Chapter 39
In the deepening gloom, Violet stared at the man responsible for her coming to Wylder. Fear constricted her throat. Her skirts covered her shaking knees, and she buried her trembling hands in the folds of the shawl.
Determined to not be the first to speak, she waited. Let him identify himself and explain why she had arrived to find him supposedly dead when it was apparent that he remained among the living.
If he could be stubborn enough to stay away for all this time, she could certainly be obstinate enough to stare him down.
He put his hat on the table beside the door and held his hands out in a show of good faith. The gesture that he meant no harm died when he raised his hands and his jacket hiked up. She got a look at the pistols hanging from the worn gun belt slung low across his hips. His intentions were yet to be seen. The fact showed that he came prepared to do some damage.
The derringer in her pocket would give her one chance to defend herself if it came to that.
She hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but shooting him if he threatened her would not disturb her at all.
“Miss Bloom.” He tipped his head and gave her a cautious smile. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
She bit her tongue, determined to let him explain on his own. She would not pepper him with questions that would make his account less taxing. He owed her the truth, and she planned to get it.
“Mister Abraham.”
“I saw you take a look at my sidearms. You’ve no need to be afeared.”
“Oh, I assure you, I’m not afraid of you.”
“I don’t blame you for having your dander up. I deserve all the wrath I’m sure you plan to hurl at me.” He scratched at a spot near his ear before he pulled at the faded bandana tied around his neck. “I hope you give me the chance to defend myself first. Then, renounce me as the lowliest skunk to ever live. I have already chastised myself many times and I know I should be dragged behind a mule.”
A wooden bench sat on the porch in full view of the small window beside the door, so she settled herself there.
She did not invite him to sit.
“I am listening. This is the first time I have given audience to a dead man.”
He shuddered and twisted his hands together. “I deserve that. But please, allow me to explain.”
Violet held her shawl with her right hand and put the left into her pocket. “Go on.”
He leaned a hip against the front door. “I will make this as uncomplicated as possible. When we began our correspondence, I told you I needed a bride. Those words were true…to an extent.”
“To an extent? What does that mean?”
He placed his hands together in supplication. “I beg you, please let me tell you what I need to say, in my way. When I am done, I will answer your questions. I give you my word.”
“Your word? It seems a tad late for that.”
His hands came together again.
She pursed her lips and willed herself to remain silent.
“I may as well say the worst part first: I am married.”
Violet kept her lips closed and waited for him to continue.
“When I advertised for a mail-order bride I had been informed, in no uncertain terms, that I would soon be unmarried. My wife set to tellin’ me how unhappy our marriage made her. She planned to divorce me on grounds of moral corruption and abandonment.” He yanked at the bandana again. When he swallowed, his Adam’s apple slid high and low on his skinny neck. “She had a whole lot of other ugly lies to tell, too. Her words and actions were so discombobulating that I immediately placed that advert for a bride. You see, some of us are not equipped to be on our own.”
He paused, as if waiting for her to question him, but she did not. No, she had agreed to hear him out and intended to do just that.
The man’s hair was an unusual shade of sandy brown. Now he ran a hand through it and pushed it back off his temples.
“While we were corresponding, I believed Elizabeth—that’s my wife—was settin’ to divorce me. She even sent me a legal letter, although I don’t know what it said because I put it in the kitchen stove and burned the damn thing. Oh, excuse me, Miss Bloom. I forget myself.”
Violet had heard enough. Her gut churned and a vein beat in her temple. It might feel satisfying to shoot him in a nonessential spot. Let him get a taste of how it smarted to be hurt.
“You are a married man who asked an unmarried schoolteacher to travel clear across the civilized world with an offer of marriage, and you’re concerned about swearing? You are a man with an exceedingly small conscience.”
He bowed his head for a long moment before meeting her gaze. “I deserve that. I did not know Beth had reconsidered when I made my offer to you. She dropped every untrue charge against me…and she pleaded for a second chance.” He shrugged, and his shirt slipped from the waistband of his roomy denim jeans. Beneath his jacket, he hardly had any meat on his bones. “What could I do? I went to her and we have remained married. You see, I didn’t deliberately mislead you. We got caught in a regrettable chain of events.”
“A chain that left me alone in a place I had never been to.”
He nodded. “Yes. Lamentably, that is so.”
“But the townsfolk buried a dead man in the bone yard across the tracks. Who is that?”
His face crumpled in on itself. “My twin brother had consumption. We were so close. He is buried in the cemetery. I visited his grave a short time ago.”
Violet considered all that he had confessed. He hadn’t intentionally misled her. She saw how it came about, and almost felt sorry for the man.
“Why are you here now?”
He heaved a huge sigh. “I have always had a soft spot in my heart for this holiday. Christmas is the season of forgiveness. I admit, I am having a rough time living with what I’ve done. I’m here to come clean, and to implore you to forgive me.”
Jasper wasn’t the only one who had entered into their association falsely.
Time to confess.
“I did not want to marry you, Mister Abraham.” She swallowed before she forced the next words out. “You see, I merely wanted to get away from Charleston, and I would have done anything to do so.”
Jasper took a step back. He placed his palms flat on his coat above his chest and shook his head. “Including marry me?”
She met his gaze and admitted the truth. “I’m sorry, but yes. I would have done anything to get clear of Charleston, including marrying a man I didn’t love.”
When he came closer, she scooted over on the bench. Her heart had softened, and since the bench provided ample room for them to sit comfortably, she made the concession. He smiled his thanks and sat down.
“But why? You are a beautiful woman. You didn’t need to answer any mail-order advert—I know that you must have had your pick of men to marry. Why do it? I don’t understand.”
Now that she decided to tell it, the truth came with ease.
“I had suitors in Charleston. But I could not see a life in that city, not after having lived through the war there and witnessing all the death and destruction. It felt as if I were paying for something I never did—I had been sentenced for a crime someone else had committed. Charleston is not the same as before the war. And I couldn’t live through a lifetime in that sad city.”
“So, you answered my advertisement?”
“I thought I could come here and find some joy in a town that has not been marked by sadness or soaked in blood. I wanted a fresh start, a place that offered opportunities for the future. Somewhere not stuck in the past.”
It hit her that in some respects she still held on to that past, trying to make others suffer for blood that had been spilled long ago.
“That makes perfect sense, Miss Bloom.”
Thomas’s face came to mind. His gentle touch and kind words, too.
“Miss Bloom?”
“I’m sorry—I guess I got stuck in the past.”
He reached over and patted her hand. No one witnessed the inappropriate gesture, and it did not insult her one bit. In every practical sense, Jasper belonged to the realm of the dead. How could a dead man behave improperly?
“We all have a past.” He threaded his fingers together and placed them on one thigh. “Some, like this feller here, get caught up holding on to what we should walk away from. We miss out on what might have been the best thing to happen to us.”
Violet turned to face him. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long while, as they had at the beginning of this conversation. Much had changed in a short amount of time.
Acceptance replaced anger.
Clarity chased away confusion.
And where there had been irrational attachment to history, hope of letting go had been born.
Violet had never hugged a dead man but before Jasper Abraham left to return to his wife, she hugged him good and hard.