The road home, p.1
The Road Home, page 1
The Road Home
Book 2: The Letter Series
A Novel
Kathleen Shoop
Smashwords Edition
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
This book is a work of fiction. The story is a product of the author’s imagination and any incidents, documents, places, and people that inspired the work are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to current events or to living persons is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2015, Kathleen Shoop, All Rights Reserved
Smash words Edition
ISBN-13: 978-1511801249
ISBN-10: 1511801247
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Cover photo: Susan Fox/Trevillion Images
Cover design: Natasha Brown
Created with Vellum
For my mom
Chapter 1
Katherine
1905—Des Moines
Katherine stood at her mother’s coffin. The parlor was bursting with sweet pink roses, deep blue and blush-pink hydrangeas, and peonies. She drew the lush scent deep into her lungs and hoped that her mother’s soul was present, that she was aware of the care taken to usher her into the afterlife. Katherine exhaled, her eyes closed, trying to suppress the grief that kept lodging in the back of her throat. It was not yet midday, and a breeze shot through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her.
She turned toward the draft, hoping it would whisk away the tears and stop them from falling yet again. The wind twisted and then billowed the white organza sheers, making the hem lick at the hardwood floors. A warm gust made Katherine shiver. She rubbed her arms and looked to the ceiling. She had not treated her mother as she had deserved in life, so she wanted to create a loving send-off in death. I love you, Mama. I want you to know.
She refocused on the wood box that held her mother. It was a simple design, though made of mahogany. Katherine straightened the silken sheets across her mother’s midsection, pleased to furnish fine covers after what she had understood was a difficult, luxury-free life. Her passing had been arduous. Stomach cancer had spread, debilitating her quickly, but her mother had worked hard to stay alive for as long as she could, for as long as it had taken for Katherine to begin to understand.
Caring for her sister, Yale, would be a big job for Katherine and her family. The young woman’s mind had not developed much beyond a child’s, and her judgment on any matter could not be trusted. But Katherine would do it because she had come to see it was right. And where her mother was concerned, Katherine had done more wrong than she had wanted to admit.
Still, Katherine counted herself lucky. Her mother showing up just before dying had given them the chance to forgive each other. From the many people she had met over the years, Katherine had learned that the opportunity to do that was a true gift—something she would hold tight in her heart.
In the last moments of her passing, she and Katherine had squeezed each other’s hands, saying they loved each other with the gesture, and Katherine had felt her mother’s soul leave. There was peace and sorrow, but for the two of them, the regret each had harbored faded away, like a light turned down in the dark of night.
I’m so sorry, Mama.
Katherine sighed and smoothed her mother’s hair, adjusting a pin so the brown locks created just the right wave against her forehead and down the side of her face, exactly as Katherine remembered her mother liking it when she was younger. She plucked some lint from the blouse and smoothed the fabric, straightening the tucks at the shoulder.
Once she was satisfied with the styling, Katherine patted her mother’s stiff hand. “Love you, love you, love you, my mama. You can finally rest. You’re finally back with our sweet James,” she said and sighed. Though the regret that had been seeded in hostility toward her mother had been freed in the past few days, Katherine knew it would take time to rid herself of the sadness that she had wasted time on when her mother had been alive. There had been so much misinformation between mother and daughter. Time had allowed ill feelings to fester. Over the years, each of them had attempted to make things right, but the timing was always off, and before she knew it nearly two decades had gone by. Katherine had seen countless others make the same mistake, and yet she had not learned the lesson until nearly too late.
Tears dropped onto the creamy sheet, the moisture spreading through the fibers. Katherine swallowed the next threatening round and dabbed at the silk with a handkerchief to dry it.
“Katherine?” Tommy’s voice came as he walked into the parlor and took his place next to his sister.
She sucked back more tears.
He slipped his arm around her shoulder, and she covered his hand with hers.
“Sad, isn’t it?” he asked.
Katherine sniffled and roped her arm around his waist, wanting to offer comfort as much as get some for herself. She dabbed at her nose with the handkerchief. She knew her brother harbored even more regret than she did. She knew he was struggling with his work as a minister, with his marriage. “Mama knows you love her, Tommy. She knew it all along.”
He looked at Katherine. His face had taken on a softness that had not been apparent when he’d first arrived back in Des Moines, when he’d still held his resentment as though it were the air that gave him breath.
“I wish I could be so confident.” Tommy shrugged. “Not sure I can face the way things went. Can’t seem to grasp the same peace that you have.”
Katherine nodded. “It’s true. The calm was there in the last minutes we had together. And now, when I take a deep breath, I feel her forgiveness, like it’s embedded in the very air.” She squeezed Tommy. “That forgiveness was for you, too.”
He stared at Katherine, clenching his jaw.
“It’s never too late,” Katherine said.
He looked back at their mother and pushed his hands into his pockets. “I’m a minister, Katherine. I’ve said those exact words to people. I know what you mean, but I can’t feel it. How stupid I must have sounded to all those people. I just want to laugh out loud, like it’s a joke. I can’t feel what you do. And I keep thinking about her life, our lives, when we were young. It’s awful the way things went after it all fell apart. Remember all her friends? All the women in and out, the parties she and Father hosted, the life, the vigor? And now there’s no one.”
He shook his head, the tendons tightening in his neck. “I’m just so angry.”
“Tommy, please.” Katherine pulled him close. He put his forehead against hers, and their eyes locked the way they had when they were young. “I’m here. We’re all here for you and Emma.”
His eyes welled. He squeezed them shut, tears gathering between his thick lashes. Katherine could feel his tension, see his worry when she mentioned his wife’s name. She pulled him into a full hug, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades the way she would when one of her children needed comfort.
“Emma’s not real pleased with me right now. Not that I blame her, really.”
Katherine assumed his fragile marriage, coupled with all the rest, was just too much at a time like this. “What did you do?” she asked.
He looked away. “It’s complicated. And I need to talk to her, get back to her, and then I can explain to you.”
“Did you tell Emma you have something to tell her?”
He cleared his throat. “Not yet.”
“Well, she’ll be here soon, right? You can tell her as soon as you see her.”
Tommy looked down, his eyes hiding so much. He forced a smile at Katherine. “I don’t know, Katherine. I just don’t know if that will matter.”
Katherine gripped him tight. “Well, I know it will matter. I will believe for you until you’re ready. That’s the least I can do.”
Tommy nodded and turned back to their mother, studying her. Katherine left him in solitude, needing to gather up her brood and see that they washed up and dressed for the occasion of h aving to say good-bye to their grandmother before they knew her very well at all.
Chapter 2
Tommy
1891—Des Moines
Tommy Arthur had been back in Des Moines for only a couple of days, but he finally felt ready to face his future square and sure. Outside the doors of the Savery Hotel, he brushed off the front of his pants and coat for the thirteenth time. He smoothed back his hair and cleared his throat. It had been years since he’d felt the need to use the fancy manners that had once been put to daily use.
Straightening his shoulders, he pushed through the door, removed his cap, and strode toward the front desk as though he’d already paid a month’s rent on the presidential suite. In the lobby, the scattered Oriental rugs complemented the shine on the rich wood floors. The brass fixtures, crystal sconces, velvet and damask upholstery, and blazing fire in the stone fireplace reminded him of the grand home in which he’d lived until just four years back.
Tommy waited behind a young couple at the front desk. The aroma of hyacinths and lily of the valley was strong, reminding him further of his former home.
When the couple was finished, Tommy moved forward, stuck his hand out, and firmly shook the man’s. The clerk winced and pulled his hand back. With a sharp gaze, the man pecked away at Tommy’s coat before he fixed on Tommy’s hair and face. The man smirked as he registered the threadbare state of Tommy’s clothing. Tommy wouldn’t allow the man’s glare to bother him. He had come from an important family in Des Moines. Clothes were not a measure of him as a man, and he knew it was just a matter of time before he and his family rose to the top of society yet again.
Tommy remembered the letter. “Oh, here you go.” He patted his pants pocket and then his coat at the breast. He dug into it and removed a piece of paper. He unfolded it and pushed it toward the man.
“Be on your way,” the desk clerk said. “Breakfast scraps are long gone.”
Tommy screwed up his face and shook his head. “Breakfast?”
The clerk flicked his fingers toward Tommy, his face buried in the reservation book that lay before him.
Tommy laid the letter over the book and smoothed out the wrinkles. “This letter is my recommendation for a position at the hotel.”
The clerk lifted his gaze.
Tommy pointed at the signature. “Right there. Looks like we’ll be colleagues, you and I.”
Picking up the letter by its corner, the clerk wafted it at Tommy. “I don’t think so.” He flung the letter into the air, and it fluttered into Tommy’s hands.
“Say, that’s not a pleasant way to season our friendship.”
The clerk sighed and shook his head like he was trying to rattle away the sight of Tommy.
“Look again.” Tommy pointed to the signature. He’d had to soften up harder men than this guy. “Mr. Jeremy Babcock. He was a soldier. He saved Mr. McHenry’s life. The manager. Babcock wrote this letter on my behalf.”
The clerk flipped several pages and ran the side of his hand down the crease in the book.
Tommy bent forward. “Did you hear what I said?”
He nodded and sighed.
Tommy’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. Then tell him I’m here.”
The clerk dropped his head to the side, his eyes conveying his irritation. “And you are?”
Tommy pointed to the letter. “Thomas Arthur. I come highly recommended by a spectacularly honorable man. I can do the work that is open—I’m partial to bellboy.”
“Well, desk clerk is not available.”
Tommy pressed a grin to his lips, not willing to let this curmudgeon sully his good outlook. “Of course not.” He gave a small sarcastic bow. “I’ll thank you to let Mr. McHenry know that his new bellboy has arrived.”
The clerk stared for a moment, as though he were searching for another way to tell Tommy to get lost, but in the end he nodded and disappeared into a low, narrow, hidden doorway that was cut into the moldings and wainscoting behind the desk.
When the door popped open again, the clerk emerged, followed by a man so large he had to duck through the opening. His white hair was wavy but neat. His beard was full but trimmed close to his face. The creases at their corners softened his ice-blue eyes. Tommy smiled as he recalled the photograph that he had seen before. He pushed his hand out. “Mr. McHenry. I recognize you from a photograph of you with Mr. Babcock.” He handed the letter to him.
As the man read the letter, Tommy’s heart beat harder, faster. He hoped the man would see the recommendation as valuable, that he would see Tommy was a gentleman despite the condition of his clothing.
The man looked to the ceiling and let out a whistle. “Babcock.” He rubbed his chin. “Babcock’s alive and well.”
Tommy nodded. “Just sold off his land. Went back East to help his daughter. Recently widowed. Sold off everything just for her.”
“Sounds like Babcock.”
The man crossed his arms and studied Tommy. Not in the condescending way that the desk clerk had, but as though he was curious more than anything. Then, without a word, McHenry came around the desk and waltzed right up to Tommy. Tommy tried to read his expression but could not. McHenry slapped Tommy’s shoulder and guided him away from the desk. “Let’s have a little talk. Some soup and sandwiches ought to hit the spot. Looks like you’re a traveling man.”
Tommy felt his body unclench. Mr. Babcock’s kindness and glowing recommendation had achieved even more than he’d expected. Lunch. Exactly what he needed. He looked over his shoulder to see the clerk’s face—reddened, he ground his teeth as he glared. Tommy wiggled his eyebrows. The clerk shook his head and looked away. This would be fun, Tommy thought. If anything, if he were offered the job, Tommy would certainly bring an air of amusement to the stuffy desk clerk’s life.
Even with the respectful way McHenry had treated Tommy so far, he had expected him only to ask him a few more questions, hand over a piece of bread, and send him on his way. Instead, McHenry walked Tommy into the crystal-chandeliered dining room and seated him smack-dab in the center. The quiet murmur of guests talking in between bites of roast beef and mashed potatoes stopped when Tommy trod by one table and then another.
Tommy could feel the patrons’ stares as much as see their gaping mouths. For the space of a breath, he felt shame. Their questioning expressions and derisive snubs made him want to scream out that he belonged there as much as any of them. Thankfully, his defensiveness didn’t last long, and he stiffened his spine, tugged his coat down, and pushed his chin forward. He told himself not to fret. His poverty was a passing circumstance, not his future path. It was then he noticed a single smile from a blue-eyed teenage girl in a lavender silk day dress. Tommy nodded at her and held her eye until her mother nearly fell out of her chair, snapping her fingers to draw her daughter’s attention back where it belonged.
Tommy settled into the brocade chair.
“You’ve got a way with people. I can see that,” McHenry said. “Clothes may make some men, but some men make the clothes. I can see you are one of those in the second category.”
“Sir.” Tommy nodded. “Thank you.” He straightened in his seat, inflated with the confidence that came when this man recognized Tommy’s grace and bearing even though he was cloaked in shabby clothing. Tommy glanced at the table. Laden with silver, crystal glasses, and fine china bread plates, it took him back in time to when he had eaten at such a table for every meal, every day of the year. He touched his canvas lapel, registering its practical though unfashionable material and cut.
But he didn’t feel as though that’s what he wore. He felt like the man he’d been intended to be when he was born into a wealthy, educated family.
Mr. McHenry passed Tommy the breadbasket. He removed a small roll and placed it on the plate. He used the butter knife to transfer the golden cream onto the bread plate, waiting for the proper time to begin to eat.
McHenry laced his fingers and rested them on his belly. “Well, Mr. Arthur. Tell me more about your relationship with Mr. Babcock. Surely you’re too young to simply be his friend.”
