Rekindling Trust Page 4

  Edythe followed the woman, the sound of their footsteps echoing down the spotless hallway. The matron stopped in front of a closed door, fingered the keys hanging from her chatelaine, and slid one into the lock.

  Three additional doors on each side lined the hallway, some open, some closed. Edythe assumed they were patient rooms, though she’d never ventured beyond the doctor’s office.

  A tall, well-built man backed out of a room near the end of the hall. Judging by his suit and the hat in his hand, he wasn’t a patient. At his sudden deep laughter, Edythe held her breath. It couldn’t be.

  He turned in her direction, and she ducked into the doctor’s office. With her heart about to jump out of her chest, she eased the door shut and pressed her back against it, his image prominent in her mind.

  His hair was the reddish-brown of a ripe acorn, the same color as the neatly-trimmed beard that did little to disguise his facial features. If she were right in her identification, the last time she’d seen him, he’d been on the cusp of manhood. Now, he was a full-grown man.

  “If you’ll have a seat, Mrs. Westin, I’ll let Dr. Ellis know you’re here.”

  After the matron left, Edythe waited until she heard a firm, masculine stride pass the office. She opened the door and peeked into the hall, glimpsing his retreating form before he disappeared around a corner. The straight shoulders were broader than she remembered and his gait more controlled. Even so, she’d seen Barrett Seaton. She was certain of it.

  What brought him back to Riverport, and why the Oakcrest Sanitarium? She peered in the other direction and down the hall to the room where she’d first seen him. Who had he visited?

  The safest thing was to wait in the office for the doctor, discuss the reason for her visit, and leave. What did it matter who Barrett had come to see or why he’d returned to Riverport?

  But she had to know.

  She crept down the hallway, looking over her shoulder several times. Once she reached the room, she drew in a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  “You back already, Barrett? You know you don’t need to knock.”

  The faint voice tickled her memory but the identity of the man inside the room evaded her. What would she say to him? Hello, I recognized Barrett Seaton and wanted to see who made him laugh?

  “Who’s there?”

  Edythe pushed on the door and stepped across the threshold. Her gaze landed on a man seated in a chair by the open window. She exhaled his name. “Wynn.”

  His eyes widened, then his chin dropped. “Hello, Edy.”

  Wynn Seaton had aged to the point he looked more like Barrett’s father than his brother. His clothes hung on him, and his shoulders sagged. A wry smile tilted his lips. “The ol’ consumption thinks it can beat me down.”

  “I’m sorry.” She moved farther into the room but kept a discreet distance. “Is there anything I can do for you, Wynn?”

  His brow shot higher, and he no longer looked at her, but at something behind her.

  “You have no business here, Mrs. Westin.”

  Too late, she recalled Wynn’s words. He’d thought she was Barrett. He had expected his brother to return.

  Inch by torturous inch, Edythe turned. Barrett’s gaze latched onto hers, a gaze that once exhibited a love for her—or so she’d thought. Now, that gaze could freeze a campfire.

  FIRST HER BOYS. NOW Edy. Was there no end to the way God planned to play with Barrett’s emotions?

  With stiff, sluggish movements, she’d rotated and faced him. Her complexion appeared ashen when compared to the well-coiffed hair that framed it. The paleness of her skin accentuated eyes as dark and sparkling as jet beads. Those eyes dipped to focus on the floor tiles.

  Her slumped bearing brought to his mind the day her father caught them in one another’s company. Given the man’s nature, he’d assumed the worst. Her body had trembled throughout his harangue, and Barrett felt helpless to protect her.

  He was no longer helpless, nor was he obligated to provide her protection.

  “I...I wasn’t aware you were back in town, Barrett.”

  He tried to wipe the scowl from his face but failed with the reminder of all the Danbys had done to the Seatons. “Understandable. I sent you no calling card.”

  Watch your tone, Barrett.

  But he couldn’t allow her reticence and vulnerability to pull him under, to charm him again.

  He’d imagined speaking with Edy face-to-face numerous times since arriving in Riverport. Each time, he saw himself as reflecting a calm and indifferent manner—not friendly but not antagonistic.

  What he hadn’t imagined was this tight ball sitting in his stomach, the damp palms, and a rush of tenderness he hadn’t experienced in years. Not even seeing her last week in front of the grocer’s had fully enlightened him as to how beautifully she had matured into a woman—a graceful and elegant woman. Up close he could see that her eyes retained the richness of strong coffee. Her hair still shone with a dark softness similar to a mink’s coat. And that face...as smooth and innocent as a babe’s.

  He’d once considered himself fortunate that such a lovely girl from a wealthy family even spoke to him, much less agreed to spend time with him. Now, he wanted her gone. He wanted this lure urging him toward her gone.

  Barrett walked into the room and stopped when she took a step back. “How did you know about Wynn?”

  “I saw you standing outside the door a few minutes ago.”

  “So you thought you’d satisfy your curiosity by bursting in here?”

  She backed another step. Maybe he should regret his sharp tone, but he figured he was entitled to it. When a woman claimed to love you one day and up and married another man the next... Well, he was entitled.

  “She hardly burst in, Barrett. She knocked, and I invited her.”

  Wynn remained in the chair, looking worn and old, a reminder to Barrett of the judge’s vengeance.

  “Why?” From the corner of his eye, Barrett noticed Edythe’s gaze bounce between them, as though she watched a game of lawn tennis.

  “I thought you’d come back, though I couldn’t understand why you knocked.” Wynn eyed Edythe. “Maybe this is a good thing. You figured you’d see her at some point. Her being here gives you two a chance to talk...get things settled.”

  He wasn’t ready to settle anything, especially when this melting rock inside told him he might fail to stand his ground.

  She made the first move with the appearance of a wobbling smile. “Dr. Ellis is expecting me.”

  The doctor? Barrett studied her. She appeared healthy, but...

  He bit his tongue to keep from asking if she was ill, yet the idea that she suffered from the same disease as Wynn finished the work of softening that rock into a ball of moldable clay.

  He sidestepped to let her pass. “Mrs. Westin.” She turned, and he lowered his voice so it wouldn’t travel down the hallway. “You asked Wynn if there was something you could do.”

  She waited.

  “You can forget you saw him. He’s here under the name of Ned Flannigan and doesn’t want the good people of Riverport to know he’s returned.”

  She glanced at Wynn and back to Barrett. After a simple nod of agreement, she slipped out the door.

  Wynn struggled to rise from the chair. “I understand she hurt you, Barrett. I hurt you. Why is it you can forgive me but not Edy?”

  “You did nothing to require my forgiveness.” He helped his brother to the bed. “It’s the other way around. If I hadn’t stolen away to see her that night, I could have provided you with an alibi.”

  Wynn’s chin plunged to his chest. “And you think the judge would have believed you?”

  Probably not, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Edythe Danby had beguiled him. Because of it, he went back on his promise to be with his brother that night, setting Wynn up to fall into Danby’s trap. To be accused of robbing the drugstore of over fifty dollars and injuring the druggist.

  No, Wynn had don
e nothing wrong. Barrett should have been the one imprisoned for the betrayal of his brother.

  Chapter Five

  Edythe didn’t remember the drive home. She barely recalled Dr. Ellis agreeing to allow the Widow’s Might women to donate books and establish a small library in the facility. By the time she walked out of the building, the carriage parked in front of hers had gone.

  Now, she stood in the tiny stable at the back of her father’s property, mindlessly grooming Jester’s sweat-soaked, dappled coat. Short gray hairs clung to the cotton fabric of her plum-colored dress, but the mindless action of brushing the animal as he stood calm and drowsy in his stall soothed her. The gelding was one of the few possessions of Lamar’s she had insisted they keep. Perhaps she had passed on an affection for animals to her daughter.

  For the first time, it occurred to her that her father had acquiesced to one of her requests...and over a horse. What would he do if she actually stood up to him in other matters?

  Outside the building, a chicken squawked and a dog barked. Edythe walked to the door. Sarah Jane scooped up the chicken as it ran past. She scolded Mr. Peters, the giant dog who probably owed his pedigree to just about every identifiable breed. Once the dog obeyed and sat like a gentleman, Sarah Jane wrapped the canine in a hug. The hen she’d named Harriet squawked her panic at being shoved so near Mr. Peters’ mouth.

  A few yards away, Timothy knelt on the ground, bent over his latest experiment, whatever he called it. As long as it didn’t involve fire or gunpowder, she gave him the freedom to stretch his mind. He had inherited his father’s best traits—intelligence and persistence. Who knew where they might lead him one day.

  And what about Andrew? Brave and outspoken since a toddler, he didn’t take after either of his parents. Although, there was a time when he’d adored both of them. How he missed his father.

  Edythe had not loved Lamar in the way a wife should love her husband, in the way he had loved her. Somehow, though, they had formed a satisfactory marriage based on friendship and respect. Many couples coexisted on much less.

  Lamar had been a good man, though somewhat inadequate in his dealings with her father...a failing she had no business finding fault with. Overall, they’d had a congenial but short life together, and unlike her mother, she would never have traded her children for a moment with Barrett Seaton.

  Edy. No one had called her by that name since she was eighteen, and only the Seaton brothers had used it. Hearing it again brought back memories of both the best and worst times of her life. It didn’t slide past her that only Wynn had used it today. Barrett couldn’t get past “Mrs. Westin.”

  While her heart went out to Wynn in his illness, she wished he had chosen somewhere else for his treatment, somewhere far from requiring her to be ever on the lookout for Barrett. How would she walk through town without looking over her shoulder, expecting to see him at every turn?

  How would she calm her racing heart whenever his image entered her mind?

  Why should it race when he’d proved he didn’t love her? When he, like her mother, had abandoned her? When he’d treated her with contempt today? What right had he to feel contempt toward her when he’d left her? When he’d broken his promise to write. Not one letter arrived after he left Riverport. Not one.

  The more she thought of the way he had spoken to her today, the more her anger simmered.

  Oh...horsefeathers! Forget the man.

  She looked around the yard but saw no sign of Andrew. “Sarah Jane, where is your brother?”

  The girl pointed to Timothy.

  “I mean Andrew. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know, Mother.”

  “Timothy, have you seen Andrew?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Where had that child gone this time? His habit of sneaking off generally meant trouble.

  “Here I am.” Andrew walked around the corner of the stable in one piece and, for once, without an angry adult chasing after him. He coughed several times and appeared pale.

  “You aren’t coming down with something?” Edythe reached out and felt his forehead. Cool. He coughed again. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose, the source of his cough all too clear. “Have you been smoking?”

  Andrew pulled away. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters. You are a child. Children shouldn’t smoke.”

  “I’m half grown.”

  She crossed her arms, already shaken from her confrontation with Barrett. Dealing with Andrew wiped away any effort she might have made toward tranquility since returning home. “Half is not whole.”

  Her father was right about one thing. Her lack of control over her children, especially this one, portended heartache for everyone. If she didn’t rein in his behavior while he was still young, how would she when he outgrew her?

  “Go to your bedroom and stay there, young man. I’ll send Mrs. Cameron up later with your supper.”

  He glared at her.

  “You had better move before I grab a switch from the nearest tree.”

  His eyebrows arched. “You wouldn’t.”

  Could she really punish her child in that way? At this moment, yes. “Don’t test me, son.” She pointed to the house. “I’ve had enough of your shenanigans, and they will stop. Do you hear me?”

  He stared at her. His eyes narrowed into a display of bewilderment more than hostility. At the same time, his lips winked as though he fought a smile.

  “Go now.”

  He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dirty trousers and ambled to the back door of the house, seemingly unruffled by the order.

  It worked. Edythe’s hands shook, and she almost dropped Jester’s brush. Andrew obeyed her.

  BARRETT TOSSED HIS line into the shallow water and let the earthworm wriggle on the hook, disturbing the school of minnows nearby. Like last week, he leaned back against the sloped bank, ready to pretend nothing in the world affected him. Ready to pretend speaking with Edy hadn’t shaken him.

  His pragmatic side assured him Monday wasn’t the last time their paths would cross, so the sooner he took those encounters in stride, the better for his peace of mind.

  After a week of hotel living, he’d purchased a house. Even if the worst happened—if Wynn passed on—and Barrett decided to leave town again, it was a better investment than paying hotel charges indefinitely.

  With his bank account, he could afford a larger residence, but what difference did it make? Nothing compelled him to impress people, especially, certain people. And its location a block from the downtown district made it ideal to house his office.

  Barrett frowned at the fishing pole. If he didn’t get back to business, that bank account wouldn’t afford him a cup of coffee at the cheapest restaurant, and he’d be surviving on what he caught in the Wabash River.

  A tug on his line set him upright again.

  “You got one!”

  Barrett peered over his shoulder. Andy Westin. Would he never get away from the family?

  “Reel him in.” The boy dropped his pole, grabbed Barrett’s net, and bounced to the water’s edge to scoop up the bass writhing on the hook, half-in and half-out of the river. “Come on, I got the net.”

  Cranking the reel handle, Barrett raised the fish and Andy scooped it in the net. The boy reached in and pried the hook from the bass’ mouth, not skittish about doing so—a true fisherman.

  Barrett figured Andy wasn’t one to be skittish about much of anything. He must have gotten his boldness from his father. It certainly wasn’t passed on by his mother.

  On second thought, something about the boys standing across the river last week had spooked Edy’s son. What hold did they have on him?

  “He’s a good one.” Andy dumped the fish into Barrett’s creel, then stared at it, practically licking his lips. “He’ll make a fine supper.”

  “I suppose he’s big enough for two.” What was he doing? He’d come here prepared to make a campfire and cook his catch...alone. The less time he spent with
Andy, the better.

  The boy’s gaze whipped to Barrett, hope flashing as powerful as a lighthouse beacon. “You mean it? We can cook him together?”

  Barrett cast aside his objections. “Why not?”

  “We can build a fire and eat here, like we’re making camp. Me and Papa used to set up a tent and spend the night at the river.”

  Was Andy that desperate for a male’s attention? “Do you ever do things of interest with Judge Danby?”

  A scowl bit a hole in the boy’s enthusiasm. “You know my grandfather’s name?”

  “Everybody knows Judge Danby.”

  “Bet nobody likes him,” Andy muttered. He picked up a small rock and pitched it sidearm into the river. “Look, I got it almost to the middle. I can throw a rock a long ways.”

  Barrett respected Andy’s wish to change the subject. “That’s quite an arm. Do you play baseball?”

  “Naw. Well, not too much. I like to fish.” He held out a hand. “You got a knife? I’ll get this bass gutted and scaled.”

  Barrett paused to decide if he trusted Andy with a knife, then handed over the one he kept in his tackle box. “Here. Make sure you leave enough for us to eat.”

  Andy scoffed. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Barrett ran a hand over his beard, hiding a smile. “I can tell by that scar on your thumb.”

  The boy looked at the pad of his thumb and shrugged. “This isn’t from fishing. I got caught on a barbed wire fence last year.”

  A few minutes later, Barrett had to admit the boy knew his business when it came to cleaning fish. He started a campfire and heated the oil in the fry pan he’d brought. When it was hot, he added the filleted fish.

  While the bass cooked, Andy dropped his line in the water. “I’ve never seen you before last week, Mr. B. J.”

  “I grew up here and recently returned.” As Andy had dodged the question about his grandfather, Barrett hoped he wouldn’t ask about the past.

  Edy’s son pulled in a small carp. “Papa ran a real estate office. What do you do?”

  “I’m a lawyer.”

  “Grandfather doesn’t like lawyers.”