Brides of Iowa (26 page)

Two ladies with market baskets over their arms followed him in the door and he served them with his customary politeness, but the contentment he normally enjoyed operating the mercantile had vanished. He measured a length of cloth for one of the women and forced a smile as she looked over his supply of threads.

“Hubert!” Pearl bustled in the door. “Mrs. Russell just received a letter from her nephew and she said—” Pearl halted abruptly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had customers. Good morning, Pamela, Christine.”

The women chatted a moment with Pearl while Hubert gritted his teeth behind a pasted-on smile. His customers finally bid them both a good day and exited. He turned to Pearl. Her blue eyes danced like those of a young girl.

“You were saying?”

“I couldn’t wait to tell you.” She set her reticule down on the counter. “You remember I told you I had spoken with Mrs. Russell about taking over the cooking and cleaning at the boardinghouse in exchange for free rent and a small salary—just until we can find a buyer.” Words bubbled out of Pearl like water from a spring. She clasped her hands as if holding them in check. “Mrs. Russell corresponded with her nephew, the one who sends her money each month. He thinks it’s fine if she wants to perform the duties, as long as she doesn’t overtax herself.”

Hubert’s tentative smile beamed into a full-blown grin. “Does this mean we don’t have to wait until the boardinghouse is sold before we can set a date?” His earlier grumpiness ebbed away like a vapor.

Pearl’s laughter sounded like music. “That’s what it means.”

Hubert didn’t hesitate another second. He grabbed Pearl, picked her up, and whirled her around, her skirts billowing like a sail in full tailwind.

“Hubert! Put me down! Mercy sakes! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Hubert plunked her back on the floor, warmth creeping up his neck. Never before had he acted in such a demonstrative fashion. What in the world had gotten into him? Pearl clutched one hand to her chest and stared at him, speechless.

He tilted his head and gave her a sheepish grin. “I apologize, my dear, but your news has just made my day. No, my entire week.” He took both her hands in his. As they locked gazes, a warm thrill rushed through him. He could hardly believe God had blessed him with such a wonderful woman. The idea of living out the remainder of his days with Pearl kicked his pulse up a notch. They shared a special smile—communicating more with a silent look than a thousand words could tell.

A hint of her lilac water teased his senses, and it was all he could do to keep from hanging the C
LOSED
sign on the door and running off with his intended to find the preacher that very minute.

He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and walked her to the door. The cheery red color of the flowers on her dress competed with the roses in her cheeks. His heart leaped within his chest, and he thanked God again that Pearl had said yes.

Hubert couldn’t keep from smiling. “We need to discuss our plans.”

Pearl’s eyes twinkled. “Thinking about wedding plans makes me feel a bit giddy. Am I being foolish?”

He patted her hand. “If you are, then I’m foolish as well, because wedding plans have occupied a good portion of my thoughts.”

She glanced up and down the boardwalk and lowered her voice. “Hubert, please don’t think me selfish, but I’d rather have a small, quiet ceremony, something simple. Would you be terribly disappointed if we did that?”

A deep chuckle bubbled up from his middle. “Of course I wouldn’t be disappointed.” He leaned slightly forward. “The truth is I’ve been a little nervous about having a fancy wedding with all the trappings. Small and simple is fine with me.”

Several doors down the street, the stage pulled up at the depot. Hubert glanced at his pocket watch and nodded. “Right on time. I always know when it’s eleven o’clock, even if I’ve left my watch at home.” He clicked the timepiece closed and slipped it back into his pocket. “Pastor Witherspoon usually goes home for lunch around noon, so we might stop by his house and ask him what day he can perform the ceremony.”

Pearl nodded. “I’d like that just fine.”

“Perhaps you’d like to have lunch at—”

The words caught in Hubert’s throat. A single passenger disembarked the stage. The young man brushed dust from his coat and turned to reach up for his bag. Even at the distance between them, Hubert couldn’t mistake the man’s features.

“Hubert? What is it?” Concern colored Pearl’s tone.

His mouth fell slightly agape, and he took a couple steps forward. Could it be?

“Everett?”

Hubert’s feet moved of their own volition, and within seconds he was striding toward the stage depot. “Everett? Son?”

The young man halted and looked up. Recognition lit his eyes, and he set his bag on the boardwalk. “Father.”

The two clasped hands in a strong handshake, and Hubert pulled his son into an embrace. Joy spilled over him in bucketfuls. Hubert clapped his son on the back, then grasped him by both shoulders.

“Son, I can hardly believe you’re here.” Emotion burned behind his eyes. Everett—his boy—had actually come to see him. How many years of regret passed between them, wasted years like water slipping through his fingers? But he held the answer to his prayers in his arms.

“It’s so good to see you, son.”

“It’s good to finally be here.” The timbre of Everett’s voice carried the unmistakable ring of maturity—deeper, stronger. His firm, square jaw, inherited from his grandfather, was more pronounced now that manhood etched its mark over Everett’s features. Adolescence had been left behind. When did that happen?

Everett glanced around, as if giving the town a cursory appraisal. His eyebrows dipped, drawn together by small lines above the bridge of his nose. Another family resemblance left its imprint on the boy—not a physical trait, but rather in his mannerisms. A hint of arrogance. “So this is Willow Creek.”

Hubert’s detective instincts kicked in without effort. If he didn’t miss his guess, his son was less than impressed by the town. A tiny twist pinched his gut. Everett’s arrival caught him by surprise, something that rarely happened. A sensation akin to anxiety swept through him. How many weeks and months had he dreamed of this day? Now that he stood face-to-face with his son, he wished he’d had more notice, more time to prepare.

“Hubert? Is this your son?”

He spun around. Pearl stood a few steps behind him, waiting to be introduced.

Pearl’s heart accelerated in a rush of joy. What a blessing to witness Hubert’s reunion with his son! She stepped forward, side by side with Hubert.

Hubert placed his hand on her shoulder. “Son, I’d like you to meet Pearl Dunnigan. Pearl, this is my son, Everett Behr.”

Everett extended his hand. Pearl accepted his offer of a handshake. His brown eyes darkened as they scrutinized her face. Stiffness drew his shoulders back. “Mrs. Dunnigan.”

Her breath hesitated. The formality of his tone and stately air gave her pause. Perhaps his upbringing in a wealthy home instilled the reserved manners and propriety. Regardless, he stood waiting for her response.

“It–it’s so good to finally meet you, Ev—uh, Mr. Behr.” She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so awkward meeting a person.

Everett cast a cool glance over her and returned his attention to his father. “I made my travel arrangements as soon as I received your last letter.”

Hubert smiled, but it wasn’t the warm smile Pearl was accustomed to seeing.

“I’m so happy you could come, son. In fact, Pearl and I were just discussing the wedding.” Hubert bent to retrieve Everett’s bag. “You must be tired and hungry after your trip. Let’s get you settled. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Everett nodded and without so much as a glance in Pearl’s direction, he replied to his father. “Is there a hotel here?”

Hubert chuckled. “Hotel? Yes we have a hotel, but I’d rather hoped you’d want to stay with me.” He extended his arm to Pearl, gesturing for her to join them.

“Um, Hubert?” Pearl reached out to touch his sleeve. “Excuse me for interrupting, but since it’s only a little after eleven o’clock, you can’t close the store right now. Why don’t I take Everett to the boardinghouse? He can relax and refresh himself, and I can make sure he has a hearty lunch. After he rests, you can take him to your house.”

A flash of something foreign darted through Hubert’s eyes—an indescribable emotion she’d never seen on his face before. He appeared to hedge a moment, trying to form a response. Before he could reply to her offer, however, Everett spoke.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dunnigan. I’m sure you mean well, but I think it best if I remain with my father.” He turned away from her, and she felt an air of dismissal. “Father, surely you have employees who can operate your enterprise in your absence.”

Pearl’s mouth dropped open at Everett’s cold reaction to her invitation. Did Hubert notice his son’s rudeness? To her surprise, Hubert hurriedly agreed with Everett.

“It’s no problem to close the store for the remainder of the day.”

“But Hubert, your customers—”

“Will simply have to come back tomorrow.” He started up the boardwalk with Everett on one side of him and Pearl hastening her steps to keep up with him on the other. “This is a special occasion. My son has arrived for a visit.”

They stopped at the mercantile so Hubert could hang the C
LOSED
sign and lock the doors. Pearl stood to one side, unsure if Hubert even remembered she was there. Determined not to dampen his joy over Everett’s arrival, she waited quietly for him to share his plans.

Hubert dropped the store key in his pocket and turned a broad grin on his son. “Now, we have the rest of the day to spend catching up with each other.”

When Hubert finally turned to her, the warmth had returned to his eyes. “Pearl, my dear, why don’t you join us? We can have an early lunch at the hotel and then take Everett to my place.”

At his mention of the hotel, her spirits dipped a bit. Hubert always loved her thick roast beef sandwiches and potato salad, and she’d made an applesauce cake just that morning.

“I’d still like to make lunch for both of you at the boardinghouse.” She slid her gaze between father and son. “But you are entirely correct, Hubert. This is a special occasion. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

Everett’s frown made her feel like an intruder. Was she being presumptuous? Of course he probably wanted his father to himself, at least for the first day of his visit. She could understand that. But before she could voice her thoughts, Hubert took her hand and tucked it within the crook of his arm.

“Since I’m taking the day off, you should, too.” His smile calmed her mounting apprehension. “Join us for lunch, then I’ll get Everett settled at my house.”

They crossed the street and entered the hotel dining room, but when Hubert held her chair as she was seated, Everett’s glower caught her attention. Her smile fell from her face. She wasn’t imagining it. Everett resented her presence.

“So Father, I’m a bit confused.” Everett scooted his chair closer to the table. “You have no employees trustworthy enough to run your establishment while you’re away? Closing the place doesn’t seem prudent.”

Hubert chuckled. “I am my only employee. I suppose at some point I should consider hiring someone to work part-time.” He smiled across the table at Pearl. “Especially after the wedding.”

Her stomach normally danced with delight at Hubert’s references to their upcoming nuptials, but Everett’s apparent displeasure cast a pall on her happiness. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d come. At first, she assumed his intention was to reunite with his father and share in the joy of the wedding. Now she wasn’t so sure. What if she didn’t pass muster as his father’s future wife? Is that why he was here? To inspect the woman who was about to marry his father?

She silently admonished herself for her undisciplined imagination.
Don’t be silly. After receiving the letter Hubert and I wrote together, telling him about our marriage plans, of course he’d want to come and celebrate with us. Hubert invited him to come. He’s simply tired from his journey.
She returned her attention to the conversation between the two men, only to discover them both training expectant gazes upon her.

“Pearl?” Hubert’s eyes studied her with concern.

Heat rose from her middle and filled her face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. That was rude of me.”

Everett cleared his throat and arched his eyebrows. “I asked you if you operate the town boardinghouse.”

“Why, yes.” She took a sip from her water glass. “I’ve been running the boardinghouse for many years, ever since my husband died.”

“I see.” Everett’s chin rose slightly. “What kind of people stay at a boardinghouse?”

She wasn’t sure she understood his question. What was Everett’s point in asking? Did he think she operated a house of ill repute?

“Everett.” Annoyance seeped through Hubert’s voice at his son’s inquiry. “Pearl runs a respectable establishment.”

“Of course she does.” There was no remorse in his tone, nor was an apology forthcoming. “I merely wondered if the clients she served are dependent upon her charity or if they contribute to society in any way.”