Bittersweet (32 page)

Galen could just imagine Ruth doing that. Under other circumstances, he’d have gotten a great laugh out of it. But things were different. “Laney—”

“Laney’s taking Ruth on a walk so they can gather flowers for the grave.” Josh stared him in the eye. “Laney’s no longer your concern.”

The words cut deep. Galen knew Josh spoke honestly, but the truth was a bitter one.

“My sister had high hopes of being your bride; now she’s grieving the loss of all her dreams.”

Josh’s words tore at him. “I wanted
Laney
for my wife.”

“Ivy is your wife. We can’t change what’s happened. Life goes on.”

“That’s it, then?”

“That’s it? Hardly.” Josh’s voice went harsh. “I have a heartbroken sister who steadfastly believes in your innocence. She cries herself to sleep every night, yet when she prays, she prays for you and Ivy to have a sound marriage.”

A groan of pure anguish rumbled through Galen. He’d wounded the woman he loved, yet she still believed in him. She even held him up to the Lord and asked for him to be blessed.

Josh’s eyes flashed. “Don’t ever speak a word to her of how you felt. Her dreams are shattered; don’t steal her dignity, too.”

“I only want the best for Laney. I’d never do anything to cause her pain. You’ve my solemn promise not to speak to her of the tender love I hold—” Galen stopped. Forcing himself, he corrected, “I
held
for her.”

Weary as an old man, Galen climbed down from his wagon and transferred the eggs to Josh’s. Josh climbed down, too.

“The last thing I want to do is track down a flock of laying hens that are for sale in the middle of winter. Think you can talk Colin into bringing by eggs a couple of times a week on the way to school?”

“Aye.”

Josh paid him for the eggs. “I’m still bound for town. The Basquez brothers are moving to San Francisco. Ruth thinks their vacant shop would be ideal for the library.”

“That, it would.”

Josh grasped Galen’s upper arms. “Life has changed, but my friendship for you and the love of God are still yours.”

“’Tis good to know.” Galen didn’t bother to summon a smile. It would have been a false one. God’s love wouldn’t change, but Galen knew beyond a doubt that the friendship he held most dear would never be the same. Nor would the love of his life ever be his.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

G
alen never spoke to me regarding marriage,” Laney said to the mirror. She’d been practicing that phrase for days now.

The words were honest. She strained to think of other truthful things she might say—to Ivy or anyone else. In half an hour, she’d be going over to the O’Sullivans’ for the first time since … since …

“Galen and Ivy were married.” Laney could barely form the words. She shuddered and strove to concoct something that wouldn’t reveal her deepest feelings about the tragedy. The debacle. The horrible mistake. Ivy’s trap was sprung… .
Lord, I don’t
know how I’m going to get through this. Please grant me the words at the right
time. I can’t let any of my feelings for Galen out. He’s a married man now.
I have to respect that Ivy is his wife—even if she accomplished that in a vile
manner
.

“Laney?”

Unsure if her voice would be steady, Laney resorted to, “Hmm?”

Ruth traipsed in. “When Josh went to town on Monday, I asked him to pick these up for us.” She plopped a few items onto Laney’s bed. “We need to take a gift to the O’Sullivans. It’ll be from our whole family.”

“Yes. That would be proper.”

“Mrs. Earnest—isn’t that name gallingly right for a woman who owns a finishing school?” Ruth didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, anyway, Mrs. Earnest said propriety is the best defense for a young lady’s dignity.”

Laney nodded as she glanced at the aprons, dish towels, and hot pan holders.

“I can’t believe it!” Ruth shot her a disgruntled look.

“They’re very nice,” Laney said.

“I really can’t believe it!” A smile tugged at Ruth’s mouth. “Don’t you think for a single minute that I’m oblivious to the way you and Josh keep a tally of how many headmistresses I’ve mentioned. Well, you’re sworn to secrecy about that one, Laney. So help me, if he ever finds out exactly how many finishing schools gave up and sent me home in utter disgrace, I’d be mortified.”

“Josh would love you no matter how many there were.”

Ruth shoved back one of her corkscrew curls and managed to dislodge another in the process. “All true loves are invariably forced to endure at least one great trial.”

My true love will only face one trial—that we’ll never be together at all
.

Laney sighed.

“All true loves are invariably forced to endure at least one great trial,” Ruth repeated under her breath as she started folding one of the aprons.

“That doesn’t sound like something you’d say. You’re more practical than philosophical.”

Color flooded Ruth’s cheeks. “Someone I once knew was fond of that phrase.” Ruth shook her finger at Laney. “And if you have the smallest dab of loyalty, you won’t ask me who that woman was.”

“Another headmistress?”

Looking thoroughly peeved, Ruth tugged on one of the apron strings and managed to turn the lopsided bow into a knot. “I was reading an article about a detective agency called the Pinkertons.”

“Ruth! You know how I adore those dime novels. Don’t spoil it by telling me anything more!”

“It’s not fiction—the Pinkertons are real. They guard people or investigate for a price. The way you keep trying to discover all about the string of schools I shamed myself at, I think you could apply for a position with the Pinkertons.”

Laney stared at the wedding gift she’d stacked so neatly on her bed. “The only mystery I want to solve is determining who the father of Ivy’s baby is.”

“Laaa-neeey.” Ruth stretched out her name and gave her a reproachful look. “Hard as this is, you have to let go of your dreams and find a new future. God is faithful—He has someone special in store for you.”

Laney gave no response. Ruth was encouraging her to do the honorable thing. Galen’s mother once told Laney something, and those sage words filtered through her mind.
“Just because something’s
right, that doesn’t make it feel right. More oft than not, ’tis the difficult path
we must take when we follow where God leads.”

“Well!” Ruth rubbed her hands together. “What did you plan to sew today?”

Laney didn’t want to look at any of the lengths of cloth she’d bought for the trousseau she’d never need. “I don’t know.”

“I thought maybe, if you’re not set on any particular project yet, we could hem bandannas for all our cowboys.”

Relief flooded Laney. “That’s a good idea. Toledo’s bandanna looks ready to disintegrate.”

“Remember that blue material we thought to use for Hilda’s dress? Since it’s flawed, it’ll work for bandannas, don’t you think?”

“Ruth!” Hilda’s bellow from the kitchen sounded inordinately perturbed.

Ruth groaned, “Now what did I do?”

Hilda stomped up the stairs, muttering every step of the way about cowboys wanting to die.

“I don’t think she’s mad at you,” Laney whispered.

“Will wonders never cease?”

“Ruth!” Hilda clomped into Laney’s room. “I don’t care if you’re newly wedded. If that husband of yours steals another one of my coffee cakes, I’m going to make you a widow.”

“Now, Hilda.” Ruth patted her shoulder. “You should be flattered that all of the Broken P’s cowboys love your baking so much, they pester Josh until he relents.”

Hilda didn’t look in the least bit mollified. “I used apple-pear butter in this one!”

“And my husband took it?” Ruth shouted in outrage.

Hilda nodded. “I tracked it out to the barnyard. Eleven cowboys all standin’ ’round, crumbs in their mustaches and on their shirts—and every last one complained he hadn’t gotten his fair share! Josh skulked away before I reached him, but when I do—” “Josh ran away?” Ruth demanded. “Like a naughty little boy?”

“And he took the cake pan with him.” Hilda adjusted her apron. “If I weren’t such a lady, I would have chased him down and whomped him on the head with that very pan.”

“When we get home tonight, I might hold him down so you can do just that.” Ruth pouted, “I can’t believe he took my applepear coffee cake.”

Dreading going to the O’Sullivans’, Laney figured she could delay their departure. “We’ll wait while you make another, Hilda. We don’t want to go to the O’Sullivans with empty hands.”

“I’ll sift together all the dry ingredients and put them in a jar. When we get there, I’ll add one of Kelly’s jars of apple-pear butter.” Hilda brightened at her clever solution. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do. You girls be ready in ten minutes.”

All the way to the O’Sullivans’, Ruth praised Hilda’s solution for replacing the coffee cake. Hilda wasn’t modest in the least about the situation. They were so busy congratulating themselves, Laney was sure they didn’t notice how quiet she remained.

Walking into the O’Sullivan house had always been a joy, but this time, Laney did so with a heavy heart. She let Hilda and Ruth precede her—partly out of deference, partly because she knew once they were inside she’d have to join them, but also because she needed one last moment to steel herself.

“No, no. ’Tisn’t half as bad as you imagined,” Mrs. O’Sullivan said as Hilda and Ruth exclaimed over her injuries. The minute Laney entered, Mrs. O’Sullivan spread her arms wide. “Now, then, there’s our Laney!”

In all of the times she’d been here, Laney had learned a little quirk. The O’Sullivans sometimes tacked on
our
in front of someone’s name. It was a special endearment—but one reserved only for family. Never before had Galen’s mother used
our
with Laney.

The moment was so bittersweet, Laney blinked back tears. Mrs. O’Sullivan used that as a way to let her know she was still welcome and loved—but Laney knew deep down that it also meant that she’d never truly be one of the O’Sullivan family.

Laney went over to the rocking chair and embraced the woman she’d once dreamed of having as her mother-in-law.

Holding her tight, Mrs. O’Sullivan whispered, “Courage and faith. They’ll bring you through.”

Laney squeezed her back and nodded. As she slowly drew back, she looked at the woman’s foot. “Are you healing well?”

“Aye. I’m staying off it. ’Tisn’t half as swollen as just a few days ago. You’d think I’d suffered an amputation for all the fuss everyone’s kicking up.”

The coffeepot clanged down onto the stove. “I reckon we’ll want some coffee later on,” Ivy said. “All t’other times we’ve sewed, we’ve nigh unto drained the pot twice over.”

“I brought over a coffee cake—or at least the fixings for one.” Hilda put the quart jar on the table. “Josh ate the one I’d already baked. Kelly, I’m adding in some of your pear butter and some lard.”

“Oh now, Hilda. Why don’t you go on and use a jar of applepear? I know ’tis your favorite, and we’ll all be sharing it.”

“What a wonderful idea!” Ruth grinned at Hilda.

“If Kelly insists …” Hilda bustled over to the cupboard to grab a jar.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Laney asked as she tucked a blanket across Mrs. O’Sullivan’s lap.

“Nary a thing.”

Ivy watched as Hilda cut lard into the dry ingredients and dumped in the apple-bear butter. “You put some of that special bakin’ powder in thar so’s to make that rise up?”

“Yes.” Hilda nodded. “It’s a vast improvement over saleratus.”

“Mrs. O’Sullivan says that selfsame thang.”

She calls her Mrs. O’Sullivan? I would have called her
Mother
or
Mama. Laney’s eyes met Galen’s mother’s. Understanding flashed between them.

“Laney and I decided to make bandannas out of this length of blue cotton.” Ruth dumped the fabric onto the table.

Ivy frowned. “I recollect you a-sayin’ you got blue ’terial for a dress.”

Ruth spread the fabric out on the table. “My housekeeper from back home used it to help pack some of my things that I shipped here. I just folded it up without paying any attention. Once Laney and I decided to use the fabric, we discovered an ugly flaw running through half of it.”

Laney couldn’t remember which way the woof and warp of fabric went, but at the mill, something must have gotten into the loom. It tangled and broke threads, and though the remaining threads spread and tried to fill in the gap, the remaining length of cloth still couldn’t recover from the loss.
Like me. Ivy ruined the fabric
of my life, and—

“Whoa.” Ivy squinted at the flaw. “That’s a cryin’ shame.”

It is, and I’ve cried plenty
.

Ruth chewed on her lip and coaxed a wrinkle out of the material. “I think we can cut around it.”

“That’s right clever.” Ivy bobbed her head and smiled directly at Laney. “Yup. It shorely is clever of you.”

She’s Galen’s wife, and as much as it galls me, I’m going to have to be
neighborly. It’s not just rude, it’s un-Christian to treat her badly
. Laney managed to rasp, “A dress would have been much nicer, but the Broken P’s cowboys could use new bandannas.”