NoRegretsColeNC (24 page)

“If you
must know…” Tansy Godwin straightened and threw a harsh look in Willie’s
direction, as if whatever awful calamity had happened must surely be his fault.
“It’s your father.”

The
sudden thudding in his heart nearly knocked him off his feet. Struggling to
keep his balance, he couldn’t speak. His eyes widened, and an awful pain
throbbed inside his brain.

Only
when his mother once again lifted her head and gave a slight
nod
did he find his voice.

“My
father?
What
are you talking about?” His lips and tongue felt thick and swollen. He barely
got out the words. “You know where he is?”

Of
their own volition, Willie’s big hands clenched into tight fists. Every muscle
tensed. Every limb stiffened.

“He’s
in Denver, he’s dying, and we need to go see him.”

Any one
of those three statements alone would have been enough to set Willie back on
his heels. To have his mother throw all of them at him at once proved too much.
He stumbled blindly through the room, knocking teacups from the table and
long-stemmed roses from a china vase. The side table beside the settee crashed
to the floor.

Tansy
came after him, arm raised, finger wagging. “Watch what you’re doing, and don’t
think of running out. You’ve made a mess, and I’ll thank you to clean it up.”

“Yes,
ma’am.
Of course.”
He stopped, swallowed back the emotions
threatening to choke him, and slowly turned to face his weeping mother.
“Denver, you say? How did you find out?” He couldn’t address the issue of his
father dying, nor could he consider the possibility of seeing him again.

“A
message came by post a short time ago, but never mind that.” Tansy pointed
downward to the tea spilling from her delicate porcelain cups. The rug would be
stained, and she’d demand he pay for cleaning it.
Rightly so,
of course.
“That mess won’t go away of its own, you know. The sooner you
get busy, the less damage there’ll be.”

He
nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.
Of course.”
Willie sank down to his knees.

“I’ll
get a few old rags,” Tansy offered. With a swish of her ruffled skirts, she
exited the room, leaving Willie alone with his mother.

“What
can you tell me?” he asked, moving closer and placing a hand on hers. “How long
has he been in Denver? Does anyone else know he’s come back? And where is he?
The house…” He blinked back unshed tears. It still hurt to think of his
childhood home sold at auction, to know that new owners had now moved in.
They’d probably stripped off all the old wallpaper, taken out the carpeting,
torn down the velvet draperies with their ornate pulls. Everything he’d ever
known and loved was gone.

His
mother, still too deeply immersed in her sorrow and tears, said nothing. Willie
turned his attention to the fallen roses, their scarlet petals splattered like
drops of blood. A thorn pricked him as he gathered the broken stems. Willie
winced and stuck his thumb to his mouth, sucking at the flesh.

“Your
father has surrendered. He’s turned himself in, and he’s being cared for in a
federal facility.” Without warning, his mother suddenly shot to her feet. “Get
up, William. Take me to your father now.” As though she’d been in a cursed
spell and had suddenly broken free, she whirled into furious motion. “I’ll get
my cape. Hire a buggy for us. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”

She’d
nearly reached the door before Willie could scramble to his feet. He dashed
after her, catching her up with an arm around her waist.

“Mama,
slow down.”

“But,
why?”
She
wriggled around to face him. Her tear-filled eyes seemed to overpower her thin,
lined face. “Your father needs us. If we wait…” She shuddered in her son’s
arms. “It might be too late. We must go now.”

“I
don’t want to see him. I can’t. I won’t.” He knew how deeply his words wounded.
“I’ll drive you to Denver, but I won’t stay. I’ll put you up at a hotel there.”

“How
will you afford it?”

“I’ve
got some money saved.”
 
Money he’d
meant to invest in finding Hattie. He sighed and grabbed for his cap. “I’ll go
to the livery and hire a buggy.”

She
reached for his hands. “Thank you. I wish you’d reconsider. Your father wants
to see you.”

“I
don’t care what he wants. I have to do what’s best for me. I can’t see him,
Mother. Nothing you say will change how I feel.”

“I’m
sorry to hear it.”

“Do you
have the letter?” he asked. “Maybe I should read it.”

His
mother gestured toward a small desk. “Yes, please do. Oh, there was a letter
for you, as well.”

Willie’s
heart jumped into his throat. “Is it from Hattie?”

“No,
dear.
I
didn’t recognize the name, but the letter was posted in California. Do you know
someone there?”

He shook
his head, his hopes crushed again. “I’m sure it’s nothing important.” He
strolled to the desk, found his father’s letter and stuck it in his pocket. He
would read it later. Glancing down, he read the name on the second envelope.
He’d never heard of Mrs. Virginia
Quisenberry
.

“Let’s
go, Mother.”

He
strode across the room,
then
stopped. Whoever Mrs.
Quisenberry
was, she must have had good reason to write if
her letter had traveled all the way from California. Willie reached for the
enveloped and tucked it into his pocket, too.

Chapter
Seventeen

San Francisco

Hattie
moved slowly along the narrow, crowded street. Her swollen ankles brought
excruciating pain with each step, and the constant crush of pedestrians pushing
around her made her wish more than once that she’d never come to San Francisco.

A
city big enough to lose herself in.
Oh, yes. Big enough to swallow her up whole, along with her
baby, along with her dreams, along with any prospects for future happiness.

Life
now was about survival—for herself and for her child.

Thank
goodness for Mrs.
Quisenberry
and her generosity.
Hattie adored the kind-hearted woman and felt awful that she could do so little
for her. Although Mrs.
Quisenberry
insisted that the
companionship Hattie provided was payment enough for her room and board, it
wasn’t nearly enough. Friendship didn’t put food on the table. Pleasant
conversations did not pay for goods or services. In truth, Hattie was a burden.

Day
after day, she went out in search of work, paying no heed to the shocked looks
as she marched through the business district. She ignored the harsh comments
she so often heard as she passed by, remarks about how indecent it was for a
woman to show herself in such a state. Hurtful words would follow her now all
the days of her life. Best she get used to it.

Her
search for gainful employment fared no better than her previous searches for a
room. Always there were questions, impersonal voices prying into her affairs,
asking precisely why a woman so big with child would be looking to work.

Always
she told the truth.

Always
she was turned away.

Perhaps
it would be wiser to lie. Many other women had done the same under similar
circumstances. Hattie could easily make up a story, fabricate a father for her
child, give him a tragic end, and maybe garner a bit of sympathy for herself
and her plight. She could even visit one of the many pawn shops along the wharf
and for a few pennies pick up a slender band to claim as a wedding ring.

Hattie
stared down as she continued on.

She
would not bring herself to the point of untruth. If she had learned nothing
else in her young life, she most certainly had come to value honesty above all
else. If she allowed society to take that from her, it would mark the end of
her. To destroy the truth was far more serious in nature than the loss of any
other virtue she might possess.

A
splitting headache throbbed.

Knowing
she must stop and rest, Hattie retreated to a small corner park in hopes of
finding a convenient bench. As she followed a grassy pathway that wound through
a grove of trees, she suddenly stopped. She listened.

Had
someone called her name?
A preposterous thought.
She
knew no one in San Francisco save Mrs.
Quisenberry
.
No one knew her.

Only
imagination.

A short
distance ahead of her, she saw a wooden bench. Once she reached it, she could
sit down and take the weight off her aching legs and swollen ankles. But her
weary limbs simply refused to move. Her thoughts, too, froze. Once again, she
thought she heard someone calling her.

With a
shake of her head, Hattie forced herself to move forward. She would not give in
to wishful thinking, and surely that’s all it was. Exhausted after yet another
sleepless night, and frustrated at her inability to persuade anyone to hire
her, she’d come to a point where her mind could not be trusted. Her senses had
failed her.

Again,
she heard the voice calling her, shouting her name.

A voice
that sounded so like Willie’s it made her heart flutter and the baby stir
within her womb.

Hattie
stared down at her stomach. No matter how often it happened, she would never
quite get used to the idea of having a complete little person moving around
inside of her. Did all women find it so odd?

She
pushed aside her nagging doubts. Mrs.
Quisenberry
had
told her to expect occasional twinges, an aching back, and not to be surprised
by how many times she needed to relieve herself. All the discomforts would
quickly be forgotten, the woman said, once Hattie held her child in her arms.
She smiled at the thought.

But her
smile quickly faded. She still had to deal with reality. Each day her money
dwindled. Once her time came and she had a child to support, how would she
manage? Virginia
Quisenberry’s
kindness and mercy
could not endure forever. Already she had given Hattie so much and received so
little in return. The gracious woman, for all her goodness, simply could not
afford to dole out charity.

The
voice called again, growing closer now.

Hattie
stopped. A spring breeze rose up, ruffling the edges of her skirts. Confusion
swirled around her as she glanced up and caught sight of him.

Indeed.
William Howard Morse, Jr. stood waving his hands at her, trying to catch her
attention.

“Willie?”
She opened her mouth, spoke the name, but she wasn’t sure any sound actually
came out. Too puzzled, too excited, too over-wrought, Hattie knew only one
thing—she was about to faint. She prayed Willie would reach her in time to
catch her when she fell.

* * *
*

“You’re
coming home, Hattie Mae.”

Willie
knelt in the soft grasses, gazing down at this beautiful young woman who had
come to mean so much to him. When she’d swooned into his arms—a good sign, he
thought— he’d carefully laid her out upon a gentle slope. Not an easy feat, to
tell the truth. He loved seeing the changes in her body, yet found it awkward—and
worrisome—to move her limbs about. Would his actions cause harm? Would he
accidently hurt the baby? He clutched her hand in his, willing her to regain
consciousness. A moment passed before her eyelids fluttered. Her breath
shuddered, and she peered up at him yet didn’t speak a word.

Thank
God, he’d found her!

One
look at her drawn, pinched features, her pale complexion, and her ill-fitting
garments, told Willie she needed him.

He
needed her more.

Alert
now, Hattie tugged her hands from his,
then
slowly pulled
herself up into a sitting position. Her gray eyes narrowed. “What are you doing
here?”

“I’d
hoped for a warmer welcome.” He reached out and placed a hand at her cheek.
“Aren’t you at least a little bit glad to see me? It’s been months, Hattie. Five
months, to be exact.”
Five terribly long months.

“Yes,
of course, I’m glad to see you.”

“You
don’t look very happy.”

“I—”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. I have no idea why you’re here or—”

“I came
here to find you. And to bring you home,” he added. “As soon as you feel up to
it, we’ll go to your boardinghouse, I’ll help you pack your belongings, and
we’ll be on the next train to Denver.” He eyed her burgeoning form. “You are
able to travel, aren’t you?”

Willie
wished he knew more about the process of having babies. The last thing he
wanted to do was to place Hattie or their child in harm’s way.

She
swallowed and nodded. “I’m well enough, yes, but…” Her voice faded.

“Listen,”
he said, moving closer. He placed a hand to her cheek and stroked softly.
“You’re coming home with me. We’re going to get married.
And
not just because we’re having a child.
I love you, Hattie Mae Richards.”

“Yes,
but how did you find me?”

Had she
even been listening? For God’s sake, he’d just declared his love. He’d proposed
to her, and she hadn’t even blinked.

“Hattie,
are you all right?” The blank, expressionless look in her gray eyes worried
him. Maybe she was about to faint again.

“I’m
fine,” she snapped, “but you haven’t answered my question. How did you find
me?”

She hadn’t
answered his question either, but Willie figured it was best not to press the
point right then.

“Virginia
Quisenberry
wrote to me.”

“What?”
Hattie’s eyes grew wide. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“Because
she cares about you, and she knows you’re hurting. She asked me to please come
for you.”

Hattie
leaned back again, closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side. “No,
that’s not what this is all about.
Why must she always be so
thoughtful, Willie?”
Her eyes popped open. “The truth is
,
it’s because she needs the room. She hasn’t got the heart
to throw me out.”

“That’s
nonsense.”

“I’ve
been staying with her for weeks now, and I haven’t paid her a cent.”

“She
said she’d hired you as a companion.”

“Yes,
in a way, that’s true, I mean, I have been keeping her company, but that
doesn’t change the facts. She’s got a room to rent, I’m sleeping in it, and
she’s not making a bit of money. Little wonder she begged you to come and get
me.”

“Nobody
had to beg me. I’ve been searching for you ever since you left Sunset.’

“You
have?”

“I
have, indeed.”

“And
now, you’ve found me.”

He
smiled. “I’ve found you, and I’m taking you home.” He lumbered to his feet,
then
bent down with outstretched hand. “Come along, Hattie.
You’ve got a bit of packing to do.”

* * *
*

Virginia
Quisenberry
had a festive table set for them upon
their return. Earlier that afternoon, immediately upon his arrival in San
Francisco, Willie had come to the boarding house. He’d met the kind-hearted
woman, and she’d told him where he’d most likely find the girl he so eagerly
sought. She’d said nothing about serving them dinner, however.

Even
though he wanted to be on the way back to Colorado as soon as possible, perhaps
it would be best to take things slow. Hattie could no longer move about as easily
as before, and she tired quickly. Several times during their walk home, they’d
had to stop and rest.

During
their meal—Willie had never known how delicious fresh seafood could be—Hattie
said little. She’d still not acknowledged his proposal, nor had she actually
agreed to return home with him. He avoided mentioning either, fearful that she
would reject him outright.

“Mrs.
Quisenberry
seems very nice.”

“She’s
a dear. I only wish I had some way to repay her.”

“I’m
working,” Willie said quickly. “I’ll settle your accounts.”

“You’ll
do no such thing. I’ve made my own debts—”

“And
you have no way to pay them.”

“It’s
not your responsibility.”

“I want
to help you, Hattie.” Willie saw an opportunity. He wasn’t earning much, but he
could offer her a bit of financial security, at least. More than she could
provide for herself. It might be enough to convince her to throw her lot in
with his.

Tilting
her head slightly, Hattie quirked an eyebrow.
“Have you finished your
studies, Willie?”

“Yes, I
have.”

“Have
you taken your examination?”

“Yes,
I’ve done that, as well.”
A truthful statement, although a
bit misleading.
“Before you ask, I passed the exam.”

Her
smile lit up the room, far more than the glowing candles Virginia
Quisenberry
had placed upon the table. It reminded him of
the dream he’d had the night before he’d faced the committee.

“I’m so
happy for you, Willie. I knew you could do it.” She leaned forward. “Are you
practicing now? Have you set up in Sunset?”

He
wished he could find a way to keep that happiness on her face forever. Of
course, he had to confess the truth to her.

“I
don’t have my license.”

“Oh,
well, I’m sure it does take a little time to process, but it won’t be long,
will it?”

“My
application was rejected.” He put down his fork. “I was denied the right to
practice law because of my father’s corrupt activities.”

“They
can’t do that.”

“Yes,
they can.” He picked the fork up again, speared another succulent scallop, and
brought it to his mouth.

“That’s
not right.”

“No,
it’s not right. I’m not even sure it’s legal, but they’re the ones making the
rules, so they can do whatever they want.” His thoughts took a morose turn.
“There’s another thing, too. My father wants to see me.”