look, he continued. “I have read your articles, Clara. I have a subscription to The Times, and I’ve read everything you ever wrote. I know what side you are likely to come down on here.”
She gestured to the door leading to the street. “You think I approve of that? Rioting in the street and destroying the work of small business owners?”
“Do you?”
“Of course not.” Although he was right that she generally sided with the workers over the owners. She nibbled on a cherry while choosing her next words very carefully. “I’ve heard things about you, though. That you won’t do business with Alfred Forsythe or any of his companies.”
“That’s right.”
“Doesn’t that hurt your own business? Wouldn’t your profit margins soar if you stopped locking yourself out of thirty percent of the railroad market?”
Daniel pushed himself away from the wall and leaned closer to her. “Unlike some businessmen, there are things I care more about than money.”
“And hurting your own workers is one of those things you care about?”
He looked as though she had blindsided him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.
“I mean that if you licensed your inventions to Forsythe Industries, the revenue you earn will be pure profit. With that much extra income, you could afford to pay your workers a better wage.” She was on very thin ice. Never had she seen a look of such antipathy simmering on Daniel’s face directed at her, and she shrank back a few inches.
“If my employees don’t like their wages, they are free to go work for someone else,” he said in a low voice vibrating with anger. “I want revenge, Clara. My mother committed suicide, did you know that? Lorna found her hanging in the kitchen and came running to me at the station, sobbing her eyes out. Katie was there and saw everything when I cut my mother down. Do you think I’m going to forget that?”
Clara felt herself blanch at the horrible image. It hurt to look Daniel in the face, and when she did she saw his mouth twisted with bitterness, the expression in his eyes making him unrecognizable. It was the face of vengeance, and it was heartbreaking to see a man as fine as Daniel succumbing to it.
“You’ve held on to this anger for twelve years,” she said gently. “If you wish to nurture this rage in private, it hurts no one but yourself. But the kind of vengeance you are carrying out causes innocent people to suffer. Proverbs says that you should not repay evil, but wait for the Lord, and He will deliver you.”
The look he sent her was withering. “Do not quote Scripture to me about this.”
The words sliced through her, but he was entitled to his resentment. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he had endured in those first few years after the accident.
“I’m sorry, Daniel. It isn’t for me to judge you, and I shouldn’t have tried.”
And just like that, the ice thawed in Daniel’s eyes and a sad smile appeared. He sighed and met her eyes. “Do you know what I’m sorry about?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry that the first evening we’ve spent together in over a decade has us stuck on the floor of a horrible old building with me snapping at you.”
The apology was unexpected and it made her want to leap into his arms, stroke the dark hair that curled on his forehead, and assure him that she’d forgive him anything. Instead she held up the bowl of fruit resting in her lap. “At least the cherries are good.”
Daniel snagged one. “I promise to do better next time. Give me another chance?”
She smiled. “As if you even need to ask.”
Chapter 7
L loyd Endicott was sitting at his desk, penning his sermon for next Sunday, when Clara confronted him. Each step weighed more heavily as she approached, knowing that this would be one of the most painful conversations she would ever have with her father. He looked up when he heard her, welcome twinkling in his blue eyes. How many times over the years had she come
She gestured to the door leading to the street. “You think I approve of that? Rioting in the street and destroying the work of small business owners?”
“Do you?”
“Of course not.” Although he was right that she generally sided with the workers over the owners. She nibbled on a cherry while choosing her next words very carefully. “I’ve heard things about you, though. That you won’t do business with Alfred Forsythe or any of his companies.”
“That’s right.”
“Doesn’t that hurt your own business? Wouldn’t your profit margins soar if you stopped locking yourself out of thirty percent of the railroad market?”
Daniel pushed himself away from the wall and leaned closer to her. “Unlike some businessmen, there are things I care more about than money.”
“And hurting your own workers is one of those things you care about?”
He looked as though she had blindsided him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped.
“I mean that if you licensed your inventions to Forsythe Industries, the revenue you earn will be pure profit. With that much extra income, you could afford to pay your workers a better wage.” She was on very thin ice. Never had she seen a look of such antipathy simmering on Daniel’s face directed at her, and she shrank back a few inches.
“If my employees don’t like their wages, they are free to go work for someone else,” he said in a low voice vibrating with anger. “I want revenge, Clara. My mother committed suicide, did you know that? Lorna found her hanging in the kitchen and came running to me at the station, sobbing her eyes out. Katie was there and saw everything when I cut my mother down. Do you think I’m going to forget that?”
Clara felt herself blanch at the horrible image. It hurt to look Daniel in the face, and when she did she saw his mouth twisted with bitterness, the expression in his eyes making him unrecognizable. It was the face of vengeance, and it was heartbreaking to see a man as fine as Daniel succumbing to it.
“You’ve held on to this anger for twelve years,” she said gently. “If you wish to nurture this rage in private, it hurts no one but yourself. But the kind of vengeance you are carrying out causes innocent people to suffer. Proverbs says that you should not repay evil, but wait for the Lord, and He will deliver you.”
The look he sent her was withering. “Do not quote Scripture to me about this.”
The words sliced through her, but he was entitled to his resentment. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he had endured in those first few years after the accident.
“I’m sorry, Daniel. It isn’t for me to judge you, and I shouldn’t have tried.”
And just like that, the ice thawed in Daniel’s eyes and a sad smile appeared. He sighed and met her eyes. “Do you know what I’m sorry about?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry that the first evening we’ve spent together in over a decade has us stuck on the floor of a horrible old building with me snapping at you.”
The apology was unexpected and it made her want to leap into his arms, stroke the dark hair that curled on his forehead, and assure him that she’d forgive him anything. Instead she held up the bowl of fruit resting in her lap. “At least the cherries are good.”
Daniel snagged one. “I promise to do better next time. Give me another chance?”
She smiled. “As if you even need to ask.”
Chapter 7
L loyd Endicott was sitting at his desk, penning his sermon for next Sunday, when Clara confronted him. Each step weighed more heavily as she approached, knowing that this would be one of the most painful conversations she would ever have with her father. He looked up when he heard her, welcome twinkling in his blue eyes. How many times over the years had she come
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