Make You Feel My Love

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “How do I learn to tell the difference?”

  Aunt Rosemary smiled briefly. “Practice. Experience. Faith.” She leaned forward, reaching across the table to touch the back of Chelsea’s hand. “Most important of all, trust. Trust Him. When we look to Him, He will guide us.”

  “In everything? Even in the little things that might not seem important to others?”

  “In everything.”

  Chelsea nodded.

  “My dear, when worries or troubled thoughts or whatever it is come into your mind, turn them over to God. Even if you have to turn them over a hundred or a thousand times a day, cast your cares upon Him.” She pressed a finger onto the page of her Bible. “That’s the verse just above the two I already quoted. ‘Casting all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.’”

  Something settled inside of Chelsea. She would turn those negative thoughts over to God and be glad in Him.

  * * *

  Liam could have taken Chipper with him to Boise. The dog loved to ride in the truck and was well-behaved no matter where they went together. The truth was he’d wanted an excuse to see Chelsea before he went to his mom’s house. He needed the boost that a glimpse of her would give him before he tackled what could be an unpleasant experience.

  It worked too. Chelsea’s smile, the warm way she looked at him as he passed Chipper’s leash into her hand, the sweet sound of her voice as she told him not to worry, all worked to bolster his spirits and calm his nerves.

  On the drive down out of the mountains, he played one of his favorite albums, sometimes singing along with Chris Tomlin, other times sending up quick prayers for his heart to be tender, for his mom to tell him the truth, and that she would be ready to do the right thing. He prayed for them both to be able to put their differences to rest.

  As Liam pulled his truck into the driveway, his mom stepped into view behind the storm door. A slight glare on the glass kept him from reading her expression.

  God, help me get through this.

  He opened the truck door and stepped to the ground. Drawing a deep breath, he cut across the lawn toward the front of the house. Before he reached the stoop, his mom pushed open the storm door.

  “I’ve got coffee ready,” she said before she turned and walked toward the kitchen.

  He followed right behind.

  “I didn’t expect you to want to come this early.” She poured coffee into the two waiting mugs.

  “Sorry. It felt like early was better.”

  She handed him his mug, then carried her own and a plate of cinnamon rolls to the small dining-room table.

  He sat in the chair opposite her. “I’d like you to tell me about David Harris.”

  A wry smile flitted across her mouth and was gone. “You don’t waste time.”

  “No. Enough time’s been wasted.”

  She stared into her mug. “It’s not an easy story to tell.”

  “I guess.” He heard the edge in his voice and regretted it. Still, he found it impossible to say he was sorry.

  “Years ago, David and I worked in the same office. I knew him before your dad and I got married. He was sweet and funny, and he was ready to listen whenever I wanted to talk.”

  I’ll bet.

  “David was my friend, but I loved your dad. Richard and I had so much in common, although we had our differences too. Your dad has the kind of personality that swept me away. He was very hard to resist.” She glanced up. “You’re like him in that regard.”

  It was Liam’s turn to stare into his coffee mug.

  “Your dad and I were excited when we learned I was pregnant with you, but that excitement didn’t last long. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy. I was sick a lot. There was danger and uncertainty. Problems that had the doctor wondering if I would need a C-section. I was frightened a lot of the time, not knowing if I would be okay or if you would be okay.”

  “I didn’t know that.” He looked up. “Why didn’t I know that?”

  “I never thought you needed to know.”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “By my seventh month, your dad and I were fighting constantly. He spent more and more time at the office. I didn’t understand then that he was just as scared as I was. But even after you were born and everything was okay, it seemed like he was never at home. I had a husband, but I was a single mom at the same time. I was tired and so, so blue. I suppose I had postpartum depression, although it wasn’t diagnosed. It never occurred to me to say anything to the doctor. Then one day—you were about six weeks old—I went to the grocery store, and I saw David in the bakery aisle.”

  Liam didn’t want her to go on. He knew he wouldn’t like what he heard next. He sensed it was going to be worse than expected.

  “We went for coffee. I talked and he listened. He heard me. I hadn’t felt heard in many months.” Tears filled his mom’s eyes. “We started seeing each other after that.”

  Seeing each other. A euphemism for the start of an affair. An affair that had begun when he was an infant. Not something recent. Something old. His gut clenched.

  “I got pregnant again,” she continued in a voice so soft he almost didn’t hear her. “And your dad . . . Richard knew it wasn’t his baby.”

  Liam stood so fast, his chair tipped over backward and hit the floor. He couldn’t seem to draw breath.

  Jacob . . . his baby brother . . . their mom’s favorite . . . wasn’t his dad’s son.

  “Your dad knew the truth, but he was determined not to get a divorce. I’m not sure why. I suppose he still loved me. Or maybe it was pride and he didn’t want to be the first Chandler to get a divorce. Whatever the reasons, we stayed together. David . . . David knew I was pregnant, but when I told him I wasn’t getting a divorce, that I was staying with my husband, he moved to Colorado before Jacob was born. Your dad and I built a new life together. Our marriage wasn’t the same as in the beginning, but I think we were all happy enough. Don’t you?”

  How was he supposed to answer that question? What was “happy enough” for a family?

  “A few years ago, David moved back to Boise, but I didn’t know it. He honored my request that we never be in touch again, that he would allow Jacob to be Richard’s son. Our paths never crossed. But then he learned about Jacob’s failing health from a mutual friend from the old days. He was told that Jacob was dying. So he called me, and I let him come to the house. How could I not let him see his son before it was too late?” She took in a deep breath and released it. “I made sure you weren’t home that day.”

  Liam raked his hair with the fingers of one hand. “Did Jacob know who David was? Did he . . . Did he know David was his . . . natural father?”

  “No.” She drew another breath. “No, he didn’t.”

  “When did you . . . When did the affair resume?” The words felt like they scraped his throat raw on their way out.

  “It didn’t, Liam. I’m not and wasn’t having an affair with David. We . . . shared nothing except the loss of a son. A son he only met once. That was all.”

  Did he believe her? He wanted to believe her. Did he?

  “The day you saw David here at the house, he’d come to tell me goodbye. He was moving back to Colorado. It was only the third time I’d seen him since I got pregnant over thirty years ago. The first was when he came to meet Jacob. The second was at the funeral.”

  “He’s gone now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does Dad know?”

  “Yes.”

  He rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Is Dad coming home again?”

  “I don’t know, Liam. As I told you before, it’s complicated. Even though things were fine on the surface, your dad harbored so much resentment for all those years. Even though he was the one who didn’t want a divorce, he resented what I did bitterly. And after Jacob died, I think he just stopped wanting to care or to try. He loved your brother, despite everything. Perhaps it’s his grief that made him walk out. Perhaps it was seeing David at the funeral. I don
’t know. He isn’t ready to talk about it with me.”

  On the way to see his mom, Liam had prayed she would tell him the truth and be ready to do the right thing. It appeared the prayer had been answered. He’d also prayed they could put their differences to rest. His heart said that was up to him . . . and the first step was to forgive her.

  Can I forgive her?

  He stepped to one side and righted the chair. Then he looked at his mom again. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, along with that same question: could he forgive her?

  “I don’t know any perfect people.” He’d written those words in the journal he kept. He’d admitted on the page that he wasn’t perfect and neither were his parents. Still . . .

  “I’ve got to go,” he said gruffly.

  She nodded her understanding.

  “I . . . I’ll call.”

  “All right,” she whispered.

  He turned and left the house.

  Preston

  April 1897

  Preston stood in front of the dressing mirror. Wanting to look the best he could on his wedding day, he’d ordered a new suit from a tailor in Boise. But now he regretted it. The suit itself was fine, but Preston didn’t look like himself in it. He looked like he was trying to be something he wasn’t.

  He frowned.

  Was he wrong to marry Cora? She might live in a rented room and teach in a simple schoolhouse in a small town in the mountains of Idaho. But she was refined and well educated and so much more than he would ever be, no matter how much wealth he acquired. Was it fair to ask her to tie herself to him?

  And yet, he couldn’t imagine his life without her. He couldn’t imagine not hearing her laugh or seeing her smile. He’d grown to love the way she lowered her eyes so he wouldn’t see mischief in them. He adored the bright sparkle of ideas that could burst forth at the most unexpected times. He held his breath when she played her violin, the music stirring something in his soul that nothing had touched before.

  “Preston.”

  He turned to face Sarah Mason, who stood in his bedchamber doorway. They had long since given up the formality of last names, except on those rare occasions when he conducted business at the house. The woman was more than his housekeeper. She was his friend, and he was glad she called him Preston at this moment. It made him feel less a fraud.

  “How do I look?” He tugged at his vest.

  “Very nice. As does your bride.”

  The blood seemed to drain from his head. It was a little like the time a mule kicked him in the gut. He’d nearly lost consciousness that day. He wasn’t about to do so again. Inhaling a deep breath, he moved toward Sarah with a determined stride. She gave him a quick smile before stepping out of his way.

  Voices drifted up the main stairway to greet him. Friends and neighbors come to wish the couple well on their wedding day. Many of these same people had come to his Christmas celebration, but he’d thought of them only as guests then. Now he recognized them as friends. This, too, was because of the woman he was about to marry. She’d helped him see a future for himself that was more than making himself richer. She’d helped him see Chickadee Creek as a place to call home. She’d had the courage to run from an unhappy life, and she’d given him the courage to plant roots. Deep roots.

  Smiling now, the light-headedness forgotten, he descended the stairs, suddenly in a hurry to begin living his future.

  Cora

  April 1897

  “You are absolutely beautiful,” Sarah said as she settled the bridal veil onto Cora’s head.

  Cora met her friend’s gaze in the mirror of the smallest bedchamber in Preston’s home. In what would shortly be her home, their home. “Thank you.”

  “I think I knew this day would come since the moment Preston brought you from the stagecoach to stay with me. I knew we would be friends, and I knew you two would fall in love.”

  “How did you know?”

  She tapped the side of her nose with her index finger. “Some things a woman just knows.”

  Cora laughed softly.

  “Now, I believe it’s time for you to go downstairs. Your groom’s already there, waiting for you.”

  “I’m happy. I never expected to be this happy.” She turned from the mirror. “And I thought marriage was the last thing I wanted. I wanted to be free.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “But I feel more free today than ever before in my life.”

  “The two of you.” Sarah shook her head and clucked. Then she moved to the door and opened it. “Get on with you now. I’ll be glad to have my spare room empty again.”

  Cora saw the tears swimming in her friend’s eyes a moment before she was blinded by her own. Dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, then her nose, she left the bedchamber.

  The conversations began to quiet as she came down the stairs. Through the gauzy white of her veil, she saw heads turn and smiles blossom. Her heartbeat seemed to thunder in her ears as joy coiled around her heart.

  Just as her shoe was about to alight on the final step, a knock sounded on the front door. Another guest opened it, drawing her gaze. Her foot slipped off the step, and she grabbed for the bannister.

  No! Not you. Not now.

  Although she didn’t see it happen, she felt everyone’s attention turn toward the new arrival.

  “Cora!” Aaron Anderson, the man she’d hoped never to see again, stepped into the vestibule, whipping off his hat as he did so.

  It was like seeing a ghost, and dread stole her breath away. “Father.”

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

  The silence in the house felt different now. Tense. Strained. She sensed over a dozen pairs of eyes on her.

  “I’m getting married,” Cora answered, stating the obvious.

  “So I was told. It’s good I arrived when I did.” He sent a disparaging look at the guests, then returned his gaze to Cora. “Go and change your clothes. We’ll put an end to this nonsense.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Does it matter? I’ve wasted nearly two years of my time and wasted a great deal of money on investigators.”

  The article in the newspaper. He didn’t have to answer her question. That insignificant little article in an insignificant little newspaper had given her away and brought him to Idaho.

  In a near whisper, she said, “You didn’t have to do either.”

  “By heavens. I won’t be defied. We will leave for Boise City at once.”

  “Father, I—”

  “At once. Do you hear me? You will come with me now.”

  For one horrible moment, Cora thought she had no choice but to obey him. Then movement from the parlor entrance caused her to turn her head. Preston stood there, looking handsome in his new suit. More important, she saw his goodness and his strength. She saw his love. Certainty welled in her chest, a confidence in the life she’d chosen.

  She looked at her father again. “No, Father. I will not go with you. But you’re welcome to join our other guests.”

  “Your guests?” His tone was derogatory.

  “Our friends,” she added, taking the last step.

  Her father glowered.

  Pity welled within her, and the realization surprised her even more than his sudden appearance. For all his money and power, he was a miserable man. He would never have enough. For every goal he reached, all he saw was what he hadn’t achieved yet. He only noticed the men who had more.

  Without another word, she turned toward Preston.

  Preston

  April 1897

  In the weeks following Preston’s proposal, Cora had shared with him the details of her life before she’d come to Chickadee Creek. Seeing the pain in the eyes of the woman he loved, he’d disliked Aaron Anderson, sight unseen.

  Having that very same man barge into his home on his wedding day and demand that Cora leave with him made Preston’s blood boil. He wanted to drive the older man from the vestibule, off the porch, and into the street. But he didn’t a
ct. Perhaps it was seeing the certainty on Cora’s face or hearing the strength and determination in her voice. Perhaps it was the confident way she turned from her father and moved toward Preston. It made his heart soar. He held out a hand for her, and when she reached him, she took it.

  “She’ll have no inheritance,” her father shouted. “You marry her without my permission or approval.”

  Hurt flashed in Cora’s eyes. As if her father had declared aloud that he didn’t love her and didn’t care what happened to her.

  But if so, why had he come all this way to take her home? Preston didn’t understand any of it. What he did know was that he’d like to smash his fist into her father’s face.

  With resolve, he curbed the desire for vengeance as he tucked Cora’s hand into the crook of his arm. Then, forcing a calm into his voice that he didn’t feel, he met her father’s gaze. “Mr. Anderson, your daughter is of age. She can marry without your permission.” He looked at Cora again. “Nor do we have need of an inheritance. For I am very much in love with her, and I need no inducement to take her as my bride.”

  Aaron Anderson sputtered a few words under his breath.

  Let him sputter, Preston thought as he drew Cora toward the parlor. Nothing could keep me from marrying her. Nothing.

  Chapter 21

  The drive from Boise to Chickadee Creek seemed at least twice as long as the one headed the other direction. Liam had to force himself to concentrate on the road rather than give in to the wild swings of his thoughts and emotions.

  He was relieved when Rosemary Townsend’s house came into view. He slowed and turned into her drive but sat unmoving for a while after cutting the engine. He hadn’t even reached for the door handle when Chipper bounded out of the house and off the porch.

  “Hey, fella.” Liam got out of the truck, squatted, and loved on the dog, feeling some of the tension ease in his shoulders.

  “We didn’t expect you back this soon.”