Chapter Twenty-two
Kate sat beside her mother’s bedside, attempting to read a book, but she was distracted by her mother’s irregular breathing. Doc Hodges had announced yesterday morning that it was his opinion that Mrs. Kerwyn had finally turned the corner, but he had warned that her recovery would be long and slow.
Still, Kate insisted on taking most of the shifts beside the sickbed, which the rest of the family seemed grateful for, especially her father, who had so far made no comment about her stay in Shullsburg nor the argument preceding it.
Nettie and Minnie begged for stories about her “other” family, but Kate was reluctant, feeling like it would be a betrayal to report their poverty and eccentric mannerisms, especially when they had been so kind as to take her in.
Louisa, meanwhile, had not yet returned from her sojourn with Aunt Bea in Milwaukee, though they had telephoned to report that Doc Hodges had given the all-clear.
Kate sighed. That girl would do anything to avoid work.
Kate, on the other hand, was glad to be the one to sit by her mother, as it gave her a chance to make up for lost time and to really think about her experience with the Prices.
Though the Prices were her blood relatives, the Kerwyns, she realized now as she took her mother’s worn hand in hers, were her real family.
All her life, every time she had heard the story of the Kerwyns finding her as a dirty, wandering toddler, she had always felt a deep sadness for that little girl, separated from her family and raised by one that looked so very different from herself.
Now, though her heart still ached for that lost little girl, she was finally accepting that she hadn’t lost her family—she had found them.
She was loved, and she belonged. She had been the lucky one, just as Sheriff Norris had insinuated.
She stroked her mother’s hand and felt ashamed that she had called the only mother she had ever known “Mrs. Kerwyn.” Her stubbornness, she feared, would someday be her downfall.
“Oh, Kate!” her mother croaked, her eyes fluttering open. “You’re back?” Her voice was thick and raspy.
Kate jumped from her reverie. “Yes, Mom! I’m here now.” She gently brushed her mother’s hair back with her free hand.
“Oh, Kate, I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” Kate felt a lump rising in her throat. “I shouldn’t have gone away.”
Her mother closed her eyes again for a moment and then opened them. “Help me up, Kate,” she said, her voice still weak. “I want to tell you something.”
“Mom, don’t talk right now. Just rest.”
“No, Kate.” Mrs. Kerwyn tried to sit up on her own but failed and fell back into her pillows. “I need to say something.”
“What is it, then?” Kate asked gently, reaching behind her to try to adjust her pillows.
“I’m sorry about Ray.”
Kate stopped her fluffing and sat back down.
“I’m sorry that he . . . that he hurt you. That I was too wrapped up in my own grief to notice. And, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you were a little girl. I do now, though. And I thank God he let me live long enough to tell you that.”
She closed her eyes again, evidently exhausted from her little speech. After only a few moments, though, she opened them and gave Kate a little smile.
“You’re as much my daughter as Louisa or Nettie or Minnie,” she went on hoarsely. “Maybe more so. I’ve always loved you, maybe the most.”
Kate’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Mom.” She wrapped her arms awkwardly around her mother’s frail body. “Oh, Mom. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been such a spoiled wretch.”
Her mother tried to embrace her back, but her arms were weak. “Did you find your family?”
Kate convulsed into sobs now. “You’re my family! I’m sorry I went away.” After a few moments, she sat up and tried wiping her tears.
“We all need to know where we came from. Otherwise, we won’t know where we’re goin’, will we?” Mrs. Kerwyn patted Kate’s wet cheek and then closed her eyes. “I’m so tired, Kate. I’m gonna sleep now, okay?”
“Yes, you sleep,” Kate urged and took hold of her mother’s hand again. She remained at her side until her mother’s breathing became deep and regular. Only then did Kate release her hand and creep from the room.
Once in the hall, she leaned against the wall, exhausted. It was tempting to retreat to her attic room and cry, but she supposed she should probably go downstairs and make sure everything was ready for the morning. The house was oddly quiet.
As Kate turned toward the stairs, Nettie was coming up.
“I’ll sit with her for a while,” she offered.
“Thanks, Nettie. She’s sleeping pretty deeply right now.” Kate passed her, but then looked back. “Where’s Minnie?”
“In the front room, I think. Reading.”
“What about Dad?”
“Still out in the barn.”
Kate wandered into the darkened kitchen, only to jump when she saw the silhouette of her father, still in his overalls and work boots, hunched over in a chair.
“Dad!” Kate switched on the overhead light. “You nearly gave me a fright! What are you doing sitting here in the dark? Do you want some coffee?”
“No, that’s alright.” For the first time, he looked old to Kate. “I can’t lose her, Kate,” he said, looking at his boots. “I can’t live without her.”
“We’re not going to lose her,” she tried to say confidently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I was just with her, and she spoke a little.”
“She did?” He looked up eagerly. “What’d she say?”
“Not a lot. She was just glad to see me, I think. Nettie’s with her now. She’s sleeping.”
“I’ll go up,” he said, pushing himself out of the chair. “I’ll change first.”
A light knock sounded on the door.
“That’ll be Ed. Said he’d stop by. He’s leavin’ for Chicago in the morning.”
Leaving for Chicago? Kate’s insides roiled. Since she had returned, she had seen Edmund only at a distance, crossing the farmyard or going in and out of the barn, but she hadn’t yet had a chance to speak to him. Even if she had, what would she say?
“Why is he . . . why’s he going to Chicago?”
“Darned if I know. He ain’t the big city type. I think he’s chasin’ after that Mary Crawford. Asked me what I thought of him marryin’ her.”
“What did you say?” Kate asked, barely above a whisper.
Mr. Kerwyn shrugged. “Well, I says, why not, if that’s what you’re thinking, but don’t know if she’s the farmwife type. She seems to like the finer things in life.”
There was another knock.
“Come in!” her father called. “You know you don’t have to knock, Ed!”
The door opened a crack, but it was not Edmund; it was Henry Crawford.
“Hello, Mr. Kerwyn. Kate,” he said pleasantly.
“What’re you doin’ here, Henry?” Mr. Kerwyn asked. “Thought you were in Chicago.”
“I came back to consult with Frank on one or two points. But I’m returning tomorrow, so I’ve offered to drive Edmund.
It will be nice to have a companion on the road.
But I couldn’t leave again without calling in to see how Mrs. Kerwyn is doing.
And all of you,” he said, his eyes darting briefly to Kate.
“Well, that’s mighty kind.” Mr. Kerwyn thrust his hands into his overall pockets. “She’s doing well enough; wouldn’t you say, Kate? Holdin’ her own.”
“Yes,” Kate said hesitantly. “She’s improving.”
“You want some coffee or somethin’?” he asked Henry. “Kate was just gonna make some. I’m goin’ up to get changed. Sit with Caroline awhile. Have a good trip,” he said absently and shuffled across the room.
Kate was tempted to beg him to stay, but it would be useless; he was too eager to get up to her mother, and maybe he still held out hope that she would change her mind about Henry.
Kate crossed to the stove and began busying herself with the coffee pot.
“How are you?” Henry asked gently.
“I’m fine.” She filled the pot with water. “Do you want coffee?”
“No.” He took a step closer. “Did you . . . get my note?”
She set the coffee pot down but still did not turn to him. “I did. I suppose I should thank you for all of the gifts.” She turned finally. “The Prices enjoyed them very much.”
“And the flowers?”
“Yes, they were lovely. You shouldn’t have spent so much.” She leaned against the counter.
He cleared his throat. “Have you thought about my proposal? Do you yet have an answer?”
Kate’s stomach clenched. She dreaded telling him the bad news.
“Kate,” he hurried on, perhaps sensing her hesitation, “I can’t stop thinking about you. You occupy my thoughts night and day. Please say you’ll have me.” He crossed the room and stood in front of her. His deep green eyes probed hers. “Have I not proven I can be constant?”
“It’s only been a week, Henry,” she said wearily.
“Kate, please,” he begged. “Marry me. Make me a better man. With you, I can be different. I’m sure of it.”
Kate studied him a final time, making sure her decision was the right one. He remained the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it was no use.
“No,” she said as gently as she could. “It’s no use, Henry. I can’t marry you.”
“But why?”
“Because I love another, as you know,” she added quietly. “And I always will.”
“You’re sure?” His voice was sharper than it had ever been, and a muscle in his jaw tightened. Several alarm bells inside of Kate began to sound.
“Yes, I’m sure, Henry. I’m . . . I’m very fond of you, but I just can’t. Please understand.”
Henry’s face further contorted. “After all I’ve done for you? The money I’ve spent?” he snarled.
Stunned, Kate took a step back.
“This is absurd!” he cried, beginning to pace. “You’re a fool. Edmund will never marry you, and who else is there? You’ll die a spinster; mark my words!”
Kate stared at him, incredulous. “Are these the words of a gentleman?” she finally sputtered.
“Oh, don’t get all high and mighty with me!
You know, I—” He took a step closer and, for just a trace of second, she was afraid he might strike her.
“I’ve been mistaken. Grossly mistaken. I hope you’ll be happy here in the life you have chosen, Kate Kerwyn.
Or should I call you Marie? Neither suits,” he spewed with distaste. “I’m through with you.”
He stormed out the back door, letting the screen bang behind him.
Her chest heaving, Kate watched him go and then dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. How dare he! She braced her head in her hands, her thoughts whirling. She had been right about him after all!
When she heard her father’s heavy boots on the stairs, however, she straightened and twisted in her chair.
“Henry leave already?” he asked.
“Yes, he had to go,” Kate said matter-of-factly and stood up. She moved toward the counter, trying to shield her face from her father.
“What’s wrong? You upset? ” he asked, concerned. “Is it cause of Ma? Or was it something Henry said?”
“It doesn’t matter, Dad.” She gave him a weak smile. “I’m alright.”
“Still after you, is he?”
Kate raised her shoulders slightly and prayed he would not chastise her for rejecting Henry Crawford again, or worse, encourage her to change her mind.
Her father scratched his head. “You know,” he began, but then paused. “I didn’t mean what I said before. It came out wrong. I don’t think of you as less-than, Kate. I just wanted you to be loved and cared for. I thought Henry might do the job. But you have to do what you think’s best.”
Kate wiped a tear and fought desperately to keep the rest at bay. “Thanks, Dad,” she said hoarsely.
Her father looked awkwardly around the room. “They nice to you, those people in Shullsburg?” He rubbed his upper arm nervously.
“They were, Dad,” she said, releasing a deep breath. “But I’m glad to be home.”