NoRegretsColeNC (25 page)

“You
know where he is?”

“He’s
in Denver. He’s dying, Hattie.”

“Are
you going to see him?”

“How
can I? I know what he wants. He wants forgiveness.” Willie’s jaw tightened. “I
have none.”

Guilt
rose up within him. He should visit his father, of course, but he had no idea
how he could find the strength to do it.

Hattie
placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Willie.”

Her
touch, as always, comforted him. It soothed him. It gave him hope. Willie
looked up. “Come with me, Hattie. Help me be strong enough to do the right
thing.” He grabbed for her hand and held it fast. “I can’t do it alone. But if
you’ll come with me, I’ll do it, I swear. I’ll go to my father, and I’ll do my
best to forgive him.”

Hattie
drew her hand away and slowly rose from the chair. “Let me think about it,
Willie. Come around tomorrow morning. I’ll give you my answer then.”

* * *
*

Hattie
awoke long before dawn. Her restlessness was due in part to the surprise of
seeing Willie again, but owed more to her inability to find a comfortable
sleeping position. Plus the constant trips to use the chamber pot. Plus the
awful cramps in her legs.

It
wouldn’t be much longer now. Soon all these dreadful aches and pains would be
no more than memories. Between now and then, she had so many things to do in
preparation of the big event.

When
she heard Willie coming up the walk, Hattie waved to him from the upstairs
window. Her sleepless night had given her plenty of opportunity to consider his
request. Throughout those long hours of darkness, she’d examined it from every
different point of view.

So, he
wanted another bargain with her, did he?

As she
slowly made her way down the staircase to greet him at the door, Hattie thought
back to the little agreement they’d made when he’d first been hurt. Bribery,
he’d called it. If he would behave himself and follow the doctor’s orders, she
would conveniently forget to post the letter to his mother.

The
recollection brought a smile to her face.

“You’re
looking cheerful this morning,” Willie said when the door opened. He leaned
forward and brushed a light kiss to her cheek.
“Pleasant
dreams?”

“Actually,
no.”
Hattie’s smile faded. “I hardly slept a wink.”

“Am I
to blame?”

“I
suppose you are, in more ways than one, but it doesn’t matter. Let’s go into
the parlor. I need to sit down. We can talk there.”

“Yes,
certainly.
Is there something I can do for you?
Something to make you
more comfortable?”

For a
moment, Hattie let her thoughts run wild, quietly recalling so many things
Willie had once done to her, the way he’d once touched her, kissed her, loved
her. She sighed and shook her head.

Willie
followed her into the tiny parlor. They sat side by side on the loveseat. He
took her hands.

“Willie,”
she began, “I’ve given a lot of thought to…the things you spoke about
yesterday.”

“Yes?”

“Marriage
is a very big commitment.”

“I’m
aware of that.”

Hattie
lowered her gaze. “I’m not sure you’re ready to make that commitment.”

“I love
you, Hattie. What more can I say? What more can I do?”

She
looked up again but said nothing. The moment held too many hopes, too many
dreams, and too many emotions. “You wanted to strike a bargain with me
yesterday. If I were willing to go back with you, you’d go to see your father.
You went so far as to say that you’d do your best to forgive him.”

“If
you’ll come back, I will see him. Don’t you understand?” he asked, squeezing
her hands. “You’re my strength, Hattie Richards. You’re everything good in my
life, every hope, every dream. Please, say you’ll come back.”

She
pressed her lips together.

You’re doing the right thing.
Just say it.

“No
deal, Willie. I won’t make such a bargain with you.” She saw the pain in his
face, the hurt in his eyes, and she quickly pulled her hand away from his,
placing it now against his cheek.
“Regardless of what you do,
whether you go to see your father or not, I am coming with you.”

He drew
in a sharp breath. “But you said…”

“I said
I won’t bargain with you. If you choose to see your father, and I hope you
will, it has to be your decision, not something you were obliged to do because
it helped you gain something you wanted. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“And if
I don’t go to see him, will you be disappointed in me?”

“I’ll
respect whatever choice you make.” Hattie rose. “My bags are packed. I’d like a
little time to spend with Mrs.
Quisenberry
before we
leave, if you don’t mind.”

“Hattie,
wait.” He jumped up and came after her as she waddled her way toward the door.
“What about marriage? You’re just going to leave me hanging?”

“For
now, yes.
It’s too much to think about. Give me a little time. Will you do that?”

“I’ll
try to be patient, but I can’t guarantee that I won’t be asking again. Very
soon,” he added.

“We’d
better hurry so we don’t miss the train.”

“I’ll
get your bags while you say good-bye.”

* * *
*

Holding
tightly to Willie’s arm, Hattie cautiously boarded the first of several trains
that would carry them home to Colorado. Traveling was virtually unheard of for
a woman in her condition. Wrapped in a voluminous cloak Mrs.
Quisenberry
had furnished her, she hoped to avoid
questioning stares and outright gawking.

“Are
you feeling all right?”

She
nodded. “I’m fine.”

Throughout
the journey, Willie remained close to her side, fiercely guarding and
protecting her, and inquiring about her well-being every few minutes.

The
train rolled over the tracks, belching out smoke and thick clouds of steam. Greasy
black soot soon covered Hattie’s cloak—and her face and hands as well. Willie
fared no better.
Loving him more than ever, she reached up
and wiped a smudge from his face.

“Before
you ask again, I’m perfectly fine,” she assured him.

All the
while, she silently prayed that the long, uncomfortable ride would do no harm
to her child. In much the same way Willie looked after her, she shielded the
unborn baby, her hands both defending and hiding her bulging belly from view.

The
baby had not been squirming around so much lately, she’d noticed. A perfectly
normal thing, Mrs.
Quisenberry
had assured her.
Having borne nine children of her own, the woman should certainly know.

Thinking
now of the dear older woman she’d grown so close to, Hattie sighed deeply. How
cruel children could be. Always
too busy
,
or a bit
under the weather
, or maybe
the distance between them was just
too
great
to allow them to spend more time with their widowed mother.

Nothing
but pathetic excuses.

Hattie
pressed her hands to her abdomen as a slight twinge grabbed at her. Would her
child someday turn away from her the way Mrs.
Quisenberry’s
children had done? The way Willie had turned away from his father?

* * *
*

From
San Francisco, they rode the Central Pacific line eastward, passing through
Sacramento,
then
crossing into Nevada. Willie kept
close watch on Hattie. She seemed to be bearing up well.

The
locomotive rolled onward. Truckee, Winnemucca, Carlin. Together he and Hattie
noted the towns as their railcar rolled past. On to Promontory—where the golden
spike had brought the east and west together slightly more than a decade
before—and finally, nearly twenty-four hours after their trip had begun, they
arrived in Ogden, Utah.

Willie
and Hattie rested there, spending a quiet night at the Union Station, a
two-story wood-frame building beside the Weber River which marked the junction
of the Central Pacific with the Union Pacific Railway.

The
following morning they boarded one of the Union Pacific’s most accommodating
passenger trains and settled in for the next leg of their journey, riding in
the comfort of a Palace Car. Thank the Lord for good men like Jake Walker who’d
generously loaned Willie money enough to assure Hattie’s comfort. Several of
the other townsfolk had pitched in, too. Although they’d driven her away with
their gossip and unkindness, in the end, Willie’s persistence had brought them
around. People always liked a good love story, he guessed. Of course, they
expected him to do right by her, and he would—as soon as she agreed.

They
crossed the state of Wyoming, and toward evening, the train pulled in to the
depot at Cheyenne. Willie and Hattie disembarked once more and spent another
quiet night at the station’s hotel facility. As much as Willie longed to spend
time talking with Hattie, sharing his thoughts, and telling her over and over again
of his love, they were both exhausted. Too worried to fall asleep, Willie spent
the entire night watching Hattie’s fitful slumber.

After
washing up and eating a nourishing breakfast, Willie and Hattie made a
connection with a passenger train on the Denver Pacific Railroad. They were
nearly home.

“Are we
going to spend the night in Denver?” she asked. “Or
are you
wanting
to make the drive on to Sunset?” The weariness in her voice told
him what his answer must be.

“We’ll
stay in Denver.” He pushed aside nagging thoughts about his father. “My mother
has a room at a hotel. She won’t mind if we join her.”

Hattie
blanched. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. You mother and I had words,
Willie. I wasn’t very kind to her. I said some awful things.”

“It’s
all right, Hattie. She understands.”

“Do you
think she’ll forgive me?”

“I’m
sure of it,” he said quickly,
then
as Hattie’s
question echoed in his head, Willie went silent. It was simple enough to offer
assurances, but forgiveness did not come easily. His mother, of course, was far
more gracious than he. She would forgive Hattie and would embrace her as part
of their family.

What
remained to be seen was whether or not he could be noble enough to forgive his
father. That’s what it came down to, he figured.
Doing
something because it was right.
Forgiveness could be taken as a
charitable act.

Yet
that wasn’t why he suddenly changed his mind and made the decision to see his
father. In truth, Willie recognized his own failings, knew himself to be
neither gracious, noble, nor generous.

“I’ll
take you to the hotel and get you settled. After that, I’m going to go visit my
father.”

He’d
never seen such confusion on Hattie’s face before. “Why are you doing it?” she
asked in a voice so quiet Willie guessed she must be afraid that speaking up
would break the fragile moment.

“I’m
doing it for the most selfish reason of all. I’m doing it because if I don’t,
I’ll probably regret it. I don’t want guilt hanging over me for the rest of my
life.”

“So,
you’re merely doing your duty?”

“That’s
right.
Being the good son, living up to my father’s last
expectations for me.”
He shrugged. “The least I can do, don’t you
think?”

But
whatever Hattie was thinking, she wasn’t going to share. Willie thought of
offering another penny as he’d done once on a lovely summer’s morning, back in
a time when their love was young and still innocent. Yes, he’d loved her even
then, but of course he’d been too much of a fool to realize it.

He
probably didn’t want to know her thoughts, he decided.

“Let’s
get you settled, Hattie.”

Chapter
Eighteen

Doubts
clamored through Willie’s head as he stepped into the small, shadowed room.
Night was falling, and the approaching darkness closed in around him. His
mother had warned him of what to expect, but despite her cautious advisory, he
couldn’t imagine his father actually being on his death-bed—or anywhere near
it.

His
father had always been a big man, in so many ways. Judge Morse was strong,
vibrant, loud, and at times, even jovial. At least, that’s how Willie
remembered him.

His
mother sat near the bed. She looked up, smiled, and slowly rose to her feet.

“I’m so
glad you’ve come, William. I’ll step outside. You need a little time alone with
your father.”

“Mother,
no—” He desperately wanted her to stay, but she’d already reached the door.

“Do
call me, if…” Her voice trailed off. No need to say the words.

If he takes a turn for the
worse, if he quietly passes away, if he suddenly dies.

Alone
with his father now, Willie turned his attention to the pale, shrunken form in
the bed. There’d been a mistake, his heart told him. This wan, shriveled-up
fellow bore no resemblance whatsoever to the father who’d raised him. The
father he’d loved. The father he’d revered for such a long time.

But
there was no mistake. Neither was there any room for doubt now. His father’s
life would soon end. He would be dead and buried, and his mortal body would rot
away in the grave. Yet his soul would live on—and would face the final judgment.
He would be called to account for his sins and would be punished accordingly.

The
reality staggered him, left him reeling and short of breath.

What
was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?

All he asks is forgiveness
.

A few
simple
words,
and his duty would be done. Willie
realized at that moment he held the power to put his father’s mind at ease. He
could give comfort. He could offer peace.

Stepping
up to the bed with outstretched hand, he drew in a breath as his father reached
out to him. The man’s touch was cold, as if the life had already left his body.
Cold,
and weak.

Willie
couldn’t reconcile this dying figure with the father he’d known, the man who
had always laughed so raucously, boasted so mightily, and walked with a slow,
but purposeful stride. The man who talked long and loud, and who laid down the
law—his own law—to the world around him.

For all
his faults, his father had been a powerful man, one who grabbed life, took
chances, and lived large—in more ways than one. He would die now with no
regrets…save one. He wanted his son’s forgiveness.

What
harm in saying the words? That’s all they were.
Just words.
A few simple
syllables,
and all would end as it
should. Willie’s duty would be done.

He
reached for his father’s hand. “I understand. Mother explained everything to
me,” he said in a quiet voice. “It doesn’t matter really. You did what you
believed you had to do.” He was doing the same thing, Willie realized. “That’s
an important lesson, one that you taught me. I’ve learned a lot from you. I’ve
learned how to be strong, how to be a good man.” Willie looked away. Maybe
there was some truth to be found in his words, after all. Or, maybe there was
no truth at all. Either way, his duty was done.

* * *
*

Early
the next morning, Hattie and Willie set off for home. She’d rested fairly well
and wanted to go back to Sunset as soon as possible. Just as Willie had
forgiven his father, she had a few amends to make as well. She hadn’t had any
opportunity to offer apologies to Letitia Morse—the woman refused to leave her
husband—but she could set things right with Dr. Kellerman and his wife.
Although their plans to send her away hurt deeply, Hattie knew they
were well-intentioned.
She owed them not only an apology, but a good
amount of money, too.

How she
would ever repay it, she didn’t know, but she would find a way.

Most of
all, she wanted to ask Dr. Kellerman to assist at the birth. Most women wanted
to be surrounded by their lady friends, and attended by a friendly midwife. But
Hattie had no women friends. Besides, she was nervous about the baby coming.
Perhaps she’d come to trust Dr. Kellerman more because she’d worked with him.
She respected him as a professional.

“You’re
sure you’re up to it?” Willie asked as Hattie quickly gathered her belongings.
They’d had a bite to eat at the hotel dining room earlier. She’d hardly had any
appetite.

“I’m
feeling better this morning than I have in a very long time,” she assured him.
Placing a hand at his cheek, she smiled. “It’s good to see you. It’s good to be
with you again.”

“Hattie,
we need to talk about the future, don’t you think? Before very long, we’re
going to be parents. That’s a huge responsibility, and I think we have some
important decisions to make.”

She
shook her head.
“No, not yet.
Please, Willie, don’t
push me.”

“But,
why?
Or, I
should say, why not? We’ve been over this before. I want to marry you. I want
to support you and our child. You say you care about me, and obviously you do,
or you wouldn’t have come back with me. Why won’t you marry me?”

“I hope
someday I will be your wife, but not until you’re ready.”

“I am
ready, Hattie. I’m sober, I’m working, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make
you happy.”

She
sighed. “Maybe I’m the one who’s not ready.” She didn’t want to argue with
Willie. All she wanted was to be on the road, on the way back to Sunset. He’d
done a lot to change his life over the last few months, but Hattie wondered how
deep the changes went. People could change their circumstances easily enough.
It was a lot harder for a man to change his heart, his soul. Willie didn’t
respect himself yet. Maybe he never would.

“All
right, we’ll discuss it another time. Let’s be on our way.”

* * *
*

Two
hours. That’s how long it usually took to make the drive from Denver to Sunset.
But that was on a good day with clear skies, and most certainly not with a very
pregnant young woman aboard. At the rate they were going, they’d be lucky to
reach the little town before late afternoon. Already they’d been on the road
for nearly three hours and they were barely halfway to their destination.

“Maybe
we ought to turn back, Hattie.” He hated himself for jostling her around,
bouncing her about in a rented wagon with stiff-springs. He’d been driving very
slowly, but had seen Hattie grimace from time to time. She was obviously not
comfortable. “I think it would be better if we stayed in Denver a little
longer.”

Hattie
shook her head vehemently. “No, we can’t.” She gripped his arm, and her
features tightened. Then, a moment later, she smiled and let go. “Turning
around now would be plumb foolish. It would take us as long to get back to
Denver as it will to get to Sunset.”

“You’ve
got a point.” He patted her hand. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine.”

The
word shot out, and she clamped her mouth shut.

“You’re
sure?”

“Hmm-hmm.”
This time, she said nothing.
She merely mumbled and gave him a quick nod.

“Hattie,
something’s going on. What is it?”

“Nothing,
really.”
A
nervous little laugh bubbled up.

“Are
you sure?”

“Yes,
of course. I should know how I’m feeling, don’t you think?” She stiffened and
grabbed his arm again.

“For
God’s sake, Hattie!
What’s the matter? Is it the baby?”

She
shook her head—first one way, then the other. Willie couldn’t follow the
movement enough to decide if she meant
yes
or
no.

Hattie
smiled again. “Just a little twinge, that’s all. It’s perfectly normal,” she
assured him.

“How
often are you having these little twinges?”

“I
don’t know…exactly.
Just occasionally.”

“That’s
it. We’re going back.”

“Willie,
no,
please
.” Hattie grabbed for his shoulders, forcing
him to put down the reins. “I want to have this baby in Sunset.
With Dr. Kellerman.
I don’t want to be somewhere with
strange people looking at me.” She shook as the tears came. “Don’t you
understand? I want to be with people I know.
People who care
about me.”

“I care
about you.”

“That’s
not enough.” She winced.

Another
little twinge, he guessed.

“It
will be hours before we get to Sunset. Are you sure you can wait?”

“Well,
you could drive a little faster, Willie.” Hattie’s smile had returned, and she
patted his hand. “I’m not some porcelain doll that’s liable to break.”

He
nodded.
“All right.
Let’s go.”

But
going proved more difficult than Willie anticipated. Earlier rains and the
spring thaws had left the ground soft and squishy. The horse lumbered to pull
the wagon over the mucky, rutted road. Worse, still, clouds were gathering
again on the horizon. Another storm threatened.

But
Willie drove on. Hattie wanted to go to Sunset, and he’d damned sure find a way
to get her there.

Thirty
minutes later, he pulled the wagon to a halt.

“Why
are we stopping?”

Instead
of giving a direct answer, he looked off toward the southeast where dark clouds
scuttled across the skies. As the warm winds moved northward they would bring
drenching rains. Although the storm might pass quickly, it would give them a
soaking if they didn’t find cover.

“We’ll
take shelter there,” he told Hattie, pointing to a natural indentation in a
nearby hillside. “How bad are the pains?”

“Bearable.”
She hugged her bulging stomach. “There’s really no cause for concern.” As
Willie hurried the horse and wagon toward shelter, Hattie kept up a steady
patter. “It’s natural to be a little nervous, a little anxious, but there’s no
need. Firstborn babies take their time, according to Mrs.
Quisenberry
.
This little one probably won’t make his or her appearance until sometime
tomorrow.”

“Or
more likely sometime in the middle of the night.”
His own birth had come in those
hours of darkness shortly before dawn. Maybe his son or his daughter would
follow suit. He still hoped for a little girl with Hattie’s dark hair and
clear, gray eyes. Of course, a son would be fine, too.

And he’ll want to
follow in your footsteps, same as you followed in your father’s.

Turning his thoughts away from his father and the past,
Willie concentrated on dealing with the present. Soon he had the wagon
sheltered the best he could, and he climbed down to tend to the frightened
horse.

A biting wind swirled over the earth. The first harsh drops
of rain stung Willie’s cheek.

His thoughts
went back to his earlier visit with his father. Emotions welled up inside him
with a physical force almost as powerful as the blows Dan Southwick had once
dealt him. He looked toward Hattie. She was shivering as the temperature
dropped quickly.

“Hurry,
Willie. The storm’s moving in.” Her hands clutched at her belly.

“Climb
in the back,” he ordered. “Get under those blankets. They’ll keep you warm and
dry.”

“Yes,
will you help me, please?”

He soon
had her settled and as comfortable as he could make her given the inclement
weather and the hard floor of the wagon bed. At least they had a bit of shelter
from the elements. The heavy blankets would ward off any chill, and with luck,
the storm would pass quickly.

As they
huddled together, powerful emotions swept through Willie. Another squall
brewed, not on the horizon, but within his soul, this storm a tempest wrought
by the frailties of human nature.

Guilt
thundered through him. Sharp flashes of insight shot through his brain like the
lightning crashing through the heaven. Bits and pieces of memories illuminated
the darkness which had covered him too long. As though a shroud had been torn
away from him, Willie felt raw and exposed, his eyes now opened but blinded by
truth.

His
thoughts returned to his father, to those moments when he’d stood beside the
dying man. Willie had said all the words his father wanted to hear, but words
were easy. A man could spit out all the right words, could let them roll off
his tongue and skip like stones over the water, never touching the depths.