“No. I will write you.” He pointed to the letter from Dinah. “Was that not enough?”
“I loved it. It made me long to see my friend. It made me happy and sad and so many other things all at once.” She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “I miss her. Now I have her words to revisit as often as I like. But I want more. And don’t you just feel like a letter is a special gift?”
“My experience with receiving letters has been primarily limited to business correspondence.”
“I confess, I love letters. My father used to write my mother. I believe my fondness for letters began when I first discovered that he addressed his letters to her ‘my darling.’ Since then I’ve always loved the written word.”
“Then that is what you’ll get.” He stood up suddenly. “I’ll write you friendly correspondence. I . . . I wasn’t saying I’d write a letter like your father wrote.” He bent over and picked up the water glass. “Here. Have another drink.”
“Thank you.” She took it and brought it to her lips for a long sip. “I wasn’t asking for a letter like the ones my father wrote.” Such a silly request. She chastised herself for being so bold.
He sat back down. “I’m sorry. What would you like it to be about?”
“I don’t know. My favorites are letters that tap into the soul. The written word has a way of capturing emotion in a sweet and profound way.”
“I’m not sure I can write a letter that opens my soul.”
She smiled, remembering the letters he had written to Clara. The longing, the sadness, the pain. She had felt it all when she read his words. “Try?”
“For you, I will.”
22
Thomas sat much of the night at his desk with a blank piece of paper in front of him. Writing to Penny felt so different from writing to Clara. The words he wrote would not be for his own healing but for another’s. Penny’s presence, even when she was in pain or sleeping, was incredibly pleasant. What words does one write to an angel?
My Dear Penny,
He wadded the piece of paper into a ball. She was not his Penny even if he had begun to think of her as such. He began again.
Dear Penny,
When you arrived in town, you brought sunshine with you. My life had been so dark and then there you were. I was climbing out of a deep hole, and I felt like if I followed the light, I’d be all right. I was searching for a hand to hold, someone to help me figure out how to go on and how to live. I was seeking purpose and joy.
And then there you were with your green eyes and dimpled smile. You’ve been in my head and heart since that first day. You were so charming, all flustered as you struggled to pull Honey from the mud, then later when you stumbled about trying to put papers and books back on the display. Something about the way you smiled, or perhaps it was the way you made me laugh over the pie at the social. Or was it the way you listened when I spoke or the way my heart raced when you were in my arms? The truth is, I don’t know what it was about you that changed me. I only know that you did. And even now, as I plead with God to ease your pain, I am changed. I’ve never cared for another’s wants and needs. I didn’t know the purpose that could be found in acts of selflessness until now. I find myself wanting to care for you always. If I could choose a course to lead, I’d choose one that included holding your hand forever.
Your very presence makes me believe I can be more than what I was before. I am not sure what led you to Azure Springs. But I believe God was in it. He must have been. There is no other way something so beautiful could be born of so much pain. And you and I both have walked our own tear-stained paths.
He looked at his words on the page. They were true. Every word was true. He had felt different since he met her. And he did wish and pray and hope there could be a way for him to enjoy Penny’s presence always. But he could not put that letter into her hands. Not now. Not when there were still so many unspoken words between them. Not when he’d just made a fool of himself letting her know he would not be writing a love letter.
He took another clean sheet of paper and laid it on the desk.
Dear Penny,
As you know, I live on a beautiful farm that I know will produce next to nothing this year. It’s strange, though, that I care so little. Don’t get me wrong, I am a man who believes in hard work. But I’ve learned so much from the labor, from the unpredictable nature of farming, and even from the loss that I don’t mind. I never knew I could fail and succeed at the same time. I have reaped a great deal despite my abysmal harvest. My little farm has taught me about life. About planting good seeds and riding out the storms, and for the first time in my life I see value in my failure. I don’t know what course I’ll take next. I think I’ll walk the streets of this town and see what I might offer it. I owe it that much. It’s given me a new start and welcomed me with open arms.
My life as a farmer and the lessons I’m learning are probably not what you were hoping to read about. But if you want to know my soul, then you must know I am a man navigating a new road. A path I never planned to travel. A path I found as I struggled with remorse, loneliness, and uncertainty. A path I wish I’d found some other way but that I am grateful to be on.
You in your own way have been part of my journey. Even before you saved me from the flames, you were there reminding me to smile. I thank you for it. And I pray for a swift and full recovery for both you and your mud-loving dog.
Prayers for healing,
Thomas
For a moment, he stared at his words. They would do. His soul was exposed but not as completely as in his other attempt. He slept then, grateful that Margaret had arranged to have people sit with Penny during the night.
At first light, he crossed the hall and rapped on her door. He had heard someone leave not long ago and hoped to find Penny alone.
“Come in.” She had been awake already. He could tell from her now-familiar voice.
“I’ve your letter,” he said as he opened the door and entered the room. Penny was propped up in bed. Her dark hair was loose, hanging around her shoulders. He walked to her bed and held out the paper. “I’m not the best with words.”
She clasped her hands together. “You wrote it! Already?” She smiled and took the letter from him.
“I did.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. Everything in him wanted to reach out and touch her. “Read it when I’m gone. Save it for when you are tired of looking at these four walls. I know how it can be sitting around all day.”
She pressed the letter to her heart. “I will enjoy every word of it. It’s a beautiful gift.”
“What will you do when you return to the city? I’ve wondered about it since you told me your two options.” For a second he wished he could take back the words. Asking her, though he craved an answer, meant facing her impending departure. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. If only she would tell me she was staying.
Penny pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “I’ve struggled with this decision. I hope to have my job still. Margaret has sent word to Mr. Douglas at the office telling him of my injuries and asking him to be patient while I recover. I will attempt to find a boardinghouse or room to rent. I might be able to board with a girl from the office. I haven’t been able to work all of that out yet. I feel tired whenever I think of going back.”
“What of your mother?”
Penny looked away. “I asked Margaret to send word of my injuries. We’ve heard nothing back, but it may be she hasn’t gotten it. My uncle has always been fond of traveling, so perhaps she’s away. I don’t know her schedule. Anyway, I think working is a better choice. I may not have financial freedom, but I will have the freedom to choose how I live. I don’t think I could find joy in a forced marriage. If for some reason Mr. Douglas will not take me back or for some reason I become desperate, I suppose I’ll have to submit to my uncle to survive.”
“Where did you work?” Thomas asked. Talking of wages seemed far safer than discussing marriages of convenience. “
Tell me who you were before you came. I’d like to know.”
She fidgeted with the letter in her hands. “I worked at an office. I sorted papers.” Her eyes would not meet his. What was she trying so hard not to tell him?
“What sort of an—”
“Thomas,” someone shouted up the stairs. “Thomas, are you here?”
He stepped away from the bed and went to the door. “I’m up here.” Then he turned toward Penny. “It’s the sheriff. I forgot we were meeting to talk about my barn. Can we talk more later?”
“Go. That’s where you need to be.” She waved the letter in the air. “I’ll just read this letter while you’re away.”
He hesitated at the door. Everything in him wanted to stay. “I’ll be back. I want to know more.”
“I worked at the dead letter office,” she blurted out, then covered her mouth.
“You worked at the dead letter office?” He didn’t mask his surprise. It couldn’t be true. The dead letter office was where his lost letters had wound up. His letters to Clara. His stomach twisted into knots. “The dead letter office?”
“Yes.”
“What? H-how?” He’d already had questions for her, but now he didn’t even know where to begin. When he had thought privately about her past, he’d never once thought to include the dead letter office in his speculations. He tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “You—”
“Thomas.” The sheriff’s voice traveled up the stairs again.
He stared at her. Who was she? Who was she really?
“Go,” she said. “Go be with the sheriff. I’ll be here when you return. I’ll tell you anything you wish to know. I’ll tell you it all.”
He stared a moment longer, torn between leaving and staying. Finally, he stepped away from the room. “I’ll be back,” he said before shutting the door behind him.
What had she done?
She put her hand on her chest. The hand he’d held so often these last few days. Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes. “I had to tell him,” she said to Honey, knowing it was true. The dog’s face turned down. “Don’t look at me like that. I had to. I can’t pretend forever.” But the truthfulness of it all did not make it easier to swallow. Honey staggered across the floor until she was sitting at Penny’s bedside. “I didn’t mean to care for him so. I don’t know how it happened.”
Honey whimpered, and the sound of it pierced her heart. Why couldn’t she have met Thomas in some simple, ordinary way?
“Shall I read his words?” she asked. Honey cocked her head. “I hope they are not the last words we read from him.” She took a deep breath, trying to brace herself for the very real chance that they may be. “I’ll not think of that now. I’ll just read them and enjoy them. Let’s just be happy we have them. All right?”
Penny unfolded the letter. She didn’t read it right away. Instead, she allowed her eyes to admire the fine penmanship.
He wrote to me. Thomas Conner wrote to me.
She pushed herself up higher in the bed so she was sitting and brought the letter closer. Slowly she read his words. Savoring each sentence, devouring them like one consumes a rich and delectable pastry. This is what I wanted, she reminded herself. Her purpose for coming to Azure Springs was to know he was well—and he was. Only now she wished there could be a different purpose in it all. A longer, more lasting purpose.
Another knock.
Penny folded the letter and tucked it beneath her pillow.
“Come in.”
“I’m sorry to come by unannounced. I’m Eliza Danbury. I’ve wanted to meet you but have not been able to until now.” The woman looked back toward the door, her eyes like those of a skittish deer. “I hope it’s all right that I’ve come by.”
Penny had seen Eliza at the social. This beautiful woman was Jeb’s wife. Why was she here? “It’s nice to officially meet you. I’m Penelope Ercanbeck. I’d get up and give you a proper greeting if I could.”
“Please don’t even try. I can’t stay long. I have to get back before . . . I just have to be back soon. I wanted to stop by and see how you were. I heard you were hurt in the fire.”
Penny nodded. “I was. A beam crashed into me. Thomas lifted it off and pulled me out of the burning building. I’ll be all right with time. I expect I’ll have scars, but I suppose we all do. Only some cannot be seen.” She watched as Eliza tugged at the sleeve of her dress. “The doctor said I’ll be fine.”
Eliza seemed to relax. She clasped her hands together. “I was so worried.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I was afraid you’d not be able to walk. When I heard, I was sick inside.”
Several women from around town had been by to check on Penny since she’d been injured. All of them had showed concern, and she’d been touched by their generosity and compassion. But none of them had looked as troubled as Eliza, whose brow was marred with worry lines. But why?
“Thank you for caring. It means a great deal. Especially since I am but a visitor here.”
Eliza brushed her hands over her skirts. “What of Thomas? Is he all right? Is he angry over his losses?”
“He’s confused and wants to know what happened, but he does not seem angry. Mostly, he’s been worried about me.” She studied the woman. She was near her own age, but she looked so tired. “His barn is lost, though, and his cellar. His horse would have died if he had not gotten her out. And we believe someone hurt my dog. We can’t say for certain, but she was injured at the same time as the fire.”
“His horse was still inside? Someone hurt your dog?” Eliza muttered something under her breath that sounded like the words cruel and hateful. She crossed the room and knelt in front of Honey. “I’m so sorry.” She scratched Honey behind one of her soft ears. Honey nuzzled closer to Eliza, whimpering in contentment as she went. Without looking up, Eliza asked, “His horse is well?”
“Yes. His horse was in the barn when the fire started. Thomas could have died saving her. Do you know anything about the fire? Do you know who started it?”
Eliza stood up and took a step backward. “I’m glad you’re recovering. And I’m very sorry about your dog. It all seems so horrible. I-I wish there was some way I could help. I have to go though. I’m due back.”
“Tell me. Do you know something?”
Eliza bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do. I’m so glad you’re recovering,” she said as she backed out of the room.
23
We haven’t been able to put together any clues about the barn. I’m sorry I don’t have better news. We’ve all been asking around, looking for any information we can find. But everyone we suspect has an alibi. The color of a horse isn’t much to go off of.” The sheriff slowed his pace. “I wish I could tell you more. Unfortunately, there’s really no way of knowing who started the fire or hurt the dog. When I talked to Penny, I tried to get more out of her, but she doesn’t remember anything else.”
“That’s not good enough.” Thomas’s voice rose. “Whoever did this is still out there. You’re supposed to keep this place safe.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What do I do now?” Thomas said through gritted teeth. “Pretend it never happened? Wait until the person strikes again and hope they don’t go after my house next time?”
“Rebuild your barn.” The sheriff spoke in an even tone. “There really isn’t much else you can do. Get on with your life. I used to be a sheriff in Comish, and we had things happen there that we couldn’t solve. Just like in this case. If something comes up, I’ll revisit it. Right now there’s just nothing.”
Thomas didn’t mind rebuilding. It was what he was doing with his life right now, so he might as well rebuild his barn too. But more was at stake than just wood and nails. “Who’s to say it won’t happen again?”
“I wish I could say it won’t. But I can’t make you any promises. Let’s hope it was some sort of an accident. The man on the black horse may have been a coincidence.”
“S
o, that’s it? Someone gets to burn my barn and I get to spend the rest of my life wondering when it’s going to happen again, praying it was just a fluke? I’ll have to watch my back all the time. I thought I was done living like that.” Anger was boiling inside. “Do I let them win? Tuck my tail and run?”
“Get a few men to work out on your land. Build a bunkhouse. The more eyes, the better. But that’ll cost you money. I wish I had a better solution for you. Mishaps are part of the cost of living this far from the civilized part of the country.”
“Mishaps.” He shook his head. “It’s not the farming I care so much about. I could give that up. It’s feeling at ease with my neighbors. I’m after a peaceful life and I’m not sure that’s possible without putting an end to this. What if I’m blessed with a family someday? How can I keep them safe if I don’t know who the enemy is?”
“We’ll do what we can. You’ve my word.”
Thomas looked around in frustration. Through the window of the sheriff’s office, he caught a glimpse of a woman leaving the boardinghouse. “Isn’t that Jeb’s wife?”
The sheriff’s eyes followed Thomas’s gaze. “Sure is. That’s Eliza.”
“What’s she doing at the boardinghouse?” Thomas left the office with the sheriff on his heels.
Eliza must have seen them, because she changed directions and stepped into her father’s store.
“Excuse me,” Thomas said after following her inside.
“Yes.” Eliza offered a weak smile. “What can I do for you?”
The sheriff took the lead then. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you again about the fire.”
“I told you I don’t know anything.” She grabbed a tin of beans off a shelf. “I came into town to pick up supplies, not to be interrogated.”
Her eyes darted about the room. Thomas could tell she was looking for an escape. An uneasiness overpowered him. He would not be a man who frightened women. That’s not who he was.
He put a hand on the sheriff’s shoulder. “If she says she knows nothing, let her be. She knows a woman almost died in that fire. I don’t think she’s the type to sit by and do nothing.”
Yours Truly, Thomas Page 21
