Brokken Promises

by Abagail Eldan

  The room was small and cozy with an oriental rug covering much of the floor. Two upholstered chairs stood on each side of the fireplace, one draped with a lap quilt. She took a seat and pulled the quilt over her as she surveyed the room. The walls were papered in a pastoral scene of muted greens and blues. A settee set directly across from the fireplace and a couple of rockers and three tables completed the furnishings. The whole room evoked a feeling of calm and peace, a feeling of home.

  She’d not realized how weary she was and how guarded while upon the train. This house was a refuge, and she’d take advantage of it while she was here and gather her strength for the next challenges that awaited. She could endure the next few days, if she rested and savored the peace of the house. If not his friendship, at least she had the help of Fritz, even if that would not entail his personal involvement.

  She had to blink away tears. Had she not told herself from the beginning that it could never come to fruition? No upstanding man would ever want to marry her—certainly, not a man like Fritz Brokken. Besides, she could not live here. There was sure to be talk. Perhaps she could endure it, but how could she put Sally Jane through that?

  A knock sounded at the kitchen door, and she went to answer it. A boy stood there, perhaps more than a boy, a young teen. He doffed his cap while juggling the box he held. “Where do you want this, ma’am?”

  “Let me help you,” she offered. It had not taken Fritz long to fulfill his promise, although perhaps she’d stood longer in the foyer than she realized.

  His face showed shock. “No, ma’am. I can handle this a rightly. Now, where do you want it? On the table?”

  He’d already made his way into the kitchen and put the box down before she could answer.

  His demeanor amused her. “Thank you, kind sir.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t be a poking fun at me, would ya?”

  After a bit of concentration, she made her face placid. “Why would I do that?”

  He shrugged. “Some folks like to laugh at me. Not sure why.” He stuck out his chest and then placed the cap on his head. “Ma’am, you may not have noticed, but it’s freezing in here. I’ll get a fire going in the stove.”

  “Please don’t bother. I can do that myself,” she said gently.

  He frowned at her, and his expression made laughter bubble within her. She bit her lip. Her emotions were askew, most likely due to fatigue. She needed to rest.

  He shook his head until she was certain his head ached. “No, ma’am. Mr. Fritz said to help you, and that’s what I aim to do.”

  Whether she liked it or not, she thought wryly. “Suit yourself.”

  “Looks like there’s plenty of lighter.” He busied himself while she looked through the box.

  There were basics—sugar, flour, cornmeal, coffee, and even some loose tea, along with various other items. She had not had tea in ages and decided to make some as soon as the boy finished. She’d been impolite and forgotten to introduce herself.

  When he finished his job and turned toward her, she held out her hand. “Thank you. I’m Miss Jenkins.”

  An eyebrow rose. “Miss?”

  Obviously, he knew who she was. “Yes, Miss Jenkins,” she said firmly. “Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

  He studied her for a minute, his gaze going from her face to her hand. He finally gave her hand a shake. “Calvin Meyers. I’m a friend of Missy’s.”

  She frowned. “Missy?”

  “The girl who helped Miss Edna with your daughter.”

  “Oh?” The way he scrutinized her made her long to say more, to explain herself, but what could she say to this young boy?

  “Miss Edna never mentioned Missy in her letters?” He stared at her, a challenge sparkling in his eyes.

  There was no need for him to know neither Miss Edna nor Cam had ever written. She searched her memory from her previous visit to Brokken, and a shadowy figure of a girl appeared. She smiled. “Missy? She’s the one with the blonde hair, correct?”

  He looked slightly mollified. “That’s her. She’s been helping the Hales with Sally Jane. You ain’t been to see your daughter yet?”

  “No, I just arrived today. It was a long trip, and I’m very tired although I plan to see the Hales tomorrow.” Maybe that would satisfy him, and perhaps he wouldn’t note the omission of Sally Jane.

  A puzzled look appeared on his face, but she’d had enough and opened the back door. “Thank you for bringing the supplies and for starting the fire in the stove. Do I owe you anything?”

  Calvin shook his head. “No, ma’am. Mr. Fritz paid me. Handsomely, I might add.”

  Perhaps he would have said more, but she was ushering him through the door and didn’t wait to see. “Good-bye, Calvin.”

  She shut the door and bolted it in place and leaned her back against it.

  It seemed even young men would judge her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Deborah and Chance agreed to come by the next day at ten o’clock. Fritz did not trust himself to tell Cam so he tracked down Calvin and sent the message, stating he would arrive before the Hales. Although he wished to talk to Cam before Chance and Deb, he was well aware of the dangerous attraction he harbored, grown stronger since arriving in Brokken, and decided thirty minutes should suffice for conveying his thoughts.

  As he had indicated in his message, he arrived precisely at half-past nine. For a moment, he stood on the porch, and then he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. The day was chilly, not unusual for the first day of December. Thanksgiving had come and gone while they were traveling to Brokken.

  It saddened him to think Cam would be gone before Christmas, would spend it alone, without her daughter. The timing of giving up her daughter could not be worse. This business could wait until after the holidays, and perhaps Cam would consent to his new plan. Keeping her longer in Brokken was not the reason, he convinced himself, although he planned to take full advantage of the opportunity, if she’d but consent.

  He knocked on the door, and it immediately swung open, as if she had been watching. She was dressed in the brown silk and looked enchanting.

  He gave her a nod and tried to keep his tone smooth. He did not want to scare her off. “Good morning, Cam.”

  “Come in,” she said, breathlessly. She stepped back, and he entered the foyer and hung his overcoat and hat on the coat tree in the corner.

  She watched him, but he did not meet her gaze when he spoke. “It’s turning colder. I’ll make sure you have plenty of wood chopped today.”

  She didn’t speak, and they went into the sitting room. She took a seat, but he remained standing, warming his hands at the fireplace. He considered his words as he watched the flickering flames.

  He took the poker to jab at a burning log and spoke without turning. “Today is the first day of December. It seems a sad time to be doing such business.”

  Her voice was light when she spoke. “Would any time be happier?”

  He threw her a glance over his shoulder and averted his eyes again. “I suppose not. I hate to see you alone, with no family or friends during the holidays.”

  “But that would have been true if I had stayed in San Francisco. Besides, if we finish the business today, I can be gone by tomorrow—that is, if you can find me a position so quickly.”

  At this, he turned to fully face her. “I thought it might be best for you to stay until after the holidays. I’m not sure if anyone is hiring at this time. I will have to contact certain of my acquaintances and that might take weeks.”

  “Weeks? Fritz, we discussed this, and I clearly told you I could not live in Brokken—even temporarily.” Her breathing quickened although her face remained calm.

  He held up a hand. “There is no need to hurry away. You are welcome to stay in this house as long as you like. On days Deborah and Chance come into town with Sally Jane, I will let you know, so you can avoid seeing your daughter if you wish to.”

  “I cannot imp
ose on your hospitality—something we have discussed. You have already done more for me than I will ever be able to repay. Besides, even if I stay in Brokken, I still have no friends or family.” At this, her placid face crumbled, and she wrung her hands in her lap.

  He knelt beside her and placed a hand on her arm. “And as I have told you, it is not hospitality. Your mother was a much-valued member of our community, and it is a poor repayment for the care and consideration she bestowed upon the children of the town. Her last act was to save the children...with Chance’s help...and that can never be fully repaid.”

  His face was near hers, and she turned, her lips tantalizing. She tilted her head toward him, and to his surprise, her lips found his.

  Unable, or unwilling, to resist, desiring more, he stood, pulled her to her feet, and wrapped his arms around her. She lowered her head, as if embarrassed. He placed a finger beneath her chin and raised her head and dipped his own to her and became lost for a moment in her warmth, her sweet smell, her nearness.

  A knock sounded on the door, and he pulled away with a deep sigh. “It must be Deborah and Chance. I’ll get it if you wish.”

  Cam stepped back and nodded. Fritz took his time walking to the door, to give himself and Cam time to compose themselves. The knock sounded again, and Fritz frowned as he threw the door open.

  “You’re early,” he said irritably. But it was not his sister who stood on the porch but Lydia. His jaw slackened. “What are you doing here?”

  Lydia raised a brow. “And good morning to you, too? May I come in or must I freeze out here in the cold?”

  He pulled the door wider and ushered her in. She did not wait but headed straight for the sitting room.

  Fritz followed, but Lydia had already taken control, holding out a hand to Cam. “Mrs. Jenkins? I’m Lydia Walsh.”

  Cam’s glance flitted to Fritz before she managed a faltering smile. “How do you do, Miss Walsh?”

  “Very well, thank you.” Lydia removed her coat, and Fritz took it from her although he wasn’t sure what to do next.

  He didn’t want to go back to the foyer and leave the two women alone together. Awkwardly, resenting Lydia for placing him in such a position, he held it and stayed silent.

  Lydia glanced at Fritz and back to Cam. “I’m sure Fritz has mentioned me?” Her smile broadened.

  Fritz bristled and found his voice. “Did you wish to speak to me, Lydia?”

  “Lydia? The last time you spoke to me, I believe you called me Miss Walsh. Are we back on familiar terms, Mr. Brokken?” Her eyes had narrowed.

  “Lydia...” he began, heat creeping up his neck.

  She held up a hand, and her eyes cleared. “I actually came by to let you know I dropped the lawsuit.”

  Cam’s eyes had widened. “Lawsuit?”

  “For breach of promise. Fritz... I mean Mr. Brokken and I were engaged.” Pain flickered in her eyes but dissipated as quickly as it had come. “However, that is water under the bridge. I now believe we were not suitable for each other.”

  Fritz moved closer. “We do not need to discuss this in front of Miss Jenkins,” he hissed.

  “Oh?” Her eyes challenged his, and heat crept to his ears.

  He spoke through clenched teeth. “Thank you for coming by, Miss Walsh. I will be happy to discuss this with you later.” He held up her coat and stepped toward her.

  Lydia took a step back, shaking her head. “I am not quite ready to go, Mr. Brokken. There have been rumors. Unfortunately, gossip travels quickly in a small town, as both of us are well aware. In case the rumors are true...” She glanced from Cam to Fritz, gave a nod, and then threw Cam an apologetic look.

  “Lydia, please,” Fritz tried again.

  “It appears the rumors I have heard may well be true, as my visit today confirms. Fritz Brokken, you should be ashamed courting Miss Jenkins, alone in this house.” She waved a dismissive hand. “However, you, Mr. Brokken, are not my concern.” She faced Cam, her back to him.

  Cam squared her shoulders as if waiting for a blow. “Yes, Miss Walsh?”

  Lydia surveyed her a moment. Fritz wanted to grab her arm and guide her toward the door but knew it was too late to undo the damage she’d already caused.

  Lydia stiffened her spine. “Miss Jenkins, I wish to warn you before you become involved with Mr. Brokken—and I hope I am not too late. He is an inveterate liar, and his promises are meaningless.”

  Fritz moved next to Cam and caught Lydia’s eyes. “It may be difficult to understand, but I’ve changed. I realize I did some things, said some things, Lydia, that I wish I could take back. I know it is too late, and I can only beg your forgiveness.”

  Lydia’s eyes softened, and she inclined her head in acknowledgment. “That may well be true, and I pray that it is. However, change takes time, and until I see the change with my own eyes, I will not believe it. If what you say is true, Fritz, why did you not seek me out when you arrived back in town and ask my forgiveness?”

  “We only arrived yesterday, and I had to attend to the bank...”

  Lydia held up a hand. “Curt has carried on without you for seven months. Save your excuses for someone who will believe them. I have had my say, and I will go. My coat?”

  He held it toward her. “Will you allow me to help you?”

  Lydia ducked her head in answer and glanced through her lashes at Cam. “I am sorry if this has pained you.”

  Cam clasped her hands in front of her but did not answer as Lydia allowed Fritz to help her with her coat. She said goodbye to Cam, and he escorted her to the door.

  Before she took her leave, she studied him for a moment. “I do pray you have changed, Fritz. You have brought enough shame on the Brokken name.”

  He did not answer, anger or shame sure to color whatever he said. He simply held the door and watched her leave.

  He lingered in the foyer, dreading to go back into the sitting room. Another knock sounded, and this time, it was Deborah and Chance. He greeted them and took Deborah’s coat and hung it up for her.

  She shot him a look of curiosity. “Was that Lydia we saw leaving?”

  Chance remained quiet although Fritz knew he listened intently for his response.

  Fritz strove to keep the irritability from his voice. “Yes, but we’ll speak of it later. Cam is waiting in the sitting room.”

  “Cam is it?” Deborah asked, a smile on her face, as they moved forward.

  “Miss Jenkins, I mean.” His jaw tightened, and a muscle twitched. They entered the sitting room, and he forced his muscles to relax.

  He introduced Chance and Deborah to Cam, and they settled into their seats.

  After a few pleasantries, Fritz cleared his throat. “We are here, as you know, to settle the adoption process of Sally Jane. I have advised Miss Jenkins to wait until after the holidays if that is agreeable to y’all.”

  It was Cam who shook her head. “No, Fri...Mr. Brokken. I am fully prepared to allow the Hales to adopt Sally Jane.”

  Chance cast Fritz a thoughtful look and then gave a nod to Cam. “We, of course, will abide by your wishes, Mrs. Jenkins. You are the child’s mother after all although we do not wish to distress you during the holidays.”

  Cam shook her head. “You are not distressing me. As a matter of fact, I have not been entirely truthful.” She cast a glance down at her hands.

  Deborah exchanged a puzzled look with Fritz. He shrugged. Chance still was watching Cam.

  Chance was the one who spoke. “Will you elaborate on your statement, please?”

  Cam slowly raised her head but looked at none of them when she spoke. “Sally Jane is not my daughter.”

  Deborah gasped.

  Fritz jumped to his feet. “But you told me you were her mother.”

  Cam inched her chin up a notch and met his eyes. “I did not. You simply assumed I was.”

  Fritz blinked in disbelief, his mind racing, going over every conversation they’d had, and realized her words were true.

&nb
sp; Deborah leaned forward. “But what does this mean to us?”

  Cam licked her lips before she answered. “Firstly, it’s why I cannot take money from the Brokken family. I am not Edna Wallace’s daughter and have done nothing to deserve it.”

  Fritz took a step closer to Cam, although Deborah made a gesture for him not to. He ignored his sister. “But who are you? If you are not Sally Jane’s mother, where is she?”

  Deborah gestured again. “Sit down, Fritz, and maybe she will tell us.”

  Fritz shook his head and paced the room for a moment before he did as Deborah asked. He struggled with keeping his voice level, tried to keep his anger at bay. But this woman had deceived him. Even if she had not said she was Miss Edna’s daughter, she’d allowed him to believe it.

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “So, tell us, Miss Jenkins. Who are you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  To Camellia’s consternation, she burst into tears. She buried her head into her hands, the sobs racking her body. She took a shuddering breath, but the tears did not abate. A handkerchief was pressed against her hand, and she lifted her face to thank the giver. It was Deborah who stood next to her and put a hand under her arm, urging her to her feet.

  “Come sit over here on the settee with me,” Deborah urged.

  Camellia, blinded by her tears, allowed herself to be led over to the settee. She sank down and looked around, embarrassed. Fritz was nowhere to be seen.

  She twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “I don’t want to take your husband’s seat.”

  Deborah sat next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “He and Fritz have gone to fetch Sheriff Vic.”

  The words frightened her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wrung the handkerchief more frantically.

  Deborah made a shushing sound, like a mother comforting a baby. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong. The sheriff is going for fresh scones from Molly’s and a jar of orange marmalade.” For some reason, the words had made the corners of her mouth tilt, as if they amused Deborah.