To Have and To Hold (25 page)

hard way. Thought Katie was nice. Fooled by sweet words and a pretty face.” He looked at

Dave then and let out another bitter laugh. “Al a lie.”

Dave made a tentative move for the gun, but Bert lifted it to his jaw again. “Bert, think this

through. You have a son. I saw you with him today. You enjoy fishing with him. You need to

think of him.”

“I hate her,” he mumbled, seeming to have forgotten that Dave was there. “Hate lookin’ at her.

Hate the lies. Marriage is too long. Only one way out. Know what I mean?”

As Bert lifted the gun to his temple, Dave jerked forward. “Bert, don’t!” Even if it was stupid, he

had nothing to lose at this point. He lurched for the gun but the echo of a click cut through the

silence and made Dave cover his eyes so he wouldn’t see the man’s brains splatter across the

porch.

Another click echoed through the stil air and then another. Heart pounding, Dave lowered his

hands and watched in dread and surprise as Bert pul ed the trigger another three times before

he dropped the gun which fel to the floor with a thud. Stil not believing what he’d witnessed,

Dave tentatively leaned down to pick up the gun. He opened the chamber and saw there were

no bul ets, not even one. Releasing his shaky breath, he sat back in the chair and tried to grasp

that Bert real y hadn’t kil ed himself.

Bert’s snoring caught his attention so he looked over at him, relieved he’d fal en asleep. Good.

He didn’t kil himself tonight, and tomorrow Dave would make sure to talk to him. After he

calmed down, Dave stood up and quietly crossed the porch and entered the house. Once the

door was shut, he leaned against it and closed his eyes. That had to be one of the worst

things he’d ever been through. But it was over now, and with any luck, he’d never go through

anything like that again.

“Dave?”

He opened his eyes to Mary’s soft voice. She was standing at the top of the staircase. Trying

to figure out what to do with the gun, he final y opted to slip it into his pocket and trudged up the

stairs. The day had been a long one and the night even longer. When he reached the top of

the steps, he brought Mary into his arms and held her tightly to him. Every day he thought of

how fortunate he was that he happened to be at the train station the day she arrived in Omaha.

But he was much more thankful now than he’d ever been.

“I love you, Mary,” he whispered, hoping to keep the tears out of his voice.

She rubbed his back and settled her head against his chest. “I love you, too.”

His emotions settled after a minute and he pul ed away from her. Wrapping his arm around her

shoulders, he led her back to their bedroom. This trip wasn’t turning out to be anything like he

expected. Why did he think it was going to be a homecoming? Why did he expect it to be like

it was with his family? Mary had been quiet about most of her past. He should have

understood there was a good reason for it instead of assuming she missed Maine at times and

forced it from her mind.

Oh, he knew she was happy in Nebraska, but a part of him thought she had fond memories of

her life here and thought of those from time to time. How wrong he was. Besides Grace and

her family, it didn’t seem like there was anything good about Maine. Wel , he wouldn’t think of it

anymore. This was Mary’s past. It wasn’t her present, and it certainly wasn’t her future. Her

present and future were with him and their children. That was where she belonged, and from

now on, it was what they would focus on.

Chapter Twenty-One

The next morning, Mary woke up before Dave. After her nightmare, she hadn’t been able to

sleep wel , even if Dave held her. Her mind kept going over her life in Maine, and coming at it

from the perspective of someone who’d been used to Nebraska, she was able to see

everything more clearly. She was beginning to think the mirrors in her dream helped with this.

Shortly before dawn, she rol ed over in the bed so she was facing Dave and rested her head on

his shoulder. His steady breathing notified her that he was stil asleep. She wondered what

had upset him last night. She left the bed to look for him and was surprised when she saw him

at the front door with his eyes closed. Then when he came up the steps to join her, al he did

was hold her and said he loved her. If he hadn’t looked as if he’d seen a ghost, she wouldn’t

have been so concerned. After they returned to the bedroom, she asked him what was wrong,

but he said he wanted to return to Nebraska. She sensed there was more to it than that but

realized he needed time to deal with whatever happened. When he was ready, he’d tel her.

She closed her eyes, thinking she might be able to doze off for another twenty minutes, but she

was too restless. Deciding she might as wel get up, she quietly slid out of bed, careful not to

wake Dave, and got dressed. She paused in front of the mirror above the dresser. Did she

dare look into it? She glanced at Dave. He didn’t mind what he saw when he looked at her, so

she had no reason to mind it either.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve and turned her gaze to her reflection. She

winced and quickly looked away. Alright, so she stil couldn’t look at herself. Even destroying

the mirrors in her dream hadn’t done the trick. Whenever she looked at herself, she saw Plain

Mary Peters, the woman no one wanted to marry.

She turned her back to the mirror and brushed her hair in quick, hard strokes. She wondered

how long it would take her before she could check her reflection without the cold hand of dread

gripping her. Placing the brush down on the dresser, she glanced over at Dave one more time.

She stil had memories missing from Nebraska and hoped when they returned home, she could

get them al back.

After she slipped on her shoes, she left the room and went down the stairs. She welcomed the

momentary lul in activity in the house. She mental y worked on what might be best for

breakfast and decided that she’d make Dave’s favorite meal. There was no sense in worrying

about what anyone else wanted to eat.

As she stepped onto the porch, she heard a man grunt and then snore. Curious, she walked

around the porch until she found Bert asleep in the chair, his head thrown back, his legs spread

out in front of him. What was he doing asleep here? Granted, he was ful y dressed, but it stil

embarrassed her to find him like this. Quickly turning away, she made her way softly to the

porch steps and went to the outhouse.

Once she finished her business, she washed her hands and returned to the kitchen. She

glanced out the window at the streaks of pinks and light blues in the sky. Was it too soon to

make breakfast? She didn’t hear any movement upstairs, so she guessed it was best to wait

until the others were up. She opted to get the coffee going instead.

When she was finished with the task, she poured herself a cup and headed for the parlor. The

morning was a nice one—a perfect one actual y. It was a shame to spend it inside, but she

had to respect Bert’s privacy so she remained inside. She opened the window to let in the

fresh air and sat back in her chair, content to listen to the cooing of a bird outside.

By the time she finished half of her cup, Katie came down the stairs. Mary stood up and

fol owed her sister to the kitchen, keeping her voice low when she spoke. “Katie, are you

aware that Bert’s asleep on the porch?”

Katie grabbed the coffee pot and cup. Without looking in her direction, she poured the coffee

into her cup and shrugged. “He does that a lot.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “He does?”

“He likes the fresh air.”

That struck Mary as odd. “But it’s chil y out there at night.”

Katie put the coffee pot down. “He likes it.”

Surprised by the curt tone in Katie’s voice, Mary blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my

business.”

“You’re right, it isn’t.”

She blinked and tried to figure out what she might say to help ease the sudden tension in the

room. She’d already had an argument with her mother, and even though she didn’t like Katie,

she didn’t have the energy for another confrontation. Clearing her throat, she ventured, “I’d like

to make breakfast, if that’s alright?”

Katie nodded and left the room.

Releasing her breath, she turned to the bowls and pan to get started.

***

Dave watched Bert, Katie, and their son Gerald during breakfast. He doubted he was any

good at picking up the subtleties of this family and how its members related to each other. With

a glance at Mary, he wondered if she detected something he didn’t. For the most part, Gerald

rambled on about different types of fish and the different lakes he’d been to. Mary and Katie

joined in the conversation more often than Bert who had to be nursing a hangover.

Dave was surprised he managed to hide it so wel . The only indication his head hurt was when

he rubbed his forehead and winced, and this mostly occurred whenever Katie let out a shril

laugh at one of Gerald’s jokes. Dave could be jumping to conclusions, but he suspected she

laughed like that on purpose just so she did hurt her husband.

“Are we going fishing today, Pa?” Gerald asked, turning his gaze to his father as Bert drank

more of his coffee.

Bert set the cup down on the table and nodded. “Sure are, son.”

So Bert did love his boy, just as Dave suspected. That was good. It’d help when he talked to

Bert.

“Maybe we’l get another big one for you, Ma,” Gerald said.

Katie smiled as she cut into her french toast. “I’m sure you wil .”

“The day is good for fishing, isn’t it, Pa?”

Bert nodded and took another drink of his coffee.

“I can’t wait to eat more fish tonight,” Gerald continued and then looked at Mary. “You’l fix it,

won’t you?”

“I’l be happy to as long as it’s alright with your mother,” Mary replied, glancing Katie’s way.

Katie let out another shril laugh which made Bert wince. “Of course, you can, Mary. I know

how much you love to cook. I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the kitchen.”

Though Mary responded with a polite smile, Dave knew it was hard for her. In the time he’d

known her, she often sought permission like that when she felt uncomfortable.

“Oh good!” Gerald gulped down the last of his juice. “I can’t wait!” He set the glass on the

table and looked at his father. “May I be excused so I can get the fishing gear ready?”

“We’re not going until we’ve paid our respects at the wake,” Bert told him.

“I know that, Pa. I just wanted to get things ready.”

Bert nodded, and Gerald bolted up before remembering the cloth napkin on his lap. With a

sheepish grin, he apologized to his mother, wiped his mouth, and gently placed the napkin on

the table.

Once he left the room, Katie shook her head. “You can’t blame a boy for being eager to enjoy

a nice summer’s day, can you?”

“No, you can’t,” Mary replied before she cut into the last of her french toast. “I think children

and summer days go together.”

Though Mary didn’t continue, Dave caught the wistful smile on her face and wondered if she

thought of Isaac scouting the land for frogs and Rachel staying by her side on the porch while

she rested in the late morning or early afternoon.

Katie stood up and started col ecting the empty plates on the table. “We should get ready to

go to Mother’s.”

Mary shot Dave an uneasy glance, so Dave asked, “Should we come or stay here?”

Katie paused with the stack of dishes in her arms. “I’l go see Mother and find out what she

prefers. Mary, wil you be a dear and take care of the dishes while I’m gone?”

“Yes.” Mary stood up and hurried to help her sister.

Dave bit back his irritation with Katie for expecting Mary to come in and do al the work for her,

especial y since Mary might not be welcome to her own father’s wake. Granted, her father

wasn’t alive to be aware of whether Mary got to pay her last respects or not, but the way her

siblings rushed to do whatever her mother wanted was upsetting him to no end. Even if she

was their mother, it didn’t seem right that she should be al owed to shun one of her children

from the man’s wake.

But he had something more important to tend to at the moment. As the women left the room,

he looked over at Bert who hadn’t touched much of his food, though he’d gone through three

cups of coffee. Bert had to have been feeling sick if he didn’t eat Mary’s food.