16

Sorry to disturb you like this,” Wade announced, holding tight to Abrianna despite her protest, “but Abrianna has had a pretty big shock. She fainted back at the food house and I thought it best to bring her here.”

Everyone at the bridal school had been enmeshed in chores, but the chaos came to a standstill at Wade’s announcement. Mrs. Madison dismissed the others girls who’d been cleaning the downstairs and ordered they gather the others upstairs and go to the ballroom to practice their dance steps for the upcoming bridal ball. Clara was instructed to play the organ to give the girls some music to dance by and Virginia, the most proficient of the students in dance, was appointed to assist any of the others in their steps.

Miriam Madison wasted no time after the girls were gone. “Poisie, please fetch some tea. Selma, we need a cold, damp cloth.” She turned on her heel toward Wade and Abrianna. “Now, I think it’s best we get to the bottom of this situation.”

Wade looked to Abrianna and nodded. He squeezed her hand. “Go on. It is best to get it all out.”

Her gaze latched onto his and for a brief moment, Wade hoped she might one day feel love for him; after all he knew no one would ever care for her as much as he did.

She broke eye contact and took a deep breath. In a matter of moments she had spilled out all the details of Pastor Walker’s visit to the food house. Wade watched Abrianna’s ire rise again as she recounted the man of the cloth’s words and then humble Jay’s surprising declaration.

“And just like that,” Abrianna told them, “he said he was my father.”

Miss Poisie bustled into the room. “Oh, do tell me I haven’t missed anything.”

“It would seem a man has come to Abrianna declaring himself to be her father,” Mrs. Gibson replied before anyone else could.

Miss Poisie’s eyes widened. “Her dead father?”

Her sister shook her head and raised her chin. “Not so dead, apparently.”

Miss Poisie brought a cup of tea to Abrianna. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ackerman, did you wish to have tea, as well? I’m afraid seeing Abrianna so upset caused me to forget my manners.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Miss Poisie brought him a cup of tea anyway. “I must say this has been such a month of shocking news from our Abrianna. I shall always remember May of 1889 as such. Goodness, but when Abrianna announced she was going to allow Mr. Welby to court her, I very nearly fell out of my chair. Just imagine it, our Abrianna courting and perhaps even married before the year is out.”

Wade blinked several times. His ears must have deceived him. Miss Poisie didn’t just say . . . no . . . she couldn’t have. “What?” He looked to Abrianna. “Mr. Welby? Why?”

She shrugged as if the matter were completely immaterial. “It’s a long story, but suffice it to say I thought hard about what you had said. I had been praying for answers and help for the poor, and it all just seemed to come together when he asked to court me.”

“What could I have possibly said that suggested you should court that man?” His question came out much louder than he had intended.

“There’s no need to raise your voice, Wade. You were the one who posed the questions about whether I wanted a husband and children. I had taken this subject to prayer, as I was sure God wanted me to serve Him, and I wasn’t at all certain I could do that and marry. And then there was the terrible burden of seeing those homeless people without a place to sleep. I knew we had to do something, especially before another winter set in.

“I didn’t know for sure how God would provide, but then Mr. Welby approached me, and one thing led to another.”

“But I never meant . . . not Priam Welby.” Wade ran his hand through his hair. What had he done? Could he even fathom losing Abrianna to that . . . that . . . snake? This day couldn’t get any worse. He opened his mouth to say his piece, but no words came out.

“We are often surprised by God’s answers.” Apparently Mrs. Gibson didn’t have any trouble finding words. She sat down and shook her head. “I know in dealing with Mr. Gibson—”

Miss Poisie perked up. “God rest his soul.”

“Amen,” Mrs. Madison and Mrs. Gibson declared.

“He had many misgivings about God. I prayed for God to make him see the truth, and Mr. Gibson suffered a stroke. Now, that didn’t look at all like I thought answered prayer would look, but it was clear that I could take the opportunity to spend my husband’s last days reading the Word of God to him. In doing so he would have the chance to make his soul right before God. At least that was my prayer.”

“It’s true,” Miss Poisie said, bobbing her head. “I have had many answers to prayer look different from what I thought they would look like. Sometimes that makes it very sad, as in losing my dear Captain.”

“God rest his soul,” Mrs. Gibson murmured.

The other three women nodded. “Amen.”

“That very well may be,” Wade interjected, “however I never meant to imply that Abrianna should court Mr. Welby. I think this needs greater consideration. The man is a scoundrel.”

“You’ve experienced this firsthand?” Aunt Miriam questioned.

He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

Abrianna set aside the cloth and picked up her tea. “We can talk about all of this another time. It’s not like I’m in any hurry to spend time with him.” She looked to her aunts. “Do you think it’s really possible Mr. Bowes is my father? He says he is James Bowes Cunningham.”

“That was indeed your father’s name,” Mrs. Madison said, giving a slow nod.

“I always thought it a rather complicated name for a man of lesser means,” Mrs. Gibson added. “It seems that the poorer folk should have simpler names.”

“I agree,” Miss Poisie said. “Ink costs good money, and if you had to write your name very often, a lengthy name would cost you a great deal in ink.”

Wade wanted to scream but remained silent. Lord, what do I do?

Abrianna wasn’t sidetracked, however. “Did you have any idea my father might be alive?”

“No, none at all,” Mrs. Madison assured her. “We were quite certain he had died. Why would a man otherwise not be in touch with his family?”

“Especially a man with such an expanded name,” Miss Poisie added, looking to Mrs. Gibson for her approval. The old lady nodded and Miss Poisie looked back to Abrianna and Mrs. Madison with a satisfied smile.

Abrianna didn’t seem to notice or care. “He said he was falsely accused of murder and thrown into prison for twenty years.”

Miss Poisie sat down hard, as if the news were too much. “Murder? How very awful.”

“I thought so, as well,” Abrianna continued, “but was determined to consider that matter another day. After all, the issue of whether or not he’s my father is the one foremost in my mind.”

“We will have to have him here to tea,” Mrs. Madison said.

“Oh, Sister, is that wise?” Miss Poisie looked to Abrianna. “Was he falsely accused of murdering a man or a woman?”

Wade rolled his eyes. Once the snowball started rolling with these women, it could only grow.

Without waiting for Abrianna to reply, Mrs. Gibson offered a suggestion. “There is one way we might be able to ascertain the truth. Your mother’s pin.”

“God rest her soul,” Miss Poisie murmured.

“Amen. I had all but forgotten it,” Mrs. Madison said without pause. “That might shed some light on his identity. He gave the pin to your mother on their first anniversary. Your mother told us it was something he had saved up for and surprised her with. He was quite proud of that gift.”

“Indeed. According to your mother it was the only thing he ever gave her. They couldn’t afford a ring when they married.”

“I will wear it when we have him to tea.”

“A murderer to tea,” Mrs. Gibson murmured. “My, we are quite the sophisticates.”

“Falsely accused,” Abrianna added. “Although I have no proof of that, either.”

“I suppose we should host him outside,” Mrs. Madison said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t want him to worry about his attire. He’s obviously without means if he comes to have soup with the others.”

“And he did shorten his name,” Miss Poisie offered.

“Yes, that would suggest he thinks as we do.” Mrs. Gibson got to her feet. “The shorter name is more befitting his lowly position in life.”

“I have no idea of his financial condition. He could be as wealthy as Mr. Welby, for all I know. After all, he managed to keep his identity a secret all this time.” Abrianna sat up with a start. “Goodness. We left Militine and Thane to run the food house. We should get back and help them.”

Wade shook his head. “No, you stay and rest. I’ll head back and see to the cleanup. I think you’ve dealt with quite enough for one day. Possibly for one month.”

“It’s true. Our Abrianna has been full of shocking information this month,” Miss Poisie agreed. “It’s a wonder we have been able to properly digest our meals given all this uproar.”

Wade said nothing more, feeling his own stomach sour. If he opened his mouth, he very well might say the wrong thing. For now, he would hold his peace and deal with the entire Welby matter at a later time. But if he had his way about it, Welby would never have an opportunity to pursue Abrianna.

With the last of the men finally shuffling out the door, Militine felt her resolve give way. Without warning she burst into tears and hid her face in the folds of her apron. The shock of Abrianna’s father and the realization that anyone, but anyone, could walk in at any given moment left her feeling completely exposed to the past. What if her father appeared?

Thane came to her almost immediately and took her in his arms. She had no strength to fight him off, nor did she want to. He held her close and whispered in her ear, but the words didn’t make sense in her head. Her thoughts were overwhelmed with visions of a life lived before Seattle. A hopelessly ugly life that Militine hoped never to experience again.

“Please don’t cry so. I don’t know what’s troubling you, but you must surely know that I love you, Militine.”

His words broke through her tortured memories. She looked up, tears still streaming. “You what?”

“I love you. You have to know that. I realize there are a great many things about me that you don’t know, but I want to make certain that you hear this one thing. I love you.”

“Stop saying that.” She pulled away, hating the look of hurt on his face. “You’re right about not knowing things, but it’s equally a problem on my part. There is so much of me you have no knowledge of, and believe me, you won’t feel the same once you do.”

“I don’t believe you. Nothing could make me stop loving you.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Oh really? Well, I can think of at least a handful that will. I suppose I should have been honest from the beginning, but I came here hoping I could forget the past and everything associated with my life back then.” The tears yielded to her anger. “God knows there is nothing but pain to remember.”

“You aren’t the only one who feels that way about their life. I’ve been trying to tell you that for months.” He moved a few steps to the right and took up a chair. Setting it backward he waved his hand. “So shock me. I suppose you will tell me that your father used to beat you. I’ve already guessed that part. Mine did likewise. I suppose you might also tell me that he punished you in other cruel fashions—starvation, isolation, humiliation. So did mine.”

“I ran away,” she threw back at him. “I knew I could never get away from him without a good head start, so I drugged his coffee. Then I took all the money I could find and I ran. I’m a poisoner and thief.”

She turned away, not willing to see Thane’s face. If his expression held a look of disgust or even pity, she would never be able to face him again. Why did this have to happen? Why had Abrianna’s father ever come back? Just his very presence stole any sense of peace that Militine might have known. There was nothing left to do but move on. She’d have to leave Seattle and the friends she’d made. She’d have to go on the run once again.

Thane touched her shoulders and turned her to face him. “It doesn’t change my heart, Militine. Like I said, there is nothing you can say that will make me feel otherwise. As much as I love you, I hate your father for hurting you. You only did what you had to in order to survive.”

Forcing herself to look up, Militine saw only love and acceptance in his expression. He tenderly touched her cheek, and she tried to pull away. Tenderness was perhaps the cruelest thing he could offer. To experience such an emotion only to lose it would no doubt be the death of her.

“Tell me anything else you need me to know, and then I will tell you my story. After that, we will bury it away and have nothing more to do with it.”

“It’s not that simple, Thane.” She shook her head. “By all of society’s beliefs and rules, I am unacceptable.”

“I don’t care about their beliefs or rules. I only care about you.”

She bit her lower lip. There was no way around this. She would have to tell him everything. “My mother and father never married. My mother was his kept woman, a heathen by the standards of this world. She was Crow Indian. That makes me a half-breed. My skin is lighter, more like my father’s, and I even share some of his facial features, but my eyes and dark hair are gifts from my mother.”

“And I love them, just as I love you.” He took her by the hands and led her to a chair. “Sit.” He pressed his hands gently against her shoulders. “Sit, and I will tell you why none of this matters.”

He drew his chair up and sat directly in front of her. “The world can have its prejudices and social mores. God knows I’ve suffered at the hands of such people. None of that matters, Militine. The only thing that matters to me is whether you can love a man who is the son of a murderer. A man who saw his father kill countless times and said nothing. A man who, as a boy, saw his father kill for nothing more than sport.” Thane drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “A boy who watched his mother be killed because she happened to be nice to a farmhand.”

“You had said she was murdered.”

“But I never explained that my father did the deed. She had taken pity on our farmhand and allowed him to come into the house and warm himself by the fire. It was a vicious winter day. A blizzard had been raging for hours. They were sharing a cup of coffee and laughing when my father found them. He believed the worst, and without allowing either of them to explain, he drew his gun and shot them both.”

“And you were forced to witness this?”

“Yes. I was home from school sick. I was just across the room when my father stormed into the house. He didn’t care about the truth. I tried to tell him after he’d killed them, and he still didn’t care. He was never remorseful. Never. Not even when the townspeople hanged him.”

It was Militine’s turn to reach out. She touched his cheek. “I’m so sorry. It would seem we both know what it is to have violence in our lives.”

Thane shook his head. “I blame myself. If I’d just had the guts to confront my father or turn him over to the law for all those other murders he committed . . . but I didn’t.”

“And who is to say that anyone would have listened if you had?” Militine asked. Hadn’t she herself tried to elicit help from others? It either served to get her into worse situations or the person didn’t care. After a time, she stopped trying. “But to answer your question, yes. I can and do love you. Your past . . . the things done to you . . . do not keep me from feeling what I feel.”

“Then you can believe me when I say that your past doesn’t matter where my heart is concerned?”

She nodded. “For the first time in my life, I think I can.”

“We’re both going to need help, however,” he said. “Wade has gotten me to thinking on God quite a bit lately. I’m afraid I’ve not given God much of a chance in my life.”

“Abrianna has gotten me thinking, as well. I’ve tried to see God as my mother taught me, as a loving Father who wants only good for all of His children.” The memory of her mother’s tender words brought her image to mind, something Militine hadn’t allowed for in years. “I wanted so much to hold on to her view of God. When I first came here, I pretended I believed so that I would be accepted at the school. No matter how hard I tried, I just kept coming back to the fact that if He loved me so much, He sure had a poor of way of showing it.”

Thane’s expression told her that he completely understood. “Maybe together we can try again. Maybe together we can find the strength to bury our anger and learn to trust Him. I think He is a good and loving God. I don’t think He liked what happened to either of us any more than we did. But most of all, I don’t think He wants either of us to give up and spend the rest of our lives in the past. Maybe that’s why He’s brought us together. He knew we’d need each other in order to learn to forgive.”

“And to forget,” she added. Especially to forget.