Though Waters Roar (35 page)

“Nothing will need to change,”
Mr. Harris had said, but the truth was, nothing would ever be the same.
“Remember how life changed
when the war started and the boys left home?”
Mama had once told her.
“And how it changed again when Franklin had to leave? Life is like that,
Beatrice—always changing, always flowing forward like a stream. Things
never stay the same. And we have to move on and change, too.”

“What if I don’t want things to change?”
Bebe had asked her mother.

“You can’t fight against the current. You need to trust God and be
prepared for wherever the river of life will take you next.”

Trust God. Was she angry with God? How could Bebe be angry when He had answered her prayers? She had prayed that Horatio would return to the cabin and sober up, and he had. God had answered Horatio’s prayers, too, finally granting him the courage and redemption he had long sought.
“Not my will, but thine, be
done.”
Bebe repeated the verse over and over, praying that she could mean it.

For the next few weeks, Bebe watched from her bedroom window as the floodwaters receded and the townspeople prepared to rebuild Roseton. In most ways her life hadn’t changed, just as Mr. Harris had promised. She had lived without Horatio’s companionship for a very long time, even though they’d shared the same house, the same bedroom. But as she thought about the provisions of Horatio’s will—and about God’s will—she became increasingly aware that a great injustice had been done. When she finally made up her mind what should be done about it, Bebe made an appointment with Mr. Harris, then sent Neal MacLeod a note, asking him to meet her at the lawyer’s office.

Bebe hadn’t been to the downtown area in weeks, and as her carriage drove through the streets she saw the last remnants of the floodwaters and piles of debris still waiting to be burned. A muddy watermark stained many of the surviving buildings, showing how high the water level had reached. Mr. Harris’s office on Central Avenue stood high enough above the river to be spared, for the most part.

Neal was already waiting in the outer office when Bebe arrived. He looked unchanged to her, as sturdy and strong and capable as ever. He stood up the moment she entered. “Listen, Beatrice, I want to apologize again for upsetting Mrs. Garner at the funeral. I didn’t know that she would recognize me. I wasn’t aware that she knew about . . . about Mary and me.”

“It’s not your fault, Neal. I didn’t know, either. She never said a word to me about you and Mary in all the years I’ve lived with her.” She was about to ask Neal how he was doing when Mr. Harris emerged from his office.

“Please come in, Mrs. Garner, and have a seat.” He waited until Bebe and Neal were seated in front of his desk and then said, “Once again, I want to say how sorry I am for your loss. Your husband will be remembered as a very great man in this town.”

“Thank you, Mr. Harris. You know our foreman, Neal MacLeod, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” The two men shook hands. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Garner?”

Bebe lifted her chin. “You told me that according to Horatio’s will, I have inherited all of his property, including the tannery. But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I don’t believe this arrangement is entirely fair. Mr. Garner had two sons—Horatio and Neal. I believe that, by rights, half of the tannery belongs to Neal.”

Neal shifted in his chair, suddenly uncomfortable. “What? Wait a minute. . . . You can’t be serious.”

“Yes, I’m quite serious.”

“But . . . I mean . . . that’s obviously not what my father wanted or he would have—”

“I disagree. Your father thought very highly of you and wanted
you
to run the tannery, not Horatio. The reason he didn’t acknowledge you publicly was to spare his wife’s feelings. But since Mrs. Garner is aware of the truth, I believe that his two sons should each inherit half of his business.” She turned to face the lawyer. “I would like you to transfer half ownership to Neal, Mr. Harris.”

“Wait!” Neal interrupted again. “I don’t think you should do this, Beatrice. I . . . I
can’t
let you do this.”

“Why not? You’ve been operating the tannery all these years, so it’s not as though I’m giving it to you for free—you’ve earned it. You’re the one who has made it profitable. Besides, if part ownership is in your hands, then my daughter and I will be even better off than we are now. I’m sure you’ll be motivated to work even harder if half of the tannery belongs to you.”

Neal slumped back in his seat, shaking his head in disbelief, but Bebe remained determined. “Can you arrange for the transfer, Mr. Harris?”

The lawyer had been watching and listening without commenting, but he finally spoke up. “Are you certain you wish to do this, Mrs. Garner?”

“Yes. I’m absolutely certain.”

“Very well. I’ll respect your wishes. I’ll prepare all of the necessary documents and deeds.”

Neal followed Bebe outside afterward, stopping her as they reached the curb. “I still can’t believe you would do this, Beatrice. It’s a very kind, generous thing to do. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”

“It was the right thing to do, Neal. You’re Mr. Garner’s son— I’m only his daughter-in-law. Besides, I watched you work at the tannery for more than a year, remember? I saw how much you love that place, how it has become part of you.”

“Yes . . . well . . . in any case, thank you. I’ll make certain you won’t regret it.”

Bebe’s carriage was parked nearby and the driver had opened the door for her. She had accomplished her task and had no reason to linger, yet neither she nor Neal seemed in a hurry to leave.

He cleared his throat. “Maybe . . . maybe this isn’t the best time to discuss this, for I know that you loved your husband and that you’re still in mourning. But I think you also know that I . . . I have feelings for you.”

“Yes. I know,” she said softly.

“During the time we worked together, it would have been wrong to tell you how I felt because you were a married woman. But now it’s no longer a sin. . . . I fell in love with you, Beatrice. Whenever I’ve thought about you for the past year and a half, I’ve wished that I had told you.”

“I knew. And you must have known that I fell in love with you, too. I realized too late that it was wrong. I should have guarded my heart better.”

Neal had been staring at his feet as they talked, but he finally looked up at her. “Someday . . . in a year or two . . . do you think there could ever be a future for us?” She saw love and hope and fear in his unguarded expression.

“Oh, Neal . . .” She closed her eyes, longing to share his hope, longing to fall into his arms. “I would love to believe that we might have a future together after enough time has passed, after I finish grieving for Horatio. But Mrs. Garner knows who you are. And if I left her to be with you . . .” Bebe shook her head. “I could never hurt her that way.”

Neal exhaled. “Yes, of course. I understand.” The muscles in his face worked as he battled his emotions. “I’m a reminder of her husband’s infidelity.”

“She has lost so much more than we have. Her husband betrayed her, her only son is dead, and the only thing she has left, besides Lucy and me, is her social position. I can’t take that away from her. Believe me, I don’t want to stay in that horrible house and live an empty life. I would much rather be with you. But I have to stay, for her sake.”

Do the right thing,
Bebe’s mother would have told her,
and trust
God to bring good out of it.
But she wondered as she watched Neal wipe away a tear that had escaped, if she ever would find the contentment and peace that Hannah had found.

“I might have chosen differently before I started working for the Temperance Union,” Bebe continued. “I used to think only of myself and what I wanted. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from that amazing group of women, it’s that God puts other people in our life so that we won’t have to suffer through it alone. I can’t leave Mrs. Garner all alone. God loves her, even if I find it hard to. And I’m responsible before God for how I treat her.”

“You’re a good woman, Beatrice,” he said, swallowing. “I never dreamed you would give me a share in the tannery. In fact, whenever I’ve thought about you and the possibility of a future together, I was afraid that it would seem as though I was pursuing you so that I could inherit it. It never would have been my intention to marry you for the business.”

“I know, Neal. I know you would never do that.”

“Well . . . maybe we should leave things the way they are— strictly business.” He looked up at her again, and she saw both love and pain in his eyes. She still could change her mind; she had only to speak the word and they could be together.

“Strictly business,” she whispered. She could barely see him through her tears. Bebe loved Horatio. He had just died, and she still couldn’t accept his loss. But she loved Neal MacLeod, too. Was such a thing possible?

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked. She nodded. “You could always come back to work with me at the tannery, you know.”

“The tannery is your life’s work, not mine. I have to move forward, not backward. And change is a part of life. I learned that growing up on the farm—sowing, growing, harvesting—life always goes on.”

“What will you do, then?”

It was becoming clear to Bebe that she would continue her work with the Temperance Union even though her family was no longer affected. As the wife of Roseton’s new hero, her voice would carry a great deal of clout. “With so much reconstruction taking place around here,” she said, “I need to make sure that all the saloons aren’t rebuilt, as well.”

“I know how smart and capable you are. I have no doubt at all that you’ll succeed in whatever you try to accomplish.”

“Thank you.”

The street had been free of traffic as they’d talked, but when a wagon and team of horses approached, Neal took Bebe’s arm and gently guided her away from the curb so the approaching vehicle wouldn’t splash them. “Why does life have to be so hard?” she asked after it passed.

“I don’t know. I guess that’s just the way it is.” He released her arm and began backing away from her, as he always did. She wanted to embrace him one last time but knew that she didn’t dare.

“Thank you again, for what you did with the tannery,” he said. “I’ll run it well, for both our sakes. I’ll make sure that you’re always well provided for.”

“I know I’m in good hands. Good-bye, Neal.”

“Good-bye.”

Bebe took one long, last look at him as he continued to back away from her. Then he finally turned and hurried off. “God go with you,” she whispered.

Bebe went upstairs to her mother-in-law’s room and knocked on her door as soon as she returned home. Trading a future with Neal MacLeod for a future with Mrs. Garner had been one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she knew she had made the right decision. Again, she thought of the words
Not my will,
but thine, be done.

“Mother Garner?” she said after knocking a second time. “It’s me, Beatrice.” When she still didn’t hear a reply, she went inside. The shades were drawn in the unkempt room, and Mrs. Garner lay buried beneath a mound of blankets and pillows. Bebe scooped up the tin of laudanum pills from her nightstand and slipped it into her pocket, then opened all the curtains and window shades.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Garner asked. The pillows muffled her voice.

“You have to get up, Mother Garner. You need to answer all of these condolence cards.”

“You do it.”

“I already answered the ones that were addressed to me. But good manners require you to respond to the ones addressed to you.”

“Who are you to lecture me about good manners?”

Bebe drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I share your grief, Mother Garner. I loved Horatio, too. But he wouldn’t want us to stop living. He would want us to carry on with our lives and learn to be happy again.”

The covers rustled as Mrs. Garner sat up, leaning on her elbows.

“What reason do I have to be happy? I have no one left.”

“That’s not true. You have Lucy . . . and me.”

Mrs. Garner stared at Bebe as if questioning her sincerity. “I suppose you’ll sell my home out from under me now, and everything will change. You never wanted anything to do with this house or our way of life.”

“I’m not selling the house, and nothing is going to change. You’re Horatio’s mother, and he loved you. I’ll always take care of you, for his sake. And for Lucy’s sake. She loves you, too.”

Mrs. Garner’s eyes were cold as she stared at Bebe. “If you hadn’t made him go up to that cabin with you, he would have been here at home where it was safe when the dam burst.”

Her mother-in-law’s words couldn’t hurt Bebe. She had punished herself with them a hundred times since Horatio died. “Maybe so,” she said quietly. “But thousands of innocent people would be dead.” She walked toward the door, then turned back. “I’m going to send Herta up with a tray of food. You need to eat something, Mother Garner, and regain your strength. I’m planning to invite a small group of your friends to come for tea next week. They are concerned about you. Besides, according to all the etiquette books, holding a small reception is the proper thing to do.”

Bebe felt a double measure of sorrow as she descended the stairs to speak with the cook—sorrow over Horatio and over Neal. Yet God seemed very close to her at that moment, as close as He had been the first time she’d prayed in front of a saloon. Loving her mother-in-law was the task that He had given to Bebe for now. And though nearly everything else in her life had been taken away, God was still with her.

And she was going to be fine.

By the time Grandma Bebe finished telling her story, I was crying. Tears flowed down her cheeks, too. I felt terrible for putting them there. I never should have made her relive that terrible day—much less relive it during Alice’s wedding reception. The musicians played a stately waltz, people laughed and danced— while we cried our eyes out.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hugging her. “I heard about the Great Flood of 1876 in school but no one ever told me what my grandfather did. Why didn’t you tell me this story before?”