CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

Jonas was waiting in front of the bank in a buggy. Tyler strode around to the other side and climbed in. “Let’s go pay a visit to Gunter.”

“How did it go in there?” his assistant asked, nodding toward the bank.

Tyler rubbed his jaw, thinking it over. “Not as badly as I’d anticipated, but Boothe was definitely not happy about it.”

“But the partnership is dissolved?”

“Completely. We each tore up our copy of the agreement.”

Jonas sighed in relief. “Well, I’m certainly glad that’s over. I think Claire has good reason to mistrust that man.”

“We still have to get Gunter’s employers’ backing, you know. Without it, I can’t build my docks.”

They stopped at the sheriff’s office, where Tyler went inside. He found Gunter sitting on the wooden bed, staring desolately at the floor. “Mr. McCane!” he said, jumping up. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Has the attorney been here?”

“Yes, he came this morning. A very able man, this Mr. Oldham is. If anyone can get me out of this jail cell, it will be him.”

“Jonas says he’s quite capable. I’m sure you’ll be out in no time.”

“I have to go to court tomorrow. I hope to be able to go home then.”

“I hope so, too.” Tyler pulled up the stool and sat on it. “Do you remember our conversation about building boat docks on the river at Bellefleur?”

“Yes, you expressed an interest in speaking with my employers on the subject.”

“Do you think you can wire them when you get out of here?”

“I would be happy to.” Gunter gave a lop-sided grin. “Of course, I would be even happier just to get out of here.”

“If they were to agree to back me, how long would it take before we could work out some kind of deal?”

Gunter scratched his temple. “Perhaps a month. There would be much paperwork to sign first, of course.”

“That’s no problem.” Tyler rose and shook the Swede’s hand. “Well, good luck tomorrow. We’ll talk more when you get out.”

Tyler related the conversation to Jonas on the ride back to Bellefleur. “The only problem with using Gunter’s employers is that Claire will still need money to run the farm until their money comes through. I suppose I’d better plan on using the LADY LUCK’s profits for a while.”

Jonas gave him a curious glance. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Tyler rubbed his jaw. “I’ve never had to worry about supporting anyone but myself.”

“Ah, that’s it. You’re frightened.”

Tyler threw him a cold look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous. You’re taking on not just a wife, but a family, as well. Let’s face it, Ty, you’ve led a selfish life until now. That’s hard to give up.”

“I don’t like being called selfish, old man.”

Jonas sniffed. “Then how does the word parsimonious sit with you?”

“How does the word unemployed sit with you?” Tyler shot back.

“Overused,” Jonas retorted.

They rode in silence the rest of the way home. As they pulled up in front of the house, Tyler saw Emily sitting alone on one side of the house. He walked over to see what she was doing while Jonas drove to the stables.

“Hi, Tyler,” she said, before he’d even opened his mouth.

“Hi, Em.” He crouched down on the blanket, marveling at her extraordinary ability to recognize a person. “Playing with your puppets?”

She scoffed at the notion. “I’m too old to play. We were rehearsing.”

Tyler glanced around curiously. “You and who else?”

“Me and Hare and Wiler, silly!”

Tyler smacked himself on the forehead, causing Emily to giggle. “Of course! What are you rehearsing?”

“A new play.” She wiggled her hand into the rabbit’s cloth body. “But Hare is very sad today. I’m having a hard time getting her to cooperate.”

“Anything I can do?”

Emily sighed, her small face growing contemplative. “Perhaps if you listen to her story, that will make her feel better.”

“All right.” Tyler made himself more comfortable.

“Once upon a time,” she began, “A little bunny named Hare lived with her mom in a mean farmer’s field. Oh, I forgot to tell you that Hare didn’t have a father. He was killed by a fox when Hare was a baby. Anyway, one day the farmer caught Hare’s mother in a trap and threw her and Hare out of the garden into the dark, scary woods. Hare’s mother had to find food for them, so she left the little bunny alone while she went looking in other gardens for something to eat. Poor Hare was so frightened. She had no home and no food, and she was left for days all by herself.”

Tyler watched the emotions play across Emily’s face. He knew she was telling a story about Claire, but he wasn’t sure why.

“Finally, a big, strong jackrabbit discovered Hare and her mother and felt sorry for them. He took them to his warm den in the ground to live, and he fell in love with Hare’s mother and they got married. Poor Hare was very sad when her beautiful mother died, but she still loved it there in the den. Then one day the jackrabbit died and she was alone again and frightened, especially when the mean farmer tried to buy the field where the den was, so Hare wouldn’t have a home. But then another jackrabbit came along. He didn’t love Hare, but he wanted to help her. She fell in love with him and they got married -- but they didn’t live happily ever after, because what Hare really wanted all along was someone to love her.”

Emily sighed again and turned her head toward Tyler. “That’s all.”

It was more than enough. Tyler wished he could assure Emily that the tale would turn out happily ever after without love, but he knew she wouldn’t accept it. She wanted a fairy tale ending. “Thank you for the story, Emily. I hope Hare will feel better now.”

“Me, too,” she replied wistfully. Suddenly, she cocked her head to one side, listening intently. “Here comes Jonas.”

Tyler turned as his assistant trudged toward them. “Why, if it isn’t my old chum, Emily!” Jonas exclaimed. “Did I miss a show?”

“A story,” Tyler corrected.

“I love stories.” Jonas took a seat on the blanket. “Will you tell me?”

 

Standing beside the open window in her bedroom, Claire watched the scene in the yard below. She found it odd that Tyler should take the time to sit and talk with Emily. Her first thought had been to warn her sister to beware of Tyler; that he was not the man she thought she knew. Yet Claire had to admit that Tyler had always been patient and kind to Emily. For her sake, marrying Tyler was probably the right thing to do. But what kind of marriage would it be?

Morosely, Claire turned away from the window. How difficult it was to love someone and not have that love returned. How she yearned to share her thoughts and dreams with Tyler. How she longed to be close to him, to know his deepest fears and greatest triumphs. How she desired to share her body with him. Claire had always dreamed of a marriage in which two people pledged their undying love to each other. But if one of those people didn’t share the love, wouldn’t their vows would be a mockery? Wouldn’t their marriage be, as well?

Lulu had insisted that people could learn to love each other. Claire knew she would be foolish to count on that happening. The question she still had to answer was, could she live in a marriage without love? Or more important, did she want to?

 

Tyler left Jonas and Emily and returned to the house, feeling oddly unsettled by Emily’s little tale. He hadn’t known the details of Claire’s early life and, in truth, hadn’t really cared to know. He’d always felt sorry for himself for having a rotten childhood. He hadn’t even considered that anyone else might have had a rough go of it.

He now knew Claire had been orphaned, and that Arthur Cavanaugh wasn’t her birth father. What Tyler wasn’t sure of was Reginald Boothe’s role in the story. Had he been the farmer who not only coveted the den where Claire lived, but who had also trapped her mother and threw her out? Emily’s tale seemed to imply so. If that was true, Tyler could understand Claire’s hatred of the man.

He saw Mrs. Parks sitting on a rocking chair on the porch, knitting contentedly, and decided she was just the person to ask. After glancing through the screen door to make sure no one else was nearby, he walked over to the elderly housekeeper.

“Afternoon, ma’am.”

“Why, hello, Mr. –“She looked puzzled for a moment, then her face brightened. “Mr. McCane! Are you back so soon?”

“It’s nearly time for supper,” he said, hunkering down near her chair.

“Oh, dear. I seem to have lost track of the time.”

“Sitting here in the shade of the porch on such a beautiful day, I imagine it would be easy to lose track of time.”

“You’re very kind to say so, Mr. McCane.”

“I’ll bet you’ve seen many summers come and go from this porch.”

“Oh, my, yes!”

“I’ll bet you remember when Claire and her mother arrived, too.”

Mrs. Parks’ hands stilled and her eyes grew wistful. “Such an exciting time that was. This house needed a family, and so did Claire. Poor child, she was frightened of her own shadow when she first came to us. But it was quite understandable. She’d been subjected to all sorts of horrors, living in terrible conditions while her mother tried to find work. It was years before her nightmares stopped.

“And then there was poor Mr. Cavanaugh,” she continued, “who’d been alone for so long. Then he found Marie and fell head over heels in love with her.” Mrs. Parks sighed. “Such a beautiful woman was our Marie, so sweet-natured and kind. It was easy to see why he fell in love with her.” The elderly lady shook her head as she resumed her knitting. “I’ll never understand why that horrible man treated her so cruelly.”

Tyler had a hunch who she meant. “You’re speaking of Reginald Boothe, of course.”

“Oh my, yes. Marie worked for him before she came here, you see.” Mrs. Parks’ face suddenly took on a stony look. “He hurt her in ways beyond belief. They never spoke of it again, Marie and Arthur. But the reminder was always there.”

Claire heard voices coming from the porch and stopped by a window to listen. Catching enough of the conversation to realize what it was about, she dashed to the front door just as Tyler spoke again.

“What reminder was that, Mrs. Parks?”

Mrs. Parks turned as Claire came out of the house. “Hello, dear. Is it supper time yet?”

“Nearly. Why don’t you come in now, and I’ll help you get ready?”

“Why, thank you, dear.” She folded up her knitting and put it in the basket alongside the chair.

As Tyler stood up and moved aside, Claire cast him a quick, questioning glance. “Supper will be on the table shortly, if you would be so kind as to inform my sister and Jonas.” She helped Mrs. Parks up and walked with her into the house.

Tyler watched her for a moment, wondering if Claire had overheard the conversation and had purposely interrupted them. Now he was all the more curious.

 

At the supper table that evening, Claire had the distinct feeling that everyone was watching her and not really concentrating on the conversation. She ate hastily and was the first to rise at the end of the meal.

When the dishes were done Claire walked quietly up the hallway, intending to slip upstairs where she could be alone to think. But Tyler was waiting for her in the front hall. He was wearing black boots and pants, and a white shirt that stood out like snow against his tanned neck. Just seeing him made her heart ache.

He pushed himself away from the door and walked towards her. “Would you join me for a stroll? I have some good news.”

His husky voice still had the power to send shivers of excitement up her spine. Claire gave a nod of assent and followed him outside. He held out his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it. His eyes held hers for a long moment, as though he were trying to divine her thoughts. Claire looked away, fearing he would see the love there.

They strolled down to the riverbank.

“I met with Boothe today,” Tyler began. “We dissolved the partnership.” He pulled several scraps of paper from his pocket and showed her. “This was our agreement. I figured you’d want to see some proof.”

Claire opened one of the folded pieces, glanced at it, and handed it back. “I’m relieved,” she admitted.

“I understand.”

Claire glanced at him sharply. “What do you understand?”

“Why you despise Reginald Boothe.”

Claire’s heart began to pound in dread. Could Tyler have learned the secret of Emily’s birth? Claire had hoped she’d interrupted their conversation before Mrs. Parks had revealed that. “And why do I despise Boothe?” she asked, watching him carefully.

His brows drew together, as though he was puzzled by her question. “Mrs. Parks told me he hurt your mother.”

Claire let out her breath in relief. “Why were you asking questions about us?”

Tyler shrugged nonchalantly. “I was curious. Emily told me you had come to Bellefleur as a child. Is it true?”

Claire nodded. “My father died when I was a baby. He was a soldier. To support us, my mother took jobs cooking and cleaning. Her last employer was Reginald Boothe. He – dismissed her after two months. Then my father, or rather Arthur Cavanaugh, hired her and they fell in love. They married shortly afterward. Emily was born the following summer.”

“Was she born blind?”

“Yes. My mother caught rubella when she was carrying Emily.”

Tyler shook his head sadly. “That’s a pity.”

“In truth, it bothers others more than it bothers Emily. She’s a remarkable child.” Claire glanced at Tyler as they strolled along. “Now that you know about my history, I think it’s only fair you tell me something about yours.”

“There’s not much to tell. My father left home when I was five years old. My mother took me to live with my uncle in New Orleans. I spent the following fifteen years working on my uncle’s riverboat until I had saved enough money to buy my own.” Tyler shrugged. “That’s about it.”

“Why did your mother take you to live with your uncle?”

Tyler rubbed his jaw hard, as though the question disturbed him. “She was having a hard time raising me. I guess I was a pretty bad kid. Anyway, I was glad to go.”

“Did she visit you?”

“What for?”

Claire frowned in bewilderment. “Why would any mother visit her child? Because she loved him. And to see how he was doing.”

She saw his eyes go flat. “I never saw my mother again. I saw my father once, when his drunken body turned up in the water near the dock where my uncle’s boat was moored.”

For a long moment, Claire was too astonished to speak. She remembered vividly how it felt to be abandoned; yet for her, it had only been for a matter of hours. “I’m terribly sorry,” she finally said.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” Tyler said tersely. “I didn’t miss them.”

“You were five years old. Of course you missed your parents.”

“I didn’t miss them,” Tyler repeated. His jaw tightened, and Claire could feel the tenseness of his arm muscle where her hand rested. She knew instinctively he was lying to himself. How it must have hurt when they didn’t come back for him. How lonely and unloved that five-year-old child must have felt. At least she had been sure of her mother’s and father’s love for her.

“Anyway,” he finished, “it taught me a good lesson: never depend on anyone but myself.”

Perhaps that explained why he didn’t love her, Claire thought. Perhaps he had decided never to risk loving anyone again.

She wondered if she could accept that.

 

At nine o’clock the next morning, Claire, Lulu and Emily watched the hearing from the first row in the fire station’s meeting room. In front, Mr. Oldham sat on Gunter’s left.

The prosecutor, Lawrence Jamieson, sat on the right. Only three years out of law school, Jamieson had become popular with the citizens because of his even temper and friendly nature.

When the judge entered, everyone rose. Judge Crawford was a short, portly, red-faced man dressed in linsey-woolsey and a broad-brimmed hat. He strode to the table at the front, took off his hat, adjusted his chair, and pounded the gavel twice.

“The court is now in session,” he announced, holding the lapels of his coat. “What is the business of the day?”

Jamieson rose and introduced himself to the court, and then Oldham followed suit. After each side gave their opening statements, Claire listened confidently as Oldham made his case for dismissal. Jamieson’s accusations were so farfetched that she nearly laughed. And when the judge finally rapped his gavel to announce his decision, Claire was positive the case would be dismissed.

‘It is the judgment of this Court,” Crawford began, “that the motion for dismissal is hereby denied. Furthermore, the defendant shall remain incarcerated without bail until the trial.”

Claire gasped and Lulu spluttered in outrage, while the rest of room broke out in loud chatter.

“Cee Cee, what does incarcerated mean?” Emily asked anxiously, tugging on her sleeve.

“Gunter has to stay in jail until they have a trial,” Claire explained, still in a state of shock. “The judge won’t let him go.”

“They’re not going to hang him, are they?”

“Don’t even think that -- Gunter is innocent!” Claire looked around at Gunter, who was sitting slumped over in his chair, his head in his hands. Sheriff Simons, standing at one side of the room, looked almost as distraught as Gunter did.

As she watched, Gunter slowly turned his head to look at the sheriff. For a long moment, the two men stared at each other, then the sheriff dropped his gaze, a look of shame on his face. Claire burned to know what was behind that shame.