Part 13 (1/2)

Try as he might, Bennett couldn't conjure up much sympathy. ”Least you know who your folks are.” He hunched forward, staring at his own feet. ”I don't know anything about my parents, except that they didn't want me-dumping me like they did on the doorstep of the children's home. Not even a note pinned to me to let anybody know who I was or where I came from. The sisters had to give me a name. At least your folks kept you. For a while. That's better than some people get.”

Rain pattered against the window and thunder growled softly, echoing against the rock walls of the hall. When he'd come over to see Pete, he sure hadn't intended to think about his past. Bennett didn't live in the past-he lived in the now. That's the only thing that counted. Having fun now.

He slapped his knee and rose. ”You gonna clear that desk off so we can play a game, or not?” He sounded belligerent, but he didn't care. Pete needed to quit with the G.o.d-talk. G.o.d had never done anything for Bennett Martin-or whoever he was-and he didn't intend to start trusting Him now.

”Yes, we can play, just as soon as I finish this.” He bent over his paper.

Bennett sat on the floor and tugged on his shoes. Then he stomped to the door. ”Forget it, Pete. There's always something more important than me. Pleasing G.o.d. Pleasing your professors. Well, go ahead and do what you need to do. I won't bother you again.”

He heard Pete call his name, but he ignored him and took the stairs two at a time. No way Pete could hop after him fast enough to catch him. He grabbed up Winston's English umbrella, snapped it open, and stepped out into the rain.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

If only he had two good legs! Pete slapped the banister at the top of the stairs. He wanted to run after Bennett and a.s.sure him he didn't want their friends.h.i.+p to dissolve. Why did it seem he was losing the people who meant the most to him? First Libby, and now Bennett.

He blew out a mighty breath and hopped back to his room, where the a.s.signment lay on his desk, awaiting completion. He'd specifically requested all of the week's a.s.signments in advance, and his instructors had been happy to oblige when he'd explained why he wanted to work ahead.

If he had everything finished by Wednesday, as he hoped, he planned to board a train on Thursday morning and journey to the place of his birth. He could hardly believe his parents were still living in Clayton, although no longer in the apartment they'd rented when Pete was young. But his pa still worked at the brewery, the noon-to-eight s.h.i.+ft, according to the information Jackson had uncovered. Pete still remembered the yeasty smell on his pa's clothes when he returned from work. And the sick stench of his breath when he'd spent too much of his paycheck on his employer's product. If Pa had spent his paycheck on groceries instead of liquor, would he still have sent Pete out on his own?

Pete picked up his pencil to continue working on his essay, but his hand trembled, making legibility an impossible feat. He put down the pencil and closed his eyes. How he antic.i.p.ated the moment when he'd be able to look at his parents, face-to-face, and tell them how much he loathed them for the pain they'd inflicted on him.

A Bible verse they'd studied in Pastor Hines's cla.s.s winged through his mind: ”G.o.d is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in G.o.d, and G.o.d in him.” ”G.o.d is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in G.o.d, and G.o.d in him.” A twinge in his gut accompanied the remembrance. He'd just told Bennett that he wanted to serve G.o.d well, to be an instrument of G.o.d's love to those he met. How did finding his parents for the sole purpose of verbally attacking them fit with being an instrument of G.o.d's love? A twinge in his gut accompanied the remembrance. He'd just told Bennett that he wanted to serve G.o.d well, to be an instrument of G.o.d's love to those he met. How did finding his parents for the sole purpose of verbally attacking them fit with being an instrument of G.o.d's love?

But his parents didn't deserve his love. They'd rejected him- thrown him out the way people threw away garbage. G.o.d could love them if He wanted to, but Pete had no use for Gunter and Berta Leidig. Once he'd had his say, he intended to talk to Jackson about something else.

He had no desire to hear congregants call him Pastor Leidig. The reference would be a constant reminder of his uncaring parents. He'd given it a lot of thought, and the best way to rid him of his worthless birthright was to throw off all the trappings of his former life. He wanted to be Pastor Rowley. Aaron and Isabelle wouldn't mind, and Aaron's parents-who'd become his surrogate grandparents- would be delighted to have Pete share their name.

Only a few more days of being Peter Leidig. He could hardly wait to make the change. But first, he needed to finish his work. Thoughts of his disagreement with Bennett fled as he focused once again on the waiting a.s.signment.

[image]

Alice-Marie's father cranked a lever and the Model T's engine changed from a steady chug-chug chug-chug to a sputtering, persistent cough. ”Here you are, ladies. Back again.” to a sputtering, persistent cough. ”Here you are, ladies. Back again.”

Libby fought against the vehicle's vibrations and wrenched the back door open, eager to clamber out. Although she'd initially thought riding in a motorcar sounded exhilarating, the bouncing motion had churned her stomach. Or maybe it was the secret she now carried that had made her sick. Regardless, she sighed with relief when her feet found solid, steady ground.

Alice-Marie sat in the front seat, silent and ramrod straight, until her father rounded the car and opened the door for her. Even after she stepped off the running board, she kept her lips tightly clamped. Libby hadn't known Alice-Marie was capable of prolonged silence. The girl even talked in her sleep. But during the entire three-hour drive from her home to the school, Alice-Marie had sat close-mouthed with her arms folded over her chest. The cold wind whisking into the car hadn't chilled Libby as thoroughly as Alice-Marie's disapproval.

Mr. Daley moved to the rear of the Model T and opened the small trunk area. He lifted out Alice-Marie's bag. ”Here, punkin. Do you want me to carry it in for you?”

”No, thank you.” Alice-Marie's words came out stilted, as if her tongue were relearning how to talk. ”I can manage quite nicely.” She leaned forward and planted a peck on her father's mutton-chop-whiskered cheek. ”You'll come for me again Thanksgiving weekend?”

”You know I will.” Mr. Daley lifted Libby's bag and held it out to her. ”Elisabet, are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

His innocent question nearly suffocated her. She clung to her bag's handle with both hands and bounced the bag with her knees. ”N-no, sir. I don't believe so.” How could she go to Shay's Ford and watch Maelle and Jackson fawn over their new daughters? ”I'll probably stay here and do some writing.”

A loud huff exploded from Alice-Marie's lips, and she stuck her nose in the air.

Mr. Daley scratched his chin. ”Well, I better head home. It's a long drive, and dark will catch me if I'm not careful. Good-bye, Elisabet. It was . . . nice . . . meeting you.” He offered Libby a brief impersonal smile, then turned to Alice-Marie. The father and daughter shared a few whispered comments that didn't reach Libby's ears, but her face burned at their furtive glances.

Alice-Marie gave her father's cheek another kiss. ”Good-bye, Daddy.” Mr. Daley climbed into the driver's seat, and Alice-Marie and Libby stood beside the road until the Model T spluttered around the corner. Then, without a word, Alice-Marie spun on her heel and began marching toward the dormitory with her bag banging against her leg. Libby trotted along behind her.

Alice-Marie threw a stormy look over her shoulder. ”Don't even think of apologizing. I won't accept it.”

Libby bristled at Alice-Marie's superior tone. ”I wasn't going to offer.”

Alice-Marie came to a halt and whirled to face Libby. Fire sparked from her eyes. ”You should be ashamed of yourself, leaving the house the way you did. And then refusing to tell my parents where you'd been. Why, you behaved abominably! But then what should I expect from an orphan orphan? I should have listened to Mother. She tried to tell me not to waste my efforts on a girl raised with no parental influence, but I foolishly believed I could have a positive impact on you. Now it's clear to me your behavioral patterns have already been well established, and I shall never-”

Anger coursed through Libby, carried on a wave of embarra.s.sed hurt. ”You were trying to make an impact impact on me? There's nothing you could teach me worth knowing!” on me? There's nothing you could teach me worth knowing!”

”Oh no?” Alice-Marie threw her bag on the ground and angled her chin high. Her eyes snapped with fury. ”What about how not to be a misfit? If it weren't for me including you, no girl on this campus would give you a moment of time.”

Libby's jaw dropped. ”That's not true.”

”For heaven's sake, Elisabet, how can you be so obtuse? As if any decent girl would befriend you after you involved yourself in fisticuffs right in the middle of the campus on your very first day here. Were it not for my excusing you, you would have been shunned from the very beginning.”

Libby started to defend herself, but Alice-Marie continued railing without a moment's pause.

”And then you hide away in our room, refusing to join any of the clubs or groups on campus.” She swept a disparaging look over Libby from head to toe. ”You leave your hair hanging down your back like a curtain instead of putting it up, the way any self-respecting woman would do. Your shoes, if you bother to wear them, are always half unb.u.t.toned. Your fingertips are covered in ink stains, your nails are chipped. . . . I've never met a girl so unconcerned about her personal appearance.” She made a sour face. ”You might be exceptionally beautiful, as my cousin Roy is so fond of pointing out, but you do not fit fit, Elisabet Conley. And it's become abundantly clear to me that you never will, because you don't care enough to try to fit. To fit would require reaching out to others, and apparently you are too self-centered to do so.”

Alice-Marie balled her hands into fists and tapped one toe furiously. ”I took you to my home as a favor to you. To give you an opportunity to see how civilized people live and socialize with one another. To show you what your life could be like if you would only cast aside your uncultured ways and behave like a refined human being. But how do you choose to repay me? By sneaking off in the middle of an important meeting!”

”But I was only trying to-”

”Mother was mortified; Daddy was shocked.” Alice-Marie's shrill voice covered Libby's explanation. ”And because of your poor behavior, I was forced to bear a lengthy scolding for exposing our family and Mother's friends to such outlandish conduct. Well!” She tossed her head, holding her palms out. ”I have washed my hands of you and your strange behaviors. I will not not offer excuses for you. I will offer excuses for you. I will not not be your friend anymore. You are now completely on your own-just the way you like it.” be your friend anymore. You are now completely on your own-just the way you like it.”

She s.n.a.t.c.hed up her bag and marched off toward their dormitory, her nose in the air.

Libby stared after Alice-Marie, too stunned to speak. As much as she wished to deny it, the view she'd been given of herself through her roommate's eyes wasn't pretty. The word misfit misfit had hurt, but the other descriptions inflicted a deeper pain. Alice-Marie intimated she was someone uncaring toward others, someone who flouted convention and shunned companions.h.i.+p. Libby had always wanted to be like Maelle, a person comfortable being herself. But while Maelle certainly flouted convention, she was a deeply caring woman who reached out to others. had hurt, but the other descriptions inflicted a deeper pain. Alice-Marie intimated she was someone uncaring toward others, someone who flouted convention and shunned companions.h.i.+p. Libby had always wanted to be like Maelle, a person comfortable being herself. But while Maelle certainly flouted convention, she was a deeply caring woman who reached out to others.

Within her soul, Libby cared. At this moment, she carried a burden bigger than she knew how to hold. But she'd been unable to tell the Daleys where she'd been and what she'd learned. She couldn't find appropriate words to describe the worry, revulsion, and dread her errand had created.

So she'd remained silent in the face of their questioning. And in doing so, she'd put a huge gap between herself and Alice-Marie. Not until that moment had Libby realized how much she'd come to depend on her roommate's companions.h.i.+p.

The wind picked up as the sun slunk slowly toward the treetops, and Libby s.h.i.+vered. She scooped up her bag and hugged it to her aching chest. Oh, if only she hadn't left Alice-Marie's house. If only she'd ignored Miss Whitford's advice. If only she hadn't seen that newspaper article. . . .

Discover where your true pa.s.sions lie, the author had instructed Libby. For years Libby had dreamed of becoming a reporter. But for the first time, she realized reporting the truth-telling the whole story-could prove difficult. Heartbreaking. For her, and for some of those reading the truth. the author had instructed Libby. For years Libby had dreamed of becoming a reporter. But for the first time, she realized reporting the truth-telling the whole story-could prove difficult. Heartbreaking. For her, and for some of those reading the truth.

Libby impulsively lifted her face to the sky. Might she find an early evening star so she could wish this newly discovered knowledge away? She sighed, dispelling the childish thought. Wis.h.i.+ng changed nothing. She'd uncovered the truth behind the short lines of print in Mr. Daley's newspaper. And somehow she must find a way to tell Petey about the youth sentenced to hang in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the St. Louis County courthouse. Because that boy was Petey's brother.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

How do you know he's Pete's brother?”

Libby toyed with the straw in her tall soda gla.s.s, giving Bennett only a brief, impatient look. She hunched farther into the high-backed booth in the corner of the drugstore and hissed, ”Didn't you hear anything I just said? The man at the newspaper office said the boy's name was Oscar Leidig.”