Authors: Robin Lee Hatcher
She took it. “Thank you, Upchurch.”
He nodded and left the library.
Thankful for an excuse to end this uncomfortable conversation, Diana faced her father-in-law again. “Please excuse me, Mr. Applegate.” She rose from the chair and went into the parlor. Only then did she look at the envelope. Brook’s handwriting. She broke the seal and removed the notecard.
Dearest Diana,
Would you be so kind as to join me for luncheon today at my office? Unlike a restaurant, we shall be undisturbed there. Shall we say 1:00? I look forward to seeing you. I have missed our times together
.
Your devoted friend,
Brook
A confusing wealth of emotions welled within her. Tears stung her eyes. She desperately needed a friend. She would join Brook for lunch.
From his second-story office window overlooking Bannock Street, Brook watched Diana alight from a hansom cab and grinned. She’d come. He’d been certain she would, even though the invitation had been very last minute.
He turned and went into an adjoining meeting room where an excellent luncheon had been laid out for two. They would serve themselves so they could be alone. Eventually, he would want others—especially Tyson Applegate—to know about this assignation, but not yet. Not until he knew how best he could use it to his advantage. If he was careless, he could harm his reputation in the community as well as Diana’s. He didn’t care about hers, but he cared a great deal about his own.
The door to his office opened and his secretary ushered Diana in.
“Thank you, Paulson,” Brook said, dismissing the man. “Diana.” He went forward to take her hand. “You look lovely, my dear.”
She gave him a small smile.
It wouldn’t have been hard to be married to Diana. She was a rare beauty, and she had just enough spirit and intelligence to make her interesting but not so much as to make her uncontrollable. She would have been an asset to him beyond the fortune he’d expected her to bring into marriage. But her husband’s untimely return had spoiled all of that for Brook.
Hatred burned like hot coals in his gut. He would make Tyson Applegate
wish
he were dead before he was through.
“Come and sit down, Diana. We’ll eat and you can tell me how you’re getting along. You’ve been in my thoughts so often these past weeks.”
Tyson only half listened to Owen Hanson, his recently hired campaign manager. His supporters assured him the fellow—a man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and muttonchops—knew his business when it came to elections. But Tyson was having a hard time staying focused today. His thoughts kept straying to Diana … and to his father. Last night had gone better than he’d expected. What about today? Perhaps he shouldn’t have left them alone this soon.
“Mr. Applegate,” Owen said, drawing his attention to the present, “I believe it is important you speak to this group. Most of these gentlemen are dissatisfied with the current field of candidates. If you show them you are a man ready to lead and make sound decisions, they will support you wholeheartedly.”
“Fine. Fine. Arrange it. When did you say I’d give the speech?”
“Next Tuesday evening, sir. A week from today.”
“All right.” He glanced at his pocket watch. It was only two o’clock, and there were a number of letters on his desk that he should address. Instead, he stood. “I believe I’ll call it a day, Hanson. We can resume in the morning.”
His manager looked displeased. “Very good, sir.”
Rather than calling for his carriage, Tyson decided to walk home. It was less than two miles from his campaign office on Main Street to his home on the east side of town. The fresh air would do him good and the exercise might clear his mind. At least he hoped it would.
It surprised him, how distracted he’d become since Diana came to live with him. The campaign was important. He wanted to win this election as much as ever. And yet, changing Diana’s mind, winning her affections, had become vital to him as well. It wasn’t
enough to save his marriage, to have her remain with him as his wife out of obedience to the Bible or out of obligation or because of what society would say. He wanted something deeper, something truer, something … more.
He wondered, not for the first time, if his father had loved his mother. Even a little. The union of Jeremiah and Nora Applegate had begun as a merger, not a love match. Two wealthy, industrialist families had come together through the marriage of their children in hopes of building a great dynasty. At least, that’s how Tyson viewed it.
Perhaps Tyson’s relationship with his father might have been different, better, if his mother had been able to have more children. But no more babies had come after Tyson was born, and so all of his father’s plans for the future had been focused on his one and only son. And Tyson’s mother had seemed to fade into the woodwork a little more with each passing year.
Thoughts of his mother brought a fresh pang of regret. She’d died in November of 1896, but Tyson hadn’t learned of it until months later. It was too late to make up to her for all of his shortcomings, but he prayed it wasn’t too late to mend bridges with his father. God would have to show him how best to do that.
When Tyson entered the house through the front door, Upchurch met him in the entrance hall wearing a surprised expression. “I didn’t hear a carriage, Mr. Applegate. Forgive me for not meeting you at the door.”
“I walked home, Upchurch. Beautiful day out.” He glanced up the stairs. “Is Mrs. Applegate in her room?”
“No, sir. She went out.”
“Where?”
“She didn’t say, sir. She had me call for a hansom cab as she didn’t want to engage the carriage, should you require it.”
“And my father?”
“I believe he is in the garden with Mrs. Fisher.”
It was Tyson’s turn to wear a look of surprise. “Really?”
“Yes, sir. And the boy is with them.”
“The boy? Do you mean Ned?”
“I do, sir. The boy said he could not stand to be shut up indoors any longer. They went outside right after the noon meal.”
This Tyson needed to see for himself. “Thank you, Upchurch.”
He left his hat with the butler and headed for the back door at the end of the hall. He found the threesome in what had quickly become his mother-in-law’s favorite spot. His father and Gloria sat on the stone bench in the shade of the tree. Ned was on the ground, breaking twigs into tiny pieces and piling them, like a miniature stack of firewood.
“Tyson,” his mother-in-law said. “We didn’t expect you for hours. Is it that late?”
“No. I came home early. Upchurch told me Diana went out. Did she tell you where she was going?”
“To meet a friend for lunch, I think.”
Tyson’s disappointment was sharp.
His father rose from the bench. “Perhaps you and I might talk. As pleasant as Mrs. Fisher’s company is—” He gave Gloria a brief smile. “—it’s you I came to see.”
“Of course. But if you don’t mind, I want to go down to the stables first. I’ve got a mare that’s ready to foal, and I want to see how she’s doing.” It was another delaying tactic; Ned’s fall the previous evening had helped him avoid a private discussion with his father after supper. Now this.
“I don’t mind. Why don’t I walk with you? I haven’t seen your stables yet.” Jeremiah looked at Gloria again. “You’ll excuse me, Mrs. Fisher.”
“Of course, Mr. Applegate.”
Jeremiah’s gaze dropped to Ned. “Boy, can you manage the stairs on those crutches when you’re ready to go in?”
“‘Course I can.” Ned didn’t look up from the growing stack of broken twigs. “Got down here all right, didn’t I?”
Tyson caught a sudden glimpse of himself when he wasn’t much older than Ned—sullen, rebellious, resisting authority at every turn. And lonely too. Wishing his father could approve of him once in a while.
With a nod to his mother-in-law, Tyson turned and walked away, his father falling into step beside him.
Halfway to the barn, Jeremiah broke the silence. “Today was my first real opportunity to speak at any length with your wife’s mother. She’s a rather pleasant woman.”
“Yes, she is.” Tyson could have pointed out that the lack of opportunities to speak with Gloria Fisher was entirely Jeremiah’s fault. He bit back the words. Especially since the same could be said of him.
A few more steps and his father said, “I guess there is no changing your mind about the election.”
“No.”
“I still believe it is foolhardy.”
Tyson stopped in his tracks. “Father, why do you object? You always wanted me to run for public office, from the time I was a boy in short pants. That’s what your choice of schools I attended was all about. That’s what my studying the law was all about. It’s even why you objected to my marriage.” He felt old resentments rising inside him and swallowed hard to keep from giving voice to them.
“It isn’t your candidacy I find foolhardy, Tyson. It’s your rushing into it. It’s this last-minute write-in candidacy of yours. You
can’t win without a better plan. You can’t win without the power of a party behind you.”
“Maybe I can. Maybe not. I’ll leave that in God’s hands.”
His father stared at him in silence for what seemed a long while. “Do you think the Almighty cares whether or not you win an election?”
Tyson took an equally long time to answer the question. “I’m not sure. But I know God cares about changing my character, and whether or not I win this election, I’m sure the Lord will use the experience to mold and shape me for the better.”
“Never thought I’d hear talk like that coming out of your mouth.”
“Father, you need to understand something. I’m not the same angry young man who walked out all those years ago. I was wrong to have left my wife the way I did. I was wrong for not writing. To her or to Mother or even to you. I was wrong in more ways than I can count. I didn’t honor my parents. To my shame, I didn’t honor my marriage vows. I was thoughtless and reckless and selfish. But some good things came out of those years I was away. I grew up. I learned to take responsibility for my decisions. I learned to act rather than react. I learned that people matter more than possessions or money or power. And most important, I discovered that Christ is more than a good man who once walked this earth. He is divine and He died so I might live. With everything in me, I want to please Him first and foremost.”
“Good lord,” his father said.
“Yes.” Tyson smiled without humor. “He is a good Lord.”
A long silence stretched between them.
“Perhaps you’d better show me that mare now,” Jeremiah said at last.
January 1894
Diana lay in the bed, curled on her side, her heart breaking. She’d lost the baby, and with everything in her, she wished she could die too. While she’d been pregnant with Tyson’s child, she’d held out hope he might want to return to her. What hope could she cling to now?
Hearing the bedroom door open, she rolled to her other side, facing the wall.
“Diana?” As Nora spoke her name, she laid a hand on Diana’s shoulder. “I’m so very sorry, my dear.”
A sob escaped Diana’s throat.
“But I believe in my heart you will still give me grandchildren. I have asked God for it, and I’m believing in His answer.”
“Without a husband?” Diana whispered.
“You are not yet twenty, my dear. You are young and healthy, and when Tyson returns, there will be children of your union. I am sure of it.”
Diana spoke the question that was never far from her thoughts. “What if he never returns?”
“He
will
return. He just needs a bit more time to find his way home.” Nora leaned in and kissed her cheek before whispering, “We love him, you and I, and we must pray for him. No matter how long it takes, I know God will answer our prayers.”
Diana wished she had the same strong faith as her mother-in-law, but she didn’t have it and didn’t think she ever would.
When Diana first met Brook Calhoun, she’d believed her husband dead. Everyone had believed it to be so. Nothing improper had passed between her and Brook. Not ever. He had conducted his courtship quietly, both of them aware the courts would have to take action before they could marry. During that time, he’d never given her cause to question her decision to become his wife. He’d been a gentleman and treated her with courtesy and respect. There hadn’t been a great passion between them, but she’d been certain a kind of love would come with time.
Then why did being with him now feel so wrong?
She placed her fork on the plate next to her untouched dessert. “I should go.”
“So soon?”
“I must. Mother will wonder where I am, and there is my father-in-law to consider. He is a guest in our home and I mustn’t neglect him.”
“You told me Mr. Applegate never showed you the slightest concern. Why should you care whether or not he feels neglected now?”
She glanced toward the window, Jeremiah’s voice whispering in her head.
“But aren’t you afraid he might leave you once again?”
“I care about you, Diana,” Brook said. “I worry about you. I think you’ve lost weight.”
“Have I?”
He pointed at her plate. “You barely touched your food.”
“I ate a late breakfast.”
His expression was grave. “I can see you’re unhappy. I wish it were in my power to do something to change that.”
Was she unhappy? She’d awakened that morning with such lightness of heart … because of Tyson’s rescue of her frightened cat. Not enough to prove him changed. Not enough to—
Brook reached across the table and took hold of her hand. “I will be here whenever you need me.”
That sense of wrongness swept over her again. But why was she surprised by it? Her world had been turned upside down, beginning with Tyson’s return from the dead. Everything was wrong, not just this moment with the man she’d thought to marry. Everything.
She slipped her hand from his grasp and rose from the chair.
“I must go.”
“We’ll do this again.” He stood too. “Remember, my dear, you can confide in me. No matter what the trouble is, I will listen and be of whatever assistance I may be.”