A Thousand Little Blessings (19 page)

Gabriel finished the quote. “'Now that I have become a man, I put away childish things'.”

Mrs. Patek's smile indicated approval. “I use that passage to illustrate my point. When I was a child, I believed as a child. Now that I am near the end of my earthly journey, my faith is stronger. You are facing a trial now, Lieutenant. A very difficult trial. Have you asked the Lord for guidance?”

Gabriel thought back to the last time he'd seen Etta. She'd prayed for him that night by the creek and she'd received the Lord's answer. “I thought so, but nothing's working out the way I thought it would.”

“From what you said earlier, I assume you search for forgiveness.”

Gabriel looked at the amber liquid in his cup, unable to meet Mrs. Patek's incisive gaze. “I made a terrible mistake at St. Etienne.”

Mrs. Patek gently touched Gabriel's wrist. Her spotted hand, made tender with age and kindness, send a current of warmth straight to his heart. “Our Lord has already forgiven you,” she said, “and I do not hold you culpable. But I wonder if you have forgiven yourself.”

Understanding spread through his chest like the light of a newborn star. He'd jumped to conclusions the last time he'd been with Etta, cutting off both her and the Lord from helping him to comprehend fully. It wasn't grief-stricken families from whom Gabriel should seek forgiveness. He needed to seek it for himself. He had to forgive himself for the mistakes he'd made. His throat tightened as tears filled his eyes.

Mrs. Patek squeezed his hand. “Forgiving ourselves is sometimes the hardest thing of all, but we are all human and, therefore, prone to mistakes.”

Gabriel blinked back the tears and drained his cup. How could he ever forgive himself for leading ten men to their deaths? As hard as the memories had been, Gabriel suspected that absolving himself would be harder. “I'm not the kind of man who can quote the Bible, but I'm reminded of a Scripture my mother often used when I was growing up.”

A twinkle lit the older woman's eyes as she released his hand. “I am not sure if that is a good thing or not. After all, the Good Book does say ‘a wicked woman maketh a heavy countenance and a wounded heart.'”

Gabriel chuckled softly. “I don't even know that verse, ma'am, but when my mother felt as though I wasn't giving her enough respect, she'd say, ‘Wisdom is with aged men, and with length of days, understanding.'”

The lines around Mrs. Patek's mouth deepened as she smiled.

For a moment, Gabriel could see the young girl she had been.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. That verse is indeed a compliment. Now, I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

She laughed softly. “Oh, Lieutenant. You should never say that to a woman. You may be promising more than you bargained for.”

Gabriel laughed with her. “Still, I would be happy to fulfill any request you made.”

“Very well. What I would like is for you to escort Darina to her home. Her brother is quite tardy and, although she does not live very far away, I do not hold with young women walking the streets alone.”

Gabriel glanced at the young girl, surprised to realize that in his determination to confess to Mrs. Patek, he'd forgotten Darina still sat silently at his side. “I'd be glad to see her home.”

“Good. Now I am going to excuse myself. One of the few benefits of being old is that one need not be sociable when one is not up to it.” Mrs. Patek rose slowly to her feet.

Gabriel stood and took her elbow to steady her.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. And thank you for taking the time to visit. I wish you a pleasant journey home and, if you are ever in Brenham again, I hope you will pay another call.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Patek. Thank you for the tea and…well, for everything.”

She patted his arm and smiled.

Darina dashed to the door and opened it for the older lady. “I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Honoria, and I'll bring those cuttings I told you about.”

Mrs. Patek touched Darina's cheek, smiled at Gabriel one last time, and entered her house.

Darina closed the door quietly and retrieved a wide-brimmed straw hat and a pocketbook from a nearby bench. “It's so gallant of you to see me home,” she said with another beaming smile.

Gabriel slipped on his hat and followed Darina down the steps and onto the sidewalk. “It's nothing at all. As long as you can direct me from your house to the depot, I'll be fine.”

Darina slipped her arm through Gabriel's and led him toward the corner. “Once you meet my family, they'll insist you have dinner with us. Please say you will. We get so little company these days.”

“Sorry, but I have a ticket for the seven o'clock train to La Grange. I'll be glad to meet your family, but then I'll have to be off.”

“Don't be silly. We'll just go to the depot right now and trade in that ticket for tomorrow.” Darina tightened her grip on his arm. “I've just met you, Lieutenant. Please don't leave so soon.” What was wrong with Darina's eyes? Was she batting her eyelashes at him? He'd read about such behavior in magazine stories, but he'd never seen someone do it.

“How old are you, Darina?”

“Seventeen. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering.” He removed her hand from his sleeve as gently as possible. “How far is your house?”

“Have you changed your mind about staying? We could take my daddy's car for a drive. Momma wouldn't mind if I went out with a fine gentleman such as yourself. There are so few real gentlemen around these days. What's a girl of marriageable age supposed to do?” Darina's intentions were as transparent as a soap bubble.

“I'm not staying, and if you don't tell me where your house is, I'll be forced to take you back to Joe's grandmother.”

Darina's bottom lip began to quiver. “Please don't disappoint me. I've been so lonely since Joe went away, but now that you're here, we could have lots of fun.”

Gabriel had never seen such an artful performance. “The last thing I want is to hurt your feelings, but I'm leaving Brenham on the seven o'clock train. Neither flirting nor pouting will change my mind.”

Darina stepped away from him, a look of indignation darkening her young face. “Pouting? Flirting? You think too much of yourself if you think I'm interested in an old man like you.”

Her barb failed to wound. Even though he was not yet thirty, he recognized injured pride when he saw it. Gabriel removed his hat and held it over his heart. “If I've misunderstood, I apologize.”

“Well, I would hope so.” Darina bounded across the street and up the steps of a blue frame house. At the door, she turned to look at Gabriel, tilted her nose into the air, and sashayed into the house.

Gabriel turned his back so Darina couldn't see him laugh. She was young, pretty, and hunting a husband. She'd find one, probably sooner rather than later, but Gabriel was glad he was out of her sights.

 

****

 

Etta awoke, remembered what day it was, and wished she could go back to sleep. At six o'clock that evening, she would meet with the bank's Board of Directors. How would they react when she told them about the embezzlement? Would they blame her for the theft or congratulate her for finding the problem?

She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head. Why did she have to be in charge of this? She was merely her father's assistant. Investigating an embezzler was his job. It simply wasn't fair to expect her to fill his shoes.

A noise from outside her bedroom door let her know Charlie was on the job. His cajoling but no-nonsense tone was matched with angry grumblings from her father. Papa might not like Charlie's insistent commands, but there was no denying Papa was steadily improving. By the time Gabriel made it back, Papa might even be able to say a few words.

When would Gabriel return? Had he found the widows and grieving mothers? Had they understood that Gabriel was as much a casualty of war as their loved ones or had they assaulted him with accusations? When he returned, would his burden be lifted, or would it continue to torment his soul?

A band of longing tightened around Etta's heart. It didn't make sense to yearn for him to the point of heartache. They'd only shared a few hours together. But in that time, he'd touched her heart and left his fingerprints there. Her ears missed the sound of his voice, his gentle teasing, and his whispered confessions. Her gaze missed the sight of him, his confident walk and his heartwarming smile. If only she could sit by Gabriel's side, talking about everything that had happened or not talking at all. She longed to simply be near him. Breathing the same air would be enough. As long as he returned.

A shiver ran through her body as common sense whispered its chilly reality. Gabriel had made no promises. He hadn't spoken words of love or hinted at future plans. Etta had pinned her hopes on nothing more than her own fantasies. What was to keep him from turning his back on her and leaving again?

If only she could talk to her mother about everything that weighed on her heart. Her mother had always known how to advise her.

A light tap on her door was followed by Charlie Simpson's cheerful voice. “You awake, Miss Davis?”

Etta reached for her dressing gown. “Yes, Mr. Simpson. Do you need something?”

“I just wanted to make sure you came down for breakfast. Rosa's making chilaquiles this mornin'.”

How odd for Charlie to be concerned about Etta's breakfast plans. Besides, Rosa often scrambled eggs with green sauce, cheese, and corn tortilla strips. Maybe Charlie wanted to show off his burgeoning knowledge of Spanish. “I'll be down soon, Mr. Simpson.”

“We'll be waitin'.” He whistled softly as he made his way downstairs.

Etta scooted out of bed and chose her outfit for the day. The flowered skirt and matching blouse might be good for a spring outing, but she needed to appear businesslike, confident, and decisive. She settled for her gray gabardine suit. Nothing said “somber” like gray gabardine.

By the time she made it downstairs, Rosa was cleaning the breakfast dishes and Charlie was lingering over a cup of coffee. But as she stepped into the kitchen, she discovered why Charlie had been so insistent she join them. Sitting beside Charlie and dressed in a starched white shirt, navy stripe vest and matching trousers, was her father.

“Papa!” Etta's hands flew to her face.

Her father's crooked smile reminded her that the right side of his face hadn't yet recovered from its paralysis, but otherwise, he looked so normal!

Etta ran to his side. “Oh, Papa! You look wonderful!”

He nodded slowly. “an oo.”

Speech still eluded him, but Etta gave thanks for the miracle that had brought him this far.

Rosa set a plate of food in front of an empty chair. “Sit down, mija, and let your father finish his breakfast. Señor Davis has come downstairs almost every morning this week.”

Etta sank into a chair. Tears of joy blurred her vision. “That's amazing, Papa. You've come so far.” She smiled at Charlie. “I prayed for Papa's recovery, but I never imagined he'd make such quick progress. Thank you, Mr. Simpson.”

Charlie's cheeks turned pink. “Ah, don't going thankin' me, Miss Davis. Your papa may hate doing his exercises, but he does ‘em. He'll be back at work before you can say how-dee-doo.”

Her father moved his left arm toward her. “orse?”

“The horses are fine, Papa. Benito is still coming before and after school, and I check on them every day. They're getting a good rest, but it seems to me that you'll be riding again soon.”

He raised his left shoulder in a careful shrug. “Ank?”

She'd never withheld information about the bank from her father, but now was not the time to trouble him. “The Board of Directors meets tonight. I've prepared all the usual reports, and Carolina Swanson will be taking the minutes in my place. We're showing steady growth in all the investments except agriculture, but that's to be expected since the War Department has decreased its demand. I moved more of our investment funds into manufacturing. People are buying automobiles like crazy. Perhaps we should consider putting more money into the petroleum corporations. I was thinking of increasing our investment by ten percent.”

Her father nodded. “Eny.”

Etta struggled to understand her father's garbled word. She looked at Charlie.

Charlie must have seen the confusion in her eyes, because he jumped up, retrieved the pencil and pad Rosa used for her grocery list, and passed them to Henry.

Her father picked up the pencil with his left hand and painstakingly wrote on the pad.

Etta's heart tensed to see her father strain to do such a mundane task. He'd always been so capable and confident in everything he did, but now he labored to scratch out a few lines. At last, he dropped the pencil and pushed the paper toward her.

Etta studied the childlike scrawl. “Twenty,” she said with a wide smile. “You think I should increase the petroleum investments by twenty percent.”

“Hmph,” he said with a confident nod. “Eny.”

She sprang from her seat and kissed his freshly-shaved cheek. “Twenty. I'll do it today, Papa.” She looked at Charlie and Rosa and held up the pad for them to see. “Twenty,” she repeated.

“I told you so, Miss Davis,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “Your papa's still in there, but his brain has to figure out new ways to operate.”

“Now eat, mija,” Rosa ordered with a stern expression on her face. “If you do your job and Señor Davis does his job, everybody will be back where they belong. Then I can do my job without this
hombre fastidioso.”
Although Rosa had described Charlie as annoying, she'd also given him a playful shove and a wink.

Maybe Charlie's romantic pursuits weren't in vain.