of dust and leaves and scattering cards in every direction.
“Oh no.” Her lucky cards! “Quick.” She jumped to her feet and Eddie lunged for an ace. Together they chased the cards around the cemetery, dodging in and out of headstones.
“Get that king,” she yelled.
“There’s a card over there,” he yelled back.
She tripped over a gravestone and fell facedown in the grass. Eddie hurried over to help her up and soon they were laughing hysterically. It was as if someone had pulled a cork and all the tension of the last twenty-four hours poured out of them.
“Miss Parker!”
The male voice thundered across the graveyard, followed by its marching owner. Sheriff Garrett stormed up to them and scowled at the playing cards in their hands.
“Why, Sheriff Garrett . . . Are you trying to raise the dead?”
He glared at her, his face dark as a thunderhead. “And are you trying to corrupt my nephew?” He snatched the cards out of Eddie’s hand and shoved them into hers.
Without giving her time to explain, he turned to Eddie. “Why aren’t you in school?”
Eddie stared at his feet and said nothing, and so she answered for him. “He just lost his pa.”
“Yes, he did, Miss Parker. That’s why I’m having a hard time understanding what the two of you found so . . . funny. In the vicinity of my brother’s grave, no less.”
The boy turned pale, and Mary-Jo felt a maternal need to protect him. “It was my fault. We had . . . something important to do.”
“Important?” He glanced at the cards in her hands. “The boy doesn’t need anyone helping him get in trouble. He’s quite capable of managing that himself. Right now, the best thing for everyone is for you to leave town.” He motioned to the boy to follow and stalked away.
Eddie’s gaze clung to hers and the pleading expression he gave her stabbed at her heart.
“It’ll be all right,” she said softly, giving him a gentle shove in the sheriff’s direction. Clutching his cap, he took one last glance at her before following his uncle through the cemetery and out the gate.
Eddie had to run to catch up with the sheriff’s long strides. Fists at her sides, Mary-Jo watched with gritted teeth. The sheriff was cold as a fish on ice. Just like Pa.
Her father wasn’t a family man in any sense of the word, and he often said he ended up with one through no fault of his own. Loving Pa was like knocking on a door when no one was home.
She hated to compare the sheriff to her gambling father, but Tom treated his nephew in much the same way Pa treated her. Eddie wasn’t just running to catch up; he was knocking on the door of an empty house.