Hope Rekindled (5 page)

“You certainly are deep in thought,” her mother said from the door.

Lifting her face, Deborah gave a brief nod. “That I am.”

“Christopher?”

She crossed her arms against her chest. “I can’t help but worry. I try not to, but with something like this . . . well . . .” She shrugged. “I suppose times like these are meant to grow my faith.”

Mother crossed to where Deborah stood. She pushed back an errant strand of her daughter’s dark hair and smiled. “He’s a good man who loves you. He’ll be back before you know it.”

“It seems like he’s been gone months instead of days. I can’t help but feel that Christopher’s family troubles are going to be more than either of us can deal with.”

“Nonsense. There is nothing the two of you can’t face with God’s help.”

Deborah wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. Mother hugged her close. “I just hate not knowing what the future holds in store.”

“Oh, my darling girl, it’s not necessary for us to know the future. All that matters is that we know the One who holds it. God has already made provision—you’ll see.”

A
rriving in Kansas City three days later than he’d hoped due to heavy rains that had washed out part of the tracks, Christopher immediately hired a cab to drive him to his parents’ home in the poorer section of town. The ramshackle dwellings where the more unfortunate residents lived were poorly constructed—some looking as if a good wind would surely cause their collapse. His overriding impression of his parents’ house from his last visit was that it was in need of demolition more than anything. Perhaps if the present complications weren’t too grave, he could help his mother spruce up the place a bit.

Christopher winced as the carriage found every rough spot on the road, and he banged from one side to the other. Hopes of comfort abandoned, he instead fought sleep as the driver continued through the city. It had been a long time since he’d been this tired. It was almost as if someone had placed a heavy weight atop him. He told himself it was just the humidity and threat of rain, but he knew different.

He closed his eyes and saw Deborah’s dark eyes filled with sorrow. She had tried so hard to be assuring when he’d delivered the news of leaving her. Her willingness to support his decision only served to remind him of how much she loved him.

And I love her. I love her more than I ever thought possible to love another. She is everything to me.

Leaving her that day had been so hard. He pounded his fist against the carriage in a series of frustrated strokes—or at least he thought he had. Startled by the noise, he sat up and opened his eyes. Somehow, he’d dozed off. The carriage had stopped and the cabbie or someone was pounding loudly on the roof. He hadn’t thought it possible to sleep, but apparently his body could simply take no more. Opening the carriage door, Christopher felt like his legs were leaden. His body rebelled at the interruption of rest and he hit the ground with a groan.

“Are you sure you want me to leave you here? Looks like rain,” the driver told him. Christopher nodded, suppressing a yawn, and took the single suitcase the man handed down.

“I can wait for you, if you like?” the man added.

“That won’t be necessary.” Christopher settled the price of the ride and waited until the cab pulled off down the street before turning to face his family’s home.

But it wasn’t there.

He stared in shock at the charred frame. Brick chimneys rose out of the remains like strange sentinels guarding what had been left behind. Christopher dropped the suitcase. A fire had destroyed not only his family’s home but the homes on either side. Family tragedy, indeed. This was a complete catastrophe.

He twisted around to see if the Maynard house was still standing. It was. He started for the door, then remembered his case and went back to retrieve it. Christopher couldn’t keep his gaze from the blackened debris. How had the fire started? Was anyone hurt? Were they all dead? He felt sickened as the breeze blew the undeniable scent of destruction his way.

“Dr. Kelleher! I thought that was you,” Mrs. Maynard called from her now-open front door.

Christopher forced himself to turn and face the thick-waisted woman. “What happened? Where is my family?”

Stuart Albright was sulking. At least that’s what Jael called it. He was clearly miffed about something. Probably the fact that G. W. Vandermark didn’t roll over and play dead at his threats. She smiled and gave a slight shrug. Her father had tried to warn Stuart. He told him some men would not be motivated by intimidation, and clearly he had met his match.

“Have you decided when we are going back to Houston?” she asked with only a brief glance up from her needlework.

“No.”

He didn’t offer another word, and Jael allowed the silence to continue for a good ten minutes before pressing another question. “Have you decided to rebuild the mill?”

“No.”

She frowned and fixed him with a look. “So you won’t rebuild?”

He glowered. “It’s none of your concern. Stick to your sewing.” Clearly agitated, he got to his feet and retrieved his newspaper. “I’ll be in my office.”

Stalking from the room, Stuart left Jael to wonder if this was the way her future would always be. She hadn’t married for love, she reminded herself. Love wasn’t real—not for her anyway. The man she’d given her heart to so long ago had also given her that realization, just before he deserted her and left her to carry, and later lose, his unborn child. Promises made in the heat of passion were seldom trustworthy, she supposed.

The needle pierced her finger, causing Jael to jump. She hurried to suck the droplet of blood to keep it from staining her work. Putting the hoop and threads aside, Jael got to her feet, still nursing her finger. She walked to the window and pulled back the heavy drapery to stare out into the night.

With so many people having left the town, there were very few lighted houses. She wondered why Stuart had allowed this abandonment of Perkinsville. He would stand to lose a great deal of money, and that was truly the only thing he cared about. This thought gave her resolve to seek him out once again. She wasn’t afraid of his pouting and belligerence. In fact, she wasn’t afraid of much anymore. Living without love had been her worst fear, and since that had been realized, nothing else seemed all that important.

She entered his office without knocking. Her gaze immediately went to the awful painting he’d demanded she pose for. He’d picked out the most scandalous dress, not caring at all that it made her feel immodest and uncomfortable. The memory only served to bolster her resolve. Jael fixed him with a silent stare.

“What do you want now?”

“I want answers, Stuart. I want to know why you insist on tormenting the Vandermarks and the people of Perkinsville—at least those few who are still around to be tormented.”

“As I’ve said before, my business is my business. Stay out of it and you’ll be much happier.”

“I didn’t marry you expecting to be happy.” The words dripped sarcasm. She crossed the room and put her hands on his highly polished desk. She knew the action would irritate him, but she didn’t care.

“If you are so lovesick for Elizabeth Decker Vandermark, why do you even bother to keep up the pretense of devoted husband?”

He smiled. “Because you are so charming, of course.”

Jael straightened. “Stuart, we both know what a farce our marriage is. I didn’t ask you to pretend to love me or even care for me. It’s just as you told me when we agreed to this arrangement—this marriage was for the sake of convenience and nothing more. Oh, I’ll admit I fooled myself into believing that love might grow, but now I see it cannot, for the soil is poisoned.”

“And what of it? I have not played you false.”

She looked at him and shook her head. “I suppose you haven’t. You said there would be no love and that is certainly true.”

He pounded his fists on the desk. “And why should there be? You came into this marriage carrying another man’s brat in your belly. You were just as desperate to save face as I was to reap my inheritance.”

Stuart’s words had the impact of a slap on the face. Jael steadied herself by taking hold of the back of the chair. “I want a divorce.”

“No.” He stared at her as if daring her to challenge him.

“I’m sorry, Stuart, but I was a fool to marry you. I should have faced my father’s wrath and dealt with the consequences. I could have come to Deborah. I suppose I always knew that. You were simply a convenience.”

He jumped to his feet. “As were you. And now you are an inconvenience.”

“Then let me go. Give me a divorce.”

“I will not, and you will not pursue this subject any further. In fact, should you dare to bring it up to your father or the Vandermarks, I will make you pay.”

His words seemed suspended in the silence that followed. For just a brief moment, Jael had hoped he would agree to end their marriage and let her go on her way—perhaps even settle a small amount of money on her. But it was clear he would not.

“Why, Stuart? Why do you insist on remaining in a marriage where there is no love?”

“Marriage was never about love, and those fools who think otherwise are as simpleminded as you.” He crossed to where she stood. “Marriage is nothing more than an arrangement to benefit those joined together.”

“But I’m not benefiting.”

He grabbed her roughly and forced Jael against him. She fought to free herself, but Stuart buried one hand in her hair and wrenched her head back to expose her face. Kissing her hard and without feeling, he pulled her head until Jael thought her neck would snap. Perhaps that was what he had in mind. Perhaps he would kill her and put her out of her misery—tell everyone she had fallen down the stairs. She went still in his arms and waited for the end. When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes to find Stuart staring at her with an odd expression such as she’d never seen.

“Well? Why don’t you finish it?” she taunted. “Kill me now so I might at least be free of you that way.”

He let her go as if she’d suddenly become painful to touch. He staggered back, looking like he’d been gut punched. Jael righted herself. “I will have my divorce, Stuart. You won’t stop me.”

She turned and walked out the door. Her only thought was to pack her things and go to Deborah. The Vandermarks would take her in. She knew they would.

Jael had made it to the stairs when Stuart caught up with her. “If you dare to try leaving me—divorcing me—your beloved Deborah will pay with her life.”

The words froze her in midstep. Could he possibly be serious? Jael turned and faced him. Evident satisfaction played across Stuart’s expression.

“I thought that might get your attention.”

“You could kill another person?”

Stuart’s maniacal laugh left Jael doubting his sanity, but his reply removed all doubt. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I seriously doubt it will be the last.”

“Sit and rest. You look quite weary,” Mrs. Maynard said as she ushered Christopher into her sitting room.

The house was simple but clean. Christopher took a seat where the older woman pointed and waited to hear what was sure to come.

“The fire started in the middle of the night. The weather had been cold and fires were necessary to keep the house even slightly warm,” she began. She sat nearby and studied him with a mother’s gentle expression. “They believe the chimney flue got too hot and something caught afire.”

Between his shock and exhaustion, Christopher could only nod at the explanation. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The storm had finally arrived.