Brides of Iowa (27 page)

Pearl couldn’t have been more surprised if Everett had tossed the contents of his water glass in her face. There was no mistaking the disdain in the young man’s voice. Whatever Hubert’s answer was, it didn’t register in her mind.

The waitress brought their food, and Hubert asked the blessing. Pearl picked at her plate, glancing up at Hubert from time to time. An uncomfortable lapse in conversation ensued, and Pearl got the distinct impression Everett had things he wished to discuss with Hubert, but not in her presence. By the time they finished their meal, Pearl couldn’t remember what she ate. They rose to leave, and Hubert paid for their lunch.

Once outside on the boardwalk, he turned to Everett. “Will you excuse us a moment, son?”

Without waiting for Everett’s reply, Hubert gently guided her a few steps away. “I’m so sorry, my dear. Once he is settled at the house, I intend to have a talk with him and let him know I didn’t approve of the way he spoke to you.” He gave her elbow a little squeeze. “For now, may I see you back to the boardinghouse on our way home?”

The warmth of Hubert’s hand on her arm gave her spirit reassurance. “No, I still have a couple of errands to run.” She risked a quick glance in Everett’s direction and found him scowling. “I’d like for the two of you to come to dinner, if you have no other plans.”

Hubert sucked in a breath. “I think it will probably be best if Everett and I spend the evening at my house. We have some things to discuss. May I stop by the boardinghouse in the morning on my way to the store?”

“Of course. I’ll have fresh coffee ready.”

He squeezed her fingers and said good-bye. Though her heart felt a certain amount of vindication that Hubert intended to confront Everett about the way the young man had behaved, she couldn’t push away the distress. Nor could she forget the expression on Everett’s face when Hubert introduced him to her. Her own words echoed in her mind as she made her way down the boardwalk.

You mustn’t let anything stand in the way of reconciling with your son.

Hubert’s response to her encouragement that initially prompted joy now resounded like a dirge.
“I don’t intend to.
”

H
ubert fought a tug-of-war with his emotions as he studied his cup of tea and waited for Everett to finish unpacking and join him. From their first embrace at the stage depot, Everett’s demeanor had reminded him of the young man’s grandmother—condescending and haughty. He hoped Everett’s churlishness was simply due to travel fatigue. He shook his head. Why did his joy over being reunited with his son have to be dampened?

A discordant duet played in his mind. Everett’s arrival was a surprise. It had pained Hubert to toss the last page of the letter he and Pearl had written together into the fire—grieved him to watch the flames destroy the invitation to the wedding. How could a man be so torn in such distinctly opposite directions? For years, his heart had longed for reconciliation with Everett. But Everett’s knowledge of Hubert’s past choices made him the one person Hubert didn’t want to introduce to Pearl. He thought removing the invitation from the letter was enough.

But Everett chose to come. Judging by his son’s attitude thus far, celebration didn’t seem to be his purpose for traveling halfway across the country.

Hubert reprimanded his thoughts and sipped his tea. “Drop the investigator posture, Behr. You’re not a Pinkerton any longer.”

“Did you say something, Father?” Everett entered the room and sat in the leather chair across from Hubert.

Hubert forced a smile. “Just talking to myself. It’s one of the hazards of living alone.”

Everett’s fingers curled around the arms of the chair as he sent a slow, surveying scan around the room. Even though Hubert had indulged in several luxuries when he’d built the house, no doubt Everett considered it rustic. Why, surely the spacious front sitting room with its river rock fireplace and colorful woven rugs could never be deemed a proper parlor by Everett’s standards. After living in affluence for so many years, would his son consider the house inferior? But Everett’s opinion of the house wasn’t what burdened Hubert.

Hubert gestured to the teapot and extra cup sitting on the low table between them. “Would you like some tea? It’s Earl Grey.”

His son raised one eyebrow. “So you do enjoy a few genteel things out here in this…wilderness.”

Hubert’s heart pinched. His detective skills were still as sharp as ever. His son indeed viewed the town with contempt. A breath of defensiveness rose in his chest, but he pushed it back.

“It’s hardly a wilderness. I’ve found I rather enjoy the quiet life here in Willow Creek. There is a serenity in the surroundings one can’t experience in the noise of the city.”

Everett snorted as he poured himself a cup of tea. “There’s a great many things one can’t experience in a backwoods hamlet that the city affords. Culture, society, conveniences, sophistication…” He stirred a spoonful of sugar into his cup and took a tentative sip.

Debating the advantages of the city with those of rural Iowa wasn’t what Hubert wished to discuss. “I know your grandparents provided you a higher standard of living than that to which the good people of Willow Creek are accustomed. However, I would ask that you demonstrate a bit more graciousness. It so happens that I love this little town and its residents.”

Everett’s expression darkened, and he set his cup on his saucer. “My apologies, Father. Reverend Werner suggested I try to employ more understanding and compassion of others.”

“Reverend Werner?”

“Yes, he was the minister who came regularly to see Grandfather. I believe he pastored a small church on the other side of town.” Everett set his cup and saucer on the table. “At first I was a bit taken aback. The minister from the largest church in Baltimore where we attended for years never came to the house, even when Grandmother died. When Grandfather took ill, Reverend Werner started coming to visit. I never did learn how Grandfather met him.”

Hubert ran his finger around the rim of his cup. “This Reverend Werner—did he come often?”

A shadow flicked over Everett’s face, followed by a slight raise of his chin. “He came every week, mostly to talk with Grandfather, but whenever Grandfather was asleep, Reverend Werner would sit and talk to me. He spoke of Jesus like a best friend rather than a distant entity.”

“Did this man preach your grandfather’s funeral?”

“Yes.” Everett sat forward and his expression took on a hint of animation. “He said Grandfather knew Jesus in a personal way. It was most comforting to hear him talk about heaven, and how those he called ‘believers’ could one day go there.”

Hubert’s heart leaped. “Did you make the decision to believe?”

Everett leaned back in the chair and hesitated for a minute. “You know, I kept telling myself it was nonsense—nothing more than a comforting story a minister might tell to a dying man. But I must admit the different passages Reverend Werner suggested I study raised some questions in my mind.”

Joy filled Hubert’s soul, but before he could inquire further about his son’s possible faith, Everett abruptly changed the subject.

“So tell me, Father, when did you first meet Mrs. Dunnigan?”

Once again caught off guard, Hubert covered his hesitation by taking another sip of his barely warm tea. He’d wait for God to supply another opportunity to talk to Everett about his faith.

After briefly filling Everett in on the details of his last Pinkerton case that brought him to Willow Creek three years earlier, he leveled his gaze at his son. “I realized several months ago that I was falling in love with Pearl. That might sound strange coming from someone my age, but I am quite certain God brought me to Willow Creek for the purpose of meeting the woman I would eventually marry.”

Cynicism crept into Everett’s expression. “Really, Father. The woman runs a boardinghouse.”

Hubert bristled, but he held himself in restraint. Nothing would be gained by allowing his passion to take control of the situation. Instead, he purposely modulated his voice. “There is certainly nothing wrong with running a boardinghouse. But since you brought it up, I must say I didn’t appreciate the tone you took with Pearl at lunch or the attitude you displayed when you posed your questions to her. Pearl Dunnigan is a fine, hardworking Christian woman, and the boardinghouse she runs has an excellent reputation.”

Almost a full minute of silence passed while Everett turned his gaze toward the window. When he returned his vision to Hubert, scorn twisted his lips. “Father, I happen to know the Pinkerton Detective Agency pays its investigators quite well. You even mentioned in one of your letters that your retirement bonus was a rather tidy sum.”

Hubert wasn’t sure he followed Everett’s line of reasoning. What did his Pinkerton salary or his retirement bonus have to do with Pearl’s boardinghouse? His confusion must have shown on his face because Everett arched one eyebrow and tipped his head toward the window that overlooked the edge of town.

“I suspect this woman is—”

“Her name is Pearl.” The muscles in Hubert’s neck tensed, but he forced his tone to remain even. “When you speak to her or refer to her, please do so respectfully.”

Everett’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t retort. Instead, he appeared to take a deep breath—whether to sigh in resignation or calm himself, Hubert couldn’t tell.

“All right, I will be respectful. But Father, I can’t help but feel you are marrying beneath you. Mrs. Dunnigan likely doesn’t make a great deal of money running a boardinghouse for people who can’t afford a home of their own.” He paused before making his point. “Have you considered that she might be seeking a marriage of comfort and position?”

The tightness in Hubert’s neck extended to his jaw muscles. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. Allowing his temper to erupt would not only destroy the fragile relationship between him and Everett, it would also negate any chance to speak of his faith with his son. He certainly didn’t want to start out by setting parameters, but he couldn’t allow Everett to voice such speculations about Pearl. Distress burned in his chest. Unless Everett changed his attitude, the possibility loomed of having to make a choice between his son and the woman he loved.

He pulled in a deep breath and gentled his response. “Everett, I can’t describe how happy I am that you have come to visit.” It wasn’t a lie. He was both overjoyed and alarmed. “I’ve prayed for years that the wrongs of the past could be made right between us, that you might forgive me for the mistakes I made when you were a child, and we might begin to enjoy being father and son.” He nailed Everett with an unblinking stare. “But this you must understand: I love Pearl, and she loves me. What we share is a gift given by God. We both feel God is blessing our plans for marriage.” He took another steadying breath as the knot in his stomach tightened. “Son, I cannot tolerate derogatory statements about Pearl’s character. She is going to be my wife.”

Thick uneasiness pervaded the space between them, and for a minute Hubert was afraid Everett might go and purchase a ticket for the next eastbound stage.

Finally, Everett gave a slight nod. “As you wish, Father. I was merely wondering if Mrs. Dunnigan was an appropriate match for my father, but it seems you have already made up your mind. As I recall, once you set yourself to do something, there is nothing that can sway you.”

Hubert realized Everett’s statement had little to do with his plans to marry Pearl. He dropped his gaze to his teacup. The remaining beverage in the cup was now cold, much like Everett’s words.

“Son, if I could live my life over, there are a lot of things I’d do differently.” He shifted his jaw back and forth, despising the admission of guilt he knew he needed to offer to Everett, and asking God for the grace to do so. “In hindsight, I can now see that taking cases that kept me on the road for weeks, and sometimes months, was not the choice I should have made. My place was at home with you and your mother. Perhaps…perhaps if I’d allowed God’s wisdom instead of my ambition to drive me, you might not have grown up without your parents.”

Silence as oppressive as the July heat filled the room and hung there like an impenetrable fog. Voicing the admission of guilt put him in a vulnerable position. He wasn’t saying anything Everett didn’t already know, but the words had to pass between them before a bridge could be built. He blew out a pent-up breath and continued.

“Your grandparents were good people and even though they gave you a fine home, I regret leaving you there for them to raise. I should have been the one to influence and teach you as you grew. I’m asking you to forgive me for not being the father I should have been.”

Everett’s gaze remained lowered, but he blinked several times. “We both have regrets, Father. Mine is that I allowed Grandmother to poison my mind against you.”

Hubert shook his head. “You were only a child. If I’d been a better husband and father, you wouldn’t have grown up in your grandparents’ house.” There were other regrets, but none that he felt comfortable sharing with his son, especially not on the first day of his visit.

Everett stifled a yawn behind his hand. “I’m rather tired. If it’s all right with you, I think I’ll lie down for a while.” He rose and went to his room, leaving Hubert alone with his tangled thoughts. Ironic how he was able to give voice to the remorse he felt over his past mistakes, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit down with Pearl and tell her the same thing. So many what-ifs and if onlys.

“If only…” He closed his eyes and rested his head against the leather back of the chair. The fact that Everett hadn’t responded to his plea for forgiveness wasn’t lost on Hubert. How strange that God was so quick to forgive him, but his son withheld that which God gave freely. He gave a huff of resignation. He couldn’t condemn Everett for his lack of forgiveness. After all, despite God’s outpouring of pardon the moment he’d asked, he had yet to forgive himself.