KeepingFaithCole (27 page)

Once again, she’d hung a silver bell above the door.
Each time she heard it, she smiled and eagerly welcomed another customer,
proudly displaying the fabrics and notions she’d stocked the new shop with from
the insurance money. Her past experience had taught her a great deal. Unlike
before, she now made better choices regarding the merchandise she carried. She
no longer offered goods or services on credit, and she charged slightly higher
prices for her fancy stitching and sewing. It paid off, and by the end of the second
week, the shop was already turning a nice profit.

Lucille’s life settled into a comfortable new routine.
She was up at dawn, had Faith dropped off at Charlotte’s by nine each morning,
then kept busy at the shop until half-past two. She and Faith returned home
just in time for her to start supper preparations and have a meal on the table
when Tom came in.

The following Thursday, her routine got a sudden jolt
when Betty Gilman bustled through the door of the shop. Even the little silver
bell seemed to sense the woman’s unpleasant state of mind. It jangled once,
then fell to the floor and rolled beneath a nearby table. After taking one look
at Mrs. Gilman’s stern expression, Lucille wished she could do the same.

Instead, she rose to her feet and mustered a smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Gilman. What can I do for you today?”

As always, Betty’s hair was pulled back in a severe bun,
giving the tall, rail-thin woman a harsh, judgmental air. She crossed her arms
over her bony chest. “You can begin by explaining why we no longer see you at
church on Sunday.”

“It’s a long drive, and I need to spend a little time at
home with my family.”

“A long drive?” Her eyebrows shot up. “You don’t seem to
have any trouble making that long drive each day to come into town for
business. But you don’t have time for church? You’re not willing to give a
little time to God?”

“I—” Lucille folded her hands in front of her.
“Honestly, I’m exhausted at the end of each week, Mrs. Gilman. Sundays are
meant to be days of rest, and that’s how I choose to use them.” Thankfully, the
woman didn’t chastise her for being flippant. “I do spend time reading the
bible. Tom and I read the scriptures together.” It filled her heart with pride
to speak those words.

“Yes, well, maybe it’s understandable that you can’t
always come into town on Sundays. I suppose the Lord might be willing to
forgive.” Her face softened momentarily, then the sharpness took over again. “I
do want to be sure you’re not allowing that awful woman to influence you.”

Lucille bristled. Of course, she’d called Charlotte far
worse names before, but hearing them come spewing out of Betty Gilman’s mouth
gave them an altogether new dimension of ugliness. No good Christian should
speak such unkind thoughts aloud.

“If you mean Tom’s mother, you can set your mind at
ease. She’s clean, she’s sober, and she’s got her house in order.” Set to
deliver the final blow to the self-righteous woman’s holier-than-thou
attitudes, Lucille lifted her chin. “In fact, she’s keeping Faith for us each
day while Tom and I are working.”

“She’s doing what?” The crisp, staccato words were
punctuated by frantic gestures. “How can you allow such a thing?” Her
expressions always looked pained and now appeared even more so than usual. She
rushed toward Lucille and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know we’re supposed
to love one another, even our enemies, but it’s wrong to trust someone like
Charlotte Henderson. It’s wrong to let her be around that sweet, innocent
child.”

“Tom and I—”

“This was his decision, wasn’t it,” she interrupted. “Of
course he’s going to stand up for his mother. I swear, he’s no better than she
is.”

“My husband and I made the decision together, Mrs.
Gilman.” Lucille took a step forward, all but shoving the woman away from her.
“Now, unless you have a bit of sewing or mending to be done, I’d suggest you be
on your way. You’re keeping me from my work, and you know what they say about
idle hands being the devil’s workshop. In fact,” she added, “I believe your
husband preached a stirring sermon on that verse from Proverbs one fine
Sunday.” She smiled and tapped a finger to her cheek as if in studious thought.
“What is the rest of it? Oh, yes, idle hands are the devil’s workshop, and idle
lips are his mouthpiece.”

“How dare you spout scripture at me. I came here in good
faith, inquiring after your spiritual welfare, and instead of showing the
slightest gratitude, you fling insults at me. Well, young lady, it goes to
show, that’s what happens when you turn away from the Lord, and you can’t tell
me that you haven’t fallen under that awful woman’s influence because it’s
obvious you have.”

She’d gotten herself wound up like one of those spinning
tops Tom and Leland Chappell had made for Faith. There’d be no stopping her
now.

“Mrs. Gilman, please, calm down.”

She charged forward, shaking a long, skinny finger. “I’m
going to put a stop to your nonsense.” Faster than Lucille’s eyes could follow,
the woman wheeled around and darted through the door. In her haste, she
collided with Lucille’s mother who happened to be coming up the stairs at that
precise moment.

“Mama. I am so glad to see you.” Distraught by her
encounter with the pastor’s wife, Lucille hugged her mother. Her knees felt so
weak she could barely stand.

“What on earth was that all about? I’ve never seen Betty
Gilman in such a tither.”

“She’s upset. About Charlotte taking care of Faith.”

“What business is it of hers?”

“It’s none of her business, of course. But you know how
Mrs. Gilman is. She makes everything her business.” Lucille hurried across the
shop, grabbed her cloak from a peg, and threw it around her shoulders. “I’d
better get out to Charlotte’s.”

“You think that’s where Mrs. Gilman is going?”

“I don’t know.” She truly had no idea what the woman
might do. “I’m worried that she might try to take Faith away from Charlotte. I
don’t want any trouble.”

“I’ll watch the shop, dear.”

“If I don’t get back, will you close up for me?”

“Don’t worry about anything.”

“Thanks." Lucille kissed her mother’s cheek and
stepped outside, then walked quickly to the livery where she parked her wagon
each day.

The long winter had finally passed. The melting snows
had left the streets of Sunset slushy and wet, and the narrow road leading from
town to Charlotte’s nearby cabin was rutted and difficult to traverse. By the
time she reached her destination, Lucille was splattered with mud. With a
handkerchief, she wiped what she could from her face. She’d worry about her
skirts and cloak later.

Glancing about, she looked for any sign of Betty Gilman
but saw nothing. Either the woman was full of hot air, or more likely, she
meant to gather her forces before making a stand.

Charlotte had heard the wagon, of course. She stood on
the front stoop. “What are you doing here so early?” She greeted Lucille with
obvious suspicion.

“I wanted to see—” She stopped short, unsure how much
she wanted to reveal to her mother-in-law. Obviously Betty Gilman had not come
calling, but that didn’t mean the woman wouldn’t cause trouble. Rather than
alarm Tom’s mother, perhaps she should talk to him first, get his opinion, and
follow whatever advice he offered. That’s how marriage worked. Two people
solved problems together.

“You think I don’t know why you’re showing up
unannounced on my doorstep? You don’t trust me yet. You’re still worried that
I’ll do some grievous harm to my own grandchild.”

“Charlotte, no, that’s not what I think at all.” She bit
her lip to hold back the words that threatened to spill out. Maybe she should
speak up and warn her mother-in-law about the possible threat Mrs. Gilman
posed, but without proof, expressing her concerns would be tantamount to
bearing false witness. Lucille had a penchant for jumping to conclusions, to
suspecting the worst in any given situation. Tom had taken her to task for it
many times. She would not deliberately sow seeds of dissension.

“I do trust you. So does Tom. We wouldn’t have asked you
to keep Faith if we weren’t certain we could rely fully upon you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re just like everybody
else in this town. You think I’m nothing but a worthless whore, that I don’t
have a decent bone in my body, but you’re wrong.” Her blue eyes narrowed, the
pupils turning to dark, angry spots. “Go on,” she challenged, stepping away
from the door. “See for yourself. You’ll find her bathed, dressed, fed, and
sleeping like the angel she is.”

“You’re doing an excellent job of caring for her. I know
that.” Again, Lucille hesitated. “I’m here because I love Faith too.
Sometimes…well, it’s difficult for me, being away from her all day.”

“Yes, of course. You love her so much,” Charlotte
sneered. “You can’t possibly love her as much as I do. She’s my blood, my real
kin. She’s nothing to you.”

Shocked by the woman’s hateful reaction, Lucille drew
back. She’d come to Charlotte with good intentions and an honest desire to
protect the woman. In the swift passing of a single moment in time, all of it
changed.

“How can you say that?” Lucille drew herself up, ready
to do battle. “Faith means everything to me. And like it or not, she’s my
responsibility. She’s only here with you because Tom and I agreed to it. We can
change our minds any time.” She pushed Charlotte aside and stepped into the
cottage. “In fact, I just did. I’m taking Faith home with me.”

She stormed through the cottage to the bedroom with
Charlotte close behind. Faith let out a loud wail when Lucille picked her up,
unhappy at being awakened from her sleep.

“Hush, baby, please,” Lucille soothed. She’d never felt
more inadequate.

“She’s not comfortable in your arms. You’re too sour,
too puckered up. You don’t know a thing about babies, and you’ll damned sure
never have any of your own.”

Cradling Faith in her arms, Lucille pushed past
Charlotte. How she wished she could clap her hands over her ears and shut out
the verbal abuse the woman heaped upon her.

“My son won’t give you his babies. You’ve got nothing he
wants. He only married you because of Faith. You know it’s true.”

Lucille choked back tears. Part of her wanted to shout
out about the passion she and Tom now shared, but that was none of Charlotte’s
business.

“He doesn’t need a persnickety bitch like you! He’s got
lots of women. A good-looking man like Tommy can get any girl he wants into his
bed. Don’t be thinking just because you’re his lawful wife that he’s got any
interest in you.” She snorted. “He might give you a toss or two in the hay, but
that doesn’t mean a thing. Just means he’s like every other man. Hot and
horny.”

Lucille clutched Faith tighter. “I’m taking her home
with me. I swear, Charlotte, you’ll never see her again. You don’t deserve
Faith. For that matter,” she threw out, tears streaming freely down her cheeks,
“you don’t even deserve Tom. Say what you want about him, but he’s a good man,
and yes, he loves me!”

If only it were true.

Chapter
Eighteen

Was this how his life was always going to be? As he stepped
into his mother’s tiny parlor, Tom wondered if the women in his life would
always be at odds with one another, the two of them always pulling him in
different directions. Seemed as though if he weren’t apologizing to one of
them, he was making excuses for the other, back and forth, always trying to
keep both of them happy and never pleasing either one. And then, there was
Faith. She was little, but she was female, too, and sure enough she’d grow up
and make her own share of demands upon him. A man didn’t stand a chance.

“Ma, I know you’re in there. You can come out now.” He
stared at the door of her bedroom. Most likely she was nursing her sorrows with
a bottle of rotgut. “I talked to Lucille. She’s sorry for what she did.” He
kept his voice raised. She was in there, and she could hear him. “She’ll be
bringing Faith by tomorrow morning, same as always. Just wanted to let you
know.”

She wasn’t coming out, he reckoned. Might as well give up
trying to talk to her.

“That’s all I’ve got to say,” he concluded. “I’m leaving
now.”

Tom turned, and his heavy footsteps echoed through the
cottage. He paused at the door, turned to look again, then chuckled. He grabbed
the door and slammed it. Hard. He waited. Sure enough, the bedroom door opened
and his mother rushed out, stopping short when she saw him still in the house.

“Tommy? What are you doing? I thought you left.”

“You always come chasing after me. Figured I’d wait here and
save you the trouble.”

“You know me too well.” Her voice was slurred and her smile
sardonic.

“You’ve been drinking. I thought you swore off the hard
liquor.”

“I had a rough day.” She turned her head.

“Lucille sent me to apologize.”

“She couldn’t bother to come herself?”

“Would you have let her in?”

His mother didn’t answer.

Tom turned her head around until she faced him again. “We do
trust you, Ma. You’ve been taking real good care of Faith, and we’re pleased.
Now, I expect you to sober up, all right?”

She jerked away. “Maybe you’re pleased, but I’m not. I won’t
have this. You know it’s going to happen again. The next time that nervous wife
of yours gets a notion in her head, she’ll be right here, banging on my door,
demanding to take Faith away. I don’t need her constantly barging in and
telling me what an awful woman I am.”

“Did she say things to that effect?”

Charlotte shrugged. “She doesn’t have to say it. It shows in
her eyes, in that hard set of her mouth. The fact she came out here is proof
enough.”

“Ma, there’s more to this story than you know. You need to
sit down and let me explain, and for once, don’t go interrupting me.” Earlier,
he’d stopped by the parsonage to pay a personal visit to Reverend Gilman and
his wife. He’d opened his heart to them, shared his deepest thoughts and
feelings, and yes, he’d apologized for Lucille’s impertinence. In return, Mrs.
Gilman conceded that perhaps she’d been a bit judgmental. In the end, she’d
assured him she’d cause no trouble for his family, although she fervently
wished all the
Hendersons
would attend church
regularly. Tom promised to do his best, but suggested she not look for them to
show up any time soon.

Now, he filled his mother in on Betty Gilman’s visit to the
dressmaking shop. Of course, in typical fashion, his mother refused to
understand what he was telling her.

“Lucille stood up for you. She defended you. The reason she
came out here yesterday was to make sure you didn’t get into a row with Mrs.
Gilman.”

“I don’t need your wife doing me any favors. I can take care
of myself, Tommy.”

He blew out his cheeks and stared at her in disbelief. “Do
you always have to be so hard-headed? I swear, Ma, nobody can help you. You’ve
made a miserable life for yourself, and I think you must enjoy wallowing in
that misery.”

Her head snapped up. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.
And you tell that bitch you married to leave me alone and stay out of my
business.”

“She was trying to help.”

“Sure she was, and it’s all because she thinks she’s so much
better than us. Maybe you don’t see it, but I do. She looks down her nose at
you the same way she does me.”

“No, she doesn’t. Lucille’s a good woman, and she’s been a
good wife to me. She makes me happy, Ma.”

His mother’s brows lifted. “Any woman can make a man happy,
and don’t tell me different. All she’s got to do is spread her legs, let you
have a little fun, and sure as hell you’re happy.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I suppose you think you’ve gone and fallen in love with the
bitch.”

Moment by moment, Tom’s patience had been thinning. Now, the
last frayed strands broke. “Don’t ever call my wife a name again. Just so you
know, yes, I love Lucille. And don’t push me.”

“Love? You think she loves you back? No, she doesn’t. You
need to send her packing, you hear me? I’ve seen how she treats you. Oh, I’m
sure she probably puts on a good show. Probably fixes you coffee every morning,
makes breakfast for you. She cleans your house. She warms your bed.”

“What more does she have to do to prove herself?”

“You just can’t see it. She’s…”

“She’s what?”

“Never mind. She’s got to go. Please, Tommy! Send her back
home, let me come out and take care of you. I was a horrible mother when you
and Sally were growing up, and now, I can take good care of you. I’ll teach you
all those things you’ve wanted to learn. How to read. How to write.”

“Lucille’s done a fine job. I don’t need your help.”

“You don’t need me at all. That’s what you’re saying. You
don’t give a damn about me anymore. It’s all because of her. She’s turned you
against me.”

So that’s what this was all about. He should have known.

“I love you, Ma.” He reached for her hand, hoping to
reassure her, but she pulled away.

“Only because you have to, only because you’re good enough
to believe that a son is supposed to love his mother.”

He gave that a moment of thought, dismayed to realize how
close she’d come to the mark. Sure, he loved her, at least that’s what he
always said, and it was what he’d always believed. But she spoke the truth. He
loved his mother from obligation, not from his heart.

“Probably so,” he admitted. “At least that’s one thing you
taught me. Always tell the truth.”

* * *
*

Lucille cradled the baby to her bosom and cast a sorrowful
look at her husband. She’d tried her best to understand Charlotte, to help her,
to defend her, but time after time the woman’s true colors came bleeding
through. Thank goodness Tom was honest enough to admit his mother had been
drinking when he visited her.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I really thought things were
going to work out. I should have known better.”

His jaw hardened. “If you’d stayed out of it, maybe none of
this would have happened. I doubt Mrs. Gilman would have made good on her
threats. But you couldn’t be content to let it be. You had to go around
stirring the pot.”

Her mouth fell open. “You’re blaming me? I refuse to listen
to talk like that. I’m not the problem. You mother is the problem.” Lucille
sucked in a deep breath, ready to fire the next salvo. “We gave her a chance,
but she’s never going to change. She’s a dipsomaniac, and frankly, I don’t want
her around my…”

My daughter. That’s what she almost said.

“Faith isn’t yours,” Tom said instantly. Lucille’s eyes
filled with tears, but then he leaned over to stroke her hair and added softly,
“She’s ours.”

A single tear fell. How true the words he spoke. Faith
belonged to both of them. They were a family. Not father, mother, and child,
but a family all the same. Faith had two caretakers who loved her and who would
give their lives to protect her, if need be.

On the other hand, she also had an irresponsible grandmother
who could never be fully trusted. Lucille refocused her thoughts. Tom couldn’t
skirt the issue any longer. Between the two of them, they’d given Charlotte
more than enough chances.

“Yes, Faith belongs to both of us, and we need to do the
right thing. I don’t want your mother around her. I’m not talking about whether
or not she should take care of Faith while I work. Needless to say, that’s out
of the question. My mother will be happy to take over and run the shop.” She
was thinking aloud as she talked. “What I’m saying, Tom, is that I don’t want
your mother around. Not now. Not ever. She can’t be part of Faith’s life any
longer.”

He leveled a steady gaze at her. “Honey, you’re doing it
again. You’re over-reacting, just like you did when Betty Gilman was at the
shop. Just calm down, take it easy…”

He tried to catch hold of her. She jerked away.

“Get your hands off me.” Lucille stormed past him and
carried Faith into the bedroom.

He followed. “You can’t walk away. We need to finish this.”

“Oh, we’ll finish it, all right.” She placed the little girl
on top of the bed, then tromped to the wardrobe, flung the doors open and
frantically pulled out one dress after another.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m taking Faith, and I’m going to stay with my mother.”
She grabbed the old canvas bag from the back of the wardrobe. It was the same
one that had once held Faith’s blankets and diapers when she’d first arrived in
Sunset. Furiously, Lucille stuffed clothes inside. “You can have a day or two
to think things over, but no longer,” she warned, brushing away a tear.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Tom reached for the bag.
“You’re my wife, and we’re going to work through this.”

“I’m tired of working through things. I’m tired of trying.”
She stood, helpless to stop him as he dumped the contents of the bag onto the
bed. “Tom, I mean it. I can’t do this anymore. We’ve tried to get along, we’ve
tried to make this work, but it always comes back to the same old arguments.
More to the point, it always comes back to your mother.”

“I’m not letting you walk away. If it were just you and me,
it would be different, but this isn’t about us. It’s about Faith. We’ve gone
over this before.”

“Fine,” she said, going to the door. “I’ll stay if you
insist, but as far as I’m concerned, our marriage is over. I’ll sleep in the
upstairs bedroom. You can have this one.” She walked out.

Tom picked Faith up from the bed and hurried after his wife.
“Be reasonable, sweetheart. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying. And don’t try to sweet-talk
me with terms of endearment. We’re finished.” When she reached the top of the
stairs, she stopped and turned to look down at him, certain he would quickly
see the error of his ways and apologize.

“How many more times are you going to pull this little
stunt?” Holding Faith in his arms, he leaned casually against the newel post,
as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “What makes you women think that you
can get your way by cutting a man off?”

“It’s called negotiation.”

“Call it whatever you want, but remember, if a man wants a
little pleasure, there are plenty of places to get it. Keep that in mind.”

His words stung. Blinded by tears, Lucille hurried into the
bedroom and slammed the door behind her, desperate to figure out her next move.
She’d been bluffing, of course. She didn’t want their marriage to end any more
than she wanted to spend the night upstairs alone. As always, she’d flown off
the handle, said things she hadn’t meant, and now she’d have to suffer for it.

The obvious move would be to swallow her pride, slink back
down the stairs, and beg her husband’s forgiveness, but she couldn’t bring
herself to do it.

How many times before had she gone running after him? She
thought back to the afternoon when she’d shamelessly strolled into the Red Mule
and all but demanded he invite her to the statehood dance. And what of the
night of the holiday celebration when she’d dragged him through the streets of
Sunset and pleaded with him to make love to her? Most humiliating of all,
although a woman was supposed to be reticent in matters of the heart, she’d
been brazen enough to propose marriage.

She wouldn’t run after him again. This time, he would have
to come to her.

But, as one lonely night after another passed, her heart
finally broke. She had no choice but to face the awful truth. Tom didn’t want
her. He didn’t need her.

Holding Faith close and rocking the child as she walked,
Lucille paced the floor of her little parlor late on Friday night. Nothing she
did soothed the fussy little girl.

Teething. No need to be concerned. That’s what Amanda
Phillips had said in her most reassuring voice. She’d dropped in earlier with
both of her daughters, Kat and Emily Sue. Lucille had enjoyed the visit, and she’d
bid goodbye to her friends with a definite sadness. Now, she faced another
long, lonely night, and nothing caused a woman’s heart to ache more than the
cries of a sick baby.