The Winter Pearl

Crouching down, Lucas looked under the bed. Nothing. His jaw tightened as he got to his feet again. He snatched the covers and threw them on the floor.

“Where’s that whiskey?” Lucas bumped his toe on the iron bedpost. “Ouch!”

Hopping on one leg, he reached down, grabbed his toe and held it. He’d thought his feet hurt before, but nothing compared to what he felt now.

A yellow trunk, decorated with painted flowers and vines, stood at the foot of the bed. He threw back the lid and removed dresses, petticoats and delicate undergarments. Near the bottom, his hand touched a hard object under a frilly, pink nightgown. He pushed the gown to one side. A dark-colored flask, flat on both sides, caught his attention.

He grabbed it and unscrewed the top. The smell of whiskey filled the room. Lucas lifted the flask to his lips and swallowed. The golden liquid burned its way into his stomach. He sighed deeply and took another gulp.

“Lunch is almost ready,” Ruby called from downstairs.

“Be there in a minute,” he shouted back.

Lucas dropped his dirty clothes on the rag rug. First, he poured cold, then hot water into the wooden tub. At last, he climbed into the warm water, carrying the flask with him.

Ten minutes later, Lucas, in tan trousers and a fresh blue shirt, came downstairs. He felt better after bathing and putting on clean clothes. Just not as good as he would feel after he had a few more drinks.

The dinner table was covered with a blue linen cloth. Ruby set out her best white china. Lucas sat down and reached for the platter of fried chicken.

“Not yet, Lucas.”

“Why not?”

“We haven’t said the blessing.”

“Blessing? When did you start that?”

“A few weeks ago. I go to church every Sunday. You should, too. I was baptized.”

“Baptized? You?”

She nodded. “I’m a saved Christian now.”

He wondered if she still drank, but didn’t ask.

Ruby folded her hands like she was about to pray. When Lucas didn’t fold his, she sent him a scolding glance—like his mother used to do when he was a child.

Lucas groaned and folded his hands.

“Thank you, Lucas,” she said.

After Ruby said grace, she handed him the chicken.

“What am I getting to drink?” he asked.

“Did I forget to give you your tea?” Casually, she pointed to the steaming cup by his plate. “Oh, there it is.” Her smile held a hint of amusement. “Drink up while it’s hot.”

“Tea ain’t what I want, and you know it.”

“Sorry. It’s all I have on hand. Now, will you please pass the mashed potatoes?”

After lunch, they moved into the kitchen for apple pie and coffee. Lucas enjoyed her desserts, but he would like some alcohol better.

Did Ruby intend to pour him a shot of whiskey or not?

“Have you finished your pie yet?” she asked.

He took the last bite and swallowed. “I have now.” He wiped his mouth with a blue-and-white checkered napkin.

Ruby got up and stood by her chair. “I would like to go out and see your mare before we have our talk.” She pulled a carrot from a bowl on the kitchen table and held it up for him to see. “This is for Lady. I remember how she likes carrots.”

She gathered several other things and placed them in a wicker basket. None was a bottle with liquid in it. So he didn’t pay much attention.

“Shall we go?” she asked.

“I reckon. The sooner we go, the sooner we’ll get back and I can have that drink.”

They went out into the sunshine, and Ruby rushed over to his mare. The basket swayed back and forth on her arm as she fed Lady the carrot.

“Hello, girl,” Ruby said. “How are you doing?” She turned and smiled up at Lucas. “Horses have such soft noses, don’t they?”

“I ain’t never thought much about it.”

It was a lie. He had thought about it. But he’d always considered it unmanly to let anyone know how he felt.

His saddle, blanket and other equipment had been dropped together under a pine tree. Ruby picked up one of his saddlebags. Then she pulled a small book from her basket and slipped it in the bag.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I got this Bible from the preacher at my church in town. The inscription inside said it belonged to Harriet. She must have left it at the church. I thought Honor might like to have it now.” She stuffed a small wooden box in with the Bible.

Lucas reached for the bag, taking it out of her hand. “What else are you puttin’ in there?” He peered inside.

“That string of pearls you gave me last Christmas. I know you stole it from Harriet, and I think the pearls should go to Honor now.”

For all Lucas cared, she could take the book and necklace and throw them in the creek. Then he had a second thought. Were the items worth something? Could he sell them? Lucas always needed money.

Ruby moved over to his gray mare again and patted the animal’s swollen belly. “Don’t you just love babies?”

“I like colts. They make me money.”

“Always money.” She turned and smiled at him again. “What about human babies? Wouldn’t you like to have one?”

“I never gave it much thought,” he said, knowing it was another lie. “Harriet couldn’t have no children.”

“I can. At least, I hope I can.”

Lucas tensed. “Are you—are you in the family way, Ruby?”

“Not yet. But I’d like to be.” She moved toward him and put her arms around his neck. “Will you marry me, Lucas?” She beamed up at him. “You always said you would. Someday. And someday is here. Please, Lucas, say yes.”

“You know better than to pen me in, Ruby. I’ve been penned up for too long as it is.” He took hold of her arms and removed them from around his neck. “I don’t want to get married.”

To you, he thought.

“Don’t say that!” Ruby covered her mouth with the palms of her hands. “Not now!”

Lucas tensed. “The only thing I want is a good shot of whiskey.”

“But you promised…”

“I don’t want you, Ruby. You can’t have no babies. If you could, you would have had a couple by now.”

Her eyes widened. “How can you say such a cruel thing?”

“’Cause it’s true.”

Her mouth turned down at the edges. The softness he’d seen in her face a few minutes earlier vanished. Slowly, her jaw tightened. She looked hard, yet strong…and beautiful.

Anger boiled inside him, threatening to bubble up. His face and neck heated quicker than a kettle on a hot stove. Didn’t Ruby know enough to back away while she had the chance?

“What makes you so sure I’m the one who can’t have children?” she taunted. “Did you ever wonder if maybe it’s you, Lucas? Maybe if Harriet and I had been with a real man, we could have had all the babies we wanted.”

He stiffened. His hands became fists.

Ruby screamed. “Don’t!” She got down on her knees. “Please, Lucas! Don’t hit me.”

He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. After what she had said, she deserved it. And yet…

His chest heaving with suppressed rage, Lucas turned toward his mare. The muscles in his face were as stiff as iron. Slowly, he saddled his horse.

When he’d mounted, he looked down. Ruby rocked back and forth on the ground, crying.

“Goodbye, Ruby. And thank you kindly for a mighty fine meal.” He pulled out the flask and held it up for her to see. “Thanks for the whiskey, too.”

Lucas took a swig from the flask. Then he turned his mare toward Hearten and rode away.

He would sell the items that had belonged to Harriet. Honor didn’t deserve them after what she did. Besides, he needed money. Otherwise, he might need to find a temporary job before going all the way to Pine Falls.

Jeth didn’t feel like sitting in the parlor on one of his mother’s ornate, store-bought chairs while he waited to hear what Dr. Harris had to say about Honor. Pacing back and forth in the entry hall in front of the double doors, he paused only long enough to check his pocket watch.

He thought of Honor’s letter—the one he had discovered on the desk near the door. What if he hadn’t noticed it in time? She could have died—frozen to death in the icy rain.

Miss McCall could still be seriously hurt and might need weeks to recuperate. Yet she’d written him a thank-you letter before wandering off in the cold. She must be one of those modern girls he’d been reading about in the newspaper.

The reporter had written, “These young ladies will feel more comfortable in the twentieth century when it finally arrives than they ever felt in the nineteenth.”

Jeth headed for the kitchen. He respected Honor’s independent spirit, but to his way of thinking, her judgment was misguided.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down at the table and looked around. Where was the doctor? Jeth drummed the fingers of one hand on the table. The man should have finished examining Honor long ago.

At the sound of creaking from the stairway, Jeth glanced toward the door, put down his cup and started to rise from his chair.

“No, don’t get up,” his mother said from the doorway. “We can entertain the doctor in here as well as the parlor.”

Dr. Harris stood behind his mother, his hands on her shoulders. Jeth liked the picture they made. At over six feet, the doctor barely fit under the lintel of the door and he looked even taller next to his mama.

Jeth had always thought the doctor was sweet on his widowed mother. But so far, Dr. Harris hadn’t declared himself.

Mrs. Peters gestured toward the chair across from Jeth’s. “Sit down, Alvin, and I’ll get the coffee.”

Dr. Harris settled into the chair and leaned back, folding his hands over his chest. Jeth wondered what the doctor must have thought when he found him alone in a room with a young, unmarried woman. He should have been standing in the doorway instead of seated in a chair by her bed. Now he wanted a report on Honor’s health, but the doctor looked tired.

“Alvin was up all night with Mr. Sloan’s mother,” Mrs. Peters explained. “The dear woman isn’t doing too well. So we need to keep praying, Jethro, and have patience. Wait on the Lord.”

Jeth nodded, drumming his fingers again. “Yes, we certainly do.”

The doctor’s eyes were closed and he was snoring softly. It was amazing that he could fall asleep so quickly, and it would be a shame to wake him, but Jeth needed to hear how Honor was doing and didn’t know how much longer he could sit and wait.

Jeth cleared his throat.

The doctor jerked forward. His eyes popped open.

Mrs. Peters placed a steaming cup of coffee before the doctor. “Here ya go, Alvin.” She poured fresh coffee into Jeth’s cup and returned to the stove.

Steam from both cups curled up and disappeared into the air. The doctor reached for his cup and took a swallow of the hot liquid. He made a sighing noise of contentment.

“Well, Doctor,” Jeth prompted, “what can you tell us about Miss McCall? Is she going to be all right?”

“She’s still dizzy and sick to her stomach. The pain in her head bothers her, too.” The doctor took another mouthful of coffee and swallowed. “Though she’s improving nicely, I’ve told her to stay in bed for at least a week. She didn’t like hearing that, and I can’t blame her. It’s no fun, staying in all the time with nothing much to do but look out the window. I’m counting on you and your mother to keep her from being bored. Can you find the time to do that, son?”

Jeth had a few more humorous anecdotes involving Timmy and the other children from his congregation that he could relate. He hoped they would amuse Honor.

“Yes, sir,” Jeth said. “I think I can.”

“I know you can,” Dr. Harris replied approvingly. “A young man like you can do anything he sets his mind to do.” The doctor looked over at Jeth’s mother and smiled. “Isn’t that right, Regina?”

“I believe so,” she said.

Dr. Harris turned back to Jeth. “Your mama and I might have some news to tell you.” He winked, then nodded toward Regina Peters. “Come on over here, woman, and let’s get this job over with.”

Jeth saw his mother’s cheeks turn a rosy pink as she came to the doctor’s side. Dr. Harris pulled a chair next to his own and draped his arm across the back. “Sit right here, Regina, where I can keep you close.”

She ducked her head shyly, then sat down and blushed some more.

Jeth’s grin grew and he felt excitement at what he thought would be good news. “Are you two getting married?”

“You betcha,” the doctor said.

“When?”

“Right after the first of the year.”

Jeth rose from his chair. “Congratulations.” He went around the table and hugged them both. “I couldn’t be happier.” He gave his mother an extra squeeze. “But why wait?”

The doctor grinned at Regina. “Your mama said she has some things she has to do first. Promises to keep.” Dr. Harris turned his smile on Jeth. “And we want you to perform the ceremony. Will you, son?”

Jeth nodded. “I would be honored. Welcome to the family, Doctor.”

“Welcome to my family, son.” The doctor patted Jeth on the back. “I guess you’ll really be my son soon, won’t you.”

“Yes, sir. I guess I will.”

Jeth was glad his mother had found love again after all these years, and he’d always liked Dr. Harris. But he couldn’t help wondering what would become of the boardinghouse after his mother married.

Should he start looking for a new place to live?

Chapter Six

Late-afternoon shadows darkened the cream-colored walls of Honor’s bedroom. She barely noticed. Turning on her side to examine Jeth’s face, she struggled to keep the heavy, brown and rose-colored patchwork quilt over her shoulders. The wood-burning stove wasn’t lit, but she felt warm and safe under the covers.

Again, Jeth sat in the chair by her bed. His dark, curly hair looked thick and shiny. Lights flickered in his blue eyes.

Honor owed Jeth and his mother a huge debt of gratitude for finding her on the road when they did. However, she still hoped to leave as soon as possible. Next time she wouldn’t write a letter revealing her plans. Nor did she intend to give any information about her past.

Jeth leaned forward as if he had something important to say. “Are you all right, Miss McCall?”

He placed his hand on her forehead as he’d done before, and she felt his rough fingers.

“You don’t have a fever, ma’am. I sure am glad.”

She thought he looked a little flustered as he removed his hand. Had touching her face embarrassed him?

“Mama said you haven’t been sleeping well—that before you really came to yourself, you tossed and turned a lot. Once she heard you scream like you’d just had a bad dream. As a pastor, I would like to help, if I can. Is something bothering you?”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” she lied. “But what happened on the stagecoach was frightening. The dreams are probably the result of that, don’t you think?”

“That’s possible, of course.”

He cocked his head, and she wondered if he truly believed her explanations. Or did he know her for the thief and liar she actually was?

“Would you like me to send a message to your uncle so he’ll know what happened to you?” he asked. “I think it might help.”

“My uncle?” Honor stiffened. “No! Don’t write him!”

She thought his steady gaze had a skeptical edge to it, and she immediately regretted her response. It had been too emotional, too strong. She should have spoken more calmly, given logical answers. Forcing a smile, Honor tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I would rather you not tell my uncle about the stage robbery or where I am,” she said softly, at last.

“Why not?”

She quickly searched her mind for an answer, a lie. “We quarreled and shouldn’t see each other for a while.”

“Very well.” Jeth frowned. “But you should know that I disagree with you. I think you should contact your uncle as soon as possible.” A skeptical expression remained on his face. “Nevertheless, I will honor your wishes.”

Her problems with her uncle went far beyond a mere quarrel. Still, it would be too embarrassing if churchgoing people like Jeth and his mother knew the real reasons she never wanted to see Lucas again. Not only would it hurt to admit that Lucas was an evil man, but also Honor didn’t want the Peters to know about her sins.

“Do you have any other relatives who I might contact?” Jeth placed his elbow on the arm of his chair and propped his chin in his hand. “Like a mother and a father?”

“My parents were missionaries living in Mexico when they died of a fever. I was too young to remember them. My two older brothers died when my parents did. My aunt and grandmother were the only relatives I had.”

He grew silent, but an expression that Honor identified as concern seemed to soften his eyes. Had her words affected him, perhaps more deeply than she could comprehend?

“It couldn’t have been easy growing up without parents.”

“No,” she said, “it wasn’t.”

His face looked tight and pinched, and he folded his hands loosely between his knees. “I never knew my father. He died soon after I was born. But at least I have a mother.”

“I had an aunt.” She looked away from Jeth. “Until now.”

In spite of a harsh life at the hands of her uncle, memories of her aunt’s humor and warmth filled her mind. She never knew how Aunt Harriet managed to rise above all her troubles, but she always did.

As more happy memories rose, Honor looked up at Jeth and smiled. “She told me things about my parents I’ll treasure forever.”

All at once, Honor had the desire to share some of those treasures with Jeth. “My aunt said my father called me his little Rose of Sharon, and sometimes Aunt Harriet did, too.”

Jeth had been gazing down at his black boots, but at her words he looked up into Honor’s eyes and smiled. “Rose of Sharon,” he repeated. “Why would they call you that?”

“My mother’s name was Sharon, and my middle name is Rose. For them, it might have seemed right to call me by that name.” She smiled. “The Rose of Sharon part could also have come about because one set of my grandparents was from Scotland. Rose sounds Celtic, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know, but you certainly have a Scottish look about you.”

Honor blinked. “Do I?”

He grinned. “With all that long auburn hair and those honey-brown eyes, I would say so. Rose of Sharon is the name of a flower that grows in Mama’s garden. But did you know the Rose of Sharon is also mentioned in the Bible?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“The term is found in the first verse of the second chapter of Song of Solomon.”

“I don’t know much about the Bible.”

He glanced down at his boots again. “I see.”

“But if it’s there, I guess that explains where the name came from.” She wondered if he was surprised to learn that she wasn’t a Bible scholar? Could it be that he was disturbed to realize she wasn’t a churchgoer, either? He should have guessed how things were at her home by what Lucas had said and done at the cemetery.

“As I said, my parents were missionaries,” she continued. “Aunt Harriet said the Good Book was very important to them.”

The young pastor seemed to have disappeared into another void of silence. Had she revealed more than she should?

At last, Jeth looked up again. He smiled, but to Honor his expression seemed counterfeit.

“Mama and I have been talking,” he said. “We would like to offer you employment.”

Employment? Honor was shocked. Who would want to hire her to do anything? She started to sit up, then remembered the importance of modesty and slipped under the covers once more. “Why me?” she asked.

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