In Every Heartbeat (29 page)

What would Alice-Marie’s parents think of him? She hadn’t been put off by his orphan status or unknown lineage, but would her parents accept him, just for himself? Uncertain what to say, Bennett chose to tease. “My, my, Miss Daley, aren’t you the bold one. I didn’t think fine-bred girls were supposed to be so forward.”

Her lips pinched into a displeased line. She stepped out from under his arm. “I apologize if I seemed
forward
. I didn’t realize a simple invitation would be misconstrued as presumption.”

Bennett laughed. Her sassy response reminded him of how Libby used to react to his teasing. How they’d loved to spar. Would that impertinent side of Lib return when they’d finally received word about Jackson’s condition?

With her nose in the air, Alice-Marie huffed, “And if you’re going to be rude enough to laugh at me, then perhaps I shall withdraw my invitation. There!” She frowned up at him, her eyes snapping. “Now what do you say?”

Bennett didn’t say anything. Instead, he tipped his head downward with the full intention to plant a kiss on her saucy lips. Kissing was always better than arguing. But before he could make contact, a cry split the air.

“Bennett!”

He jerked upright, expecting to find Caroline shrieking on the sidewalk. Instead, Libby raced toward them. She waved a telegram. Tears streamed down her face. He stepped away from Alice-Marie. The sight of Lib’s tears almost stopped his heart. It must be awful news if Libby was crying.

Holding her shoulders, he peered into her tear-damp face. “Is it Jackson? Is he—”

“He’s going to be fine!” A sob choked off her voice. Shaking her head, she gazed at him in wonder. “God saved him, Bennett! He heard our prayers, and He saved him!”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-THREE

G
od saved him! God saved him!”

Libby’s words echoed through Bennett’s head so loud and strong they made his ears ring. He released Libby and stepped backward, forcing a reply through clenched teeth. “That’s great, Lib.” He reached blindly, snagged the sleeve of his jacket, and yanked it from Alice-Marie’s shoulders.

Alice-Marie released a displeased yelp, but he ignored her protest and jammed his arms into the sleeves. He turned and strode toward the men’s dormitory. An unnamed fury made him pound his feet against the concrete, the solid contact stinging his soles.

“Bennett, wait!” Libby’s bewildered cry found his ears right before a hand grabbed the back of his jacket.

He shook loose and marched on, but a persistent
click-click
on the sidewalk let him know she was still pursuing him. He stopped and spun to face her. “What?” The single-word query snapped out, surprising even him with its vehemence.

She drew back momentarily then scurried forward to curl her hands over his arm. “I thought you’d be pleased. I know you’ve worried about Jackson. So why are you so . . . ?” She seemed to be peering beneath his skin, trying to find the real emotion underneath.

He turned and glared across the yard, his teeth clamped so tightly his jaw hurt. “I’m happy Jackson’s fine.” His throat ached with the effort it took to speak. “It’s good news. Jackson’s fine. Pete’s fine. You’re fine. Everybody’s fine!” His hands formed fists, and he jammed them deep into his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to raise one and use it to do something he’d later regret.

Grabbing his arm again, Libby guided him off the sidewalk and beneath the eaves of the nearest building, where they were somewhat protected from the wind and away from curious eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her tears had dried, leaving shiny paths on her smooth cheeks. The tenderness in her eyes made his chest feel tight. She needed to stop looking at him like that. “Nothin’.”

“There
is
something. The last response I expected from you at the news of Jackson’s recovery was anger, yet you’re angry, Bennett. I can see it.” She squeezed his arm, leaning close. “Tell me why.”

Bennett jerked free of her grasp. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it won’t change anything!” He wished she’d get mad back—snap at him that he needed to change his attitude or remind him to behave like a human being. She hadn’t hesitated to blast him with her opinions in the past. If she’d do it now, he’d have an excuse to shout and rage, too. But she went on looking at him in that soft, sweet way. In a way he didn’t deserve. “Leave me alone, Lib.”

“I won’t. Not until you let loose of what’s bothering you.”

“What’s bothering me is you!” If anything would make her spout in defense, that would do it. He braced himself, prepared for the deluge of furious words sure to spew from her lips.

As he’d expected, her expression hardened. She opened her mouth slightly, her chin lifting into an arrogant angle. But then, to his disappointment, she appeared to shrink into herself. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment, and she drew in a deep breath. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, all of the fury of moments before was gone. That odd calm acceptance he’d witnessed in the past few days returned, and it raised Bennett’s irritation another notch.

“Stop making excuses, Bennett. You’re hiding from the truth.” Her composed speech did nothing to ease his frustration. “You aren’t angry at me, but you are angry. What is it?”

He leaned forward until his face was only inches from hers. With his jaw so tight he could barely form words, he snarled, “All right, Lib, you want the truth? You’re right. I’m downright, all-fired, purely
mad
right now, and I’ve got every reason to be. Apparently it’s not bad enough that I have to listen to my best friend-turning-preacher spouting God-talk at me every minute— now you’re starting to do it!

“I’ve never fit in anywhere—not at the orphanage, where someone dumped me, not with the Rowleys, where I could never measure up to Pete, not here on this campus with its kids from good families . . . but at least, in a way, I had you. We were alike, you and me—not finding a family like other kids from the orphans’ school did, not fitting in anywhere . . . together.” He paused. How could Libby understand anything he said? He couldn’t even make sense of his own ramblings.

But in spite of his disjointed spillage of words, Libby listened intently. Looking into her open, accepting expression, his anger swelled again. “ ‘God saved Jackson.’ ” He mimicked her higher-pitched tone, putting a sarcastic note into his delivery. “Well, doesn’t that make Jackson special? God just seems to save everybody—Pete, Jackson, all those kids who got adopted instead of me—” He swallowed, finally acknowledging the source of the change that had come over Libby in the past few days. “Even you.” Bennett broke out in a sweat despite the cold temperature. “So where does that leave me? What’s God ever done for me?”

Tears glimmered in Libby’s eyes. Another change—Libby never cried. He had no idea how to respond to Libby’s tears. “Stop that!” He pointed at her face as one tear slipped free and ran toward her chin. “Don’t be bawling like a baby. I didn’t do anything to you.”

She shook her head, her chin quivering. “I’m not crying for me, Bennett. I’m crying for you. Because you just can’t see.”

“See what?”

“That God’s been with you all along.”

He snorted. “Oh, yeah. That’s just as clear as a brand-new window pane.” Derision laced his words. He turned to storm away.

Libby caught hold of his jacket front. Even though he wanted to pull away, something made him stay put. But he wouldn’t look her in the face. Her soft voice reached his ears, though, her warm breath touching his cheek.

“I understand, Bennett. I didn’t see Him, either. Not until I tripped and fell into His arms. But He’s here, right now, loving both of us just like He always has. Our problem is we’ve been trying to find Him in the midst of our own selfish wants instead of realizing He’s waiting in the middle of where He needs us to be.”

Bennett crunched his eyebrows. He blurted, “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know. It’s hard to comprehend at first, but once you grasp it, it changes everything.” She gave his jacket a little tug and he knew she wanted him to look at her, but he kept his face stubbornly angled away. She sighed. “Bennett, you said God never saved you. What makes you think that?”

Hurts carried from long ago rose up. “You know why. My folks threw me away. Gave me to a bunch of people who didn’t care about me. When I ran off, nobody came after me.” He’d never forgotten the long-ago day when he’d darted out the door of the children’s home into the street, hoping—just hoping—someone would follow. He clenched his fists tighter, the remembered fear of that first night alone in an alley bringing a rush of hurt and shame. Why hadn’t anyone come? “They just let me go.”

So quietly he almost didn’t hear her, she asked, “And who found you?”

Bennett swallowed and refused to answer.

“Aaron Rowley found you.” She bounced her knuckles against his chest. “Didn’t he? And he took you with him. Never once hesitated. He gave you a home, Bennett. Haven’t you ever considered that was God’s way of reaching down to rescue you?”

“Wanted my
own
home.” He sounded childish, foolish, but he couldn’t help himself. He did want his own home, and his own folks. God hadn’t given him what he’d wanted.

“I wanted a ma and pa . . .” Libby said, her voice turning sad, and despite his determination to stay turned away, Bennett couldn’t resist a quick glimpse of her face. Her eyes found his and held him captive. The peaceful acceptance reflected there raised a tide of longing. What must it be like to be as at peace as Libby was right now?

“I still don’t understand why God said no to my prayers for Maelle to adopt me. A little part of me will always wish she had, because I love her so much. Maybe . . .” She tipped her head, recognition creeping across her features. “Maybe He said no because He wanted me to finally accept that I didn’t need Maelle’s love as much as I needed His. I’ll have to think about that.”

She tugged his jacket front again. “But for now, there’s something I want you to do. Stop trying to see God where you
want
Him to be. Start trusting that He’s right where you
need
Him to be. And you’ll finally realize . . . He’s with you, Bennett, and you’re safe with Him.”

“I’m so glad you’re going to be all right,” Pete said as he grasped the iron footboard of Jackson’s hospital bed. Now that Maelle had finally agreed to leave Jackson’s side and get some rest at the hotel, Pete had a chance to spend some time alone with Jackson.

He hadn’t begrudged Maelle the privilege of being with her husband, but he’d needed to see for himself that Jackson was recovering from the wound he’d received when he’d wrestled Gunter for control of the gun.

He shook his head sadly. “So much for your promise that nothing would happen when you went to talk to my pa . . .”

Jackson swished his hand through the air, then grimaced and pressed his palm to the bandage that circled his torso. “It’s just a flesh wound. Although I regret how much worry it’s caused everyone, I’m glad it happened. If it weren’t for being shot, the police might not have been as willing to believe me when I told them Gunter confessed to killing the clerk. This crease in my side gave me credibility.”

Pete lowered his head. He was the son of a murderer; that fact hung like a boulder around his neck. “I still don’t understand why Oscar didn’t just tell the police it was Pa who did the shooting. He was ready to die rather than tell the truth.”

“Oscar did what he thought was best.” Jackson spoke in what Pete thought of as his lawyer voice. “If your father had been arrested and hanged, who would provide for the family? Oscar knew he couldn’t take care of his mother and brothers and sister. He was willing to give himself for them.”

Pete marveled at the unselfishness of his little brother’s choice. There was good in the boy—he only hoped a judge would recognize it. “What will happen to Oscar now?”

Jackson sighed. “The murder charge has been reversed, thank God, but Oscar admitted to trying to rob the store. He’ll have to pay the penalty for that crime.”

“But he won’t hang.”

“No, he won’t hang.”

Pete hitched his way to a chair in the corner and sat, relief making him weak. They’d managed to rescue Oscar from the hangman’s noose, but what of his ma and his other siblings? Gunter Leidig had disappeared. Although the authorities were hunting for him, Pete was certain they wouldn’t find him. He’d be a fool to return to Clayton, knowing the gallows awaited. His family was on its own now.

“When Aaron and Isabelle get here tomorrow, I need to talk to them about quitting school.” Pete rested his hands on his knees, absently massaging the right one. “Now that Pa’s gone for good, somebody’s going to have to support Ma and the children. I’m the oldest, so it falls to me.”

Jackson shifted slightly on the pillow to frown at Pete. “You’re planning to move to Clayton?”

How he hated the idea of being away from everyone he loved. Libby’s face flashed in his mind’s eye. Leaving her would be the hardest. But it would be good for both of them. They’d be able to release their fruitless emotional bond and move on with their lives. Of course, if he didn’t enter the ministry, maybe they could find a way to bridge their differences. Strangely, the thought didn’t lift his heart.

Pete held up his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “What else can I do? I can’t work full time
and
go to school. Somebody has to pay the rent and buy food and clothes for the kids. My ma sure can’t do it. She’s never had a job—she always depended on Pa.” Was it fear of Pa or her lack of skills that had kept his mother in that house, trapped? “Now she’ll be depending on me.”

“What kind of job do you think you’ll find?”

“Maybe I’ll work at the brewery.” Pete didn’t relish working in such a place, but it offered decent wages. “Or maybe I can find something on the docks.”

“You think they’ll hire a man with a peg leg?”

Even though Jackson spoke kindly, his words stung. “If they won’t, then I’ll find a desk job. Maybe in a bank, or as a store accountant.”

“Without training?” Jackson shook his head. “You’re talking nonsense, Pete. Ever since you were ten years old, you’ve wanted one thing—to preach. Are you telling me becoming a minister doesn’t matter to you now?”

Pete tapped his peg against the floor. He sampled the excuse he intended to present to Aaron and Isabelle. “What if . . . what if I told you I picked preaching because I knew I could stand in a pulpit with only one good leg. Preaching’s one job where having a peg leg doesn’t matter—it doesn’t affect my ability to speak.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

Pete stared at the tip of his wooden peg sticking out from his pant leg. He sighed. No, he didn’t mean it, and he hoped God would forgive him for even making such a statement. He’d been called to preach by the God who’d preserved his life all those years ago.