You’re so tiny, Gram. Did you shrink, or have I grown?” Myles asked.
Virginia patted his hand and smoothed his forehead, just as she had during his childhood illnesses. She smiled, but her expression was far away. “You must tell me about Monte sometime, Myles. Right now is convenient for me.”
He pulled his hand out of her grasp and ran it over his rumpled hair. “I know. I’ve been hiding things too long, from myself…from everyone.” He drew a deep breath and released it in a sigh, praying silently for strength. “This won’t be easy.”
Virginia watched him with sad yet peaceful eyes.
“Monte was wild, Gram. I know you thought he was a good boy, but it was all a sham. He loved to gamble, drink, and smoke…although I can say with confidence that he was never a womanizer. You raised us to respect women, and Monte kept that shred of decency as far as I know. With his charm, he might have been worse than he was.”
Tears pooled in his grandmother’s eyes, but she nodded. “I knew, Myles. It nearly broke my heart to see the way you two boys fought and despised each other. I prayed for wisdom and did everything I could to encourage love and respect between you. It never happened. For some reason, Monte considered you a rival from the day you were born.”
Myles sat stunned. “You knew? I thought you doted on him.”
“Certainly. I doted on the both of you. What grandmother doesn’t dote on her grandsons, flawed though they may be?”
“Then why did you keep me isolated from everyone except private tutors and force me to practice for hours every day? It was a terrible life for a boy! I thought you hated me and loved Monte.”
Virginia looked stunned. “I wanted the best for you, Myles. God gave you a wondrous gift, and I felt it my duty to give you every opportunity to develop and enjoy that gift of music. I thought your complaints stemmed from laziness, and I refused to listen. Oh my dear, how wrong I was! My poor boys!” Wiping her eyes, she insisted, “Tell me about Monte. I must know.”
“When you sent him after me, he took advantage of the opportunity to sample every pleasure the world had to offer. He was delighted to escape his responsibilities. He did plan to return someday, but then circumstances prevented it.”
Virginia shook her head. “I knew I had lost him. Releasing him to find you was a last effort to show him that I trusted and respected him as a man. He proved himself unworthy, as I feared. He did write to me occasionally over the years, however, as you did. I never understood why that precious correspondence ended.”
Myles absently unbuttoned his undervest. “The last place we were together was Texas; you knew that much. We had a steady job brush-popping longhorns for a big rancher. Monte started running with a group of gamblers. They were the ruin of him. It wasn’t long before he started rustling a beef here and there to support his habit, and the boss became suspicious.”
Tears trickled down Virginia’s cheeks again, but she nodded for him to continue.
Myles twined a loose string around his finger and tugged. “Then all of a sudden Monte changed. I don’t know exactly what happened—well, maybe I do—but anyway, one day he was wild, angry, and miserable; the next day he was peaceful, calm, and had this radiant joy about him. He told me that he had made his life right with God. I thought he had lost his mind. Both of us hated church and anything to do with religion, yet here was Monte saying he had found Jesus Christ. He tried to talk with me about God—even gave me a Bible for my birthday.”
“Thank You, Jesus!” Virginia moaned into her handkerchief.
“One day we were riding herd, almost ready to start a drive north. Monte was across from me, hunting strays in the arroyos. A group of riders approached him. I took my horse up on a small bluff and watched. I had a bad feeling—something about the situation made me nervous. The best I can figure, the riders were men to whom Monte owed money, probably demanding payment. I saw Monte’s horse rear up; Monte fell off backward and vanished. The sound of a shot reached me an instant later. Panic spread through the herd. Within seconds I was riding for my life, hemmed in on every side by fear-crazed longhorns.”
The string broke free and his button dropped beneath the blankets.
“And Monte?”
“I never found him, Gram. By the time we got that herd straightened out—a good bit smaller than it was when the stampede started—we were miles from the location of the fight, and it was pouring rain. I hunted for days, but found no trace of Monte or his mustang. The horse never returned to the remuda; it must have died in the stampede, too.”
Virginia sobbed quietly.
“I don’t know if the men who killed Monte were aware that I witnessed his murder, but I didn’t take chances. I was nineteen, scared, stricken with regret and sorrow. I hightailed it out of Texas and never went back. Once or twice I thought about writing to you, but shame prevented it. Not until God straightened me out this summer did I have the courage to confess my role in Monte’s death.”
“You weren’t to blame, Myles.” The idea roused Virginia from her grief.
He sniffed ruefully. “Had I not run away from home, Monte would never have been in Texas.”
“Then he most likely would have died in a back alley in Manhattan. It is not given us to know what might have been, my boy. We can only surrender what actually is to the Lord and trust Him to work His perfect will in our lives.” Virginia’s voice gained strength as she spoke. “Monte is safe with the Lord, for which fact I am eternally grateful. Myles, dear, can you ever forgive me for my failings as a grandmother?”
Myles nodded. A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I forgive you, Gram. You meant well.” He blinked, feeling as if a small chunk had broken from the burden he carried. To his surprise, forgiving his grandmother was an agreeable experience. Love welled up in his heart, and he opened his arms to her.
Weeping and smiling, Virginia fell into his embrace without apparent regard for her dignity.
Beulah carried a tray upstairs and knocked at the closed door. The voices inside stopped, and Mrs. Van Huysen opened the door. “That looks lovely, dear. Thank you.” She stepped aside, and Beulah carried the tray to the bureau.
“Are you two having a good visit? Were you comfortable last night, Mrs. Van Huysen?”
“Yes, dear. Thank you for the use of your bedroom. I’m sorry to put everyone to such inconvenience.”
“It is no trouble. We are all pleased to meet Myles’s grandmother.”
More than a day had passed since Virginia’s arrival. Beulah’s family had begun to wonder if the two Van Huysens would ever rejoin the world.
Myles eyed the steaming bowls and the stack of fresh bread slices. “What kind of stew?”
Beulah felt her face grow warm. She gave his grandmother an uncertain glance. “Bear.”
Virginia’s face showed mild alarm.
Myles laughed aloud. “Poetic justice. I hope he was a tender bear. Don’t worry, Gram; Beulah is the best cook in the state, with the possible exception of her mother.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I hope it’s good stew,” Beulah said weakly. “Papa says the bear was skinny and tough. He showed me how to prepare it so it would taste better, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
Myles shoved himself upright. “Beulah, will you ask Al to feed Pushy? She must be wondering what happened to me.”
Beulah avoided looking at him. “Al says Pushy is lonely but well. She reminded him to feed her. No kittens yet.”
“You need to take a look at the stitches in my leg, Beulah. There are fifty-seven. Doc did a great job of patchwork. Maybe you could learn a few new designs for your next quilt. Beulah sews beautiful quilts, Gram. She can make almost anything.”
“Indeed?”
“Did you see the bear when they brought it in, Beulah? Wasn’t he immense? You should have seen that monster climb a tree. He would have had me for sure if Buck hadn’t packed him with lead. Say, that water looks good. Would you pour me a drink?”
Beulah felt his gaze as she poured two glasses of water from the pitcher. She glanced at his grandmother and caught an amused smile on the lady’s face.
Virginia suddenly rose from her chair and smacked Myles’s hand. “Stop that belly rubbing. Never could break you of that.” She addressed Beulah obliquely. “Myles suffered chronic stomachaches as a child. He used to wake me every night, crying for his mother. At least he no longer totes around a blanket.”
Myles slumped back against the pillows. “No secret is sacred.”
Beulah smiled. He would be embarrassed for certain if she gave her opinion of his habit—she found it endearing.
“Myles was a sickly, scrawny child—all eyes and nose. It’s amazing what time can do for a man. I never would have known you in a crowd, Myles—although one look into your eyes would have told me. Doesn’t he have beautiful eyes, Beulah? They are like his mother’s eyes, changing hue to suit his emotions. I would call them hazel.”
“Sometimes they look gold like a cat’s,” Beulah observed.
“Has he told you that he was being groomed for opera? His beautiful voice, his ability to play almost any piece the audience might request, and his subtle humor packed in the crowds. He was truly a marvel—so young, yet confident and composed. Even as a little child, he was mature beyond his years. I thought I was doing the best thing for him, helping him reach the peak of his ability. How wrong a grandmother can be!” She shook her head sadly.
“We’ve already discussed this, Gram. It’s in the past and forgiven, remember?” Myles sounded embarrassed.
“Myles told me about the letter he wrote last week.” Virginia shook her head. “I never received it. My private detective, Mr. Poole, recently discovered Myles’s whereabouts after long years of searching. I find it odd that Myles wrote to me even as I was coming to see him. But the Lord does work in mysterious ways.”
“God told me to write to you, Gram,” Myles said gruffly, “even though He knew you were coming.”
“At any rate, I plan to telegraph Myles’s old agent tomorrow and set up a return performance. The musical world will be agog; his disappearance made the papers for months. His reappearance will take the world by storm, I am certain.”
“Gram,” Myles began, sounding somewhat irritated.
Beulah backed toward the door. “That’s wonderful. You had better eat before the stew gets cold. I’ll be back for the dishes.”
She heard Myles call her name as she ran down the steps, but she could not return and let them see her distress. Myles is leaving!
“Beulah is a pretty thing and well-spoken,” Virginia commented. “Exquisite figure, although I’m sure you have noticed that fact.”
“I have.”
“Your fancy for the child is evident, and even I can see why she attracts you.” Her gaze shifted to Myles, and she pursed her lips. “The bluest blood in New York runs in Van Huysen veins.”
“Blended with the good red blood of soap merchants, sea captains, and a black sheep or two. From all I hear, some of Beulah’s ancestors might have looked down their aristocratic noses at one or two of my wild and woolly ancestors.” His mustache curled into a smirk.
Virginia merely poked at her stew.
“So you like Beulah, Gram?” Myles dipped a chunk of bread into his stew and took a large bite.
“I suspect there is more to that inquiry than idle curiosity. Do you intend to wed the child?”
“I do.” One cheek bulged as he spoke.
His grandmother considered this information. “Would she blend into our society, Myles? Her manners are charming, but they are country manners, nonetheless.”
“If she won’t blend in, then I wouldn’t either. It’s been a long time since I lived in your world.” Myles ate with relish.
Virginia frowned. “Yours is a veneer of wilderness, I’m certain. Cultured habits will return, given the proper surroundings. I do hope you plan to shave soon. Facial hair does not become you.”
“It was a disguise. Not a good one, but it fooled me.” Myles smiled wryly. “All of this is immaterial, since, as you know, I do not intend to remain in New York. One farewell concert, sell the business, and back here I come to purchase a farm.” His voice quivered with excitement.
Virginia lifted a trembling hand to her lips. “Um, Myles…”
“Buck Watson told me again and again that God blesses when we surrender our lives, and I’m living proof of that fact. It struck me one day that my resistance to facing my past was preventing me from having the future I longed for. You can stay in Long Island if you like, Gram, or we could sell that old house and move you out here. There’s room in the Thwaite farmhouse, and I plan to build on anyway. The farm needs money and work, that’s certain, but neither should be a problem.”
Virginia finally succeeded in breaking into his soliloquy. “About the business…there is something you need to know, Myles.”
Beulah scooped the mess of raw egg and shattered shells from the hardwood floor and dumped it into a pail. Goo had settled in the cracks between boards.
“I didn’t mean to, Beulah. The floor was slippery, and I fell flat.” Samuel hovered around her, shaking his hands in distress. “Mama needed those eggs. I feel awful.”
Beulah sat back on her heels and sighed. “The chickens will lay more eggs tomorrow, I’m sure. We still have two from yesterday. Don’t worry about it. I’m thankful you’re not hurt.”
Samuel crouched beside her. “Are you feeling all right, Beulah? Is Myles dying? Is Sheriff Boz dying? Why are you being so nice?”
Beulah frowned, then chuckled. “As far as I know, no one is dying. Papa says the sheriff is holding his own. I simply don’t see any point in being angry about smashed eggs. You didn’t intend to break them, and someone has to clean it up. I’m not busy right now like Mama is, so I’m right for the job.”
Her brother laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Beulah. You’re a peach.” With a fond pat, he hurried from the room.
When the floor was no longer sticky, Beulah sat back with a satisfied sigh. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“Beulah,” Samuel called from another room. “Mama wants you to collect the dishes from Myles’s room. And can you set beans to soak?”
“I will.” When the beans were covered and soaking, Beulah washed her hands and checked her reflection in the blurry mirror. Her hair was reasonably neat, and the chapping around her mouth had cleared. She touched her lower lip, recalling Myles’s ardent kisses. “Will he ever kiss me again?” she whispered.
Glancing at the ceiling, she sighed again. Lord, please give me peace about the future. I know You are in control, but I always want to know about things right now! Please help me to control my emotions around Myles and to seek Your will.
Minutes later, Beulah knocked at the bedroom door. “Myles?”
Silence.
She pushed open the door. He lay with arms folded across his chest, staring out the window. “Myles, do you mind if I collect your dishes?”
He did not so much as bat an eye. Biting her lower lip, Beulah began to load the dinner dishes onto her tray. Mrs. Van Huysen had picked at her food. Myles must have enjoyed his stew.
“Please stay,” Myles begged as Beulah prepared to lift the tray. He reached out a hand. She was startled to see that his eyelids were red and swollen.
“Myles, what’s wrong? Where is your grandmother?” She wrapped his cold hand within both of hers. “Are you hurting?”
His other hand fiddled with a buttonhole on his undervest; the corresponding button was missing. “Yes.” He pressed her hand to his cheek and heaved a shaky sigh.
“I’m so sorry!” Beulah settled into the chair beside his bed. “Would you like me to read to you?”
“No. Don’t go so far away.”
Beulah blinked. “Far? I’m right next to you. Where is Mrs. Van Huysen?”
“Lying down, I think. I don’t care. Nothing matters anymore.”
She reached out to feel his forehead. “You’re cool and damp. Would you like another blanket?”
When she would have returned to the chair, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled until her feet left the floor. Sprawled across him, Beulah felt his face press into her neck. “Myles, let me go! What if my mother walked in right now? She would murder me!”
“I need you, Beulah. Just hold me, please! I won’t do anything indecent, I promise.”
Hearing tears in his voice, she stilled. “Myles, what is wrong?” Her hand came to rest on his upper arm. It was hard as stone. His entire body was as tense as a bowstring.
“Do you love me, Beulah?”
Her teeth began to chatter from pure nerves. Something was not right. She felt a terrible heaviness in her spirit. “Yes, I love you. I do. Myles, whatever is wrong? I’m frightened.” Pushing up with one arm, she regarded his face. “You were bright and cheerful when I brought lunch. Is the pain that bad? I’ll get Mama.”
“No!” He gripped her wrist. His eyes were glassy and intense. “Will you marry me right away? We can start over somewhere else, maybe homestead a place.”
She shook her head in confusion. “I thought you planned to buy the Thwaite farm and settle here. Why should we marry right away? You’re acting so strange, Myles.”
He emitted a bark of laughter. “Plans? I have no more plans. Not ever. Plans involve depending on someone else. I will never again trust anyone but myself. And you, of course. You’ll be my wife. We can live by ourselves out West.”
The dread in Beulah’s chest increased. “Please tell me what has happened.” She twisted her arm, trying to escape his vise-like grip.
He suddenly released her and flung both forearms over his face. “Same old story. I trust someone, they let me down. Everyone I have ever depended on has failed me. Everyone. Most of all God. As soon as I start trusting Him even the slightest bit, the world caves in. If you desert me, too, Beulah, I think I’ll crawl away and die.”
She reached a hand toward his arched chest, then drew it back. “But God will never fail you. Why do you think He let you down?”
Myles sat up in a rush of flying blankets. Eyes that reminded Beulah of a cornered cougar’s blazed into her soul, and an oath blasted from Myles’s lips. His white teeth were bared. “Enough of this insanity! The entire concept of a loving, all-powerful God is absurd. A fairy tale we’ve been force-feeding children for generations. A superstition from the Dark Ages. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about God to me again, do you hear?”
Beulah’s mouth dropped open.
His fury faded. “Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of monster! I need you, Beulah!” Flinging the blankets aside, Myles swung his legs over the far side of the bed and tried to stand on his good leg.
Seeing him sway, she sprang around the foot of the bed. “What are you doing? Myles, get back in bed or I’ll call Papa.” She stopped cold, realizing that he wore nothing but winter underwear. Hot blood flooded her face, and she rushed back to stand by the door.
He whipped a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his waist. Jaw set, he hopped to the window and looked down on bare trees and blowing snow. “That’s how I feel inside: cold, gray, and lifeless.”
“That’s because you’ve turned your back on God.” Beulah was surprised to hear herself speak. “What happened to you, Myles? Why are you acting this way?”
He huffed. “I’ll tell you what happened. For years Buck has been telling me about God, about salvation. Finally I decided to try this thing out, trusting God. I wrote to Gram. I started giving God credit for the good things happening in my life. I even started believing that He was with me. When I read the Bible it was as if He talked to me.”
Beulah studied his broad shoulders and felt her dreams crumbling.
“I began to believe that He had wonderful plans for my life—marriage with you, the farm I’ve always wanted, and friends who like me for myself, not because I’m a Van Huysen. I’ve never wanted the money; I’ve been proud to support myself and lean on no one…except maybe Buck. But since God told me to reconcile with Gram, I figured He must intend me to make use of my inheritance. I didn’t want much; just enough to buy a farm and set us up with a good living. Then I found out that you loved me—life was looking incredibly good. Gram came, asked me to forgive her, and I did. Great stuff. Everything coming together.”
He fell silent.
Beulah settled into a chair, hands clenched in her lap.
“Then the cannonball drops: There is no money. The family friend who ran the Van Huysen Soap Company mismanaged it into bankruptcy, sold out to another manufacturer, and is now president of that company. He swindled it all away and left Gram holding massive debts. She sold off most of our stock and commercial properties to pay the debts, then mortgaged the family house to pay for the detectives who found me. There is no money. None.”
Beulah tried to sound sympathetic. “Don’t the police know how that man cheated your grandmother? Isn’t there something you could do to help her?”
“There is no money to pay for lawyers, and apparently Mr. Roarke covered his legal tracks. It looks as shady as the bottom of a well, but no one can prove anything.”
“Poor Mrs. Van Huysen. I can understand why you are upset. Had you been there to keep an eye on the business, this might not have happened to her.”
Myles turned to fix her with a glare. “Don’t you understand, Beulah? Gram is fine; she still has the old house and a small stipend to live on. The money lost was my money! This is the end of my dream. I have no money to buy a farm, and I can’t support a family on my pay as a hired hand. We cannot stay here. Either I must return to New York and try to break back into the music world—which would not be an easy task no matter what Gram says—or I must head out West and find land to homestead.”
Beulah’s chest heaved, and her heart thudded against her ribs. That heavy, ugly feeling weighed on her spirit. “So when it looks like God is answering your prayers the way you want, you believe in Him. As soon as things don’t go your way, you decide He doesn’t exist? That isn’t faith, Myles. That is opportunism. And I thought I was a selfish person! I don’t care what you decide to do. Whatever it is, you’ll do it without me.”
Picking up the tray, she stalked from the room.