Ashes and Ice (3 page)

Yielding to her husband’s embrace, Grace trembled as Peter pressed his fingers into her carefully styled hair. She cared not one whit if the coiffure fell in disarray to her waist. She could remain in Peter’s arms forever.

As if reading her mind, Peter pulled away to say in a low, husky voice, “I know I have work to do, but I would much rather remain here with you.”

She laughed. “Then stay. I’ve only a few letters to write, and those can easily be put off until later.”

He kissed her one more time, then drew away. “I’ll never get anything done with you in this house.” His voice betrayed his pleasure. “So whom are you writing to?”

Grace’s joy drained away and her thoughts turned sober as she wondered how she might avoid a confrontation. Peter hated Martin Paxton, and although Grace had spoken of forgiveness, Peter saw no need for such declarations.

“I . . . um . . .” She looked to the letter and then back to her husband, who was even now tucking his shirttails more securely into his pants. “I have several letters to write. I owe Karen one and then I wanted to send my mother another letter. I do hope she’ll join us here, at least for a visit.”

Peter nodded. “So whom are you writing to now? Your mother?” He stopped and looked at her as though the answer were quite important.

“Uh, no,” Grace began. “It’s not to Mother.”

Peter noted her hesitancy and crossed to the writing table. “Then it must be to Karen.” He lifted the sheet of paper before Grace could stop him. He scanned the letter quickly, then lowered it to give Grace a hard look of disapproval.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he questioned. “You can’t send this letter. I forbid it.”

“Peter,” she said softly. “Please try to understand.”

His mood changed instantly. “I do not understand. You bandy about words like forgiveness and peace to a man who would have forced a life of misery upon you, had he his own way. A man who is no doubt responsible, by his own admission, for the destruction and devastation of the life you once knew—the people you loved.”

“You needn’t remind me,” Grace said. “I am the one who dealt with him. I know him for what he is.”

“Then why?” Peter asked in obvious disgust. “Why do you throw about your religious nonsense and correspond with such a man? Haven’t you come to understand he cares nothing about your beliefs?”

“Neither do you,” Grace said without thought. She immediately wished she could take back the words. “But I still have hope that you will come to accept the truth for what it is. I hope no less for Martin Paxton.”

“Outrageous. How dare you compare me to him? I offered you rescue—salvation. He offered only pain and suffering.”

Grace gently took the letter from her husband’s hand. “And I offer peace between all parties. Your parents are longtime friends with this powerful man. He holds a financial interest in your shipping line. I would hate to see your company or you hurt by his vengeful nature. Peter, please understand me—I write this for you as much as I write it for me.”

“Do not think to do me any favors, madam.” He always reverted to formalities when angry with her. “I ask no such agreement to be made. Paxton must pay the price for his underhanded and corrupt business practices. He has caused this family grief enough already, sneaking around behind my back, loaning my father money and making contracts against the business without my approval. If you think I will overlook such matters in whimsical phrases of forgiveness, then you are mistaken.”

“Peter, it will serve no purpose but that of darker forces if you continue this hateful battle.” She let the letter fall to the desk and now reached out to take hold of Peter’s arm. “Please listen to me. Forgiving Mr. Paxton is the only way to put the past to rest. If he sees that you wish him no further harm, perhaps your father will not suffer any adverse effects regarding their partnership. I desire only that we have a wonderful life together—you and I. I only want security for your family. Don’t you see? Can’t you understand?”

“What I can’t understand is a wife who would undermine her husband’s authority,” Peter replied in a hard, cool tone. “Why not give yourself over to reading that Bible you so love and see what it says about obedience to authority.”

He stalked from the room without waiting for her reply. Grace heard the front door slam shut. Despair washed over her, and she sunk to the chair and stared blankly at the piece of paper that had started the entire feud.

“How can it be, Lord, that forgiveness should wage such wars between us?”

—[CHAPTER THREE]—

“LOOK,” MIRANDA WHISPERED to Grace, “Mrs. Haggarty is back.”

Grace took her seat in the church pew and smiled at her sister-in-law. “I’m so glad. I know she was worried about traveling all the way to Salt Lake City to see her daughter, but she looks no worse for the wear.”

“Mother says travel is for the young. She’s absolutely appalled by the number of older men and women who head north for the goldfields.”

Grace didn’t have a chance to reply as the Sunday services began. She, too, was amazed at the sensation of gold fever in the nation. The discovery of gold had pulled the country out of a terrible slump, and everyone wanted in on the find. Never mind issues of greed and those who died for something so fleeting. People were starved for prosperity, and they were sure they’d find it in the Yukon. Grace had to smile. The Yukon had brought her a treasure in Peter. He might have his faults, but she loved him dearly. She only wished that he’d accompany her to church—to be a part of what she believed. It was her heart’s only desire.

As the service continued and they joined together to sing and pray, Grace felt a loneliness that bothered her nowhere else in the world. She knew it was silly. Worshiping with God’s people should be the last place to feel such longing, but she couldn’t help it. Without her husband at her side, Grace felt as though she were the talk and gossip of the other married women. After all, what man of good sense and respect for his Creator would absent himself so commonly from Sunday worship? She felt separated from the others—alone and awkward.

The situation had never bothered her when she’d been single. Attending church with Karen or her mother and father had seemed a perfectly acceptable thing to do. No one anticipated that she should be accompanied by anyone else. Why, she had even attended services on her own when her mother had been ill and Karen had been visiting relatives out of town. She had never given it a second thought. She had enjoyed the services every bit as much as when in their company.

But being a married woman changed everything. She no longer fit in the circles of the young, unmarried women and men. They were still free to mingle and flirt, within proper limits, of course. But Grace no longer belonged to their world. Sadly enough, she didn’t feel that she belonged to the world of those who were married, either. A woman who attended church without her husband was often seen as a rather dangerous person. After all, she had knowledge and experiences that put her on equal footing with her married church sisters, but unlike them, she had no husband to keep her in line on Sunday morning. She was free to move about and speak to whomever she chose, and that made a great many people uncomfortable.

This had been especially true in the oversized Presbyterian church she’d first attended upon her arrival in San Francisco. Women her own age seemed to scorn her, while older married women saw her as some kind of unspeakable threat. Grace found she didn’t fit in with the older widows, either. They were not of a mind to have a young married woman in their midst as they talked of death, childbirth, and their grandchildren. So everyone nodded politely when Grace appeared, then turned their backs on her and hurried away.

Before long, it even seemed to Grace that the sermons were directed to her. Comments were made from the pulpit about sinful women who sought their own way in the suffrage movement, in employment, and in seeking to follow their own course rather than that of their husbands. Maybe she was just extra sensitive to the topics, but they made her uncomfortable nevertheless.

After a while, Grace simply found it easier to keep to herself, and eventually she left the stuffy and selective congregation of Presbyterians and joined a small gathering in a newly founded church within walking distance of home. Grace had learned about the church during tea with one of her neighbors. It seemed the opinion of this gathering that people had gotten too wrapped up in man-made rules and regulations. The goal of the minister was to bring his small, but growing, flock back to some of the most basic biblical truths.

That suited Grace just fine. Her hunger for spiritual truths had only been compounded since her marriage. Peter had no desire to make Bible reading and prayer a focus for his life. He’d chided Grace about things they could better spend their time doing together, and while she’d tried to take it all in stride, her heart was torn. Grace’s one consolation was Peter’s sister, Miranda.

Miranda’s presence comforted Grace like no other. She seemed to understand Grace’s loneliness and shared feelings of her own that closely matched those of her sister-in-law. Miranda had few friends and knew the same sense of isolation that Grace experienced. Miranda became more and more compelled to participate in Grace’s daily schedule, and Grace, in turn, eagerly encouraged her presence. This became especially true of church attendance.

It also didn’t hurt that there were several eligible bachelors in the congregation. Miranda had confided to Grace that she had begun to fear never finding an appropriate suitor, but now Grace saw her sister-in-law quite enthusiastic. After the service, a host of men descended upon the two women like flies to a picnic.

“Miss Colton,” a handsome man with flaming red hair said, taking up Miranda’s hand, “I wonder if I might speak to you alone.”

Miranda looked to Grace as many of the other congregation members filed past them. “I’m sure that anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my sister-in-law.”

The man blushed furiously, his face nearly matching the color of his hair. “It’s just that . . . well . . . I wondered . . .”

“Old Corky is trying to ask you to share lunch with him,” another of the men proclaimed. “But you can just tell him no, because I asked you first. Remember?”

Grace wanted to laugh out loud at the man’s obvious devotion to her sister-in-law. Miranda, on the other hand, looked quite perplexed as she tried to recall the earlier invitation.

“Miss Colton has no time for either of you gentlemen,” yet a third man announced. “I sent a written invitation inviting not only Miss Colton, but her sister-in-law, as well. It’s what true gentlemen of society do if they desire the company of dinner guests.” He hooked his fingers in his waistcoat pocket and leaned back on his heels looking quite self-satisfied.

Grace nodded. “It’s true, gentlemen. Mr. Barker has indeed requested our presence by means of a formal invitation.”

The other two men, though disappointed, realized they’d lost out. They gave a graceful bow and promised to send their invitations in tomorrow’s post. Grace could only imagine the confusion that promised to give the Colton household.

Miranda looked up at the dark-haired Mr. Barker and smiled. “My sister-in-law has agreed to accompany us to lunch. It is with her encouragement that we accept your invitation.”

“Marvelous,” the man said, flashing brilliant white teeth. “I shall cherish your company.”

————

The luncheon seemed to last forever. Perhaps, Grace thought, it was due to the monotonous self-promoting lecture given by Mr. Barker. Or perhaps it was due to the bland and unappealing food. Either way, when Grace and Miranda made their way up the steps to the Colton house, both breathed a sigh of relief. Pausing on the porch, they looked at each other and broke into fits of laughter.

“I thought that it would never end,” Miranda confided. “What a conceited man.”

Grace nodded, completely agreeing. “He seemed so very much in love with himself, I seriously doubt he could have shared love for anyone else.”

“Not without deeply wounding his own feelings,” Miranda added.

“I had so hoped you would enjoy your outing. With so many dashing young bachelors vying for your attention, it seems only fair to expect that one of them should be the right one.”

Miranda’s smile faded. “I know. I keep thinking that, as well. There have been others, men who Peter said were not worthy of me. He’s been so good to try and look out for me.”

“Peter is a good man. He cares very much for you, but you have to make choices based on what your heart tells you. Peter might well think Mr. Barker a perfect suitor. The man is a banker and holds a respected position in the community. Your brother would probably admire him greatly and think you amicably suited.”

“I suppose that is true. Peter does sometimes make choices for me that I would just as soon not have made.”

Grace could well understand that, her husband being a strongly opinionated man. “Well, no harm done. Mr. Barker seemed to understand quite well that you lacked interest in his need for adoration.” Grace smiled and opened the front door to the house. “Perhaps we should try Corky next time, eh?”

Miranda laughed. “All that red hair. My word, but it fairly glows.”

“And just think of the redheaded children you might find yourself mother to,” Grace laughed, and Miranda flushed at the thought as she giggled.

Their laughter quickly faded, however. Grace stepped into the house to find Peter awaiting their return. She had thought he was on his way to Seattle and hadn’t expected to find him home.

“Peter!” Grace could see the anger in his eyes and hoped to calm him. “Why, if we’d known you were still in town, you could have joined us for lunch.”

“Where have you been?”

“Grace agreed to accompany me to lunch with Mr. Barker,” Miranda answered.

Peter’s expression darkened as his eyes narrowed. “Who is Mr. Barker?”

“Oh, surely you remember him, Peter. He came to see Father on business about a month ago.”

Grace pulled the shawl from her shoulders and untied her bonnet. “He attends our church and was quite smitten with your sister.”