Brides of Iowa (34 page)

“Uh, nothing, thank you, Tillie.” She looked into Tillie’s face and saw bewilderment, even though the girl’s focus was on Everett.

Tillie bit her lower lip for a moment. “Everett, I wanted to tell you again what a nice time I had at the picnic.”

A momentary flinch raced across Everett’s face, and he slid a glance around the room. “Just the tea, please.”

Tillie blinked and took a backward step. If Everett’s demeaning suggestion to take up with Silas Cain incensed Pearl, his blatant condescending attitude toward Tillie magnified her anger even further. As soon as Tillie hurried away, Pearl stood and picked up her reticule. Every nerve ending in her body wanted to shout her indignation at Hubert’s son, but to do so would only further alienate him. However, regardless of his treatment of her, she refused to stand by and watch a sweet girl like Tillie get hurt.

She sucked in a steadying breath and rose from her chair. “Everett, I’m going to forget this meeting took place, except for one thing.” Pearl lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “Tillie O’Dell is a lovely, sweet Christian girl, and for you to snub her the way you just did is simply…mean and hateful.”

She didn’t bother to wish him a good day as she turned and marched resolutely out the door.

Hubert ran his hand over a bolt of new material he’d just pulled from the crate and placed on the shelf. Blue, Pearl’s favorite color. The fabric with its tiny forget-me-not pattern sprinkled over it was the same shade as Pearl’s eyes. Maybe when she came into the mercantile, he’d just give her a dress length.
If
she came in. She’d not set foot in the store in over three weeks. He suspected that she’d coaxed Tessa to pick up supplies for the boardinghouse.

He’d caught glimpses of Pearl at church or as she walked down the boardwalk. His heart wanted to call out to her, but he couldn’t embarrass her that way. The day he’d caught her when she tripped on the church steps, she’d made it clear that she considered a public confrontation inappropriate. He’d considered writing a letter, but he could only imagine the postmaster’s amusement when Hubert spent two cents to mail a letter he could walk down the block and deliver in person for free.

He glanced toward the door, like he did a hundred times a day, hoping to see Pearl entering. Instead, a young lad with unruly brown hair and too many freckles to count stepped through the door. With only a cursory peek at the candy jars lined up on the counter, the youth marched up to Hubert.

“Hullo, Mr. Behr. Fine day, ain’t it?”

The boy’s precociousness pulled Hubert’s mouth into a smile. “Hello there, young fellow. I believe I’ve seen you at church, haven’t I?”

“Yessir. I’m Grady O’Dell.”

“How nice that you’ve come to visit, Mr. O’Dell.”

A few of Grady’s freckles went into hiding when the boy grinned. “I ain’t here to visit. I’m workin’.”

Hubert chuckled. “Is that so? Well then, how may I assist you today, sir?”

Grady dug into his pocket, the tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration. He extracted a wrinkled scrap of paper, which he held out to Hubert. “This here’s the list. I’m gettin’ paid a nickel to take these things to—” He clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Hubert took the paper and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Don’t you worry, Grady. I won’t tell anyone about your good fortune.” He unfolded the paper. “Now, let’s have a look at your employer’s list and—”

The handwriting on the paper was as familiar as his own.
Pearl.
Realization sent a stab of remorse through him. Pearl apparently wanted to separate herself from him and was paying Grady to pick up and deliver her groceries.

“Got my cart out on the boardwalk,” Grady declared. “I’m a lot stronger than I look, so I can load it myself. Oh, and I got the money right here.” He pulled a wadded-up hanky from his other pocket. When he set it on the counter, coins clinked inside its folds.

Hubert rubbed his hand over his bearded chin. So that’s the way it was. His heart grappled with his common sense. Why couldn’t he simply take the supplies to Pearl himself?

“Well now, there’s no need for you to tote all these things.” Hubert flapped Pearl’s list. “I can deliver them to Miss Pearl this afternoon.”

Grady’s eyes bugged out. “How didja know they was for Miss Pearl? I wasn’t s’posed to tell.”

Hubert patted the boy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. But I’d be more than happy to deliver these items to her personally.”

Grady’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “But then I can’t earn my nickel. I was gonna buy some peppermint sticks for my sister Tillie’s birthday.”

Hubert bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees. “Tell you what. I’ll give you the peppermint sticks. How’s that?”

A frown tainted Grady’s countenance and he shook his head vehemently. “Uh-uh! My pa says a man should do a day’s work for a day’s pay. I want to do what Miss Pearl’s payin’ me to do.”

How was Hubert supposed to refute that? He straightened and heaved a sigh. “All right, son. It’ll take me a few minutes to get everything on this list together. Why don’t you go look at the peppermint sticks.”

Grady’s frown dissipated, and he stuck his hand out to Hubert. “Yessir.”

Hubert shook the boy’s hand and began making Pearl’s selections. After he wrapped up each item, and while Grady was still distracted, he quickly measured out a dress length of the blue forget-me-not material and added a yard of lace trim. Discreetly folding store paper around the yard goods, he tucked the package between Pearl’s other supplies.

“Here you go, Grady. Everything is ready.” Hubert counted out the money from Grady’s hanky while the boy loaded the packaged items into the handcart.

All smiles, Grady waved good-bye to Hubert and turned the cart toward the boardinghouse. Hubert waved back, the pain in his heart so sharp he thought it might draw blood.

How he wished he could deliver those goods into Pearl’s hands himself, but he had a terrible feeling she would close the door in his face. She’d never given him a reason for breaking their engagement, and when she’d told him not to come back, he’d abided by her wishes. For the hundredth time, he questioned his judgment.

If her decision not to marry him had anything to do with Silas Cain, why was he standing by allowing it to happen? What kind of man was he that he’d let the woman he loved walk away without fighting for her? No, he couldn’t go on like this any longer. Somehow he had to make her listen. He must think of a way to catch her alone so he could talk to her without Cain’s interference. In the meantime, he intended to grab hold of God’s throne and beg Him for favor.

H
ubert poured two cups of coffee and carried them to the table, setting one in front of Everett before returning to his own chair. Neither of them had done justice to their supper plates. Hubert’s appetite had abandoned him a few weeks ago, but Everett pushed his food around on his plate, ate little, and spoke even less.

“Is everything all right, son?”

Everett jerked his head up. “I beg your pardon?”

Hubert studied his son a moment. The air of pomposity that usually accompanied Everett’s tone and manner was noticeably absent, but a frown of contemplation had carved creases in his brow for the past two days.

“Care to talk about it?” Hubert sipped his coffee.

Everett pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. “Father, why didn’t you tell me Tillie worked in the hotel dining room?”

Hubert gave a shrug. “I don’t know…why? Is it important?”

“Important!” Everett nearly spewed the word. “She’s a waitress, a servant. Do you realize how foolish I felt?” He leaned forward and jabbed his finger into the air in Hubert’s direction. “Father, she stood there in her apron waiting to take our order, telling me what a good time she had at the picnic.”

Hubert folded his arms across his chest. “Frankly, I don’t see the problem. If you liked Tillie at the picnic, why wouldn’t you like her now that you know she works at the hotel?” His deliberately calm demeanor seemed to irritate Everett further, but Hubert went on before Everett had the chance to retort. “I tried to explain to you—the people of Willow Creek are fine, hardworking folks, and they aren’t judged by their wealth or lack thereof. This isn’t Baltimore. Social registers mean nothing here. You aren’t any better than Tillie O’Dell because you were raised in affluence and she wasn’t.”

Everett opened his mouth, but Hubert held up his hand. “What makes a person worthy of your respect? Position? Status? Power? If that’s the case, you must not hold me in very high esteem. I’m simply a storekeeper.”

“That’s different,” Everett countered. “You chose to be a storekeeper. You just wanted something to do when you retired.”

Hubert nodded. “Yes, that’s so. But nevertheless, I wear an apron and I serve the people who come into the mercantile, the same as Tillie wears an apron and served you in the hotel dining room. She is still the same person she was at the picnic.”

Everett turned and stared out the window, frustration edging his expression. “My upbringing isn’t something I can casually toss away.”

“I’m not asking you to do any such thing.” Hubert rose from his chair. “Your grandparents were fine people.” He picked up his coffee mug and carried it to the sitting area, gesturing for Everett to join him. “Are you telling me your grandparents would approve of you holding someone in contempt because they didn’t have as much as you?”

The hard edges of Everett’s indignation softened as he sank into the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. Hubert could see him thoughtfully weighing the question.

Finally Everett answered. “Grandfather wouldn’t.” His fingers curled around the ends of the armrests. “Grandfather treated everyone the same regardless of their position. Grandmother was the one who insisted on observing proper social protocol.” After a minute, he looked across at Hubert, a tiny smirk tweaking the corner of his mouth. “Grandmother would have been appalled at me attending a church picnic and sitting on a blanket on the ground. She would have needed her smelling salts had she known I’d spent the afternoon with a young woman who worked as a waitress.”

Hubert pressed the tips of his fingers together and allowed Everett time to contemplate the difference between the values taught by his grandparents. “So is Tillie your picnic companion different from Tillie the waitress?”

Everett didn’t reply immediately. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, dragging his hand through his hair. “That’s something I’m going to have to think about.” His expression took on a faraway look, and he spoke more to himself than to Hubert. “When she came to take our order, she smiled the same way she did at the picnic.”

“Our order?”

“Mrs. Dunnigan and myself.”

Hubert sat forward so abruptly his coffee sloshed over the rim of his mug. “You and Pearl were at the hotel dining room together? When was this?”

Everett jolted out of his reverie. Telltale redness crept into his complexion. “Uh, a couple of days ago.”

“Why didn’t you mention this to me?” Every nerve ending in Hubert’s body stood at attention.

Discomfort etched a frown into Everett’s brow again. “I simply ran into her in town.”

“You ran into Pearl in the hotel dining room?”

“Well no, not exactly.” Everett shifted his position and examined his fingernails. “I invited her to have a cup of tea.”

Hubert sat, stunned. Was his son having a change of heart about Pearl? He’d love to prod Everett into disclosing what they’d talked about, but his son’s countenance had closed up tighter than shutters over a window before a storm. Was a cup of tea all it took to persuade Pearl to engage in conversation?

“Perhaps I’ll do the same.”

Everett’s quizzical look begged an explanation.

Hubert pulled himself out of his chair and stood. “I had planned to go over to the boardinghouse this evening and try to convince Pearl to talk to me. Perhaps a cup of tea will help smooth the way.”

“What?” Everett stood and faced his father. “She broke off the engagement. There’s no need—”

“No need to what, son?” Hubert stared at him. “You sound like you know why she broke the engagement.”

The red in Everett’s face deepened. “All I know is she made her choice. Why do you insist on talking to her now that her attention is elsewhere?”

Hubert nailed Everett in place with a steel gaze. “You seem to know an awful lot about this.” He took a deep breath, glanced down, and released the air on a restrained sigh. “Ever since you and I began corresponding a year ago, I prayed that we could someday be reconciled. Your being here is the answer to that prayer.”

Hubert crossed the room to stand in front of the window. He stared across the expanse of the hillside that separated his house from the edge of town. Just past the treetops, the peak of the boardinghouse roof pointed skyward. The lengthening shadows and the golden hues of the descending sun winked together against the wood-shingled rooftop. Under that roof resided the woman he felt God had chosen for him.

“Everett, I don’t know if you had anything to do with Pearl’s decision. I don’t know if her new boarder, that Cain fellow, had anything to do with it. But I know this.” He turned, wanting Everett to see the determination in his expression. “I will not let her go without a fight.” The waning light revealed disconcertment on his son’s face. “I love Pearl. And as happy as I am that you have come to Willow Creek, I cannot let you or anyone else stand in the way of Pearl and me being together.”