“I wanted to talk to you about any plans to track down the gang, but you don’t seem to be in the right mind to discuss anything properly of late,” Caleb said sternly. “Evelyn told me what happened this morning. What was the reason for this?”
Luke couldn’t be sure, but Caleb sounded angry. That was new. His friend was never angry. Luke sighed a heavy sigh. He used to be as levelheaded as Caleb, once.
“Keep your voice down! Nobody needs to hear this,” Luke grunted.
“You really have changed, you know? I don’t even know if I recognize you anymore!” Caleb continued, albeit being a little quieter. His tone of voice sounded more like a scolding than anything else. “What in the world is going on with you lately?”
Luke stood bent over at the bar with his elbows propped up on the counter, his head hung low. He couldn’t describe how he felt without getting angry or upset. Hehadchanged. He knew deep inside that was true, and he hated it.
“Luke!” Caleb yelled. He seemed frustrated.
Luke heaved another sigh. There was a crushing weight on his shoulders. It seemed heavier than before, but he didn’t know where it had come from. When Moe filled his glass again, he didn’t touch it. Luke was well aware that Caleb was his closest friend, and none of what was going on with him was Caleb’s fault.
“I saw…” he began hesitantly, but talking felt like sandpaper in the back of his throat. “When I got home, I saw…” He couldn’t say it, and he didn’t even know why this was so very difficult for him.
“The embroidery?” Caleb asked. “Isabelle’s embroidery?”
Luke nodded with a heavy heart. “I hadn’t seen anything of hers in all these years…” He swallowed hard. “I thought everything was lost in the fire… I just couldn’t…”
Caleb put his hand on Luke’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. Since they were in public, Luke didn’t want to be seen as a weak man, so he straightened his posture and stretched hisback. He quickly glanced at Caleb, but there was no judgement in his friend’s eyes.
“I have had a lot on my plate,” Luke said, and he immediately thought that it sounded like a cheap excuse. Pulling himself together, he tried again. “I don’t know why I have no patience lately. I have a lot more responsibility on my shoulders now, having Madelaine and the children in the house… I can’t seem to keep my temper under control.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that whiskey isn’t the answer to everything? Your drinking has gotten a lot worse,” Caleb said matter-of-factly. “Since that day, you’ve sought solace in alcohol, and I understood that it was to numb the pain of your loss for a while. But it’s been almost five years, Luke, and it’s no longer just a couple of doubles here and there. You have a new family now! This is getting out of hand.”
Luke wanted to deny it, but he knew that Caleb was right. He’d drunk an entire bottle last night, and he hadn’t even really felt the effects of the alcohol, which was disturbing. He knew of too many men who’d succumbed to the aftermath of consuming excessive amounts of alcohol. It wasn’t pretty.
“But the worst part is,” Caleb continued, “that you let your anger—whatever it is you’re battling—out on Madelaine and Evelyn. Granted, we are adults, so we can take it, but there are also little children in the house, and you don’t even consider them!”
That hit hard because Belle and Simon meant a lot to him.
Caleb apparently wasn’t finished, continuing, “Not only that, but instead of being home and making sure they are protected, you go and hide in the saloon or the office to get drunk all night!”
Caleb looked straight at him when he said it, and Luke saw raw emotions in his friend’s eyes—a mixture of bewilderment, disappointment, and anger. “Where is the Luke who put his family first, above all else? All I see is a shell of my best friend, chasing ghosts, while he has a beautiful new family waiting for him at home! None of what happened to you is any of their faults! Why did you even marry her?”
Caleb tossed back his drink and slammed the glass back onto the bar counter. It made Luke jump. Hearing Caleb’s words made him pause, and when he looked up at his friend, he saw genuine concern in his eyes.
“You really need to get a grip, Luke. None of them deserve your outrage over… heck, I don’t even know what,” Caleb said.
Luke opened his mouth, but no answer would come out. He had none. Caleb’s words were all true, and they made Luke feel inadequate—not something he was accustomed to.
“I don’t know why I can’t seem to shake this. I blame God and the world for everything that happened to me…” He stopped himself, because it sounded like yet another weak excuse. Luke closed his eyes and drank his whiskey, but this time he held up his hand to Moe not to fill the glass again.
Caleb made a move as if he wanted to leave, but Luke grabbed his arm.
“You’re right!” he exclaimed. “Everything you said is true.”
Caleb turned back toward him.
“I need to change.”
“Madelaine is distraught,” Caleb said. “She and Evelyn thought that it would be a beautiful surprise for you if they worked on the quilt together. They wanted to do this in honor of Isabelle—as a gift to you, to make you feel better—and that is mighty generous of your new wife, if you ask me.”
Luke nodded. “Did you know that Evelyn was secretly writing letters to Timothy?”
Caleb didn’t immediately answer, and Luke saw that it was only because he was weighing how he should react before he nodded. “She mentioned it once, a long time ago.”
“I found a letter Madelaine had written to him. She said that she wanted to ask him for help.”
