Stay a Little Longer (28 page)

Inside his coat pocket, pressed against his chest, was yet another telegram from the Gaitskill Lumber Company pressuring him
for an immediate update on the status of the boardinghouse property. He didn’t need to look at it again to remember the impatient
tone that had been used.

… for unless this matter is resolved to our satisfaction per the letter of our earlier agreement, we will have no choice but
to…

Not an hour passed without Zachary cursing the stubborness of Eliza Watkins and her family. Even after the savage beating
of that damned drunkard Otis, they still refused his demands. He had begun to realize how misguided his faith in Rachel was;
in the end, she had proven no smarter than the rest of them, and all his entreaty to her had done was waste more of his valuable
time, time he wouldn’t be able to regain.

Below, Carlson was still awakening to a new day, but Zachary’s mind was already working at a feverish pace. As his stomach
tied itself into spastic knots, he was busy formulating his next plan of attack, something that would undoubtedly have to
involve Travis Jefferson.

It’s nearly time to let him do whatever is needed…

Zachary turned back to where his father still slept soundly. In that moment, he knew that he and his father actually did have
something in common: both precariously held on to what they deemed valuable, a hold that was slipping away, for both of them,
by the hour. The difference was that Zachary wasn’t willing to go without a struggle. He would do whatever was necessary,
no matter how unseemly or violent, as long as in the end he was the victor.

His father and Mason’s memory be damned.

“The way I hears it, a fella out travelin’ them there rails can find himself with a whole mess of good drinkin’, what with
the ’shine and road whiskey and such,” Otis offered in all seriousness. Wincing, he rubbed at his broken arm; he’d just returned
from the doctor’s office with a new plaster cast. When Rachel had pressed him about what had happened out behind the boardinghouse,
his recollection of events was hazy at best; flashes of a face he couldn’t recognize mixed with a great deal of pain.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever been one to do much drinking,” Mason answered.

“And that right there is a damned shame!” With that declaration, Otis fished out his flask from his shirt pocket and took
a gulp. When he noticed Rachel glowering at him, his voice rose in mock indignation. “It’s for the pain, darlin’! Honest it
is!”

Mason sat opposite Otis at the rickety table in the back of the kitchen of the boardinghouse, the cramped quarters made tighter
by the fact that the other man’s enormous belly couldn’t fit under the table’s top. Rachel worked diligently on supper, and
soon the scent of roast and boiled vegetables filled the room. She glanced at Mason, holding his eyes for a moment to share
his amusement at Otis’s bravado. Charlotte sat at the end of the table, Jasper contently curled on the floor beneath her.

When Rachel and Mason had first approached Otis with the obvious, startling fact that Mason hadn’t died in France as had been
claimed, the man had at first thought that he was in the clutches of a drunken hallucination. When he’d been convinced that
he was indeed sober, he’d reacted with little more than a whistle and a shrug of his shoulders, although he eventually admitted
that he could see little of the old Mason in the man with the ugly scars on his face and had been surprised to learn that
Charlotte hadn’t minded. Now, sitting in the kitchen, he seemed happy to have a captive audience for another of his drinking
stories.

“Every man goin’ about on his own, travelin’ the rails or otherwise, should always count on doin’ some drinkin’,” Otis explained.
“Hell, if it ain’ the law it oughta be!”

Mason laughed in answer.

Rachel’s heart leapt to hear Mason’s laugh; it was low and gravelly, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time. When he noticed
her watching, he shot her a grin, his mouth crooked; but even with his scarred face, she saw a glimmer of the man she had
once known. Conscious that she was staring, she turned back to her guffawing uncle. “Don’t you ever get tired of talking about
drinking?”

“Why on earth would I?” Otis said in mock indignation. “Why, the very best things that have ever happened to me have occurred
while I’ve been drinkin’… although what they might be seem to be escapin’ me at this here moment…”

“Surely you can’t mean that,” Mason said. “What about your arm?”

“What about it?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t had so much to drink down at the tavern, you might have been able to fend off whoever it was who attacked
you. If nothing else, you could’ve been clearheaded enough to be able to identify the man.”

“What happened to my poor arm ain’t got nothin’ to do with my havin’ too much to drink,” Otis explained with the air of a
schoolteacher stating the obvious truth. “I’d of beat the tar outta that ruffian if I hadn’t slipped on a damn piece of ice,
that’s all.”

“This sounds like another of your stories,” Mason chided.

“Uncle Otis tells good stories,” Charlotte added.

“Darn right, my dear!” Otis exclaimed.

“I just don’t understand why, since this is the first time that you’ve seen Mason in over eight years, you feel the need to
bore him with stories of your exploits,” Rachel continued. “Especially considering what just happened to you.”

“It’s fine, Rachel.” Mason smiled. “I don’t mind.”

“There, you see?” Otis bellowed triumphantly. “Besides, with Mason’s bein’ gone from Carlson for so many years, he ain’t gonna
know any of the true and bestest gossip. All I’m tryin’ to do is educate the fella! Everyone in town knows I’m the one with
the biggest mouth!”

Inwardly, Rachel cringed at her uncle’s words. From the moment Mason had suggested letting Otis in on their secret, she’d
been reluctant; all it would take would be one slip of the man’s drunken tongue and all of Carlson would know that Mason had
returned. In counterpoint, Mason had argued about the difficulty in continuing to keep it from the man, and besides, if Otis
were to find himself on another bender and drunkenly talk of what he knew, no one was likely to believe him.

“Hopefully you can keep your mouth busy with other things,” she teased Otis playfully, “because supper is ready.”

Shooing Jasper out from underfoot, Rachel put one hand on Mason’s shoulder as she placed the plate of roast on the table.
In that instant, she could clearly feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt and her heart began to beat just a little
bit faster than before. Quickly stepping away from the table and back toward the stove, she wiped at her brow in embarrasment.

Since Mason had come to her aid in the darkness of her room, chasing away the lecherous Jonathan Moseley, she had begun to
feel differently in his presence. After so many years struggling to care for Charlotte, attending her many chores in the boardinghouse,
and watching as life went by outside with little care whether she were a part of it or not, she had a sense of expectation.
She found herself looking forward to seeing him each morning, to hearing him talk and laugh, to simply being with him. Even
when they had been in the cemetery, standing before Alice’s grave under miserable skies, it had meant a great deal to her
that he had asked her to stay.

Just as Rachel was becoming lost in her confused thoughts, the door to the kitchen suddenly opened, and standing there, looking
at the shocked and quite startled faces of everyone in the room, was her mother.

Eliza Watkins stood in the doorway dressed primly in a white blouse and dark skirt, her thin arms folded over her chest. A
string of pearls circled her neck, its color only a touch whiter than the paleness of her skin. She smiled a bit weakly.

“Oh my!” Rachel gasped.

“Grandma!” Charlotte shouted happily.

“Well don’t that there just about beat all,” Otis declared as he and Mason got to their feet.

Unable to control herself, Rachel rushed to her mother’s side as her own heart raced. She could scarcely believe what she
was seeing with her own eyes. So many long years had passed since Eliza Watkins had ventured from her room that it was almost
as if she were looking upon a dream, something that couldn’t possibly be real.

Happiness flooded her face. In many ways, the person who had been most affected by Alice’s death had been her mother. Unable
to accept that Alice had not wanted to live, even when giving birth to her own child, Eliza had placed the greatest blame
upon herself. That was why she’d refused to come out of her darkened room; life had seemed too perilous for her to control.

Until now.

“Mother,” she said, “why… what are…”

“You were right, Rachel,” Eliza said with a faint smile, embracing her daughter in a warm hug. “You were right. The time has
come to stop living in the past.”

Tears welled in Rachel’s eyes.

Turning from her daughter, Eliza looked at Mason as he sat at the table, her gaze again lingering upon the scars that had
disfigured his face, the markings responsible for her revulsion of the night before. “I want you to know that, while I can’t
let go of all of my feelings of anger, I do feel sorry that I slapped you,” she explained. “I suppose that I’ve been every
bit as unfair to you as I’ve been to myself over the years, so I finally decided, with a bit of encouragement from Rachel,
that it’s time to move on, well past time, as a matter of fact.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Mrs. Watkins,” Mason answered.

“So are we gonna stand here jabberin’ away and let this here roast grow cold or are we gonna eat?” Otis asked, licking his
lips in anticipation.

“Yeah!” Charlotte echoed.

“Am I welcome to join?” Eliza asked.

“For today and forever more,” Rachel answered, happier than she had been in a long time.

*   *   *   

Shortly after she had finally managed to put Charlotte to bed, and only after agreeing to let Jasper sleep on the bed, Rachel
stepped out onto the boardinghouse’s small back porch, facing the alley and clothesline. The November night’s air was crisp
and she tightened her shawl around her shoulders. Above, thousands of stars twinkled in the black sky, as dazzling as jewels.
Though happy to be outside, she looked about carefully; after Otis’s assault, she was on guard against some despicable act
to which Zachary Tucker might stoop.

“The night is beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice asked from the shadows.

Rachel recoiled in fright, her eyes searching the depths of the inky darkness at the far end of the porch. There, shrouded
in the night, she found Mason as he leaned up against the rickety railing.

“Oh! You startled me!” she explained in surprise.

“I didn’t mean to,” he apologized.

“It’s all right,” Rachel said. “I never thought you’d be out here. I thought I’d be alone.”

“I occasionally like to sneak out here after everyone has settled down for the night,” Mason explained. “With everything that’s
happened as of late, it’s a welcome respite to be able to stare up at the sky and count a few stars. What brings you out?”

“I suppose for the same reason.” She sighed, momentarily imaging how much
both
of their lives had changed with his return. “Things have been a bit… out of sorts, but now that you’re back on your feet,
and especially now that my mother has finally left her room, it seems as if life is returning to normal.”

“Although I still believe she has every right to be mad at me for what happened. You all do,” Mason said simply. “I have no
expectations that my many transgressions will be forgiven overnight.”

“They won’t be, I can promise you that.”

“Understandably so.”

“But I believe that we all agree that what matters now is what you do from now on,” she explained, speaking the feelings she
had been unable, maybe even unwilling, to voice for days. “As I told my mother, we need to look toward the future instead
of living only in the past. Alice is gone, and the truth is that none of us can change that.”

For a moment, both of them were silent, each giving thought to what the future might mean for them. High above, Rachel watched
as a shooting star streaked across the darkness, before vanishing without a trace.

“Charlotte said that you told her you were her father,” she finally said.

“Yes, I did.” Mason nodded, faintly visible in the darkness. “To tell you the truth, I was pretty damn nervous, but it felt
wonderful that she did not seem opposed to the idea. The more thought I gave to what you said, I knew that I had to be there
in Charlotte’s life, if she’ll have me.”

Rachel’s breath caught in her chest at the recognition of the man who she had known so many years before; Mason Tucker had
always been a truly honorable, upstanding man who accepted his responsibilities willingly, no matter how heavy his burden
might be to bear. With every passing day, he did more to rehabilitate himself in her eyes.

“She will accept you, Mason,” she said. “It’s my hope that we all will.”

“I’d like to believe you could be right.”

“You can start by watching her perform in the school play,” Rachel announced warmly. “It’s the day after tomorrow and it’s
about the only thing half as exciting as you coming back into her life.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think that I’m ready…” he replied haltingly.

Without Mason giving her a full explanation, Rachel knew well the dilemma he faced. As difficult as it had been for him to
go to the cemetery and look upon Alice’s grave, as hard as it had been to face Eliza’s wrath, the very idea of revealing himself
to the good townspeople of Carlson was almost certainly more than he was ready to endure.

Rachel nodded. “I understand. I’ll do what I can to smooth it over with Charlotte, although it won’t be easy.”

“Any help you can give would be appreciated.”

Rachel tugged at her shawl, then said, “What do you plan to do next, Mason?”

“I need to see my father,” Mason answered simply. “He needs to know that I’m alive.”

“You’ll have to get past your brother in order to tell him.”