Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.”
“And that, folks, is who I am.”
Monty’s grip on the pulpit relaxed. Though shame swirled around him like dust in a wind tunnel, peace settled on his shoulders after confessing his omission. Annamae had been correct in accusing him of being a fraud and telling him he’d needed to come clean.
Stanley Bell stood from a center pew. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Pastor?”
“I suppose part of me was ashamed to be associated with my uncle’s evil deeds. Another part of me was afraid you all would never accept me if you knew I was born into the Frick-Childs family.”
Monty cleared his throat. “But the biggest part of me felt I needed to prove to myself I could follow God’s calling with no aid or acknowledgment of my family.
Like when the apostle Paul had to prove his conversion from a persecutor to an apostle.
I now realize it was nothing but a lack of faith on my part. ”
A breeze from the open windows stirred the silent congregation. All night, Monty had prayed for understanding from his friends. He’d either get it, or they’d send him packing on the next train.
Mr. Breslin leaned forward in the front pew, elbows on his knees. “I won’t deny that I wish you’d been honest from the start, but I also can’t deny that a man shouldn’t be defined by his family. A man’s got to prove himself, and in the last three years you’ve certainly done that.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Monty’s three-year anniversary in Johnstown had passed, and he hadn’t even realized it.
Hope buoyed Monty’s spirit. “I’d love to stay and continue as your pastor if you’ll allow me the privilege.”
Men and women around the room looked at one another. Within a matter of minutes, they declared their approval.
Silently thanking the Lord, Monty closed in prayer then personally thanked every member as they left to enjoy their afternoon. Ernie was the last to go through the doors. “Thank you for your support,” Monty said, shaking the man’s feeble hand. “You’re a good friend.”
Ernie blinked at him. “ ’Taint nothin’, Pastor. You’ve overlooked my shortcomings. I can do the same for you.”
His eyes were clear without the booze, but they filled with emotion easy enough nowadays. The cravings rode Ernie like a tick on a dog, whispering their demonic promises in his ears.
One day at a time. In reality, it was all any of them could do.
“If you need anything, my door is always open.” Monty slapped a farewell on the man’s back.
Ernie nodded and concentrated on his steps as he transitioned onto the lawn.
Annamae would be pleased with Ernie’s progress.
Maybe Monty’s too.
An ache started at his center and radiated outward the way it did every time he thought of her. He’d hadn’t ceased praying that she’d allow the Lord to finish His work in her and that she’d find her way back to him.
Job’s meow rose from Monty’s ankles. The tabby rubbed his face on Monty’s pant leg then released a yawn. Monty bent and scratched the cat’s spine. Job’s purr vibrated through his fingers.
Monty stretched and gazed at the town, amazed at the progress made in the twelve short weeks since the flood. Johnstown would thrive again. With God’s help, he and Annamae would too.
WASHINGTON, D.C. MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2
This apartment no longer gave her independence and satisfaction but hit her with isolation and regret every time she entered it.
Annamae swallowed a growl as the room shrouded her in darkness save for the glow of gaslight from the streetlamp outside her window.
Her work at the hospital no longer fulfilled her.
She craved companionship. The noise and the crowded streets.
She missed Monty desperately.
Her anger toward him had fizzled with time, though it hadn’t faded entirely.
It still hurt that he hadn’t trusted her with the knowledge of his family’s identity, even if he had cut ties with them years before.
He should have told her that night they stood beneath the moon, after she’d confessed the details of her father’s death. Then she would have …
What would she have done?
She’d like to think she would have been understanding and not held him responsible for his uncle’s actions, but wasn’t that what she was doing now?
Guided by the glimmer of the streetlight through her window, she stalked toward the bed.
No, she was angry with him for hiding it from her.
Or was she holding him responsible? His claim of protecting her was valid.
After all, she’d seen what Mr. Frick’s henchman had done to him.
It had bruised her pride to find out his secret the way she had, but was she secretly punishing him because she couldn’t punish his uncle?
As Clara had pointed out, Annamae tended to let her passion cloud her thinking.
A characteristic she hadn’t realized she possessed until the reticent, solitary nights had given her ample time to examine herself.
The truth was, she could try to fight against the injustice of men like Mr. Carnegie and Mr. Frick for the rest of her days and never succeed. Men like that would likely always win.
She’d given up a good man who’d only tried to help her overcome her faults and live up to her potential.
She’d also jeopardized the greatest opportunity to serve her fellow man with the greatest medical organization in the nation, all because she couldn’t let go of her hatred.
Now she had no justice, no husband, and no future.
Unable to stay in the desolate confines of her room, she removed her apron and cap, tossed them on the floor, and went for an evening stroll.
The air was cool but comfortable. The scent of rain clung to the atmosphere.
Would she ever see rain again without thinking of Monty and the friends she’d made in Johnstown?
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared up at the sky, wishing her father were there to tell her what to do next.
She’d give everything she had to spend one more day with him.
To feel his large, muscular arms embrace her in a gentle circle.
To hear his laugh, smell the metallic scent of smoke in the fibers of his clothes.
Monty was right. Hating the men responsible for her father’s death wouldn’t bring him back. Neither would justice. She knew this. She needed to forgive and move forward with her life, but she didn’t know how to forgive someone who wasn’t remorseful for their actions. She felt she shouldn’t have to.
Forgiving them seemed as if she was saying she was okay with what they’d done to her father, and she wasn’t. But the bitterness and anger, the pulsing need to make them pay, prevented her from truly living.
She knew she shouldn’t walk far without a chaperone, and yet she found herself on the grass stretching hundreds of yards to the Washington Monument. The moon was full and bright with peace and promise. How do I forgive, Lord? Help me to forgive.
Crickets serenaded her prayer.
Was Monty staring up at this same moon, missing her too? Did he miss their afternoon walks, their evening strolls, the barest of touches that shook her to her core?
When the night sky grew darker, she walked back to her apartment, dreading the long night ahead.
She rounded the corner of her building to find Matthew standing beneath a streetlamp, staring up at her window.
Annamae had only seen him twice since her return, as her long absence with the Red Cross had forced her to a different shift.
She also suspected he did what he could to ensure they didn’t work together.
Her footsteps caught his attention, and he jumped. Their gazes locked. Shock turned to mortification, and he attempted to mask it with a sheepish grin. Her stomach knotted with the awkward conversation sure to follow.
“Good evening,” she offered.
Matthew concentrated on his shuffling feet. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”
A light breeze blew strands of her hair, and she shivered, wishing she had her shawl. She rubbed her arms. “Is everything all right?”
He craned his neck toward the sky. “It is.”
She studied him. Waiting.
Matthew sighed. “When I returned from Pennsylvania without you, I couldn’t sleep. I started taking nightly walks to clear my head. Somehow, I always found myself walking past your building. I’d stop beneath this lamppost and say a prayer for you. For your health and happiness.”
Her heart throbbed with sadness for him. Matthew was a good man. He deserved a woman better than her.
As did Monty.
“Those walks have become habit. I tried to make myself stop coming to this end of town after you returned, yet I still find myself outside your apartment every night. I mean no harm. And I’ve never meant it to be a burden to you.”
He moved to walk away, but she stopped him. “You’ve never been a burden, Matthew.”
His back to her, he hung his head.
“I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so deeply you find yourself here every night.”
Matthew faced her. “I never came out of hurt. I came to heal.”
“I don’t understand.”
“True healing is feeling peace in situations that once stirred a reaction from you. For example, visiting my wife’s grave, though never easy, no longer keeps me indoors, ignoring my responsibilities for days.
Once I’m able to pass by you and not feel the sting of rejection anymore, I’ll know I’ve moved on. ”
She wanted to weep. She swallowed to erase any agony from her tone. “Is it getting any easier?”
“I think so.” He moved closer. “Now, more than concentrating on my pain, I’m more concerned about yours. Forgive my saying this, but you don’t look well, Annamae. That spark of life I saw in you in Johnstown is gone. Am I correct in assuming you have a broken heart too?”
She wilted against the streetlamp. “I misjudged some things. Myself, mostly. Instead of confronting my actions, I ran home with my tail between my legs.”
Beneath the shadow of the glowing light, she told him about her father, her attempt to bring the club members to justice, and the last harsh but true conversations she’d had with Monty and Clara.
“We all make mistakes, Annamae. If this Monty fellow truly loves you, he’ll acknowledge that and accept your apology.”
“I don’t think I can go back. Without Monty, and with the Red Cross work nearly completed, I’ve no excuse to return.”
Silence fell between them for so long she wondered if Matthew would respond.
“Love never needs an excuse,” he mumbled. “But if you must have one, they’re building a new hospital in Cambria. It’ll be used mostly by the men and their families at the iron works but will also serve as a public hospital as well. With your skills and talent, I’m sure you’d prove most useful.”
She smiled her thanks, wishing things could have gone differently between them. “I’ll be praying God sends the best of women to you, as you deserve no less.”
“I wish you the best as well, Annamae, in whatever you choose to do.”
She bade him good night and opened the main door to her building when his voice made her pivot.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
He grinned. “This conversation wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined it being when I saw you come around the corner.”
Perhaps he’d stepped onto the other side of healing.
She raised a hand in farewell, walked to her apartment, and stepped into the shadows. This time, the darkness didn’t threaten to swallow her whole. As she readied for bed, then slipped beneath the covers, she thought about what Matthew told her regarding the new hospital.
Cambria, huh? It would be a good excuse to stay close to Monty as they repaired their rocky courtship. If he was willing to forgive her.
Knowing what she knew of the handsome but reserved pastor, she supposed he would.