Separate Roads (33 page)

But Kiernan did not appear in the doorway, and when Victoria left, he was sitting in the parlor, seemingly absorbed in a book. When she said good-bye, he made no response.

——

Kiernan never hated himself more than when he let his wife leave without a word. He knew her actions were from concern and love. Yet he didn’t want to believe that he blamed God for all his misfortunes. He’d been through other difficulties in the past and had not turned from his faith. Why would Victoria think he was now? Just because he didn’t feel up to attending church?

Sometimes he had tried to be angry at God, but it didn’t last long because it always came back to his own fault in the matter. God had not kept him from miscounting the dynamite charges. That had been his own stupidity. But Kiernan’s anger, whether directed at himself or elsewhere, had been building since long before his accident. It might not have affected his faith, or at least his church attendance, but it had been steadily gnawing away at him for years. Steadily beating him down.

A man could only take so much.

It had all really begun that day he had found out about the loss of Victoria’s inheritance. Nothing seemed to have gone right after that. And he surely couldn’t blame God for his poor financial judgment. Yet he now thought of something Victoria had said that morning.

“Do you think I am so shallow, a blind eye bothers me? . . . I don’t believe you are that shallow either.”

No, and he also wasn’t shallow enough to believe this had anything to do with money. It went far deeper than that. And as that realization hit him, it made him audibly gasp. This was really about the lies and deceptions that financial loss had led him into. It was about his rotten pride. And not only had he put himself on that path, but he had forced Victoria along it also. He had all but forced her to lie to her parents, the people she loved most in the world next to him. He had forced a wedge between her and her parents.

Because of his pride.

He thought of the Scripture “Pride goeth before a fall.” And he knew now he had definitely fallen. And taken the woman he loved with him. Because of him they had suffered want and poverty; because of him Victoria was forced to labor at a lowly job now and take charity from others. Because of him she was apart from her dear family. And who knew? Maybe it was also because of him, because of the poor diet and hard work that Victoria was unable to conceive a child.

And for a brief moment, Kiernan began to think his accident, directed solely at him, was his punishment for all the calamity he had brought to their lives. But as quickly as the idea came, it brought an ironic smile to his lips. Just as God was not to blame for his misfortunes, so was God not punishing him with more misfortune. That was not what a God of love did. But like any caring parent, God the Father would very likely use misfortune to get a man’s attention. And God would help a man to use misfortune to become a better man and to grow and learn to be more mature.

When Kiernan asked himself how he could use his accident thus, several responses came to him. First was the matter of feeling sorry for himself, not only for his physical infirmities but also for all his past failures. He had to stop that before he destroyed both himself and Victoria. He had to keep focused on all the positive aspects of what had happened. He was alive after a mishap that should have killed him. He had healed remarkably well and would soon be back to normal with but one eye that wasn’t functioning properly.

It was harder to find the good in losing Victoria’s money. Pride and guilt were simply too strong in him. Pride mostly. He remembered something he’d heard once, that pride was the sworn enemy to contentment. How very true it was. And one prideful act seemed to lead to another and another, feeding on each other, building on each other until a man had nothing left to him but pride—and not the good kind of pride at that. This was a very empty, very shallow thing.

And Kiernan desired to be more than that. But how? How could he change all that had happened? He could never restore the money to Victoria. He had been trying to do just that all these years with absolutely no success. But he already knew the money itself wasn’t the problem. It was . . .

Kiernan leaned forward in his chair, taut with excitement.
It wasn’t the money—it was the lies.
It might not be the answer to all his problems, but he knew suddenly where he could at least heal one of his largest inner wounds. He had to be honest. He had to confess what he’d done.

As he thought of the word “confess” another Scripture came to his mind. He couldn’t recall it exactly, but it had something to do with confession. What was it?

He jumped up and went to the small shelf of books and found his Bible. Victoria had given it to him years ago when she had taught him to read. He was sorry that he still could not read well enough to grasp all the book contained. He browsed through the pages wishing he’d had time to learn to read as well as Victoria. She’d be able to find the verse easily.

The thought of Victoria made him recall why he remembered that verse. It was in Victoria’s favorite book, First John. He found the book quickly near the end of the Bible, and the verse was in the very first chapter.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

He knew now that’s what he needed. Cleansing.

Standing there by the bookshelf, the Bible still in his hands, he closed his eyes and prayed for the first time in months.

“Father in heaven, I don’t know why ya haven’t given up on me long ago. I’ve been lettin’ such filth grow inside me, such shame. My pride is all those things, and now I’m confessin’ it to ya, that it has kept me from being content in yarself and in the wonderful life ya have given me. Forgive me, Father. And help me to clean it from my soul. My pride is worthless after all, because I am nothin’ in and of meself. It is only yarself who makes me the man I am and desire to be. Thank ya for that, God. Thank ya for not givin’ up on me.”

When he lifted his head from his prayer, he knew there was one more thing he had to do to complete the cleansing. He went to Victoria’s writing table, sat down, and took paper, pen, and ink from a drawer. If reading was difficult for him, writing was more so, but what he must do now must be in his own hand, illegible as it might be.

An hour later, Victoria returned home. Kiernan greeted her with a smile that, though not broad, was warm and sincere.

“Kiernan, what is it?” There was concern mixed with anticipation in her tone. She obviously knew something had changed.

“While ya were at church,” he replied, “it was me who did some soul-searchin’.” He took her hand and led her to the sofa, where they sat side by side. “I ask ya to forgive me, Victoria, for all I’ve put ya through these many years.” She started to protest, but he shook his head. “No, I’m not goin’ to start whinin’ and blamin’ meself. But I do know I’ve been too proud for me own good, and for yars. I’ve made too much of me own strength, forgettin’ I am nothin’ without God. With His help I plan to mend that now.”

“Oh, Kiernan,” she smiled through her tears. “Of course I forgive you, though in truth I never held anything against you—well, hardly anything!” she giggled tearfully.

“How I love ya, Victoria! And I don’t care what ya say, I don’t deserve you, but I know now I hardly deserve any of God’s good gifts. No one does.” He held out the paper he had been holding. “This is something I should have done long ago. Read it if ya can past all my scribblin’s and misspellin’s.”

Victoria took the paper. The words were brief and to the point, for Kiernan didn’t have the ability to do more. But it was enough. She read aloud through her tears:

Dear Father and Mother Baldwin,

I am writing this to confess that I have lied to you all these years regarding Victoria’s inheritance. Through poor judgment I lost it all in the bank crisis in 1857. If that was not bad enough, I was too ashamed to tell you, and I asked Victoria to keep the matter from you also. I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I ask for it anyway. You are two people I respect most in the world, and the loss of your love and trust is as bad as losing a fortune.

Yours, most humbly,

Kiernan O’Connor

Victoria refolded the paper. “Kiernan, you know they will never hold this against you.”

“Knowing them, I am sure they won’t, but it had to be said.”

She nodded. “Yes . . .”

“I am so sorry I made you lie about it.”

“Well, it is behind us now,” she assured.

“It will be as soon as that letter is mailed.”

29

Victoria was elbow-deep in soapsuds when Li came to the laundry shed with mail, actually a telegram delivered to the house a few minutes before. Taking dripping hands from the water, Victoria dried them on a towel. But she didn’t take the missive immediately. She just stared at it.

“What wrong, Victoria? You always like to get letters,” said Li.

“But people only send telegrams to deliver good or bad news—usually bad.” Victoria reached out her hand. “Well, here goes. . . .” she said, taking the paper and opening it. She scanned it quickly, then let out a “Whoop!”

Li frowned. “That mean good or bad?”

“Good!” exclaimed Victoria. “It’s from my brother, sent from Utah. He, my sister, and Kiernan’s sister are en route to California. They’ll be here in a couple of weeks. Oh, Li, I can’t believe it! Only now do I realize just how much I missed them. And Kiernan will simply be beside himself to know he will soon finally see his sister.”

There was indeed a grand celebration when Kiernan saw the telegram. And they immediately began preparations, Kiernan wondering if he could wait two weeks, Victoria wondering if that would be enough time to get everything ready. She was thankful they were in the larger house where they had room to accommodate everyone, but the fact that there were not enough beds and covers did pose a problem. But when word circulated among their friends about the upcoming reunion, it seemed many were thrilled to help out. A woman at church who ran a boardinghouse said she had two beds in her attic they could borrow. Others loaned quilts and blankets. Then Charlie Crocker got into the act. He just happened to have a quarter section of pork lying around if Victoria had the time to preserve the meat. Of course she had the time.

The most amazing thing was that Kiernan did not raise his usual protests about “charity.” He seemed able to discern that the giving brought the givers such joy, it would be foolish to protest.

But into the joyful chaos of those days, there did come one sad note. Xiang arrived in Sacramento with the announcement that things were going well in Newcastle, and he felt it was a good time for Li and their son to join him. Victoria had known this time must come eventually, but she had let herself forget it as her dependence on Li’s friendship had grown.

She put on a brave front for Li when the day of her departure came. But she simply could not keep back the tears when she gave Jia a hug and the child’s arms reached around her neck in a tight embrace.

The tears came in full order after Li and Xiang and their son disappeared down the road. Victoria threw her arms around her husband and wept unashamedly.

“What will I do without them?” she cried. “Every time I make a friend, I end up losing them.”

“I know ’tisn’t easy, me love,” he cooed. “But thanks be to God, He’s sendin’ someone in short order to fill the emptiness.”

“Yes . . . that is fortuitous, isn’t it?” she sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Ya’ll be so busy when our kin arrives ya won’t know what to do with yarself.”

“But what about when they leave. . . .”

“Now, don’t go thinkin’ negative. And no matter what, I’ll always be here for ya—I’m one friend who won’t go away.”

Sniffing again, she smiled. “Thank you, Kiernan! I guess I should look at it as God never takes but that He doesn’t give something else in return.”