Lone Star Loving (17 page)

Lisette McLoughlin had never been so happy nor so troubled in her life. How wonderful it was, having Charity home, right here in the solarium. And how awful it was, the noose hanging over that dark head.
Gott in Himmel
. What was to be done about the girl?

For twenty years she'd been frustrated over her defiant triplet's actions. Charity had caused a world of problems throughout that time. Why couldn't the girl realize that she was doing nothing but destroying herself with willfulness and impetuous behavior?

In spite of everything, though, Lisette loved her daughter. Always had, always would. And her conscience gave a reminder: she, too, had been guilty of willful acts. If Lisette had always done as expected, she wouldn't be married to Gil.

“I don't want to be here.”

Lisette listened to her daughter's words. Charity stood with her chin up, her shoulders squared, ardently defiant.

“It must be difficult, coming home after our row of last May,” Lisette said. “But you are here, and we must face . . . what we must face. How can I help you?”

“Hadn't you better get Papa's approval before you ask that question?”

“Your father is a levelheaded man, Charity, and I have long depended on his wise counsel. But I make my own decisions.”

“Levelheaded? You never see his faults, do you? He's a hothead if there ever was one.”

“Did you come home simply to criticize him?”

“No.” Charity glanced out the window before studying the floor. “I'm here because I ...” Her words trailed off. Why was she here?

“I am glad you're home. Every night I have lost sleep, worrying about you.”

“You could have written to me. You could have sent a telegram to Laredo, at least on my birthday. You could have done a lot of things.”

“You could have, too.”

Turning on the ball of her shoe, Charity faced the window. She said not a word. Lisette reminded herself of the futility of trying to reason with her daughter, for her words had always fallen on deaf ears.

She decided to hone in on the positive. “I am happy you're home,” she repeated.

“Are you? Are you really?”

“I am.”

“I ... it's good to see you, Mutti.” Charity closed her eyes. “I've missed you. I didn't realize how much until I saw you.”

Her heart aching with pain and love, Lisette extended her arms, then pulled them back when Charity made no motion to reciprocate.

Chuckling hoarsely, Charity said, “A while back I remembered something. I remembered that Christmas I broke your mother's crystal bowl. It was one of many times that I disappointed you. I'm sorry for each of them.”

“The bowl was merely a possession.” Fate had given them one more chance for closeness. Lisette had to put aside her doubts and misgivings–or there might not be another opportunity. “I'm sorry that I wasn't more understanding of you.”

“I did give you a heck of a time, didn't I?” Charity flashed her mother a scamp's grin. “I meant to, you know. I did everything I could to get your attention.”

Lisette rolled her eyes. “You certainly were a handful. I tried to be patient with you. I wanted you to know that you were special to me. Are special. You have a very special place in my heart, Charity.”

“But you prefer Olga and Margaret and Angus.”

“That is not true. I love each of you equally. Each of my children has a private spot in my heart.” Again she opened her arms to her daughter. “Don't stay away from me.”

Charity faltered; she stared at the floor, shuffled her feet. She refused to take the first step of the ten that distanced her from her mother.

Lisette approached her. “Come here,
Liebchen.”

Charity's dark head elevated. Blue eyes—shaped so much like her father's blue-gray ones–went from defiant to hopeful, and she sailed into her mother's arms.

“I have missed you,” Lisette whispered, cradling her willful triplet in her embrace. It felt indescribably splendid, touching her daughter and knowing that Charity had returned. Here, the family could protect her, both from herself and from her crime. Lisette patted the waves of near-black hair.
“Ich liebe Dich.”

“Oh, Mutti . . .” Charity seemed to be fighting an internal battle. Moments later, a victor was declared. “I love you, too.”

It was a poignant reunion for Lisette; her child who was no longer a child in years but so much so in spirit returned her love. Maybe there was hope for them.

When at last they drew apart, Lisette suggested they sit awhile, and led her daughter to the solarium's wing chairs.

“I was told Maria Sara and her son are hereabouts. Are they?” Charity inquired.

“Ja
. They are in town this afternoon. With your cousin Karl. He should have them back by late evening.”

“Karl would be wonderful for her.”

Lisette didn't wish to discuss either her nephew or Maisie's paid companion, either singularly or as a couple. Especially since there was something about Maria Sara Montaña that troubled her. What it was, she wasn't exactly sure.

Eager to tell Charity all the news of the household, yet unsure how it would be received, she pushed Maria Sara and Karl from her thoughts. Her fingers as jittery as her nerves, she touched the diamond pendant suspended from her neck; Gil had given her the jeweled heart back in Kansas, back in the darkest days of their married life. Since then she had touched it a thousand times, as if the heart were a talisman.

Lisette McLoughlin had always been a woman of steel nerves, yet at this moment, how she needed her husband.

Try to keep your words light.
“We have a surprise for you. Margaret is expected home in a couple of weeks.”

“Margaret? All the way from university?” Suspicion marked Charity's features. “She was sent for, wasn't she?”

“I see.” But it didn't appear as if Charity saw anything at all. “What about Angus? Where is my brother?”

“Your father sent him away.”

“Sent him away? Has he done something wrong?”

“No. Gil thought it would be best if Angus wasn't around for a while. Until the, uh, the scandal dies down.”

“Oh.”

Lisette noticed that no question had been posed about Gil's whereabouts.
Well, are you surprised, considering the hurts each wreaked on the other?

“Enough about other people.” Anxious for her daughter to broach the subject of the smuggling charge, Lisette said, “I want to know what has been happening with you.”

In short, terse sentences, Charity told so much yet so very little. Her flight to Laredo; the unveiling of Ian Blyer's true character; the desperation that had driven her into being an unwitting accomplice to smuggling. “I am not guilty, Mutti. I promise you, I'm not.”

“I never thought you were.”

“You never questioned ... ?”

“Never.”

Charity's expression softened. “Thank you.”

Lisette picked at a piece of lint that adhered to the chair arm.
“Liebchen,
you haven't mentioned David Fierce Hawk.”

Charity's mouth tightened into an expression her mother knew well: aggravation. “I guess Maisie blabbed everything.”

“No,” Lisette replied honestly, “I didn't know there was an everything. I only knew that he was sent to Laredo to fetch you.”

“What did Maiz tell you?” Charity asked too quickly.

Intuitively, Lisette knew there was much, much more to the story than she had thus far been able to gather. “That you were unhappy about being fetched.”

“That's the truth,” Charity muttered. “About Hawk, he is with me. Well, not exactly. He's gone into town to talk with the sheriff.” She squirmed on the chair. “You see, he's going to be my attorney.”

“You didn't ask him in? You didn't want your attorney at your side this afternoon?”

A blush spread across Charity's cheeks as she averted her eyes. “We . . . I thought it better if he stayed away for a while.”

Lisette studied her daughter carefully.
Mein Gott,
the girl must have lain with the Osage lawyer. Lisette almost laughed. And cried. When she had met Fierce Hawk, in '69, she'd had a suspicion that the McLoughlins had not seen the last of him. Her instincts had been correct.

But why like this?

Lisette wouldn't press her daughter on the matter, not now. There would be time for that later, if Charity wasn't candid on her own.

But, oh, poor Charity. History repeated itself, for the daughter was apparently as vulnerable to jeopardies of the heart as her mother had been, so many years ago. Well, unlike Lisette's first brush with a man, Fierce Hawk was like Gil, admirable and honorable. Perhaps Charity hadn't, and wouldn't, experience the hell of courtship gone awry.

But what about Ian Blyer?
Doesn't she know heartbreak already?

That awful cock of the walk's greediness had been apparent to everyone, save for Charity. While she had the ability to make quick and canny judgments about most people, Charity was blind to the faults of those she yearned to please. In her too trusting heart she couldn‘t–or wouldn't–see truths. But once her illusions were shattered . . .

Take heed, Lisette. She didn't marry Ian Blyer.
What
had
she done with Campbell Blyer's son, though? Lisette figured it was best not to give that too much consideration.

She thought about her husband. Gil would be furious if he found out his daughter had coupled with either man. In Gil's eyes, both were unsuitable mates for a McLoughlin daughter. Then again, few potential spouses met up to Gil's tough standards for his children.

The problem wasn't confined to Charity's lack of will in staying pure. Gil, Lisette knew, had many bones to pick with the girl.

“Where is Maiz?” Charity asked, obviously wanting to change the subject.

“As soon as I saw you riding up, I told her to stay in her room.”

“And she agreed?”

“Ja.”

“Doesn't sound much like Maiz. But then, she's as angry with me as I am with her.”

“I'm surprised about this business between you two. You never quarreled in the past.”

“She never interfered in my life before.”

“Well, she is old. And she wants your happiness. You know she stops at nothing to get her way.”

They both chuckled.

Charity abandoned the chair and walked to the window, turning solemn. “You know that Hawk has broken with his people.”

“He said as much when he arrived here in August. And it is the talk of Washington. But I trust he'll do fine in whatever life he chooses. I ... I'm sure you feel the same way.”

“All I care about is how well he defends me.” Charity moved toward the door. “I think I'll take a short nap. I find I'm quite weary.”

 

 

Charity was in the east wing of the house, headed toward her childhood bedroom, before she turned and started back to the solarium.

Such motherly understanding had given Charity a world of peace. And Mutti hadn't even demanded her to explain many things that were, Charity supposed, glaringly apparent. If their new understanding was to be successful in the long run, she would have to meet her mother halfway.

She didn't regret admitting her love. It had always been there, though she had tried to deny it. Time after time after time. And she had more to say.

Her mother still sat in the velvet-upholstered wing chair. Lisette McLoughlin had grown plumper over the past five months, her daughter assessed. Sweets were her solace. And tiny lines now radiated from the corners of her blue eyes. A streak of white lightened the already fair hair that grew above one side of her forehead. Mutti was still beautiful.

“I thought you were going to nap, Liebchen.”

“Mutti ... Hawk is more than my lawyer. I have . . . He is my lover. I gave him my virginity.”

Lisette exhaled in relief. “I'm glad you didn't give it to Ian Blyer.”

Astounded, Charity gaped at her mother. “All my life you've lectured me about keeping myself pure for marriage. You aren't going to lecture now?”

“No.” Lisette rose from the chair. Once she faced Charity, she took her hand. “I think David Fierce Hawk is a wonderful man.”

“Good gravy.”

“Do you have any idea why I cautioned you against giving too much of yourself?”

“Propriety?”

“Has nothing to do with my worries for you, my child. Experience taught me to advise caution. You see, I, too, had my own Ian Blyer. But I gave him what I should have saved for your father. And he almost ruined my life.”

“Oh, Mutti darling, I never imagined . . .” Charity marveled over the courage it must have taken her mother to admit such a thing. She slipped her arms around her mother's shoulders. “I'm so sorry you were hurt.”

“Hurt has its way of healing. I found your father, and for him, I am eternally grateful. Be glad you've found David Fierce Hawk. He, too, is a good man.”

“Maybe. Probably. But he has hurt me.” She couldn't forget how Hawk had deceived her, how he had thrown her in the lion's den. “Hawk hurt me with his lies. He plotted against me. And he fooled me into thinking he was someone he is not.”

“Sometimes, my child, lies must be told.”

“Is that supposed to make them hurt less?”

“I don't know,
Liebchen.
I don't have all the answers.”