Beloved (18 page)

Tiger moved cautiously toward the edge of the blanket, but before she could step into the grass, Trouble ambled toward her. The cat hunched her back and hissed. The dog stopped, a bewildered expression on his face.

Diana laughed. “Trouble, you’d better stay back. Tiger’s claws are sharp.”

Trouble seemed to understand and returned to his young master.

Diana felt a small catch in her chest as she looked at the pair. How long would Ned stay now that his ankle had recovered? Could
she make him want to stay, even though he was used to a life without boundaries? But even if she could, she supposed something legal would have to be done. Which meant not only would Ned have to agree to it, Tyson would have to agree to it too. Why should he do so? To please her? After what she’d done last night …

She lay back on the blanket and stared upward. Beyond leafy tree limbs that danced in the soft breeze, fluffy clouds dotted an azure sky. So pretty. So right. And it frightened her, the rightness of it all. She felt at home here, with Mother and Ned and Trouble and Tiger.

And with Tyson
.

She’d agreed to six months.

He’d said he wanted forever.

Was that true or only what he’d needed to say to get her cooperation?

She closed her eyes.

“Diana?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Don’t hold your heart so tightly. You cannot protect it from getting hurt in life, no matter how hard you try.”

“I know.”

A period of silence followed before her mother said, “And yet still you try.”

Yes, still I try
.

Sorrow pressed against her chest, a keen longing for all that had been lost to her. Her ma in Chicago. Hugh and Felicia. The father who’d adopted and raised her. And the ability to love without holding back a part of herself.

Ned’s and her mother’s joint laughter found its way through the haze of Diana’s self-pity. She sat up, curious to see what caused their mirth. A quick glance revealed the answer. Trouble lay on his
back in a pose of complete submission while Tiger sat on his chest, appearing for all the world as if the dog were her personal throne.

“Well, I’ll be,” came Tyson’s voice from behind Diana. “Will you look at that?”

As if Tyson’s words had broken a magician’s spell, Tiger meowed and launched herself away from Trouble. The dog jumped to his feet and started barking as the cat disappeared up the nearby tree.

Diana twisted toward her husband. “I didn’t expect you back from town this soon.”

“Writing a speech didn’t seem all that urgent today.”

For a moment, she thought he might settle onto the blanket beside her. Instead he joined her mother on the stone bench.

Was it possible to be disappointed and relieved at the same time?

“I was wondering,” Tyson said, “if you’d all like to go down to the river for a picnic after church tomorrow. The weather is fine for it.”

“Can Trouble go with us?” Ned asked.

“I don’t see any reason why not.”

The boy shrugged. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Tyson looked at Diana again, his gaze repeating the question.

He’s forgiven me for including Brook last night. He’s forgiven me completely
.

Rather than relief, she felt ashamed. For even when she’d admitted to him that she shouldn’t have done it, she hadn’t asked him to forgive her. Instead he’d asked for
her
forgiveness. All the more surprising since the old Tyson, the one she’d married, the one who’d left her, had never admitted he was in the wrong, even when he obviously was. When had she switched places with him? When had she become the one so determined to be right?

She pictured herself as a girl of no more than ten or eleven. In
the memory, her adopted father was leaning down to her, a patient, loving expression on his face.
“Diana, do you want to be right … or would you rather be righteous?”

Perhaps the desire to be right wasn’t a newly acquired trait after all.

November 1896

Tyson’s mother was dead. She’d been dead over six months, and he hadn’t known it. A son should know when his mother was sick and dying. A good son
would
know.

He wasn’t a good son.

Hadn’t been a good son.

Never would be a good son.

The letter from Tyson’s father had caught up with him in London. It contained few details. Only that his mother’s illness had been long, her death slow in coming, and that Diana had been her constant companion throughout but was now living with her parents in Nampa, Idaho, where her father worked for the railroad. Odd, the way that last news affected him. It felt as if she’d left him rather than the other way around.

He let the letter slip through his fingers and drift to the floor as he walked to the window of his hotel room. He could go out for the evening. He could join up with friends. Friends? Not truly. When a man was young and rich, he could have all of the companions—male or female—he wanted, any time he wanted, but that didn’t make them his friends.

No, Tyson preferred to be alone tonight. He needed to think.

He closed his eyes and wondered how he’d allowed his life to become such a mess, all in the name of defying his father.

EIGHTEEN

At the close of the service on Sunday, Tyson stood to one side and watched as the others moved out of the pew: first his wife, followed by his mother-in-law, and finally Ned.

It was the boy’s presence that had surprised him this morning. How was it Diana had persuaded Ned to come to church with the family and when exactly had she bought him that suit?

He offered his elbow to Diana and smiled to himself, realizing how easily she could prevail upon him to do something he hadn’t considered doing before. Ned had obviously fallen under the spell of her charms as Tyson had.

When they reached the sidewalk, they were greeted by a familiar voice.

“Mr. Applegate. Mrs. Applegate. How good to see you again.”

Tyson met Kendall Michaels’ gaze and offered a tight smile. He had yet to forgive the newspaperman for his behavior at the judge’s dinner party.

“Are you a member of this congregation?” Kendall asked.

“Not yet.” Tyson glanced at Diana. “But my wife and mother-in-law are. And you?”

“Just visiting.”

Why? Are you following me?
Tyson swallowed the question.

Kendall turned his gaze on Ned. “And who is this young man? Your son?” His eyes held excitement—no doubt hoping for a scandal to report.

“I ain’t his son,” Ned answered, scowling.

Tyson wanted to ignore the newspaperman’s question and hurry his family toward the carriage, but instinct told him doing so would be a mistake. The best way was to be honest without saying too much. A tricky balance to manage, but he would try. “Ned is a guest in our home.”

“And if you’ll excuse us,” Diana said, her tone deceptively polite, “we have promised our young guest a picnic lunch on this beautiful Lord’s Day. We must hurry or our cook will not be happy with our tardiness. Good day, Mr. Michaels.”

Tyson wanted to kiss her.

Kendall tipped his hat. “Good day, Mrs. Applegate. Mr. Applegate.”

“Excellent job,” Tyson whispered as they moved toward the carriage awaiting them at the curb on Seventh Street.

“He’s an insufferable man,” she replied in an equally soft voice. She stopped, looked up at Tyson. “We need to have a better answer about Ned before someone else asks the same question.”

She was right, of course. They did need a better answer. At the very least, they should make certain Ned was an orphan, as he claimed. What if he’d run away from home instead? It wouldn’t do Tyson’s campaign any good if it was discovered Ned’s parents were alive and searching for him.

“You’re right. We need a better answer.”

Her hand tightened on his arm. “I don’t want Ned to leave us.”

She doesn’t want him to leave us …

Us
.

The small word felt huge in his heart.

“I’ll do everything I can to see that he stays, Diana. I promise.”

Her smile seemed brighter than the sun.

“Are you two coming?” Gloria asked from inside the carriage. “It’s terribly stuffy in here.”

“Yes, Mother.” Diana released her hold on Tyson’s arm. “We’re coming.”

The spot beside the Boise River was ideal for a picnic. Tall cottonwoods provided ample shade where Diana and Tyson spread blankets on the ground. The water rushing past them cooled the midday air.

“Don’t get too close to the river,” Diana called to Ned as he and Trouble explored the area.

Tyson must have sensed her concern, for he walked toward where the boy and dog played, keeping himself between them and the river.

Liz and her sister Joan, the Applegate maids, had accompanied the family to the river, and they busied themselves now, setting out the bill of fare. Mrs. Cuddy had prepared a veritable feast: cold roast chicken, sandwiches of potted rabbit, bewitched veal, cold baked ham, egg salad, buttered rolls, hard-boiled eggs, pickles, orange marmalade, sugared strawberries, almond cake, and coconut jumbles. Lemonade and tea were their beverage choices, both of them iced.

Diana’s mother marveled aloud over the abundance of food. “I simply cannot help adding up the cost in my head.” She gave a small shrug. “Too many years of minding every penny, I suppose.”

Diana leaned over and touched her mother’s arm. “You won’t have to count pennies ever again.”

“Spoken with the assurance of the young.” Gloria stared toward the river, her expression wistful. “Your father provided well
for us for many years. He never imagined a national financial crisis could wipe out our savings. He was a careful man with money. He believed in saving for a rainy day and did so religiously, but it all vanished in an instant.” Her gaze returned to Diana. “The rain falls on the just and unjust, my dear. We cannot know what tomorrow will bring.”

Diana had no reply.

“Mrs. Applegate,” Joan said into the ensuing silence. “We are ready to serve the meal.”

Grateful for the interruption, Diana looked toward the river. “Tyson. Ned. It’s time to eat.”

In short order, man, boy, and dog reached the picnic area. When commanded by Ned, Trouble lay in the grass a few feet away from one of the blankets, but his dark eyes remained locked on the platters and bowls.

Tyson chuckled. “That is one hopeful dog.”

“He can have something, can’t he?” Ned asked.

“Yes, when we’re done he can have some of the scraps. But you’ll need to make sure he doesn’t get any chicken bones or anything else he can choke on.”

“I know that.”

“Good.” Tyson sank onto the blanket next to Diana. “Let’s thank God for this food Mrs. Cuddy prepared.”

His prayer was brief, though earnest, and afterward they filled their plates. The family dined while seated on the blankets, and the maids and coachman had their own picnic not far removed.

Diana took a bite of chicken and thought,
I’m going to wish my corset wasn’t laced so tight
.

“Ned,” Tyson said, “do you remember who took you to the orphanage after your mother died?”

The question, so unexpected, caused Diana to stop chewing.

“I d’know.” The boy shrugged, failing to display his usual testiness when asked personal questions. “Maybe.”

“Do you suppose you could show me where you lived back then?”

Now the familiar scowl furrowed Ned’s forehead. “Why?”

Dread trickled down Diana’s spine. What if Tyson’s questions made the boy want to leave, as he’d threatened to do ever since the first day?

“That man outside of church this morning,” Tyson continued, his tone serious, his gaze unwavering on Ned. “He’s a reporter for the newspaper. He likes to ask questions and look into the affairs of people in the community. In fact, I believe he’s the kind of man who likes to make trouble for others whenever possible.”

Diana’s gaze moved back and forth between Tyson and Ned.
Stop. Don’t say anymore. He’s too young to understand
.

“You mean he’d like to make trouble for you and Miss Diana,” Ned said.

Obviously she was wrong. He wasn’t too young.

“Yes,” Tyson answered.

“Because of me.”

“Yes. If he can.”

“So you want to know more about me before he does.”

Tyson set aside his plate and leaned toward the boy. “Ned, Mrs. Applegate and I want you to continue to live with us. We hope that’s what you want too. But we cannot do so without going through proper channels. The more we know about you, the more likely it will be you can remain in our home and Mr. Michaels or his like can’t use it to cause trouble for any of us.”

Varying emotions flitted across the boy’s face—uncertainty, distrust, hope, fear, relief.

“Please help us,” Diana said.

Ned looked at her. “How long? How long do you want me to stay with you?”

A memory flashed in her head. A little girl on a stage, afraid, everything and everyone strangers to her, all that was familiar gone, feeling cut adrift, feeling unwanted. Tears welled but she fought them back.

“For as long as you want to stay,” she answered at last.
Forever
, her heart added.

To love a woman, Tyson was discovering, meant a man became more sensitive to her emotions. He felt Diana’s fear in his own heart, the fear that Ned might leave them. He was determined not to let it happen. If keeping the boy in their home was required to make her happy, then he would move heaven and earth to make certain Ned stayed.

But before Tyson could ask another question in an effort to bring about the right result, the boy spoke up.

“It was Mrs. Kennedy who took me to the orphanage after Ma died.”

“Mrs. Kennedy? Was she a friend of your mother’s?”

Ned shrugged. “I guess. She lived downstairs from us.”

“Do you remember where that was?”

“Yeah. I remember. I wasn’t a baby.”

“Will you show me sometime?”

“I suppose.”

Tyson decided this was a good time to let the matter drop. “Thanks.”

He picked up his plate and resumed eating. Ned watched him awhile before doing the same.