Colorado Dawn (59 page)

S
ilas arose early in spite of not getting to bed the night before until well after midnight. His reflection told him the few hours of sleep had reduced some of the swelling around his eye, but the color had come up in a purplish-blue splotch. No way to disguise or diminish the angry-looking mark.

He spent time in prayer, asking for God’s wisdom to help him deal with the rift in the church. His Bible reading brought him to Proverbs four, verse eighteen.

“But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.”

“Lord, this is what I want, and what I need. Please make me a good example to my church and to those in the community who are watching. Help me to humble myself and ask for forgiveness where I need it and to extend forgiveness where it is due. Help me to take instruction from fellow believers, but help me also to follow Your will first and foremost. Help Your light to shine through me in all my dealings with Willow, Mrs. Drabble, and the congregation. And I ask that Your will be done regarding the district supervisor’s visit.”

Finally feeling equipped to face the day ahead, he shrugged his way into his suit coat and tried to loosen the squirming ball of nerves in his stomach. First on the agenda, a visit to the Drabble household to begin healing the breach between them. Though he had a feeling that when he told them about Alicia and Kenneth, any hope of reconciliation would disappear.

Clouds hid the sun, and a fine spring rain pattered on the grass and made puddles on the road. Silas ducked his neck into his overcoat and hurried. Gaining the steps to the Drabble house, he shook the water from his sleeves and hat brim before knocking on the ornate oak door. Gingerbread trim dripped, and gusts of wind spattered the porch boards with droplets.

A figure moved behind the etched-glass oval in the door, and the knob rattled.

“Good morning, Hannah. I need to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Drabble. Are they home?” Silas stepped into the foyer as the young woman in the mobcap and black dress held the door.

“Good morning, Pastor Silas. It seems all I’m getting done today is answering the door. We’re not used to so many early morning visitors.” She smiled and shrugged, as if she realized she might’ve been a bit ungracious. “Please wait here. I’ll go see.”

When Hannah returned, she motioned for him to follow her. “They’re in the breakfast room.”

The smell of fried ham and hot potatoes greeted him, reminding him he’d had nothing but a slice of bread and butter—all he could force into his stomach this morning—for breakfast.

Walter Drabble looked up from his plate for an instant, grunted, and tucked back into his food. Lightning flashed, followed by a low rumble of thunder that rolled from peak to peak.

Mrs. Drabble’s stare sent a tremor up Silas’s spine. Her glare lingered on his black eye, and he waited for her to ask.

Instead, she creased her napkin into precise folds, laid it alongside her plate, and placed her hands in her lap. “Good morning, Reverend Hamilton. After our first visitor of the day, I thought you might come by.” Her voice was so knife-edged, he wondered why she didn’t choke.

A pang hit his heart. Here was his sister in Christ, a deaconess in his church, a member of his congregation, and his very presence raised her hackles to the point she could barely be civil.

“Mrs. Drabble, I’ve come to speak with you, to ask your forgiveness and hopefully make a start on restoring fellowship between us. It saddens me to be at odds with anyone in my church, and I hope we can get everything out into the open and come to a place of peace.”

A satisfied smile stretched her lips, and she sat back in her chair. “At last.” She sighed and softened, letting her shoulders and spine relax. “I knew you’d come to your senses, though I’m sorry it had to come to a head like this. I’m glad we have a chance to put all this behind us before any permanent damage was done. Please, sit down. I’m sure we can resolve everything nicely.”

Silas blinked at this turnabout. He pulled out an empty chair and eased onto it, accepting the olive-branch gesture. “Mrs. Drabble, before we discuss anything else, I need to talk to you first about your daughter.”

Her smile widened. “You’re showing good sense at last. After everything I was told this morning, I’m not at all surprised you’ve come to talk about Alicia. It’s only natural you’d change your mind once you had all the facts, and I assure you, I’m not one to hold a past folly against a man. I’m only sorry I sent those telegrams, but no matter now.”

“Telegrams?” Mystified, Silas swallowed his apprehension and clenched his hands on his thighs.

“Yes, well, never mind. I’ll take care of that later.” She unfolded her napkin and motioned to Hannah. “Set a place for Reverend Hamilton. You will join us for breakfast, won’t you?” Her tone took it as a matter of course. “There’s so much to plan and discuss. You won’t want a long engagement, will you? I think June will be best, but that only gives us about five weeks or so. Good thing I’ve got most of the wedding planned already.”

“The wedding?”

“Yours and Alicia’s, of course. That is why you came this morning, isn’t it? To formalize the engagement now that you’re finished with that…actress person?”

Silas seriously considered knocking his fist against his forehead. “Mrs. Drabble, stop. I’ve come to tell you that Alicia is married. She got married last night. I performed the ceremony myself.”

Mr. Drabble stopped shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth, and his wife gasped.

“That’s ridiculous. Alicia is upstairs in her room asleep.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Drabble, but she isn’t. She and Kenneth Hayes came to me last night at the church, and I performed the marriage ceremony and blessed their union.” Silas braced himself for the wrath to come.

Mrs. Drabble’s face got redder and redder until Silas feared she might do herself harm.

“How dare you? You married them? Kenneth Hayes?” With each question her voice rose and so did her body. By the time she screeched Kenneth’s name, she was on her feet leaning over the table, bracing her palms on the tablecloth.

Lightning flickered through the lace curtains, followed by a booming crash that vibrated through Silas. “Please, let me explain.”

“Hannah!” Mrs. Drabble turned and shouted in the direction of the kitchen. “Go upstairs and fetch Alicia. I don’t care if she’s still asleep, just get her down here.”

Silas gripped his knees and sought wisdom. Though he was not unused to family crises, the one looming now was by far the worst he’d dealt with. And though he’d anticipated some high emotion, he had a feeling Mrs. Drabble’s response was just getting rolling.

Hannah scuttled into the room, her hands wrapped in her apron. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but she’s not there. Her bed hasn’t been slept in, and her personal items are missing from her dressing table.” The girl’s eyes rounded, and creases marred her usually serene brow.

Walter Drabble stopped munching his toast, swallowed, and shook his head. “She really did it?” He scratched the side of his head. “She threatened it, but I never thought she’d go through with it.”

Mrs. Drabble subsided into her chair, her jaw open and her arms lax. The enormity of the catastrophe seemed to hit her, and she jammed her napkin to her lips, stifling a sob.

Silas swallowed. “Please, Beatrice, calm yourself. This isn’t the tragedy you seem to think it is.”

She stopped sobbing, and her eyes blazed. “Don’t tell me to be calm. This is your fault. You should’ve hauled Alicia right back here the minute she showed up at the church. It was your Christian duty. If you would’ve done as I wanted and married her yourself, this never would’ve happened.” This last bit came out a wail. “How am I ever going to show my face in this town again? This is all your fault. Yours and that actress. You allowed your head to be turned by a common trollop. And Alicia is the one who will pay for it.”

“Mrs. Drabble, Alicia is a grown woman and capable of making up her own mind whom to marry. Kenneth and Alicia are very much in love. Though it pained Alicia to go against your wishes, she has the right of it. She needed to leave her father and mother and cleave to her husband. If I hadn’t agreed to perform the ceremony, they were prepared to travel to Leadville or Idaho Springs or Denver until they found someone who would. Instead of worrying about your image and reputation in town, you should be proud your daughter chose a young man with a heart for serving God, who loves her and will spend his life trying to make her happy.”

She stood trembling and glared at Silas. “If you thought to come here to resolve our differences, you have another think coming. You’ve helped my daughter defy me, and you’ll rue the day. The whole world is going to come crashing down on you, mark my words.” She stalked out of the room, her shoulders squared and her back poker straight.

Silas dragged his hand down his face, forgetting his eye and wincing when he touched it. “I’m sorry, Walter. I hate discord in the church, and I fear this situation is getting out of control. I had hoped to be able to talk things out calmly and reach some sort of an accord.”

“Bea isn’t one to get over things too quickly.” Walter sighed and pushed his plate back. He dug in his vest pocket. “Forgot to tell you, telegram came. District supervisor will be in church tomorrow.”

Willow slipped from the hotel and headed to the theater, dodging raindrops and clutching her shawl around her shoulders to ward off the chill. Too bad about the rain. She would’ve liked to enjoy the solace of the stream this morning, but her dressing room would have to do. Lightning played around the mountaintops, and thunder blanketed the town, drowning out even the persistent noise of the smelters and stamp mills that never ceased.

Francine’s bed had been empty when Willow awoke. Odd, since Francine loved to sleep late. Still, considering their sharp words of the previous night, perhaps it was better this way. Give them both time to cool down.

Bill let her in the back door of the theater. “Morning, Miss Willow. You’re not the first one here today.”

“Oh? Francine came in early? I thought she’d be at breakfast still.”

“Miss Francine came in a while ago, all dripping wet like she’d been out walking in the rain. Don’t usually see her in such a state. But I wanted to warn you. Mr. Moncrieff’s here. In his dressing room.” The watchman crossed his arms. “After last night’s shenanigans, you can bet I’m keeping my eye on him. If he bothers you, you just holler. I’ll come running.”

“Thank you, Bill.” She patted his forearm. “You’re a good friend.”

“What he did wasn’t right, and I aim to see he doesn’t try it again.”

“I’m sure he won’t, especially not with you looking out for me.”

She passed Philip’s dressing room on the way to hers. A creepy feeling squirmed up her spine, and she hurried down the hall. The matinee would require all her acting abilities in full force to get through the scenes with Philip.

The deeper she went into the building, the more the rain receded. By the time she got to her dressing room at the end of the hall, even the thunder failed to make much of an impression. She unwound her shawl and brushed at the raindrops on her hair and face before opening the door.

She braced herself for a confrontation with her sister, but the room was empty. And clean. Clement had kept his word and sent someone in to straighten up the disorder from last night.

Draping her shawl over the back of a chair to dry out, she moved to light a few lamps. With everything in its proper place, the only evidence of the altercation was a small crack in the corner of one of the dressing table mirrors. Francine would complain about that for sure. Willow eased down onto the chaise, putting Philip and her sister out of her mind, letting her thoughts wander to Silas and his brave defense of her. And his kisses. She touched her lips.

Engaged. It seemed so unreal to her. That she would be staying in Martin City. In her entire life she’d never lived more than six months in any location, and she’d never had a home, always living in hotels or in the theaters themselves if necessary. She didn’t know how to keep house or do laundry, and as for cooking, she’d never even boiled water, much less prepared meals for a man.

Would Silas care? Perhaps the woman he currently engaged as a housekeeper would be willing to give her a few pointers. Or the Mackenzies. They’d all been so nice, especially the women. Surely Matilda, Karen, and Ellie would have good advice for her.

Footsteps sounded in the hall.

Please, pass by. Go on. Leave me alone
.

The door opened, and Willow sat up.

Francine breezed in. She was halfway across the room before she seemed to notice Willow. Her footsteps slowed, and her expression hardened. “Oh, I thought you’d be with your precious Silas.”

Willow sucked in a deep breath. “Francine, please, I don’t want to be at odds with you.”

An unladylike snort erupted from Francine, and she swung away toward the costume rack against the far wall. The clothes hangers clacked and scraped on the metal rod, and she flipped through the dresses so quickly, she couldn’t possibly have examined any of them.