Beloved (14 page)

Diana nodded.

“I’ll have Paulson get you a cab.”

“Thank you.”

It seemed to Diana that air returned to the room after Brook left, but she had no time to analyze the feeling before he came to escort her down the flight of stairs and out to the sidewalk where a hansom cab awaited her. Brook gave the driver the address before assisting Diana into the cab.

“If ever you need me,” he said softly as he closed the door. “Remember.”

Had his father ever been this subdued before? Not in Tyson’s memory.

Jeremiah commented occasionally about the horses and the barn and the paddocks as Tyson showed him around, but he didn’t criticize or offer unsolicited opinions. When Tyson suggested they return to the house, Jeremiah said he was going to explore the foothills for a short while. The subject of Tyson’s run for the Senate hadn’t come up again, and now it seemed his father had forgotten it.

Impossible. Jeremiah Applegate never forgot anything. More likely he was waiting for a more opportune time to broach the matter.

After watching his father walk up the trail beyond the barn and paddocks, Tyson headed toward the house. He prayed silently as he went—for wisdom, for submission to authority, for clarity of action. And once again for the people he’d hurt.

Gloria and Ned had abandoned their place in the shade, so Tyson walked straight to the back door. He’d just closed it behind him when he heard Upchurch welcome Diana home again. Tyson hurried down the hall toward the front of the house.

When his wife saw him, her eyes widened with surprise. “Tyson. I didn’t expect you home so early.”

“I didn’t expect it either. Your mother said you went to lunch with a friend.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands as she tugged off her gloves. “Yes.”

He knew immediately that she didn’t want him to ask for the
name of her friend. It was meant to be a secret. But why? Before he could inquire, she asked a question of her own.

“Where is Mother?”

“Not sure. She was outside with my father and Ned when I got home, but no one’s out there now.”

Diana’s eyes widened again. “Ned went outside? Did someone carry him down the stairs? What if he’d fallen again?”

“You can’t keep him locked in that room upstairs. Fresh air will do him good.”

“But—”

“It’s only a sprain, Diana, and boys his age heal fast. He probably could get by now without those crutches.”

With her lips pressed together like that, it was clear she wanted to argue with him. But she didn’t.

He took a step toward her. “Maybe we should talk about where Ned’s going to go when the doctor says he’s okay.”

“Must he go? I’d like him to stay. Tyson, he has no one. No family. No home. He hates the orphanage. He’s said so. We have this huge house and all those empty bedrooms.” She motioned with her hand toward the upstairs.

Had she forgotten he was running for the Senate? Now was not the best time to open his home to some street urchin. Especially not with his father and her mother also in the house. And yet he couldn’t seem to tell her that, not when she looked at him with those beseeching eyes, not when he knew how much he needed to atone for in their marriage. If he had to make amends for his wrongs by allowing her to bring stray cats and stray boys into their home, then so be it.

“Please,” she whispered, unaware the battle was already won.

“Ned can stay, Diana. As long as you wish it so, he can stay.”

“Thank you.”

The look in her eyes made him feel ten feet tall.

When Diana went upstairs, she stopped to look in on Ned. He was standing by the window, looking down at the boulevard. The crutches were leaned in a corner, apparently not needed, as Tyson had suggested.

“Hello, Ned.”

He glanced over his shoulder. Bathed and dressed in the new clothes Diana had sent Liz to buy yesterday, he looked like any other well-cared-for boy his age.

If she hadn’t lost her baby, her child would have been just about six years old. Would he have been anything like Ned? Perhaps the same freckles spattered across the nose.

She shoved the painful thought away. “I heard you went outside with Mrs. Fisher and Mr. Applegate. I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Ned shrugged. “I don’t like bein’ inside so much. Not used to it.” He wriggled. “Makes me itchy.”

Tyson had tried to tell her the same thing a short while before.

“Besides, somebody’s gonna steal my stuff if I don’t get back to it.” He turned toward the window. “If they haven’t taken everything already.”

She wondered what possessions he could have. Certainly nothing of value to anyone but him. “We could send someone for your belongings.”

“I’d better go myself. Can’t stay here much longer anyway.”

Diana took a couple of steps into the room. “But we want you to stay, Ned. This is your room for as long as you’d like.”

He turned around, frowning at her. “Why’re you bein’ so nice to me? You ain’t got no call to be this way. I tried to take that pie, ya know.”

So much suspicion. So much bluster. Diana wished she could
take Ned in her arms and hold him close. She wished she could convince him he could trust her to care for him and to take care of him. But rather than say what he didn’t want to hear, she changed the subject. “Would you like me to bring you some books to read? It would help pass the time while you rest your ankle.”

He hesitated a moment before answering, “Ain’t got much use for readin’.”

As clear as if he’d said the words aloud, she realized he
couldn’t
read. Which shouldn’t surprise her, knowing his mother had died when he was only six and he’d spent most of the years since living by his wits on the streets. He hadn’t had an opportunity to go to school, to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic. Equally as clear, Ned didn’t want her to know he couldn’t read. Even a young boy had his pride.

“Perhaps you’ve never read the right kind of book,” she said. “I’ll have to ask my husband what stories he enjoyed when he was your age.”

“Won’t make no difference.”

“Perhaps not, but I’ll ask Tyson anyway.”

“Ask me what?”

Her pulse jumped at the sound of his voice—she hadn’t expected Tyson to follow her upstairs—and a muddle of emotions swirled inside her. Guilt because of her secret lunch with Brook. Anxiety over Jeremiah’s question that morning. Wishfulness for … for something that seemed out of reach. She did her best not to let her expression reveal any of those emotions when she turned toward him. “What was your favorite book when you were a boy?”

“That’s easy.” He grinned. “
Roughing It
by Mark Twain. It made me want to go all the places Twain went and see everything he’d seen. Did you know Mr. Twain planned to spend only three months in Nevada, and instead he spent seven years exploring the West?
Roughing It
tells about those adventures.”

Is that what gave you wanderlust? Is that book one of the reasons you left me behind?

Tyson looked at Ned. “Bet you’d like
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court
. I was in college by the time it was published, but I loved it.”

Diana didn’t have to look behind her to know the boy scowled, still refusing to admit he’d never learned to read.

“There are other good authors,” her husband continued, “but Twain remains one of my personal favorites.”

She decided to change the subject rather than let Ned’s discomfort increase. “Tyson, Ned has some belongings he’s worried might be stolen if he doesn’t retrieve them soon. Could you take him to get them?”

“Of course.” He met her gaze. “Do you want us to go now?”

She nodded.

“Will you come with us?”

Once again she remembered the way Tyson had looked as he drew Tiger from under Ned’s bed. Once again she remembered the expression on his face that had seemed to say,
I did this for you
. And once again she wondered if she could learn to trust him, to care for him, perhaps even to—

No, that was impossible.

“I’ll send for the carriage,” he said at long last. “You and Ned can meet me in the front hall in ten minutes. All right?”

“All right.”

From the parlor window, Gloria watched as Tyson helped first Ned and then her daughter into the Applegate carriage. They almost looked like a family, and it pleased her, although she believed it shouldn’t.

Perhaps Tyson can make her happy this time
.

Love was a wonderful thing. Gloria had been loved by her husband and had loved him in return. She wanted the same for her daughter—to be in love and to be loved. And she wanted her daughter to have the blessing of children too. She wanted—

“Excuse me, Mrs. Fisher.”

She glanced over her shoulder as Jeremiah stepped into the parlor.

“I was looking for Tyson.”

“He and Diana are just leaving. They shouldn’t be gone long.”

Jeremiah joined her at the window in time to see the carriage pull away from the curb. “Wish I knew what that boy is thinking.”

Gloria was certain he spoke to himself and not her, but she answered anyway. “He isn’t a boy, Mr. Applegate. He’s a man, and I’m beginning to believe he may have become a fine one. Whatever else happened to him on his travels, he seems to have matured into a man of faith and integrity.”

“Unlike his father.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to say it, Mrs. Fisher. I’m becoming painfully aware of my own shortcomings.”

She felt a sudden sorrow for this man who had great wealth and yet was so poor in the important things of life. In contrast, she had known a limitation of financial resources, and yet she had an abundance of the things that truly mattered.

Jeremiah met her gaze. “I was too hard on my son, and I was unkind to your daughter in the years she lived under my roof.” He drew in a slow breath and let it out. “I believe I was unkind to her as recently as this morning.”

“You were?”

“It was not my intent, but yes. I was.”

Gloria frowned. “You never thought Diana worthy of your son, did you?”

He looked out the window again, not answering.

“You thought he should make a more politically advantageous match.”

A pause, then, “I admit that was my hope.”

“Mr. Applegate.” She turned fully toward him, waiting to continue until he faced her as well. “Might I give you a word of advice?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Let these two young people live their own lives. Allow them the chance to make their own decisions and, when necessary, to make their own mistakes. Let them seek God’s will without your interference. In doing so, you might enjoy a new and better relationship with your son.”

For a few moments, his expression was grim. Then the slightest of smiles bowed the corners of his mouth. “You are a wise woman, Mrs. Fisher. I shall do my best to heed your advice.”

February 1894

Tyson tossed the whiskey to the back of his throat and felt it burn its way down to his gut. With any luck, he’d soon be lost in a drunken haze.

“You’re in a foul mood, Applegate,” the man opposite him said.

Tyson couldn’t remember the fellow’s name. One of the “friends” he’d managed to pick up since arriving in—Funny. He couldn’t remember where he was. No matter. He’d learned a man could have countless friends as long as he bought all the liquor to drink.

“Haven’t you heard?” another man at the table said. “His father
made another grab at his fortune. Trying to force sonny boy back to the wilds of Idaho.”

Tyson ground his teeth. He must have done a little too much talking when he was in his cups last night. Even drunk, he should mind his words better. For all he knew, one of the men around this table could be in his father’s employ, hired to keep tabs on him.

He cursed silently as he downed another shot of whiskey.

For months now, he’d been moving from state to state, city to city, and yet he never seemed to get out from under his father’s thumb. The anger never left him for long. Multiple times he’d ended a night in a fistfight. Sometimes with an acquaintance. Sometimes with a complete stranger.

To make matters worse, when he sobered up each morning, guilt washed over him. He’d left Idaho to defy his father, to get even with the old man, but the person he’d hurt the most was his mother. And Diana. He’d hurt her too. She must hate him by this time. Maybe as much as he hated his father.

He might have gone back. He might have sucked in his pride and returned to Idaho if his father hadn’t tried some legal maneuvering to wrest the inheritance from Tyson’s control. That had been the last straw.

He needed to get away. He needed to get himself and his money beyond his father’s reach. Far, far beyond. Europe, perhaps. The Far East. Africa. Wherever that place was, he would look until he found it. No matter how long it took.

FOURTEEN

Over the next few days, Jeremiah surprised himself time and again. Whenever he wanted to dole out a word of advice or speak a word of criticism, he heard Gloria Fisher’s cautionary voice in his head, and somehow he managed to keep silent. Perhaps the adage about an old dog and new tricks wasn’t always true.

Or perhaps it was because he saw ever more clearly the part he’d played in the troubles he’d had with his son and his culpability in the hurt caused his daughter-in-law. It wasn’t easy to look unflinchingly into one’s own soul, but that’s what he tried to do. And the better he saw himself, the better he seemed to see others as well.

Diana, for instance. In the past, he’d accused her of marrying Tyson for the Applegate fortune. He’d considered her a social-climbing nobody, unsuitable for his son. Even when Diana had remained so devoted to her mother-in-law, caring for Nora as her health declined, Jeremiah had refused to acknowledge her kind actions, her steadfastness, her courage despite disappointments and heartaches. Never for a moment had he stopped blaming Diana for Tyson’s absence.

But the fault had been his own.

Somehow, he would make it up to her. And somehow he
would make up for a lifetime of mistakes to his son too. He
would
find a way.