Deborah Camp Read Free

your head?”
    “I advise that you not seek out Luna.”
    “Why not? Speaking to the woman who supposedly married my husband is quite logical.”
    “I agree and that will be one of my duties. I will speak to her on your behalf. You don’t want to barge into this misinformed or say something that might give her the upper hand. I’ll gather all the facts first. Then we can discuss what we want her to know.”
    “We?” She tipped her head to one side. “The only ‘we’ in my life includes my son.”
    “Listen to me, Mrs. Hastings …” He stood and came around the desk to sit in the chair next to hers. The simple action took some of the starch from her spine and made her eyes burn with unshed tears. “You’re human, and it is only human nature that your head is spinning and your thoughts are in a whirl. I have some experience with these kinds of cases and I would consider it an honor if you allowed me to assist you.”
    “You mean there have been other women in my situation? Women who arrive here to discover that they are divorced and stripped of their inheritance?”
    He nodded slowly. “Yes. What is unusual about your case is that Charles Hastings returned to you in St. Louis. If his marriage to Luna had failed, he could have divorced her or even petitioned the court for an annulment before taking up his union with you again.”
    “And the land would be mine, free and clear, in that case.”
    “Not exactly.” He squinted his left eye in a half-hearted wince. “He would not legally be married to you. However, your son would be his heir if he had divorced Luna.”
    “You keep calling her by her first name. Do you know her well?”
    “I do. She had only been in Guthrie a few months before I arrived here.”
    “You weren’t raised in these parts?”
    “No, ma’am. I’m from Kentucky. I joined this law firm a little over a year ago.”
    “You never met my – Charles.”
    An outer door opened and closed. He stood and leaned forward to peer around the door facing. “Ah, hello, Bertha. That’s Mr. Oliver Hastings and this is his mother. Mrs. Jennie Hastings, allow me to introduce you to my partner’s better half.”
    A short, plump woman with blond curls piled high on her head entered the room. She pumped Jennie’s hand as Jennie rose to her feet. “Pleased to meet you. You can call me Bert. Everyone does – except for Zach.” She cast him a good-humored grin. “He likes to call me Bertha because I made the mistake of telling him that I didn’t like my name.” She looked back to where Oliver sat. “Your little fella is as cute as a speckled pup.”
    “Ah … why, thank you. I’m sorry to hear that your husband is ill.”
    “Oh, he will be fine. He ate a piece of his mama’s rhubarb pie Sunday after church and it always churns up his stomach.”
    “You didn’t need to come in today, Bertha,” Zach said, resting an arm around the woman’s shoulders. He towered over her.
    “I have court documents to finish up so that you can file them in time. I sure can’t do that by waiting on Adam Polk, hand and foot.” She reached out to pat Jennie’s arm. “I’ll keep an eye on your little pup while you finish your business in here with Zach.” With that, she bustled out, her dark green skirts swirling behind her. She closed the outer door. Jennie could hear her talking merrily to Oliver.
    Oliver … Jennie’s knees trembled. Afraid they might give out, she sat in the chair again. The full impact of what had transpired in the past few minutes slammed into her. She felt breathless and faint.
    “Mrs. Hastings?” Zach’s voice came to her, but he sounded as if he were down in a well. The next thing she knew, a glass of water was pressed against her palm. She curled her fingers around it.
    “Drink some water,” Zach said from far, far away. “Please. One sip. That’s it. One more. Good. The color has returned to your cheeks.”
    His face swam into view. He squatted in front of her, his blue