“You may walk my hill anytime you wish. Besides, your dog will want to see you. She moans from time to time and I have to reassure her you are coming back for her.”
“Oh, my poor Honeysuckle.” She looked at the dog. “She did that as a puppy too. I do hope she isn’t a burden.”
“Naw.” He laughed under his breath. “But you really must come and see her as often as you like. Maybe then you can tell me why a city girl left her home for the country, why she picked Azure Springs, and why I feel like you know me even though we’ve only recently met.”
“I don’t know if I understand it all myself. Life did not go how I had expected it to. I’m merely trying to leap at the right moments and land on solid ground.”
He reached down and took her hand in his and quickly pressed his fingers around hers. “I know that feeling.” Then he let go.
Penny sighed now at the memory. Remembering the way his eyes had beckoned her just as his letters had when they’d fallen into her hands. Every look, every sigh, even the smell of what was left of the crops on the breeze had been perfect.
With her letter to Dinah written, she left her little room and went to the dining hall. It was early yet. Margaret shooed her away and told her to come back in fifteen minutes. Obediently, she stepped outside into the evening sun, where she leaned her back against the outside of the boardinghouse and looked down the street. Couples, families, single men. These people who had been strangers to her only days ago now felt like much more.
“My, my, what a surprise.”
“Thomas.” She felt the breath in her lungs leave her. He was here. Again.
“With the men working my farm, I’ve time to come get a real meal in me. Besides, I needed to get away from those trampled fields. And Honey here was moaning again.” He ran his hand through the dog’s shaggy hair. Penny quickly looked the man over. He had cleaned up since she’d seen him last, only hours ago.
She put up her hand. “Wait here. Before I forget again, I have the letter you left on the hitching post the other day at the stables. The one you intended to send and never did. I believe it’s for a Clara. I’ve not opened it. I meant to return it sooner.”
“I don’t need it. The postmaster was right. It doesn’t need to be sent. Let’s get into the dining hall before Margaret has our throats. I’ll tie Honey out back until after the meal.”
“She’s not ready yet. I was just in there. She very firmly instructed me to go away for fifteen minutes. I try my best to follow her orders. It keeps me on her good side.”
“I believe fifteen minutes is long enough for us to stroll down Main Street and back.” He offered his arm. “You can tell me more about the city girl and her motives.”
“I have a feeling you will badger me relentlessly about it.” She didn’t want to answer. All she wanted was to walk down the street on the arm of this handsome, intriguing man. But if she never told him who she was—who she really was—could they ever be more than mere acquaintances? Something deep inside her wanted very much to be more than a mere friend to him. “Very well. My father was Stephen Ercanbeck. He was a self-made man. The hardest worker I’ve ever known. He started as a store clerk and managed to work his way up until he owned several stores and had immense investments. He was brilliant. He knew where to put his money and, like magic, it would multiply. By the time he married my mother, he was one of the wealthiest men in Washington, DC. She had come from money and was several years his junior.”
“You told me he died.”
“He did. Five years ago. After he died, we carried on without him. For two years we carried on, living in the same circles. Unbeknownst to us, his finances were being ill managed. We lost everything. Even our own relatives were embarrassed by the scandal and would not help us. Or maybe they refused because we were poor and there was no advantage in being our friends or calling us family.” She looked away. “It hurt at first. But I worked, and somehow we survived. Though my mother never accepted the losses. She’s been living in denial for years. I learned the language of work and frugality, but she refuses. She’s blinded by her goal of going home, back to wealth and the world she knew before. I don’t know that I want to return to a world full of the type of people who shunned us.”
“I wish I could tell you they were wicked and awful for betraying you and that I’d never do such a thing,” Thomas said with a hint of regret in his voice. “I’d sound noble for saying it. But I am guilty of as much. When I was in the city, I spent far too much time mingling with only certain families. Until I came here, I didn’t realize that being poor isn’t a crime. I never knew so many fine people were out there.”
“I like it here. I like how people are friends because of their shared goodness, not because of their shared status. I met Violet Lane the other day and that dear woman was so eager to have someone listen to her. I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable living with fences between me and other people again.” They reached the end of Main Street and simultaneously turned back around. “My Uncle Clyde’s wife died and now he is alone and has asked me and my mother to move to his home. He’s as unkind as I remember him being when I was a child and just as controlling. He’s already lining up suitors for me. I don’t have to see them to know there’s no chance I’d approve of his choices. I must decide whether to move in with him or continue providing for myself. I couldn’t think clearly in DC, so I went away.”
“You came here?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Only it wasn’t that simple.”
Thomas walked beside her, silently waiting. When the moment stretched on, he spoke. “You don’t have to tell me. I admit I’m curious, more than I ought to be, but you don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I want to.” She tried to think of the right way to tell him that she had come because of him. “But I know it will all sound so preposterous when I say it aloud.”
Before she was able to pull together an explanation, they were back at the door of the dining hall.
“I will tell you exactly why I came to Azure Springs. I’ve never been good with secrets. But Margaret hates it when I’m late to her meals. I’m not leaving town just yet. There will be time for it all later. Anyway, I’m told a good story is meant to keep you wanting more.”
“There’s no way you’ll tell me tonight? I find I’m in the mood for a good tale.” He pled with her, not only with his words but with the tone of his voice.
“I’m partial to stories as well.” She nearly gave in, but she wanted one more night of fantasy. “Let’s wait. I think it’ll be better tomorrow when I’ve time to think of the right way to explain it all.”
“Very well.” His eyes questioned her, but he said, “Let’s eat.”
They stepped away from the quiet of the street and into the ruckus of the dining hall.
“Look who decided to set his spade down and come put something nourishing in his stomach,” Margaret declared when they walked through the door. “And you’ve found the charming Penny. Why don’t the two of you sit here in the corner. I’m expecting a full house tonight and that’ll be the quietest spot.”
Penny slid onto the bench. “Thank you.”
Thomas slid onto the bench beside her. The hall filled quickly, and he sat so close that they were nearly touching. He shifted on the narrow bench until he was looking right at her. “Penny.”
“Yes?”
“Will you walk with me again tomorrow?” His cheeks had more color in them than normal. He looked younger, almost boyish. But the scruff on his jaw gave him away. “I know you aren’t here long. If you were, I’d put time between seeing you. I’d wait. I do know the rules of propriety. But as it is, I want to spend time with you and your time here is limited. I’m not sure why, but I want to see you again.” He winced. “That didn’t come out right. I only meant it doesn’t make sense me wanting to know you. My life is complicated and your visit is short. I’ve tried to pry out your secrets, but I have mine too. I’m not sure if it’s right my wanti
ng to see you again, but . . . well”—he took a deep breath—“something about being in your presence makes me want to be the character with a happy ending.”
“I’d like to walk with you.” She patted his hand. “For research, of course. I’ve got to get to know my heroic farmer better.”
“Before dinner tomorrow?”
“Yes. If you promise to tell me more about yourself. I don’t want to be the only one confessing secrets.”
“I will. I’ll be by an hour before dinner and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It’s a promise.” He reached out his hand and offered it to her. She took it and they slowly shook hands. Their eyes locked as they made the promise. “I’ll keep my word.”
18
Throughout dinner, they talked only of trivial things. The food they’d grown up eating. The sounds of the country compared to those of the city. Simple things. Beautiful, easy things. And then all too quickly the meal was over and she was alone in her room.
Penny yearned to spend more time with him. To ask him countless questions. Ones that would peel away his exterior and expose who he was inside. What was in his heart? What dreams did he carry?
But he was gone now, and she’d have to wait until tomorrow evening to see him. She tried to recall all that had transpired between them. And then she recalled the crinkled letter he had written to Clara. She could read it now. His words could tide her over until she was in his presence again.
After all, he didn’t want the letter back. At the dead letter office, they’d have considered it rejected. If he had mailed it, she’d have gotten it when it arrived at the office. What harm could there be in reading it now? The letter might give her another glimpse into his soul—and there was nothing she wanted more than that.
Penny walked to the window and looked out at the moon shining brightly in the sky. She turned and eyed her closed door. No one could see her. No one would know. Several times she crossed the wooden floor. Back and forth she walked while she wrestled with temptation. A twinge of guilt grew within her, but she fought it off.
And then she knelt next to her trunk and pulled out the letter. She tore it open before she could second-guess her decision.
Dear Clara,
When I left Alexandria, I felt like a man stumbling under a heavy load. I knew not where I was going. I kept writing you even though the letters would never reach you. Still, it seemed like the right thing to do. It seemed like the only thing to do. There was no other way to say I’m sorry. I’ve said it before, and though I know your eyes will never see this letter, I’ll say it again. I’m sorry.
If I’d done things different, you’d be here. I blame myself for your death. I should have been there to save you. I should have loved you more selflessly. I was the wrong sort of man then. And now here I am in a welcoming town, surrounded for the first time in my life by real friends. I am finally thinking with more than my account books in mind, yet my decision that night still haunts me. Forgive me, Clara. If I could go back, I’d be a better man. I’d be the sort of man who would have protected you. I’d have loved you how you ought to have been loved. I’ll regret it always. My heart will always ache for you—
Penny stopped reading. All his words confused her.
The paper shook in her trembling hand. She shoved the letter back into her trunk and sat with her head in her hands. Why did he blame himself? She died in a fire. Clara’s servant had said so. Mostly, she hated the pain that shot through her heart as she realized Thomas was still grieving for Clara. He yearned for her hand, and rightly so. He’d loved her, had he not?
It was true that Penny’s heart came alive every time she was near the man, but having one heart alive was not enough to build a life around. She’d been naïve to think there was a chance for love with Thomas. Her money would run out and he’d still be yearning for Clara.
She stood and walked again to the window. There in front of her was the town she’d come to love so quickly. This was her leap and she had taken it. A wave of sadness swept over her as she realized it was all going to end, and though there had been sweet moments, it wasn’t her reality. What even was real? Not the fantasy she’d created about the man behind the letters. She had pictured him as the victim of a tragic misunderstanding. But he’d had some hand in Clara’s death. Why had he written to her when he’d known all along she was dead? Penny felt as though she were walking through a haze.
But weren’t the moments they’d shared real? Who was the man she’d danced with, the man she’d walked the fields with, the man she’d laughed with? Who was he? Would she ever really know?
Had the people of Alexandria turned their backs on him because he’d been cruel? Was he an evil man? A wicked man? Was he what Clara’s family didn’t want to be reminded of?
The line between what she wanted to believe and what she knew was a blur.
Mr. Douglas’s voice echoed through her mind. “The letters are not meant for you. Their contents are to be read and then forgotten.” Why hadn’t she taken those words to heart? She should have thrown Thomas’s letters into the bin. Now for the first time, she admitted it. All the letters. All the heartache and sentiment. None of it had been for her. She was never meant to worry about Thomas or cross the country to see his face. Sick with realization and heartache, she wrapped her arms around her middle. She’d been lonely and let her imagination get the better of her. Somehow she’d tricked herself into believing those letters, though not addressed to her, were for her. And now in the dim glow of moonlight she realized what a fool she had been.
She yearned for Honey or some other comfort. But she was alone. Very alone. Back and forth she traipsed, until at last she decided to break free from the barren room. Taking rapid steps, she rushed down the stairs only to fall into Margaret’s arms when she reached the bottom.
“I heard you up there. You sounded restless.” Margaret steadied her, then stepped back and searched her face. “You’re pale as a ghost. Come tell me what’s wrong.” She stretched out her hand toward Penny, motioning for her to follow.
“I’ve . . . I’ve learned something. I think I have at least. I suppose I just realized something I should have known long ago.” Tears came with the words and poured down her face.
Margaret stopped walking and pulled Penny into an embrace. Penny sobbed into the good woman’s shoulder. “I’ve been so wrong and foolish. I thought I knew someone, but I realize that I don’t and wasn’t really meant to. I don’t even know if they are as honorable as I want to believe they are. I’m so confused.” She groaned. “I realize now what a simpleton I’ve been.”
Margaret stepped back and held Penny at arm’s length. “If you can, ask your questions of whomever it is you’ve changed your views on. Far too many relationships have been ruined simply because the right questions were never asked. Slow down.” She squeezed Penny’s shoulders. “Slow down if you can. The situation may not be as horrible as it seems right now.”
Penny sniffled. “I do hope you’re right.”
Margaret pulled her back into her arms and held her close. “Remember too that mistakes are part of the journey.”
“You don’t understand. It’s not just that I don’t know who they really are. I’ve been careless with my heart and wandered down a path that is eating through my money and getting me nowhere. I fell in love with the idea of love, but now I see how foolish that was. I think I fell in love with someone else’s love story. I was lonely, and I got caught up in something that wasn’t mine.” She shook her head, embarrassed and wishing she could run from it all. “If only I could go back and do things differently. I’d not be here, that’s for certain.”
“And this person. I’m assuming it’s Thomas. Does he seem like a bad man to you?”
“No, he seems like a very good man. In truth, he seems better than any man I’ve known. But I would not be the first woman to be deceived.”
“You’re right.” Margaret laugh
ed a little. “No one will argue with you on that.”
“It’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not.” Margaret’s voice grew tender. “I should not belittle your pain. You have every right to feel sorrow or worry. Go on and cry if you think it’ll help.”
Penny allowed herself several self-pitying moments of fretting. Her handkerchief was soaked through with tears when Margaret put her hands on Penny’s cheeks. “Dear girl, face whatever it is. You’ve been brave already. You’ve come here on your own. Only a brave soul would do that. Be brave again. Be brave until the end. You can’t go back and undo this. It’s one of the harsh realities of this life. If I could I’d go back and unsay every harsh word I’ve ever uttered. But I can’t—and you can’t change the past either. Look ahead.”
Penny crossed her arms tightly against herself. “Margaret.”
“Yes?”
“I wasn’t brave when I came here. I was afraid and lonely most of the journey.” Penny bit her bottom lip. “I was trying to do what I thought was right, but now I’m here and my money is dwindling and I’m no closer to knowing which path to take with my life.”
“Something must have led you to Azure Springs. It’s not exactly on the way to anything.”
Penny felt a sudden need so powerful she could not contain it. Desperately, she needed a friend. A friend who knew her, who knew the truth. And so, in a few breathless sentences, she spilled her tale of loss and leaping, beginning with her father’s death. She told about her mother, about their financial ruin and her years working as a clerk. “The letters Thomas was sending kept coming to the office. They were written to a woman. They were full of longing and regret. I could tell he cared for her deeply. I found his letters consuming. I thought about them all the time. There was so much feeling in them.” She took a deep breath. “They spoke to me. Call me foolish if you wish, but they did. I’ve read so many letters, but none have ever affected me like his did. I know it was wrong, but it was almost as though the letters were for me.”
Yours Truly, Thomas Page 17
