In Every Heartbeat (31 page)

Pete felt his chest puff at their approval. “Then you agree that I should quit school?”

Isabelle raised her chin. “Absolutely not.”

“But you just said—”

“We said we admired your desire. We did not say we agreed it was the best thing for you to do.”

Pete looked in confusion from Isabelle to Aaron. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

Aaron chuckled. “Not quite. All right, Pete. We listened to you. Now will you listen to us?”

Pete suspected he was going to hear the same arguments he’d already endured from Jackson. But he wouldn’t be disrespectful to the people who’d raised him. He nodded.

Aaron propped one arm on the table and his expression turned serious. “You see, Pete, Isabelle and I have been praying about a situation at home. We knew when Matt and Lorna got married, Lorna wouldn’t want to keep working at the orphans’ school forever. She agreed to continue cleaning and helping with the cooking until she and Matt started their family, but . . .” He grinned, gesturing toward Isabelle.

Isabelle clapped her hands together, joy lighting her face. “Lorna is in a family way. Already! She and Mattie will welcome a baby into their home midsummer. They are so delighted, as are we. Isn’t it exciting?”

“I’m very happy for them.” Pete had no idea how Matt and Lorna’s coming baby affected him or his family.

Aaron continued. “Now that’s she’s expecting a child, she wants to spend her days in her own home, preparing it. So she asked to be released from working at the orphans’ school.”

Isabelle cut in. “Of course, that has left us dreadfully shorthanded. Poor Cookie Ramona has been run ragged doing all the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry. I help as much as I can, but between my teaching duties and caring for the children, I don’t have nearly enough time to spare. So . . .” She once again deferred to Aaron.

“We’ve been praying for someone to come along and replace Lorna. It takes a special person to be willing to move into the school and dedicate so many hours to the job.” Aaron lifted one shoulder, as if hesitant to continue. “After talking to Jackson last night, we got to thinking that maybe your mother would be interested in moving into the school and taking over those chores.”

Pete’s eyebrows shot up. “My mother?”

“Why not?” Isabelle’s face shone with enthusiasm. “We know she has the ability to be a housekeeper. She’s been caring for your father’s home and her own children for many years. And of course, if she comes, the children are welcome, too.” At that, her face pinched into a delicate grimace. “I am aware it wouldn’t be the same as sharing their own private apartment, but at least they’d all be under the same roof.”

Pete nodded slowly, liking the idea more and more. If his mother agreed, then he wouldn’t have to worry about the children going hungry, being cold, or going unsupervised. Aaron and Isabelle would see that they were educated and attended church. He’d had a wonderful upbringing at the Reginald Standler Home for Orphaned and Destitute Children, and he possessed no reservations about seeing his brothers and Elma settled there.

Having his mother live in the place that had become home to him, however, gave him pause. He’d spent so many years resenting her, wanting to erase all memories of her. Each time he visited Aaron and Isabelle, he’d be forced to see his mother in his place of refuge and security. Could he allow the two halves of his life—one half bearing unhappy memories and one half bringing peace— to blend?

He asked, “Have you mentioned any of this to my mother?”

Isabelle shook her head. “No.” Once again, she cupped her hand over his. “We thought perhaps you would like to pray about it first. Then, if you believe it’s in the best interest of your mother and your siblings, we feel you should be the one to suggest it. After all, you are the man of the family now.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-FIVE

L
ibby dropped her pencil and rubbed her aching knuckles. A glance at the clock confirmed she’d been writing for four straight hours. In privacy. Alice-Marie hadn’t returned yet, and Libby hoped she and Bennett had worked out their differences and were sharing a pleasant afternoon together.

She rose and stretched, unkinking the knots in her back, then picked up the sheets of paper containing her newest story. She smiled. Her best yet. Raising her face to the ceiling, she said, “Thank You, Lord.” In her hands she held a love story full of romance with a hero destined to melt the heart of any woman. Yet this was a story that would also meet Petey’s approval.

Looking at her work, she prayed it would also please the magazine editor. Her face filled with embarrassed heat as she recalled deliberately penning scenes of physical arousal in previous stories. As much as she wanted the opportunity to write for
Modern Woman’s World
, she knew she couldn’t send more stories of the kind she’d already submitted. In fact, she intended to ask to have her work withdrawn. She’d have to pay back the money they’d paid her, and she hoped they’d be patient about it, but she could no longer in good conscience allow those stories to be published. They didn’t honor God, and from now on, she must honor God with every part of her being.

Returning to the desk, she opened her Bible and flipped to the chapter the minister had used as a reference at Matt and Lorna’s wedding. The beautiful words from First Corinthians 13, outlining the meaning of love, stirred a sweet ache in the center of Libby’s chest. Verses four through six spoke so eloquently of God’s love for man as well as His expectation of how His children should love one another.

She glanced again at the story she’d created that afternoon. “This story reflects Your love, God. I want so much to be able to help Petey take care of his brothers and sister. If it’s Your will for me, let this story find acceptance so I can continue to use the writing abilities You gave me.”

On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Pete sat in the back of the courtroom with his mother. Beside Jackson, Oscar stood straight and proud in a new shirt and trousers, his hair freshly cut. He looked nothing like the bedraggled boy who’d curled on the cot in the basement cell.

The judge, sober and stern in his black robe, peered down from his seat behind the bench. “Young man, since you have pled guilty to attempted robbery, I sentence you to six months of hard labor, which will be served at the Missouri Penitentiary in Jefferson City.”

Oscar flicked a glance over his shoulder. Pete sent him a reassuring nod, and he faced the judge again.

“I must also express my gratitude that the truth concerning the murder charge made against you has been brought to light. You are a fortunate young man to have so many people fighting for you. It is my hope that you will emerge from this experience with the determination to be a law-abiding citizen, and will therefore prove that the trust offered by those who have given assistance is not ill placed.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The judge rose, and Pete and Berta scrambled to their feet, as well. As the judge left, two officers approached from their post beside the bench, reaching for Oscar. Oscar drew back and threw a frantic look over his shoulder. Pete stumped forward as quickly as his peg leg would allow.

“Could we have a moment of time . . . to say good-bye?”

The officers glanced at each other and then one nodded. “Five minutes.”

Berta rushed up and stretched her arms across the wooden bar to embrace Oscar. Copious tears rained down her thin face. “Oh, Oscar . . .”

Oscar clung, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. “I’ll be all right, Ma. Only six months. Won’t be so long.”

“Me an’ the young’uns’ll write to you every day.” Berta shot a hesitant look at the closest officer. “He’ll be allowed letters from his family?”

The officer nodded. “Yes, ma’am. His lawyer here can give you the address.”

Pulling loose, Berta cupped Oscar’s face in her hands. “See there? That’ll give ya somethin’ to look forward to each day—a letter from us. An’ you write, too—keep up your writin’ an’ readin’. Who knows, maybe you’ll get to go to a university one day, too, like your brother Petey.”

Pete stepped close and reached past his mother to clamp his hand over Oscar’s shoulder. “Mind your manners and do what you’re told.”

Oscar nodded. “I will.”

“I’ll write, too, and I’ll be counting down the days until you’re free. Then we’ll do something special together—just you and me.

Sound good?”

“Sounds real good, Pete.” Oscar ducked his head for a moment, then his gaze bounced back up to meet Pete’s. “Thank you for comin’ to the jail. Thanks . . . for comin’ back.”

Pete curled his hand around Oscar’s neck and pulled him against his chest as tight as he could with the bar separating them. Oscar’s temple connected with Pete’s chin, his thick hair tickling his neck. Pete didn’t want to let go, but the nearest officer cleared his throat and said, “It’s time.”

Pete handed Oscar to Berta for one more hug, and then they watched the officers escort Oscar through a door at the front of the room. Berta pressed her clenched hand to her mouth, and her body convulsed in silent sobs. Hesitantly, Pete lifted his arm and wrapped it around her thin shoulders. She didn’t lean into him, but her face tipped upward, gratitude in her tired eyes.

“We’d better go.” Jackson picked up his briefcase and turned stiffly toward the door. With one hand bracing his ribs, he gestured for Pete and Berta to precede him. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor as they headed down the hallway together.

Outside, Jackson turned to Pete. “Since your train to Chambers leaves three hours earlier than ours to Shay’s Ford, I’ll say my good-byes here.” He stuck out his hand, and Pete gave it a firm shake. “Have a safe trip back.”

“I will. Thanks for . . .” How could Pete possible encapsulate all Jackson had done for his family in the past week? He shook his head. “For
everything
, Jackson.”

Jackson grinned. “My pleasure. I’m just glad it all turned out as well as it did.”

“Me too.”

“Will you come to Shay’s Ford at the end of the week for Thanksgiving?”

Berta sent a hopeful look in Pete’s direction when Jackson posed the question. As much as Pete wanted to go home for Thanksgiving— to make sure his siblings had settled in and spend time with Matt and Lorna and all the others—he’d been away from school too long. He’d need many days to catch up.

Reluctantly, he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. One of my professors, Pastor Hines, said I could stay at his home if I ever needed a place, so I’ll probably take him up on his offer and use the break to catch up on the classes I missed while I’ve been here.” The disappointment sagging his mother’s face pricked his heart, so he added in a cheerful tone, “But I’ll be there for Christmas—you can count on it.”

“I think that’s wise,” Jackson replied. “Well . . .” He bounced his leather satchel against his leg and looked at Berta. “Maelle is probably still at your apartment, helping the children pack for your move. Let’s go there and finish up. That train will leave before we know it.”

But Berta remained rooted in place, her pleading eyes aimed at Pete’s face. Pete knew what she wanted. What she needed. And he wished he could give it. But it was too soon. Maybe one day he’d find the ability to put his arms around his mother, to hold her close, but God needed to do a little more work on him before he was ready.

Giving her a smile, he said, “You’ll be in good hands with Aaron and Isabelle—they’re some of the best people God ever planted on this earth.” He raised his hand in a wave. “Bye now.”

Berta’s lips trembled. “Bye, Petey.” She turned and followed Jackson to the curb, where he flagged a cab. Pete waited until they climbed in and the cab clattered away before he turned toward the hotel. He’d retrieve his bag and then catch a cab to the train station. By this evening, he’d be back in Chambers. He’d only been gone a week, but it seemed like a year, so much had transpired in such a short amount of time.

Pausing on the busy sidewalk, Pete bowed his head and offered a silent, heartfelt prayer of thanks to God for His redeeming intervention. So many broken threads had been woven into place. Pete had emerged stronger, more determined to seek and follow God’s will in every aspect of his life.

He opened his eyes and hitched forward, eager to return to Chambers and share with his two best friends all the miracles of the past week. Then his steps slowed, his enthusiasm waning. In order to share truthfully, he’d have to give God the glory. Would Bennett mockingly call the events happenstance? Would Libby’s defensive ire flare—was she still annoyed that he’d sent her away? For a moment, he considered keeping all that had happened to himself rather than face their scorn.

But then he straightened his shoulders and hop-skipped to put himself in motion again. Whether they wanted to hear it or not, he’d tell them all that had happened. And he would give praise where praise was due.

The following morning Pete arose early, dressed, and met with Pastor Hines before breakfast. The man cheerfully agreed to host Pete for the Thanksgiving weekend and even offered to assist him with his missed assignments.

“I’m glad to see you back, Mr. Leidig. I was half afraid you’d decided the work was too hard.”

Pete shook his head. “No, sir. I’m determined to complete my divinity degree. God’s called me to this task, and He’s given me everything I need to see it through. So I aim to please Him with my efforts.”

“Good man.” The professor smacked Pete on the back. “And I look forward to working with you. Head on to breakfast now—I’ll see you in class later.”

On his way to the dining hall, he stopped by Franklin Hall to retrieve Bennett, but to his surprise Bennett was already gone. His roommate was in the room, however. Winston blinked at Pete behind round, thick spectacles.

“I’m afraid you won’t locate Bennett on the campus today. He left last night after packing a bag. When I questioned him, he said he had an imperative obligation to complete and he would return shortly.”

Pete doubted Bennett had used the words
imperative obligation
, but he thanked the skinny kid and went on to the dining hall. Maybe Bennett had talked to Libby. He hoped she’d be able to tell him where Bennett had gone.

He’d almost finished eating by the time Libby, accompanied by Alice-Marie, came in. His heart leapt when he spotted her, dressed in the soft brown two-piece suit Isabelle had chosen as her college outfit. He couldn’t understand how a plain brown dress made her cheeks look so rosy and bright, but somehow it did. With her long dark hair tumbling across her shoulders and her sweet lips tipped into a soft smile, she was the prettiest woman on campus. Maybe on earth.

Pressing his hands on the tabletop, he rose. “Libby!” Her head turned, seeking his voice, and when she spotted him her face broke into a smile of jubilation. She glided toward him, both hands reaching, and he took hold. The simple contact set his heart to banging around in his chest like a moth trying to escape a jar. He laughed just for the sheer joy of it.

“You’re back!” She beamed at him. “I didn’t think I’d see you again before Thanksgiving. Is Jackson on his way to Shay’s Ford? Did the police capture your father? Did Jackson manage to convince the judge of Oscar’s innocence? How was Maelle—did you spend time with her?” Then she laughed, shaking her head. “And if I don’t stop yammering, you’ll never get a chance to talk.”

Pulling loose, she waved her hands at him. “Sit back down. Finish eating. I’ll go get my own breakfast, and then—”

Pete glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. “I have a class, Libby. Our talk will have to wait until lunchtime.”

Her face fell in disappointment. “Oh, but I agreed to meet with Alice-Marie and several girls who serve on the Women’s Pan-Hellenic Council. They need two freshman representatives, and Alice-Marie is determined we’ll both be selected. I’m so sorry.”

He forced a grin when he would’ve rather groaned. “That’s fine. Maybe dinner?”

“Oh yes. Definitely dinner.” Her smile returned, and to his amazement she rose up on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his cheek before backing up two steps. “Dinner at six, Petey. I’ll see you then!”

He watched her skip back to Alice-Marie, her steps light. He had so much to share with her, but he also had much to ask. Something had transpired in the past few days, igniting an even more attractive side to her. What could it be?

He limped to the dish bins to discard his tray, his gaze lingering on Libby. How would he last until six o’clock, when he could see her again?