Chapter 23

Thornton sat with his head resting on his hands, the ache in his temple pounding louder with each passing hour he waited in the sitting room connected to his father’s bedroom. Rupert had awoken him in the middle of the night with the news that his father was rapidly failing. Thornton had jerked on his clothes and sprinted through the vast hallways of the Quincy mansion until he reached the bedroom, breathless, his heart racing.

Bradford was already there when Thornton arrived. Together they waited through the long hours of the night, Thornton pacing the floor most of the time while his brother sat nervously on the edge of his chair. The doctor’s assistant had come out of the bedroom twice to update them, and each time the news wasn’t positive.

At dawn, Mr. Morgan, their father’s lawyer, came and joined them, along with several family friends. Before the morning was over, Thornton understood more people would come to be with them in the vigil, including Dorothea and Rosalind.

He’d officially proposed to Rosalind and scheduled the wedding for Christmas Eve. Bradford’s wedding was to take place the day before his. The upcoming week was scheduled with a flurry of parties and wedding activities for each of them. But Thornton was ashamed to admit that he wasn’t looking forward to any of it, for he hadn’t yet fallen in love with Rosalind.

How could he fall in love with her when he was so completely in love with Elise? He’d hoped with the distance between them that he could put Elise out of his mind, that he could bury his feelings and move on. The opposite had happened. His heart ached for her more intensely with each passing day. And he was counting the minutes until her arrival.

He’d berated himself a dozen times for his anticipation and had tossed around the idea of throwing caution away and marrying Elise instead. But such thoughts only added to his misery. He was already battling guilt over his decision to marry Rosalind in order to win the contest. Lately, he’d been battered by the thought that he was using her. He’d consoled himself with the knowledge that she understood the competition. She was aware of the high stakes involved and had willingly gone along with him.

However, if he proposed marriage to Elise when she arrived, he’d be lowering himself to the bottom ranks of selfish scum, below where he already stood. And he couldn’t do that to Elise. He didn’t want to use her to win the competition any more than he wanted to use Rosalind. She deserved so much better than that.

The door to Father’s bedroom opened, and Thornton’s head snapped up. At the sight of the doctor, he jumped to his feet. The doctor closed the door quietly and then turned to face them, his expression grave. Thornton held his breath, the ticking of the mantel clock echoing throughout the dark-paneled room. Father was dead. The doctor’s eyes spoke the words before his lips could. Thornton’s muscles sagged, and his head dropped.

He’d been praying for a last chance to earn his father’s love. Maybe he wouldn’t win the competition, but he at least wanted to hear his father say he’d made a good effort, that he’d worked hard, and he applauded Thornton for persevering and not giving up.

That was all he wanted to hear. Was it too much to ask of a dying man? Could his father finally hold his hand, look into his eyes, and give him the same admiration he’d always handed to Bradford?

“He’s finally resting quietly,” the physician offered.

Thornton’s head jerked up. “Then he’s still alive?”

The doctor nodded. “He’s hanging on by a thin thread. But I think it’s safe to say he’s through the worst of it.”

Bradford asked the doctor several questions while the others dismissed themselves from the vigil. After a few minutes, the doctor disappeared as well, leaving Thornton alone with Bradford.

Thornton released a long breath. “That was close.”

Bradford nodded. “I’d gladly give up the leadership of the company to keep him longer.”

“Me too.”

Bradford walked to the fireplace, turning his back on Thornton. “Listen, Thorn. I’m sorry things didn’t work out better for you in the development of your town. And I’m sorry you didn’t fall in love with Rosalind.”

Was it that obvious he wasn’t in love? If Bradford noticed so readily, then it would be just as clear to their father. “I still have five days.”

“You may as well face it. You’ve lost.” How was it possible that Bradford’s coat and trousers were hardly wrinkled after the hours of waiting? How did he always manage to look so put together? Thornton glanced down at his own attire. He’d been in such a hurry he’d thrown on black twill trousers with a pinstriped navy vest. Besides their not matching, the clothes looked as if he’d slept in them for a week.

Was Bradford right? Should he simply admit defeat and move on?

“You know I only want what’s best for all of us—for me, for you, for the company,” Bradford added, spinning around and leveling a hard look at Thornton.

“So do I.”

“Then give up. Let Father die with the knowledge that the company is in my capable hands.”

Thornton stared back into his brother’s eyes, wanting warmth but receiving only cool appraisal. If he gave the company over, he’d be free to pursue Elise. Nothing would be holding him back from being together with her.

Except that he would disappoint her if he quit. She wanted him to win. She believed he was a good leader. She had faith he could do anything. Her confidence in him and his abilities had never wavered, and she’d pushed him to do more than he thought he could.

“I realize you’ll probably win,” he finally said, “but I’m no quitter. I’ll see this through to the end.”

Bradford shrugged, but not before Thornton caught the glint of annoyance in his eyes. Without another word, Bradford crossed the room and exited.

Once he was gone, Thornton dropped to the nearest chair. He had five days left. If he couldn’t honestly fall in love with Rosalind by the time of the wedding on Christmas Eve, he’d concede defeat. But until then, he had to try.

Elise jumped up and down trying to bring feeling back into her frozen feet. She was exhausted from the sleepless night, but somehow she’d kept herself from freezing by staying active. Mr. Hewitt had delivered bread and water a short while ago. Although she pleaded with him to let her go, or at the very least to lock her away somewhere warm, he’d refused.

“God,” she prayed again, as she had throughout the night, “I know you’re still here with me, even though I can’t feel you. ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.’”

The words of the twenty-third Psalm had come back to her, verses Mutti had helped her memorize as a young girl. God was with her, had always been walking alongside her. Now it was time for her to cling to Him during this trial rather than walk away as she had in the past.

Of course, it was tempting to retreat to the comfortable cave of bitterness where she’d crawled all too often. She was tempted to blame God for not taking care of Sophie and Marianne and the little ones better while she was away. She was tempted to blame Miss Pendleton for not following through on her word. And even more, she was tempted to blame people like the Quincys for the hardships, economic problems, and lack of jobs. She was angry that young women like Sophie and Marianne had no other place to turn, no family, no friends, not even a charitable organization available in which to take refuge. It was a travesty that anyone had to resort to living and begging on the streets, or that children like Olivia and Nicholas were ripped from the ones they loved and sent on trains to live with strangers.

But what good was bitterness? Where had it gotten her in the past? Ultimately she’d only been more miserable with her anger and frustration. As much as she’d hated Count Eberhardt for how he ruined her father’s business, the hatred was only another burden for her to bear among so many others.

Perhaps it was time to finally let that burden go.

A soft rap on the door startled her, and she stopped walking in place and stomping her feet.

“Elise, are you in there?” The voice was a whisper, but she recognized it anyway.

“Reinhold?” She half fell against the door in her haste to reach it. “Mr. Hewitt has locked me in and won’t let me out.”

“Are you all right?”

She wanted to reply sarcastically that yes, she’d never been better. But she was too tired and cold to attempt any wit. Her toes were frozen enough to snap like green beans, her fingers gnarled and stiff. “I’ll be fine just as soon as you find a way to get me out of here.”

The door handle and keyhole both rattled as Reinhold jerked on them again and again. Then he stopped abruptly and said, “I’ll have to find a way to break in.”

“Mr. Hewitt has the keys.”

“I can’t use the keys,” Reinhold whispered. “We need to get you out of Quincy without his realizing you’re gone.”

“What difference will it make?”

“Mr. Gray chanced seeing one of Mr. Hewitt’s private telegrams this morning. It was from Bradford. He ordered Mr. Hewitt to keep you from returning to New York City.”

“Then we have all the evidence we need to report his betrayal to Thornton. We need to send him a telegram right away.”

“We can’t. If Bradford learns you’re on your way to New York, there’s no telling what else he might do to stop you.”

“Why would he care about stopping me?”

“Because he knows if you make it to Thornton by the deadline, Thornton will marry you.”

Elise shook her head. “No, he won’t—”

“He loves you, Elise.” Reinhold’s voice came out anguished. “It’s clear to everyone—including Bradford. That’s why he’s so scared.”

A flutter started in her middle and wound around to her spine. She hadn’t wanted to believe Thornton when he spoke of his love the night of the fire. She’d tried to attribute his declaration to the desperation of the moment, although deep inside she’d cherished the words and always would.

Perhaps Thornton did love her more than she realized. But would he really marry her? “He won’t win the contest if he marries me. I’m not right for him—”

“That’s just it,” Reinhold said. “I haven’t wanted to accept it, but the fact is, you are right for him. And he’s right for you.”

“But his father—”

“If his father doesn’t see it too, then he’s a fool.” Before she could find the words to respond, Reinhold said, “Shh! Someone’s coming.”

She wanted to yell out to him not to leave her. She had so many questions, so much uncertainty. Instead she allowed herself to sag against the door and slide down until she was sitting on the ground. All this time she’d believed she wasn’t worthy enough for a man like Thornton, that she’d be a detriment to him and his career. But what if God had brought them together for a reason? What if God had meant for her to be his helpmate, to continue to encourage him to be fair and merciful?

Mr. Hewitt’s contempt, however, came back to haunt her. “You made him a weakling, the laughingstock of businessmen everywhere.” Had she done that? What if she was hurting his chances at succeeding? After all, what did she know about the business world? Although she’d helped him understand the point of view of the laborers he hired, she hadn’t taken the time to see the town or any of the business matters from his perspective. Maybe she needed to put herself in his position for a few months before she made any further judgments.

She wasn’t sure how long she debated with herself before keys rattled in the door again. Mr. Hewitt was back. Had he caught Reinhold snooping around the building? Was he coming to move her to a different location where her friends wouldn’t be able to find her?

Elise tensed. Did she dare fight him? She didn’t want to put Fanny in danger. The woman had already experienced enough hardship and didn’t need any more. Nevertheless, maybe it was time to fight back, to do something for herself instead of always being the victim.

The lock clicked, and the door began to slide open. She fisted her hands and braced herself for a fight or to spring past Mr. Hewitt. But as the entrance widened, Mr. Gray’s kind face came into view, touched by the first light of morning.

“Elise?” he said, peering into the dark of the storage building.

She allowed her stiff fingers to unfurl and stepped into the doorway. “I’m here.”

“Thank God.” His hand holding the ring of keys shook, jangling the metal. “When Reinhold found your bag on the platform last night, he was worried. He thought something had happened. I assumed you’d just forgotten it, until I saw the telegram this morning. Then I knew Mr. Hewitt was up to no good.”

“How did Reinhold know to look for me in here?” She glanced past him, expecting to see Mr. Hewitt charging out of the depot at any second, ready to lock both of them into the building.

“Reinhold was searching for hours. Finally this morning he spied Mr. Hewitt coming out to this building with food.”

“I need to find a new hiding spot so Mr. Hewitt doesn’t lock me up again.”

“No worry of that.” Mr. Gray opened the door all the way, and she hesitantly stepped out. “He’s locked in his office.”

She stopped short, unsure if she’d heard Mr. Gray correctly.

Seeing the surprise written on her face, he smiled. “That Reinhold is something else. When he realized the only way to get you out of this building was by tearing it apart or getting the keys away from Mr. Hewitt, he decided to round up some of his buddies from the construction crew. They came after Mr. Hewitt, pushed him into his office, and got the keys away with no trouble at all.”

Elise couldn’t contain a smile of her own at the bravery of the men in defying Mr. Hewitt.

“Reinhold is guarding the office door until the sheriff can come and get Mr. Hewitt. He’s going to jail for kidnapping you.”

“That’s not all he needs to be locked away for.” As she walked back to the depot with Mr. Gray, she relayed Mr. Hewitt’s admission to working for Bradford and for starting the feed-store fire. When she stepped inside the warm depot, she’d hardly made it through the door before Mrs. Gray and Fanny were both hugging and questioning her. Before long, they’d wrapped her in a blanket and positioned her in front of the blazing kitchen stove with a cup of hot coffee in her hands.

“Reinhold says we need to keep her out of sight,” Mr. Gray said, glancing out at the mostly deserted dining room. “He says there might be other men on Bradford’s payroll who won’t hesitate to report back to him.”

At that moment, all Elise could think about was the blessed warmth surrounding her and the feeling that was beginning to return to her fingers and toes. As she thawed, Mr. Gray’s instructions began to penetrate. They needed to smuggle her out of Quincy under disguise. She’d have to ride the Illinois Central to Chicago. There was no way around that. But once in Chicago, Mr. Gray had made arrangements for her to ride the New York Central Railroad. The distance was longer and the route not as direct as the Erie Railroad, but they all agreed Bradford wouldn’t think to look for her on a competitor’s railroad. At least they hoped so. If there were no delays, she would arrive by the twenty-fourth of December.

Once the plans were put in motion, everyone seemed to want to help make sure she was safe and well taken care of. By the time she was sitting on her seat on the first northbound train of the day, she wouldn’t have recognized herself if she’d seen her own reflection in a mirror. Fanny and Mrs. Gray had worked wonders disguising her.

She perched on the bench and peered out the window, taking in the town, now wide awake and alive with the busyness of the day. Beyond the depot, she caught a glimpse of the construction crew on the roof of the feed store already hard at work. The new minister, dressed in regular work clothes, swung a hammer at his side as he strode toward the building site.

While the town was still young, hardly more than a dozen wooden buildings in an endless stretch of prairie, it had become home. And not just because of her restaurant. She’d fallen in love with the people—everyone from the hefty, hardworking Engle sisters, the Grays who hovered about her like parents, the gruff construction supervisors who ate in her dining room, and most unlikely of all, Fanny. The town had become her family.

A lump formed in Elise’s throat, and tears blurred her vision of Quincy. She wasn’t about to cry now, was she? After all these years of holding back tears, why would she cry over leaving this place in the middle of nowhere?

A throat cleared above her, and she rapidly blinked back her tears.

“I came to say good-bye.” It was Reinhold. His German accent was especially thick with emotion.

Before she could stand, he took the seat next to her. She’d chosen a more isolated area near the back of the car, though it wasn’t close to the coal stove; Mr. Gray had cautioned her not to attract attention.

Reinhold was quiet for a moment, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. He’d taken off his thick leather work gloves to reveal strong callused hands that had always done more to help her than she deserved.

“I didn’t have the chance to thank you yet for saving me this morning,” she finally said.

“You didn’t have to.” He could have conspired to keep her from leaving until after it was too late to travel to Thornton by the deadline. A lesser man might have done so. But he’d not only freed her, he’d encouraged her to go. “You know I’d do anything for you,” he added, staring at his hands.

She did know it. And she loved him for it—just not in the way he needed. Now it was her turn to be awkwardly silent. “Reinhold,” she said after a minute.

“I understand,” he interrupted her. “You love Thornton.”

She twisted the clasp of the reticule in her lap. “Even without him, I wouldn’t . . . we wouldn’t have worked that way.”

He released a sigh, and his head lowered just slightly. His brown hair curled over his collar and his sun-bronzed neck. “I know it. I just didn’t want to accept it.”

She reached for his hand. “You’ve been the truest, most loyal and best friend I could ever have.”

For a moment he didn’t move, didn’t respond. Then his fingers closed around hers, folding her hand warmly in the strength of his.

“I hope we can still be friends when I come back.” She prayed she’d find Sophie and be able to return with her sisters.

His grip tightened, his thumb grazing her fingers. Then he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there before releasing her and standing.

She scrambled to her feet. “We can still be friends, can’t we?”

He didn’t meet her gaze, but instead glanced out the window. She could tell he wasn’t seeing Quincy the way she had but was looking beyond the borders. “This has to be good-bye, Elise,” he said softly, a note of sorrow in each word. “Once I help finish the feed store, I’m moving on.”

Panic ignited inside her. His statement was so final. He was cutting her out of his life. Suddenly she wanted to urge him not to go, not to leave her. She wanted to tell him she needed him and couldn’t imagine life without him. But if she didn’t release him, she was afraid he’d stay out of loyalty, that he’d continue to sacrifice himself for her when what he really needed was to break free of his need for her and find someone who could love him in return.

“I’ll miss you,” she said.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders slumped. “You’ll have a good life with Thornton, and the two of you will continue to make changes for the better.”

All she could do was nod. She wasn’t naïve to think everything would work out like a fairy tale. Even if she made it back to New York City in time, there was no guarantee Thornton would be willing to take the risk of marrying her over Rosalind. There was every real possibility he’d been able to fall in love with the wealthy socialite. After all, Thornton was a determined man. When he set his mind to do something, he could get it done.

She might be going back to New York, but she wasn’t convinced whether she should interfere with Thornton’s life. She had four days to think about it and decide what she would do.