Deeply Devoted (29 page)

He spread his legs apart and crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m waiting.”

Catharine gulped in air, then expelled it. She couldn’t bear to look Peter in the face but stared past him, gazing out the window at the prairie beyond. “I fell in love with a man named Karl Johnsen. My parents disapproved, but I was in love and wouldn’t listen to their warnings. Later he started drinking, and I found out there was another woman . . . and then another . . . but by then we had a baby girl named Lina.” Catharine choked on the words and paused to calm her racing heart. She blinked back the tears flooding her eyes and tried to stay in control enough to finish her story.

“Lina was a colicky baby and cried a lot, which was something Karl could not tolerate. One evening when Karl was out drinking with his friends, Lina was particularly fussy. I got her calm, so I stepped out into our garden, just to hear the silence. It wasn’t long before I heard her crying again, so I went back inside to soothe her.” Her chin started to tremble and her breathing became shallow. “As I reached the nursery door . . . Karl was holding Lina, shaking her hard.” Catharine squeezed her eyes shut. “Before I could get to her . . . the crying suddenly stopped.”

Tears slid down Catharine’s face, and she felt numb at the retelling of the worst moment of her life. “Lina’s face was blue . . . and she . . .” Catharine put her fist to her mouth and opened her eyes. “Lina wasn’t breathing . . . We both stood there. Then Karl suddenly ran from the house. Even today, I can still smell the alcohol on his breath.”

Shifting her gaze from the window to Peter, still rooted to the same spot, she saw the look of shock in his eyes. Catharine felt nothing in her heart but pain—and a sharp pang of love for the babe she was carrying. But now Peter would never know that because she had seen the disgust on his face.

She knew that her reaction was in part displaced anger from all the past hurt in her first marriage and from losing Lina. At the same time, she felt justified withholding the truth because Peter had distanced himself from her in more ways than one. First with believing his mother, and then with his working secretly for Lucy Hayes. Catharine admonished herself for thinking it had been more than that with Lucy. Her heart knew better, but he should have talked to her about it.

With a flat voice, she said, “I realize now that you
never
really trusted me but trusted your mother.”

Why wouldn’t he say something? Anything? She’d hoped in the last few months that Peter had grown to love her. She stared down at her prized Blue Willow, representing the pieces of her heart that had just shattered.

“Would you like to see the divorce paper or the death certificate of my baby before you’ll believe me instead of your mother?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but when not a word came out, Catharine felt she had no choice. She whirled on her heel and fled up the stairs. By not answering her, he gave a clear indication that he didn’t want her as his wife anymore. When she reached the landing she called out to Greta and Anna. Looking surprised, they rushed into the hallway.

“Whatever is wrong, Cath?” Greta asked. Anna’s blue eyes were wide with unease.

She turned them by the shoulders and pushed them through the doorway of the bedroom. “Hurry, pack a small bag and meet me downstairs in ten minutes. I’ll explain when we’re on the road to Cheyenne!” When they hesitated in disbelief, their mouths open, she snapped, “There’s no time to quibble.
Schiet op
. Hurry up.
Now!
”

Catharine was sure they thought she’d lost her mind, but in fact, she believed she’d just found it.

It was several seconds before Peter moved in the direction of the stairs. He had to go to her. He’d never imagined she’d hidden behind a mask of pain so terrible. It was even harder to believe that a man would shake his baby hard enough to cause her death. Bile rose up in his throat when he tried to imagine the scene and suffering Catharine had endured. He couldn’t begin to imagine. Somehow it didn’t matter that she had kept it from him now. He’d misjudged her.

He took the stairs two at a time and was breathing hard when he reached their bedroom. The door was standing wide open. “What are you doing?” He watched her as she slammed her satchel on the bed and hurriedly started filling it with her clothes and sundry items.

“I’m leaving, and my sisters will come with me. Our marriage is not based on mutual trust, and not love either, I guess.”

He slumped, his hands on his hips, not daring to touch her when she was so furious. “Catharine, I’m so sorry. I should’ve been more forthcoming.”

“Sorry?” She harrumphed, then walked over to the dressing table to pick up her brush and comb. He thought she might throw them at him and was ready to duck, but instead she crossed the distance to their bed, her heels striking sharply against the hardwood floor. She tossed the dresser set into the bag with fury. Peter had never seen her this angry before.

“I want to take a horse and wagon, and I’ll have them returned to you as soon as I can.” Her movements were so jerky that her hair came unpinned and tumbled down about her shoulders.

“Where are you going? Stop this nonsense!” Peter knew his attempts to stop her sounded lame.

“No,
you
stop it, Peter! You never trusted me, and I suppose your mother gave you reason enough not to. I’m sorry I kept it from you, but I trusted
you
. When I met you, I had no idea that you’d had a relationship with Dorothy just short of marriage, so I wasn’t sure how to act when I was around her. I figured she was in love with you, and that hurt. And now you tell me you’ve been at the widow Hayes’s, and you talk about trust to me? I knew when I finally got the courage to tell you about my past, you’d be angry.” She hung her head, then snapped the bag closed. “Please step aside.”

“Catharine . . .”

Peter felt helpless and emotionally drained. There was nothing he could do but let her go. Maybe she was right . . . they shouldn’t be married. He was confused but at the same time felt pity for her sad past. He moved just as Greta and Anna arrived at the doorway with questioning faces.

“Peter . . . what’s going on?” Greta asked.

He looked from Greta to Catharine. “Ask your sister.”

“Catharine, can I please take the pups?” Anna pleaded.

“
Nee.
I’m sorry. Peter will have to find homes for them. Let’s go hitch the wagon, Greta.”

Anna started to sniffle, apparently thoroughly confused at the situation that had developed, and stared at Peter. He couldn’t bear to meet Anna’s or Greta’s eyes, but stood helplessly by with his hands at his sides while all three raced down the stairs. He heard the slam of the front door, and their chatter followed them out to the barn.

His eyes took in the rumpled bed where he and Catharine had become man and wife a few short months ago. In the beginning he’d felt a strange distance between them. Then later total abandonment as she came to trust him. Now he understood why, and his heart squeezed in his chest. It was like Lucy said—Catharine had terrible pain in her past but was willing to leave her homeland to try and start over again.

His head ached. He walked over to the dressing table, picked up her lilac toilette water, and sniffed it. A tear slid out of the corner of his eye as he remembered her soft scent and the feel of her against him. God help him. He knew that he loved her despite her hiding the past, but how could they make this all work? He believed the tragic tale of the baby and didn’t need to see a death certificate, but what about the divorce from Karl Johnsen?

Suddenly he realized that it didn’t matter anymore—the man was out of her life now. Peter loved her and knew deep in his heart that Catharine was worthy of his love.

He was thoroughly bewildered about what to do now and felt deep compassion for her loss. He could understand why she would divorce a man who had killed her child, and one who wasn’t faithful as well. In part, he could understand her reasoning for
not
telling him for fear of rejection and humiliation. She had no parents and had to care for two sisters she was deeply devoted to.

What had been her motive for wanting to marry him? He wasn’t sure, but he intended to find out.

Clara smiled when she read the note a messenger had delivered to her earlier in the morning. Mac wanted to take her on a trip with him to Boston and asked her to meet him at the Rollins Hotel to discuss the details. Excitement filled her. Was Boston where his family lived? It seemed he had mentioned that once before. Surely he wanted to introduce her to them. Clara was breathless at the very thought, not to mention being with Mac. Maybe then she would get his undivided attention for once.
Oh, goodness, what should I pack for a weekend? I want to look my best. Perhaps a new hat?

The sun felt good on her back as she strolled to his hotel, and her spirits were high. Never in a million years would she have guessed she could feel like this about someone again. It was hard to hide her smile as she entered the hotel lobby.

“I’m here to see Mac Foster,” she said to the manager. “Please let him know Clara Andersen is here for our appointment.” Clara squared her shoulders.

The manager gazed at her. “He said he was expecting you but had to run out for a few minutes. He asked that I give you a key to his room and said to tell you he’ll be back shortly and to make yourself at home.”

Clara was mildly surprised but tried not to show it. It was just like Mac to think of a last-minute errand that he’d forgotten. “Of course, thank you,” she said, taking the key in her hand.

“It’s the second floor, fifth room on your right.” The manager smiled. She walked up the stairs, pretending not to be aware of his eyes on her.

She felt a little uncomfortable meeting in Mac’s room, but she knew it was just until he arrived and they went to have lunch or whatever he had planned. The thudding of her heart kept time to the sound of her heels against the carpeted hall runner.

She could hardly wait to see him again. He exuded energy and excitement, even if he was forgetful. She’d have to learn to overlook that bad habit of his. She loved his contagious smile. Even when they didn’t agree about a particular subject, their disagreement always ended amicably. After all, she was sure that at her age, there were probably one or two things he didn’t like about her either.

She slipped the key in the lock, turned the knob, and stepped into the living quarters that Mac called home for the most part. It smelled of stale air and cigars. Funny, he’d never smoked around her. She went over to the window and shoved it open to get some fresh air inside. Turning around, she saw a pair of pants slung over a chair, a shirt hanging haphazardly from the knob on a chest of drawers, and a pile of papers strewn about the small desktop next to the bed. An ironing board and iron stood in the corner with a suit coat that had been freshly pressed laying on it.

She began to tidy up to waste time more than anything. Besides, she didn’t mind doing this for the man she loved and took her breath away. She hung the pants and shirt on hangers, then walked over to the desk. She thought to merely shove the stacks of paper together to form one tidy stack, but they were in such disarray that she had to divide the mess to make any headway toward creating a neater stack. Just as she was about finished, one document in particular caught her attention. It was dated April 20 and had the crest of a solicitor in Holland. She squinted to read the details, then carried it over to the window for better light. She skimmed the paper and her hand began to shake. It was Catharine Andersen’s divorce decree, dated nearly six months ago!

Clara’s wobbly legs carried her to the side of the bed, where she sank down onto the lumpy mattress. A sick feeling clenched her heart. Mac had known all along that Catharine was indeed divorced. Why hadn’t he told her?

Reality hit her hard in the chest.
Because he simply didn’t want to!
Her mind reeled and tears burned her eyes. Peter would never forgive her even when she told him the truth. Regrettably, she wished she’d never felt compelled to delve into Catharine’s background. She knew it was, in part, because she’d felt slighted when he hadn’t told her he’d been corresponding with a mail-order bride all those months.

Clara stood and squared her shoulders. Mac better have a good reason for not telling her. But no answer would be good enough, she reasoned with herself. Had she gotten mixed signals from him? He’d told her more than once how much he cared for her and missed her when he was on an investigation trip. But did she mean as much to him as he did to her? A pounding headache was beginning to build behind her eyes.

The sound of a key in the lock snapped Clara upright as she held the paper in her hands.

Mac hurried in and flashed her one of his endearing smiles. “My sweet, I’m glad to see your pretty face this morning!” He kissed her soundly on the mouth, then pulled her close to nuzzle her ear. His lips tasted of mint mouthwash, and their delicious softness gave her pause, but she stiffened, determined not to respond to his touch. He released her and stepped back. “What’s that look on your face for?” His eyes studied hers intently.

“This!” Clara waved the document in front of his face. “What is the meaning of this, Mac?”

“Calm down and take a deep breath, then tell me what you’re talking about.”

“You know very well what I’m referring to, so please don’t pretend you don’t!”

Mac looked at the paper she held in her hands. “Oh, that,” he said quietly. “I planned to tell you this weekend.”

“Why? How long have you known?” Her heart sank when he didn’t say there had been some mistake. She stuffed the document into her reticule.

Mac stroked her arms. “I didn’t want to lose you, so I waited, wanting to get to know you better. I’ve been so happy since I met you. Haven’t you felt the same way?”

She pulled away from his embrace. “Yes, I have . . . but you’ve withheld the truth, Mac, and let me accuse Catharine of something far worse than was fair. And I’ve created a big rift in my relationship with my son. How could you do that to me?” Clara’s voice trembled.

Mac’s face became sober. “I told you. I thought if you knew that I’d already uncovered the divorce decree, you wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I don’t have a big home to take you to or money to support you in the style you’re accustomed to here in Cheyenne. I thought you knew that.” His eyes softened as he gazed longingly at her. He’d never looked more serious than he did at this moment. “I’m always on the road traveling to wherever my next investigation takes me. But this time I want to take you with me.”

He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out two train tickets, holding them up in front of her to see. “I’ve bought us tickets to Boston for a week. Say you’ll go with me and we’ll have a grand time, just you and me, Clara. I don’t want to go alone this time.”

“Is that where your family lives? Are you taking me to meet them?” she asked, trying to sort everything out.

“No. I just wanted you to go with me on this trip. My family is scattered around—it’s just the way I live. Please say you will forgive me, Clara. You can tell Peter that Catharine was divorced properly and we can be on our way. No harm done.”