KeepingFaithCole (31 page)

“Don’t you get smart with me, Tommy.” Charlotte’s body
shook, and her clenched fists beat against the air. She hunched her shoulders
forward, bared her teeth, and emitted a low growl.

The woman was mad!

“You can stop it any time.” Tom took a step toward her. “You
think I don’t know you’re putting on an act? You think I don’t remember all
those times you’ve pulled tricks like this?”

“Get away from me!” she shouted as he grabbed at her
thrashing arms.

“Shut the hell up.”

Charlotte straightened. Standing stiff and rigid, she stared
at her son. “You’ve done it now, Tommy. You want to know about hell? I’ve lived
in hell all my life. I’ll show you hell.” Suddenly she whirled around, swept up
the lantern and ran toward the cottage. “Here’s what hell looks like!” She
hurled the burning lamp toward the porch. The glass chimney shattered against
the side of the cottage. Oil spilled out, flames shot up, and within seconds
the old newspapers, brush, and debris scattered there were afire.

“Charlotte!” From her vantage point behind the wagon,
Lucille called out, watching in horror as the woman ran into the burning
cottage. “Dear God! What are you doing?” Choking as smoke rolled toward her,
she pressed Faith against her bosom, turned, and ran through the darkness into
the night.

Hell, indeed. She peered over her shoulder. Behind her the
flames engulfed the tiny cottage.

Where was Charlotte?

Dear God, where was Tom?

She squinting to see through the smoke, desperate for a
glimpse of her husband, the man she’d come to love with all her heart, all her
soul. She couldn’t lose him!

“Tom, please!” Tears streamed down Lucille’s cheeks, her
frantic sobs mingling in the night with Faith’s piercing wail of terror. She
sank down onto her knees, knowing that nothing she said would stop him. Despite
all the anguish his mother had caused him, all the hardships he’d suffered
because of her, despite all the agony, the pain, the sufferings and humiliation
she’d heaped upon him throughout the years, Tom Henderson had come through it
with honor, with decency, with an unerring knowledge of what was right and what
was wrong.

Everything his mother did was wrong. In so many ways, she
didn’t deserve a son like Tom, but then again, she didn’t deserve to die a
horrible death in a fiery hell of her own creation. Lucille knew he would not
give a thought to what he must do.

He would simply do it.

He would risk his own life to save hers.

Each beat of her heart became a prayer. Each breath became a
plea to God. In between the prayers and the pleas, an overwhelming pride
brought new tears to Lucille’s eyes, as she stared at the nightmarish scene
before her. The frightened little girl in her arms cried too. Lucille held her
closer, rocking her back and forth, giving voice now to her entreaties.

When the first cold drops of rain pinged against her cheek,
moments later, Lucille couldn’t grasp it. She felt the cold, the wet, but
couldn’t figure out what was happening. It was only when more drops fell, only
when the rain came down harder—and harder still—that Lucille struggled to her
feet with a cry of joy.

“It’s raining!” Exultant, she bounced Faith in her arms. God
had heard their prayers. The flames flickered, smoke hissed from the burning
wood, and almost as quickly as the fire had started, it died away, leaving the
porch and outer walls of the cottage charred and ruined.

Scarcely able to breathe, Lucille gave silent thanks to the
almighty when Tom staggered out, his mother in his arms.

“Is she…” Lucille looked away, unable to utter the word.

“She’s alive,” he whispered.

Alive. And very lucky. By some miracle, her body wasn’t
burned too badly. With immediate medical care, proper treatment, and lots of
rest, she would recover from the effects of the fire. As for the effects of her
drinking…well, Lucille wouldn’t think of that now. She had other things on her
mind.

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you all right?” She reached
up and brushed a smudge of soot from Tom’s cheek. He winced and stepped back.

“I’ll be fine.”

“We need to get your mother to Sunset.” Lucille carried
Faith toward the wagon. “We’ll have
Abner
take a look
at you too.”

The driving rain made their travel difficult. Charlotte lay
atop a pile of old blankets in the back of the wagon. From time to time she
moaned softly, and now and then she cried out in pain. Each sound cut through
Lucille’s heart.

She didn’t hate Charlotte. She just hated what the woman did.
Yet she loved Charlotte’s son, and somehow, they would see their way through
the darkness.

* * *
*

Tom and Lucille stood together in the parlor of their little
farmhouse at the end of what had become a long, grueling day. He had no idea of
the time but guessed it was probably closer to morning than midnight. Faith was
sleeping in her own bed, and a restful quiet settled over the house.

Their
house, their home.

Abner
had treated Charlotte’s
burns—and bandaged Tom’s hands, as well—and they’d all driven to Denver. By the
time Tom and Lucille were ready to return home, his mother was resting
comfortably in a sanatorium Dr. Kellerman had heard about, one that specialized
in treating women with dipsomania. The former drunkard made all the
arrangements and even offered to pay the cost for her treatment. Charlotte
would stay at the Home for Inebriated Women until she was truly well. She’d
regained consciousness, had begged her son and daughter-in-law for forgiveness,
and had finally fallen into a deep sleep, thanks to a dose of morphine to ease
her pain.

She would be all right.

“Can you ever forgive me, honey?” Tom asked, lifting one
tightly-wrapped hand and resting it against Lucille’s cheek. He wished he could
feel the softness of her skin. “I’ve been such a fool.”

“We’ve both made a lot of foolish mistakes.” She shook her
head. “Let’s not talk about it now.”

“Lu, please.”

When she peered up at him, tears pooled in her beautiful,
dark eyes. “Can’t we just put it all behind us? What’s done is done. We need to
go on.”

True enough. The past could not be changed, and the best
thing was to leave it alone, walk away from it, move ahead to a better time and
place. Tom had learned that lesson well. Still, it was a tough thing to do,
especially when so many of the misfortunes had been of his own making.

He wanted forgiveness. He needed assurance that the ghosts
of the past had been laid to rest, never to rise again. But life didn’t come
with guarantees.

That was another lesson he’d learned. You took each day as
it came, gave thanks for what you had, even if it wasn’t all you wanted, and
you lived that day to the fullest. You worked hard to make your dreams come
true, and sometimes…well, sometimes, a man got lucky.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.” Lucille leaned against
her husband.

“Maybe it’s time we headed for bed.”

“Probably so.”

She sighed, and he drew her into an awkward embrace. His
hands would heal, but for now, he’d need a lot of help with even the most basic
chores. Because of his injuries, Lucille had been the one to drive the wagon to
Denver and back. Little wonder she was about to fall asleep on her feet.

“I should have listened to you,” he whispered as he brushed
kisses against the crown of her head. “You were right, I was wrong, and—”

She placed a finger to his lips. “Hush, Tom. It’s over,
remember. It’s all in the past. Come now, please. Maybe we can get a little
sleep before the sun comes up.” She traced the shape of his mouth with a
delicate touch. “I love you. We’re going to make it.”

Warm, golden light tip-toed across the hardwood floor,
following the couple as they walked toward their room. Outside their window,
the new day dawned.

Epilogue

Two years later…

It was all coming together
just like the plots in the dime westerns he’d taken to reading lately. Except
that his life wasn’t a story of danger or violence, but a story of light and
truth, a story of goodness triumphing over evil, a story of love that was meant
to be.

Happiness hadn’t come
easily, but he and Lucille had found it. His horse farm provided them with all
the material things they needed, but better still were all the things that
money couldn’t buy.

As he drove the buggy toward
Sunset, Tom glanced at his growing family. Beside him sat his wife with
Faith—now a rambunctious toddler—on her lap. Wrapped in swaddling clothes and
tucked safely away in wooden carriers Tom had built, two more little girls
gurgled and cooed. The twins—Hope and Charity—had arrived three weeks earlier.
A feeling of genuine pride surged through him. How could any man get so lucky?

Lucille rested her head on
his shoulder. “Your mother is doing all right, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure of it.” Indeed, he
was, yet her words brought a momentary tenseness. He drew up on the reins.
“Honey, if you have any doubts about this, we’ll turn around now.”

“No, it’s fine. We’re doing
the right thing.”

“Yes, we are.” Tom reached
out and stroked her cheek as he maneuvered the horse through the narrow streets
of town, still wet and muddy from the recent spring rain. “It’s not too late to
change your mind. You know,” he said, his voice low, “you and Ma went through
some rough patches.”

“That’s all in the past
now.”

Charlotte had remained at
the sanatorium for more than a year. Twice a week,
Abner
Kellerman had driven from Sunset to Denver to visit her and encourage her
progress. By the time she was released, she and
Abner
had developed a true relationship, one that seem destined to last.

As the buggy neared the
little house in town where Charlotte now lived, Faith bounced about on Lucille’s
lap. “Grammy! Go see Grammy!” Once the vehicle stopped, she wasted no time, but
crawled down, ready to jump to the ground.

“Faith, stay right there!”
Tom called. “I’ll be around to help you.”

Charlotte was already coming
toward them. “I heard you drive up. I figured you could use a bit of help with
all those little ones.” She laughed, held out her arms, and lifted Faith from
the buggy.

“We could use a lot of help,
Charlotte.” Lucille reached out and placed a hand on her mother-in-law’s
shoulder. “That’s one reason we came by. We wanted to talk to you about taking
care of the girls.”

Tom’s heart felt so damned
big, he worried it might burst then and there. Lucille had every reason—and
every right—to hate his mother but chose to love her instead.

Lucille took Charity into
her arms while Tom carried Hope. Together they followed his mother and Faith
into the house.

“Ma, I was thinking about
fixing up the upstairs bedroom.”

“For a nursery?” Charlotte’s
features wrinkled into confusion. She shook her head. “These babies need to be
downstairs, close to the two of you.”

“We’re fixing it up for
you,” Lucille said. “We want you to come and live with us.”

“With Faith being such a
bundle of energy, and now with the twins…” Tom grinned. “We really could use
your help, Ma. Please, say you’ll come out to the farm with us.”

Lucille placed a hand on his
shoulder. “Really, Tom, you’re making it sound like that’s the only reason
we’re asking your mother to move in.” She turned back to the older woman. “Yes,
we can use the help, but it’s more than that. We’re family, and we should be
together. I’d like to have more time to spend with you, Charlotte. Now that my
mother has moved back to Denver with my sister, I’m feeling a little bereft. If
you’d come live with us, it would be like having a mother again.”

Tears welled in the corners
of Charlotte’s blue eyes. She made no move to wipe them away and soon they
spilled down her cheeks.

“It’s kind of you to ask,
but I’m afraid I can’t do it. I’ve got…other plans,” she said after a
hesitation.

Tom grinned. “Do those plans
happen to include a tall, older gentleman with a neatly-trimmed moustache and
goatee? One who happens to practice medicine?”

He’d never seen his mother’s
face turn so red so fast. “Please, be happy for us. Be happy for me.”

The stricken look on her
face almost made him laugh, but he schooled his features into a fierce scowl,
fighting hard to keep his amusement to himself. For the moment, it might be fun
to let her think he was truly worried about her relationship with Dr.
Kellerman.

He cleared his throat, drew
himself up and planted his hands on his hips. “Just what sort of plans do the
two of you have? He’s not taking advantage of you, is he?”

She caught on to his game.
He could tell by the way her eyes suddenly brightened, by the sly smile she
tried to hide. Like son, like mother. They were both playing.

“Only when I let him,” she
teased, leaning back and gazing off toward the curtained window. “We’re going
to do a little traveling. Thought we might go back east for a while. St. Louis.
Chicago. Maybe all the way to New York City.”

“And what makes you think
I’d allow my own mother to go gallivanting across the country with a man?
Absolutely not. I forbid it. You’re staying right here in Sunset.” He was
joking, but at the same time, he was serious. “It wouldn’t be right, Ma. I
mean, really, we have to think about our little girls now, and you ought to be
setting a good example for them. A single woman, no matter her age, has no
business going anywhere with a male companion.”

“What if that male companion
happened to be the woman’s husband?”

“In that case, she wouldn’t
be single,” Tom fired back. His jaw suddenly went slack. “Wait a minute. You
and
Abner
? You’re getting married?”

“You always did catch on
quick, Tommy.” She laughed. “Will you give us your blessing?”

“What if I don’t?”

Lucille jumped up and came
to stand beside him. “Stop it, please. Of course you’re giving your blessing.
We both are.” She turned toward his mother. “You know he’s being ornery, that’s
all. He’s very good at that, I’ve learned.”

“Yes, he’s an ornery one. I
guess that’s my fault since I’m the one who raised him, but he’s a good man,
Lucille.”

“He is,” she agreed. “A good
man, a good husband, and a very good father.”

Tom’s heart swelled again.
Somehow, love had worked its miracle in his life, had given him all he could
ever hope for. Love had shown him the way, had helped him become the man he’d
always wanted to be.

Love. That’s what made life
worth living. Love was the answer to every question, the solution to every
problem. With love, a man could be anything; without it, he was nothing.

Now, he had love and so much
more.

He gathered his mother and
his wife around him, bringing them into a circle.

Love.

Faith. Hope. Charity.

He drew them all closer,
then bent to brush a kiss against his mother’s grey-blonde hair.

“Yes, Ma, you’ve got my
blessing.”

*The End*