If he got the chance, he was going to talk to her when he got there. Whatever was causing her weight loss, he needed to know. He couldn’t stand her having secrets from him, and no matter what was wrong, they’d face it together.
And it was time for him to tell Nancy he’d fallen in love with Miranda. He needed to explain to Nancy that he couldn’t keep his promise and hope she understood.
***
Miranda slid the knife around the edge of the pie plate to cut off the extra pastry on the crust of the apple pie she was preparing a few days later, then put the knife aside and began crimping the edges together.
A gust of wind rattled the window. She glanced outside, taking note of the dark clouds in the sky and the raindrops on the glass.
She sighed. She’d hoped to do the wash, but now it would have to wait.
A timid knock at the door drew her attention. Who would be out and about when a storm was coming?
Quickly, she grabbed a towel and wiped the flour off her hands as she made her way to the door and opened it.
She was surprised to see Ruth standing on the porch, the strings of her reticule wrapped tightly around her clasped hands.
“Good morning, Miranda,” Ruth said.
Suspicion wormed its way into Miranda’s brain. Ruth sounded …different, even though he couldn’t exactly say what it was about her voice that had changed since the last time they’d talked.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
Miranda held the door open and stepped aside. Ruth brushed past her, but didn’t keep going into the parlor. Instead she waited until Miranda had closed the door behind her.
“Is something wrong?” Miranda asked. She couldn’t imagine why Ruth would be visiting after the way she’d stormed out the last time they’d been together.
“No … nothing’s wrong …”
“I’m surprised you’re out in this weather,” Miranda said.
Ruth slid a glance to the window as if she didn’t know it was beginning to rain. “I’d like to speak to you if you aren’t busy.”
Miranda’s brows lifted. What could she possibly have to say that Miranda wanted to hear?
She crossed the room to the sofa, expecting Ruth to follow. She didn’t. Unusual, Miranda thought. Ruth never waited for an invitation to sit down. “What is it, Ruth?”
“I … John came to see me yesterday. He pointed out that I’d been a little … overbearing.” She paused as if she was waiting for Miranda to contradict him. When she realized that wasn’t going to happen, she continued. “I came because … I want to apologize.”
Miranda couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d heard the sky was falling. Still, she couldn’t quite accept Ruth’s sudden change of heart without suspicion. “You do?”
Ruth’s head bowed, but not before Miranda noticed the slight nod. “John and the girls are the only family I have and I love them dearly. I only want what’s best for them.”
“I know that—”
Thunder rumbled outside.
“John told me about your childhood, and why you feel so strongly about … things. He also pointed out how … rigid … I’ve become. After he left, I gave it a lot of thought and realized he’s right. I’ve grown old and set in my ways.” She let out a short chuckle. “As I’ve gotten older, it seems I’ve become my mother, something I swore I’d never do.”
I certainly hope I don’t turn into my mother, Miranda thought.
“So, I came to apologize for overstepping and I hope you can forgive me.”
Miranda noticed a quiver in Ruth’s voice, a sound she never thought she’d hear. She nodded and gave Ruth a small smile. It would take some time before Miranda could completely forgive her, but she was willing to try. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked. “I just made a batch of cookies, too.”
***
“You might as well go on home now,” John said the next Friday evening as the last of the customers left the diner. “I'll finish up here.”
Miranda glanced over at him as she slid the dirty plates into the soapy water. She’d been working alongside him all afternoon. “Are you sure? Ruth is with the girls so I don’t need to rush.”
Ruth had asked if she could take Hope and Ellie back to her house after school and start teaching them to knit. Miranda had been hesitant, but in the past few days, she’d noticed a difference in how Ruth spoke to the girls, and they seemed more comfortable around her now.
She’d question them when they got home, but she was willing to give Ruth a chance. And it gave her a little more time alone with John.
“I’m sure,” he repeated.
“When will you be home?” she asked.
“In a bit.” He dried a skillet and hung it on the hook near the stove. “I have something to take care of.”
“Your walk?” It was Friday, and she knew he always took a walk on Friday evening after he closed the diner.
He nodded. “I won’t be late.”
Miranda folded the towel and draped it over the rail nailed to the wall. She shouldn’t ask, but didn’t she have a right to know where her husband went? “John?”
“Hmm?”
“Where do you go on your walks?”
Was the sudden change in his expression just her imagination, or was it guilt?
“Around,” he replied, turning his back on her and busying himself at the counter. “Why the questions? Don’t you trust me?”
Did she? She honestly couldn’t say she did.
She didn’t answer. She wrapped her cape around her shoulders and picked up her reticule. “I’ll see you at home.”
Then she walked out. Coming from the heat in the diner’s kitchen, the air outside made her shiver. She wouldn’t be surprised if she woke the next morning to frost covering the ground.
She hurried down the boardwalk toward the house, but the closer she got, the slower she walked.
At the corner of the street, she stopped, turning to look back toward the diner.
She shouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t even think about it. It was wrong. But she couldn’t help herself. She had to know where he went.
He hadn’t said how long he’d be, but judging by the dirty dishes stacked on the worktable, he’d be at least a half hour. That would give her time to go home and get warmer clothes for what she was planning.
The light still glowed from inside the diner when she slid into the alley between the bank and the gunsmith’s shop across the street from the diner. Finally, John turned off the last of the lamps and came outside, closing the door behind him and locking it.
Miranda’s heartbeat thundered against her ribs. She shouldn’t be here, hiding in the shadows, spying on her husband. If he caught her … No, she wouldn’t think about that.
He didn’t see her. Digging his hands into his jacket pockets, he walked in the opposite direction, toward the edge of town.
He disappeared around the side of a building, and Miranda hurried along the boardwalk to try to see where he was going.
Just when she was about to pass the saloon, three men came outside. She recognized them as regular customers at the diner. If they saw her … Quickly, she ducked into the shadowed alleyway.
As she looked on, they strolled down the steps to where three horses were tied to the hitching post. Frustration filled her. Why didn’t they get on their horses and ride away? How was she supposed to find out where John had gone without the men seeing her?
The men talked for what seemed like hours before they finally went on their way. With a sigh of relief, Miranda peeked out of the alley. She was too late.
John appeared from behind the building and walked down the boardwalk. He stopped in front of the saloon for a few seconds, then went inside.
Miranda’s chest tightened. Her throat squeezed shut and tears filled her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.
John had told her he was falling in love with her, and she’d thought once she lost weight, he would find her attractive.
But he didn�
��t. He still found it necessary to go to the saloon and find a woman. She’d never have a real marriage, never have children of her own.
She could go back to Beckham, but how could she bear to leave Hope and Ellie?
Chapter Thirteen
Miranda took a large spoonful of apple pie and whipped cream and put it into her mouth. Tears dripped onto the table, but she didn’t care. She’d starved herself for nothing.
And as she’d trudged home after seeing John go into the saloon, it had occurred to her that she’d been doing the one thing she’d been determined not to do to the children.
She wanted them to grow up to be themselves, not to try to be something they weren’t so they’d be accepted and loved. Yet wasn’t that what she’d been doing? Trying to lose weight so that John would want her, that they could have a real marriage and maybe even more children one day?
She could never be a slim, feminine woman, yet until now she’d never truly accepted that. But now, she had no choice. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life trying to be something she wasn’t.
And if John couldn’t love her because of her appearance, there was nothing she could do about it. She wouldn’t try any longer.
Ruth and the children had arrived shortly after she reached the house, and within a few minutes, they were safely tucked into bed and were sound asleep.
Her heart splintered at the thought of leaving them. She couldn’t do it, no matter how hurt she was by John’s rejection. His words of love meant nothing to him.
She sniffled as she took another bite of the pie, relishing the sweet taste as the apple mixture slid across her tongue.
She heard the front door open, and for a brief moment, she thought about hurrying upstairs so she wouldn’t have to speak to him. But the moment passed. It was time to let him know exactly how she felt.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she rose from the table and took in a few calming breaths. Then she walked slowly toward the front door where he was hanging his jacket on the hook.
“The girls in bed?” he asked, turning to give her a smile.
Her pain faded, and anger took its place. He had the nerve to smile at her as if he’d done nothing wrong?
“Yes.”
He hung his hat on the same hook, then turned to face her. A frown creased his forehead. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
This was it! “No. I’m not all right.”
He was beside her in an instant. “What is it? Are you sick? Hurt?”
“No. Yes—”
“Which is it?”
“Where did you go tonight?”
“You know where I went,” he said quietly.
“Yes, I do. The saloon.”
“Among other places.”
Miranda didn’t have any idea where those other places were since she hadn’t been able to follow him when he disappeared behind the building. What was important, though, was that he’d gone to the saloon, and he was quite willing to admit it.
Her stomach churned, but whether it was pain or anger, she couldn’t tell. “You tell me you’re falling in love with me, but you go to the saloon to take care of your …” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Your physical needs. Or do you take care of them elsewhere, like somewhere at the other end of town?”
“What are you talking about?”
The tears welled up again, which infuriated her. “I saw you.”
“Where?”
“I followed you when you went for your walk,” she said. “Where did you go besides the saloon? To another woman’s house maybe?”
“I’ll tell you, but first you have to tell me why you’re so upset.”
Miranda fisted her hands and dug them into the small pockets on her flowered apron. “I came to Texas to be a wife and mother. I love Hope and Ellie as if they were my own daughters, and I hoped that eventually we might have a real marriage. On our wedding night, I saw how repulsed you were by me—”
“Repulsed? What the devil are you talking about? I wasn’t repulsed by you—”
“Let me finish.”
John raised his hands in surrender. “Go ahead.”
“I know a man has needs. When you turned away from me, I knew then that you would find someone else to take care of those needs, and I understood that. Then I … I fell in love with you … and I didn’t want you to go to anyone else.”
“You fell in love with me?”
“I tried not to. I didn’t want to, but I did. And I thought if I stopped eating so much, I’d lose weight and then … then you might stop going to someone else. That you’d want me instead.”
He closed the gap between them and gripped her shoulders. “Are you telling me you were starving yourself deliberately so you’d be thinner?”
His jaw was tense, as if he was angry with her. What did he have to be angry about? She nodded.
“Are you crazy? Do you realize you scared me half to death? I thought you were sick, that I was going to lose you, too.”
“I’m not sick, just sick and tired of trying to be the kind of woman a man is attracted to. I’ve lost weight. I’m thinner now, and yet you still go to the saloon.”
“I went to the saloon to talk to Pete about helping me expand the diner.”
Had she heard him right? “Really?”
He grinned. “I don’t go to the saloon, Miranda. At least not for what you think.”
“Where did you go earlier then?” she asked. “I saw you go behind the buildings at the edge of town.”
“The same place I’ve been going every Friday, to the cemetery to talk to Nancy.”
Miranda’s heart sank, lodging in her stomach. Just when she thought there might be a future for them, he snatched it away.
“But tonight, I went to tell her I love my new bride, and I want to have a real marriage. I’d promised her I’d never love another woman. I was wrong. I think she understands, and I think she’s happy that I found another woman I could love and who loved me and her children so much.”
Miranda held her breath, afraid to let hope creep in. “You were at the cemetery?” she murmured, gazing into his dark eyes.
“I was. I loved Nancy, and she’ll always have a piece of my heart. We were young, she was my first love, and she was the mother of my children. What I feel for you is a different kind of love, but it’s stronger, deeper and so much more than what I felt for her.”
Miranda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He loved her. He really did love her. She understood his feelings for his wife, and she respected that. If she was being honest, she would have thought less of him if he didn’t have feelings toward the woman he’d once loved and lost.
“That’s why you kissed me on our wedding night and then turned away? Because of the promise, not because you couldn’t stand to touch me?”
He released her shoulders and cupped her chin in one palm. Leaning down, he kissed her soundly until she was breathless when he finally raised his head.
“You really don’t see how beautiful you are, do you?” he asked.
She shook her head.
Wrapping his hand around hers, he turned away, taking her with him as he crossed the room and led her up the stairs to their bedroom.
He stood aside at the door and gestured for her to go inside. He followed, closing the door behind him and ushered her toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
“John? What are you doing? Why are we standing here?”
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Look in the mirror,” he ordered.
“Why? What—?”
“What do you see?”
“This is silly—”
“Tell me.”
She stared at her reflection, her gaze sliding from her hair down to her feet. “I see a woman who’s past her prime, whose hair is the color of mud and frizzes when it’s damp.”
“What else?”
“A woman whose facial features are too big, and whose body won’t ever be dainty a
nd slim no matter how tight her corsets are.”
“You really see yourself that way?”
She nodded.
“Now let me tell you what I see,” he said. “I see a woman whose hair reminds me of the heat of fire, whose eyes sparkle with joy and are barely big enough to contain the love I see in them for me and our girls. I see a woman whose mouth is wide to hold the smiles and laughter she fills our home with, and whose body fits perfectly against mine. I see the woman I love. The woman I intend to love for the rest of my life.”
Miranda’s tears spilled over and trickled down her cheeks, but this time they were tears of happiness. Her love for John and their children filled her to overflowing.
“And we’re going to have a real marriage?” she asked.
He grinned, a wicked look in his eye. “Oh, Mrs. Weaver, you have no idea,” he went on, turning her to face him and reaching for the top button of her workdress, “Now, let me show you how much I really do love you. All of you. Forever and always.”
Epilogue
Ten months later
John wrapped an arm around Miranda’s shoulder as they stood with the children and watched with a growing crowd of people as two men hung a banner above the Blue Sapphire announcing the grand re-opening.
Pride filled John, although he knew none of it would have been possible without Miranda’s hard work. Soon she’d be too busy to help, he thought, sliding a glance at the small bump on Miranda’s stomach where her hand was resting, even though she assured him she’d find time to still bake the pies the diner’s customers raved about.
He looked around at his friends, his neighbors, all gathering to help him celebrate the expansion, and his chest filled with gratitude and love for the woman standing beside him. “I couldn’t have done this without you,” he told her.
Miranda grinned up at him. “We did it together.”
“When Nancy died, I thought my life was over, that I’d never be happy again. How wrong I was. I’ve never been happier than I am right at this moment.”
Mail-Order Miranda (Brides of Beckham) Page 11
