Woman of Grace (9 page)

Abby reached across and grasped her hand. “And you’re still afraid he might force it to that, is that it? That, although Conor and I have never, since that first night you came to Culdee Creek, discussed you leaving, you might yet be asked to do so?”

“Yes.” Hannah hung her head. “And what would I do then? I haven’t many skills save what housekeeping ones you’ve taught me, and what I’ve learned in a brothel.” She lifted her tear-filled gaze to Abby’s. “Still, it’s more than that. I can’t help it, but even after all this time I feel so unclean, so unworthy. I still doubt my strength sometimes. I still don’t trust myself not to return to the old life.

“Don’t get me wrong, Abby,” she hastened to add, when her friend opened her mouth to protest. “If it were only me, I’d die before ever going back to that life. I’d scrabble out any kind of a living I could, even beg and wear rags if need be, just to stay out of another brothel. But it isn’t just me anymore. Now I also have to think of Jackson.”

“Ah, Hannah, Hannah.” Her friend expelled an exasperated breath. “You talk as if you’ve no other options, but that’s not true. You could always get a job somewhere cooking or cleaning. Maybe not in Grand View, but the Springs is a big town and far enough away that no one there would know about your past.

“And what about Evan?” she continued. “We haven’t had much time to talk in the past few weeks, and I know you’ve had your doubts about rushing into marriage, but have you come to any decision about him?”

Hannah paused to take a tentative sip of her tea. It was still quite hot, but it tasted good, soothing chamomile overlaid with a faint bite of mint. “I’m not ready to marry anyone,” she replied finally. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to Evan. My feelings for him are still so confused. I don’t know if I could ever love him like a woman should love a man she wants to wed, and he deserves better than that.”

“You deserve better than that, too.” Abby smiled and patted her hand. “After what you’ve been through, it’s quite understandable you might need a good amount of time to set your heart and head straight. I didn’t mean to imply Evan was the answer to all your problems, unless
you
saw him in that light. And I’m grateful you’ve never chosen to take advantage of his affection for you.”

Hannah smiled ruefully. “You give me too much credit. Marriage to him as the answer to all my problems
has
crossed my mind many a time. Especially when things get bad with Devlin. But that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” Abby leaned forward, concern now darkening her eyes. “Tell me, and let me help.”

Hannah gave a wry laugh. “That
is
the problem. You’re a comfort and help to everyone, and I … well, I fail everyone who ever needs me.”

Her friend frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t understand. You’re a kind, generous woman.”

Pain lanced through Hannah. It was so hard to reveal such a shameful secret—especially to Abby, who trusted and cared for her. “It’s all a lie, a face I put on to please others and protect myself,” she blurted at last. “But there’s nothing of any value beneath that pleasant shell. I have nothing to offer to others. Nothing!”

“You were there for Ella in her last moments. And she told me the story about that poor Chinese girl you befriended. You didn’t fail them …” Abby’s voice faded as Hannah gave a soft cry and buried her face in her hands.

“Yes. Yes, I did!” Muffled through the barrier of her hands, her words sounded strangled and harsh, but Hannah didn’t care. “I’m no good at being anyone’s friend. You might as well know it now, rather than later when you might really need me.”

“Oh, Hannah, Hannah.” Abby rose from the table and came around to hug her. “Why do you see only your failings and limitations, and ignore all the other, far more numerous times you’ve done good?”

“Because I c-can’t see how I’ve h-helped,” she sobbed. “All I know is I failed Hu Yung and Ella when they needed me. Hu Yung might still be alive if I’d been more sensitive to her pain, and Ella … well, I didn’t know what to say or do to comfort her.”

“You can’t save everyone, Hannah,” Abby crooned, stroking her hair. “All anyone can do is try. Be there for another, do your best, and love with all your heart. That takes a lot of trust, courage, and patience, though. After all, we don’t always know for quite some time what impact we’ve had, or how it all fits into God’s plan.”

Hannah lifted her tear-streaked face. A tiny ray of hope touched her heart. “I do try to believe that—about God, I mean. It’s just so very hard to accept, or to trust in Him sometimes.” She gave a shaky little laugh. “It’s also so very hard to wait patiently for His results.”

Abby chuckled. “Ah, yes. Patience is hard. I struggled a lot with that when I first came to Culdee Creek. Conor and Beth set about testing me at every turn … Believe me, I questioned the Lord and His will a lot in those days.”

By now, Hannah knew Abby’s story well—the loss of her first husband in a tragic railroad accident and then, less than a year later, the death of her five-year-old son from diphtheria. It had taken great courage to accept the job of housekeeper and tutor at Culdee Creek. Especially considering Conor MacKay’s less-than-commendable reputation in those days.

“But you persevered,” Hannah said, finishing her story for her, “and now you have your reward.”

“Rather, I’ve received a glorious gift,” Abby corrected gently, “in Conor and his children. And in receiving it, I’ve learned that everything God gives us is good—the pain as well as the happiness.”

“I doubt Devlin thinks so just now.” Or me, either, for that matter, Hannah silently added. Sometimes, especially when talk turned to things spiritual, Abby could speak in such riddles. How could the pain of someone’s death ever be something good? What good had come of Hu Yung’s and Ella’s deaths?

“No, I don’t imagine Devlin would be inclined to see any hope in his loss,” Abby agreed with a soft sigh. “He’s a man beset with personal demons, many of which he carried into his marriage with Ella. He’s come a long way since then, but the wounds of his childhood pain him still.”

“Well, mine pain me, too,” Hannah ground out, struggling to contain a sudden surge of bitterness, “but I haven’t let it eat me up, or used it as a club against others.”

“I know you haven’t, Hannah.” Compassion warmed Abby’s eyes. “I remember you telling me how hard you tried to care for your poor mother when she turned sick after your papa died. And then how you were sent to that orphanage …” As if in remembrance, she shivered. “I don’t know how you managed to stay at that terrible place as long as you did.”

“One way or another, I should’ve,” the girl muttered, the memories flooding back. “If I had stayed just a few more years, until I came of age, I might have left with a passel more opportunities than I ever gained by being forced to work in a brothel.”

“Conor would say you make your own opportunities out of what life deals you. And
I’d
say that’s what you’ve done in the past year since you came to Culdee Creek.”

The savory, herb-laden scent of roasting chicken reached Hannah. She rose, walked to the cookstove, and opened the oven door to check on the bird. It was beginning to cook nicely. She took a moment to baste it before closing the oven and returning to the table. “The chicken should be ready in an hour. Guess I’d better get the water on to boil some potatoes.”

Abby drained the last of her tea. “Yes, and I’d better get to icing the spice cake.” She paused. “Devlin’s really a good man at heart, Hannah. I hope you’ll see that in time.”

“Maybe I will,” Hannah grudgingly agreed as she filled the pot from the pitcher pump. “All I know is he still blames me for cheating on Ella, and it colors everything he says and does.” She carried the pot to the stove and placed it on a back burner. “You had guessed by now, hadn’t you, that I was one of the girls he visited there?”

“Yes, I had.”

“A lot of married men came to me like that, full of excuses why they couldn’t help themselves, why it was someone else’s fault they were there.” Angry now, Hannah turned to Abby. “But that’s all their stories ever were to me. Excuses. They took vows to love and honor their wives until death. Yet they were also the same men who sat in church each Sunday with their families, piously praying and singing hymns. A bunch of bald-faced hypocrites is what I call them.” She gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “I’m sorry if this makes me sound mean, but I’m tired of always having to carry all the blame.”

Abby’s mouth quirked in sympathy. “You’ve a right to feel hurt and angry, Hannah. But you also have to someday move past them to forgiveness or you’ll never be healed. Just remember. We all have our weaknesses, our personal demons. Thank heavens God loves us in spite of them.”

“Well, maybe God can see past Devlin’s weaknesses,” Hannah muttered, “but it’s not that easy for me.”

“All I can say in Devlin’s defense is that he made a mistake, and he regrets it to this day.”

At the thought, Hannah shivered in revulsion. “Men and their lusts! I’m so sick of how totally it controls them, and of the terrible destruction it wreaks on innocent women.”

“It’s not all disgusting or destructive, Hannah,” Abby said. “When a man and woman come together in a loving, holy union, it can be so very, very beautiful. As are its fruits—the children they conceive.”

Hannah closed her eyes, unwilling to accept such a consideration. How
could
she? Until Hannah had come to Culdee Creek, all she had ever known was shame, selfish manipulation and, sometimes, even pain at the hands of men. She had been forced to hide her true feelings and needs and subject herself to depraved desires, pawing hands, and sweating, heaving bodies. Few men had seen her as anything other than an object of pleasure meant to serve them. She had hated them all—even Devlin MacKay.

It was that hatred—and shame—that had pushed her to run away from Sadie Fleming’s that night, climbing onto the roof outside her window and scrambling down the rose trellis beside the front porch. The vicious thorns had pricked her skin, leaving deep scratches that oozed and bled, but it didn’t matter. Heedless, she had run off into the darkness, bringing nothing with her but the clothes on her back. She had run all night until a passing freight wagon bound for the Springs had stopped, and the grizzled old driver had taken pity on her.

Six weeks later, the two bodyguards Sadie sent out after her found her and dragged her back. Six weeks … long enough for Hannah to discover she was pregnant.

She could never be certain whose child she carried, but it didn’t matter. She clutched the secret to her like a priceless jewel, managing to hide her advancing girth far past the time any unscrupulous doctor would’ve dared take the baby from her. She had needed to—she had seen what Sadie had done to other girls who had revealed their pregnancies too early.

Her lips curved in scathing disdain. Yes, a man had indeed gifted her with a beautiful child, but it hadn’t been through some loving, holy union. And no man had stepped forward to claim that child either, or offered to care for it.

It was all her fault, after all, that she had conceived. It was her shame, and her shame alone, that she flaunted each time she dared bring Jackson with her to town.

Her shame … her fault … and never, ever, that of the men who had paid for and used her. There was nothing beautiful about that.

6

As thou hast done, it shall be done unto thee.

Obadiah 15

Late that night, Hannah awoke to a pounding on the bunkhouse door. Groggy with sleep, she stumbled out of bed, threw on a wrapper, and staggered through the parlor to the front door. Evan stood there, a stricken look on his face.

“Come quick!” He grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. “Abby’s real sick. She needs you.”

“Abby?” Hannah’s heart gave a sickening lurch. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t know. Pa said she just woke up with pains and then began to bleed. I’ve already sent a hand to fetch Doc Childress.”

“Give me a moment to dress,” she urged with a quick squeeze of his hand, “and I’ll be right over.”

He managed a nod and lopsided grin, then turned on his heel and strode away. Hannah wasted no time slipping into a plain, blue cotton dress and her shoes. After changing Jackson’s wet diaper and dressing him warmly, she clutched her son close and hurried to the main house.

Evan awaited her in the kitchen. Hannah’s glance immediately went to the stairs leading to the house’s second story. “Is Abby in her bedroom?”

“Yes. Pa’s with her.”

“Here.” She deposited Jackson in Evan’s arms. “Hold him.”

Hannah quickly stoked the cookstove and filled the teakettle and a large pot with water. “Keep an eye on the water,” she then instructed Evan. “We might need some once Doc gets here. And keep an eye on Jackson for me, too.”

“Uh, Hannah, I don’t know much about babies.” As if to add further credence to his words, Evan shifted Jackson from one arm to the other, then back again. “What do I do if he cries, or makes a mess in his drawers?”

She shot him a long-suffering look. “I just changed him, so odds are you won’t have to endure a dirty diaper. And if he gets fussy, rock him and he might go back to sleep. If not, find him a biscuit or something else hard to chew on.”

Before he could utter further protests or excuses, Hannah brushed by Evan and headed for the stairs. When she reached the top, she paused for a moment as, once again, the old panic threatened to overwhelm her. What if something was seriously wrong with Abby? she asked herself. She didn’t know what she’d do if she failed Abby, too.

Then the memory of her friend’s words earlier in the day wafted gently through her mind.
All anyone can do
is try. Be there for another, do your best, and love.

Love … Hannah knew her love for Abby was deep and strong. She also knew she’d do her very best for her friend. That was all she—or anyone else—
could
do.