Cascades Christmas

by Mildred Colvin

  Why not tell E.V. that she loved him? That she wanted to marry him.

  She had little to lose and all the world to gain.

  A year from now she wanted to be the one sitting in a chair soothing her rounded belly while Anna brought her copious amounts of beverages.

  Decision made, she reached over Anna to set the punch cups in Jeremiah’s chair. She then deftly removed the pin holding her feathered hat atop her head. The last thing she wanted was to join E.V. in a dance and have her hat slide over her eyes, blocking her view, causing her to trip over his feet, and consequently crash into someone while flipping her skirts up in the air. Not that that had ever happened to her, but it could. One should always prepare for the worst while expecting the best.

  She stood and placed her hat in her vacant seat. “Don’t let me leave here without it.”

  Anna gasped. “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you?” She grabbed Larkin’s hand and drew up to standing. Panic blanched her face. “I know I almost lost Tuck by letting him think I loved Garrick when I really loved him, but what will your parents say? Just think about what the grapevine telegraph will say. Don’t do it.”

  As far as the grapevine telegraph went—well, people never gossiped about her, because she never did anything worth gossiping about. She could speak to E.V. here at the wedding reception without anyone listening in because, after all, why would anyone want to overhear what she had to say? She was the last person anyone would ever suspect of doing something noteworthy or mysterious.

  Considering Papa was at home tending to Mama, they wouldn’t know what happened until she told them in the morning. By then she and E.V. would be courting. And Papa would see they were in love and would agree to the marriage.

  Being an heiress, being someone everyone except Abigail Leonard liked, being known as sweet and sincere and selfless—none of it mattered much if she had no one to enjoy life with. Anna had Jeremiah and soon a baby, too. Her parents had their own lives.

  She didn’t want to grow old alone.

  She didn’t want to be Mrs. Ellis, warning people away with her shotgun because she believed the pain of another broken heart was worse than being alone.

  She wanted to love and be loved because she believed—no, she knew to the depths of her soul—she was created to love and be loved. And since her father allowed her to court—she was old enough, after all—then, logically, wouldn’t it be acceptable for her to initiate the courting? Even Ruth had to nudge the honorable-yet-stubborn Boaz into action.

  Time to be bold and adventuresome.

  Hearing the music of the dance dwindling to the end, Larkin kissed Anna’s cheek.

  “I vow before you have that baby, E.V. and I will be married. No matter what it takes. No matter what I have to throw to the wind.” She felt the corners of her mouth draw upward. “Within reason of course.

  Chapter 2

  He wasn’t going to look her way. Wasn’t. Not even when his position on the dance floor brought her in direct line of sight. Because once he did, E.V. knew he would be lost in the depths of those eyes. Eyes so greenish-gold they reminded him of mossy tree bark—words not worthy of a Shakespearean sonnet and words he certainly would never share with her. He wasn’t a man with much to say. And besides, he knew his girl didn’t need or desire besotted praise.

  Loving Larkin Whitworth made him more, made him want to share more, made him want to be more.

  What he needed though, was time.

  And he had spent enough of that on his knees in prayer during almost two years of having his marriage proposals rejected by her father, to know he also needed a miracle in the form of a large lumber supplier. Once he’d built Renier Lumber Company into the most profitable mill in Tumwater—and one more large supplier would do it—he’d prove his work ethic, worthiness, and his ability to provide for Larkin to her wealth-focused father.

  Tonight he was two steps closer to that miracle.

  Literally.

  All he had to do was pay enough attendance on Abigail Leonard for the other bachelors in town to realize she was an available female, even if the Caesar-like nose she’d inherited from her father was too large for her face. To be fair, she was no Larkin, but neither was she the least attractive female in the room. Considering the number of men who had already danced with Miss Leonard at the wedding, E.V. felt confident that his—and her father’s—plan was succeeding.

  Competition brought out the warrior instincts in every man, especially with a woman involved.

  As the musicians allowed the last notes to die, E.V. graciously escorted Miss Leonard back to her father and met three other bachelors waiting, he hoped, to ask the slender blond to dance. Harvey Milton, Reverend Bollen’s middle son David—the one E.V. long suspected of harboring feelings for Miss Leonard—and Frederick’s new brother-in-law Jake Pearson immediately began complimenting Miss Leonard. She did look nice in her odd-shade-of-red (or maybe pink) gown. Larkin would know the exact color. Men needed wives so they didn’t need to know these types of things.

  As abruptly as the compliments began, the three men facing Miss Leonard fell silent, their gazes shifting from her confused expression to something E.V. would have to turn around to see. Harvey’s mouth gaped a bit. Jake stood taller. David though, seemed to recover himself and looked longingly at Miss Leonard, who stepped closer to her father and, E.V. could’ve sworn, whispered, “Do something, Daddy.”

  Before E.V. could turn and look, Mr. Leonard clenched E.V.’s arm. “Renier, we need to talk.”

  At the harshness of Leonard’s tone, E.V. felt a ripple of tension center between his eyebrows. He didn’t mind helping Silas Leonard secure a husband for his oldest daughter, but his feet were aching, his mouth parched, and stomach rumbling, and if the barn grew any warmer from the body heat of all the wedding guests, he’d have to shed the black tailored coat he’d used his last bit of savings to purchase two years ago to wear to Larkin’s birthday party in hopes of attracting her attention. Still, he needed the contract, and if Leonard wanted to talk, E.V. would listen.

  He opened his mouth, intent on uttering his well-practiced “yes sir,” when the sweetest voice he’d yearned to hear say, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” broke the taut silence.

  “Mr. Renier, might I have a word?”

  E.V. found his breath and turned to Larkin, now standing close enough for him to pull her into his arms for a lengthy kiss. Loose strands of her black hair caressed the sides of her high cheekbones. He ached to pin them back into the neat and tidy bun she always wore underneath a hat she was forever taking off and forgetting. Whenever she smiled—and he prayed she wouldn’t at this moment, for his sake—the dimples on the sides of her mouth testified she’d inherited all the beauty of her part-Chinook mother and the whimsy of her Irish-English father.

  Everything about her took his breath away.

  “Daa—dee,” Miss Leonard whispered (more aptly, whined) again.

  “Yes, a word, Miss Whitworth,” E.V. blurted before Silas Leonard could make another demand. “We could speak over by the punch table.” He motioned that direction. “I could use a drink.” Remembering the contract he needed, he met Leonard’s intense gaze. “We won’t be but a moment, sir.”

  Larkin took a step then stopped. Her sweet-natured gaze settled on Miss Leonard. “Oh Abigail, cerise is certainly your color. You look lovely today.” Larkin then nodded at Jake, Harvey, and David to acknowledge their presence but spoke only to Jake. “Please express to the newlyweds my apologies for my parents’ absence. Mama …” She looked uneasy for a split-second. Then the corners of her mouth curved softly. “The wedding was delightful.”

  E.V. stepped to Larkin’s side, touched the small of her back in the most platonic manner he could possibly manage, and nudged her into walking before drawing his hand away from her. He focused on keeping the distance between them not too close to appear as anything but friends. When she would close the gap, he would ease to the left, keeping propriety in mind.
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br />   Since she said nothing, he remained silent also as they wove through the wedding guests joining the line for another dance. Though Larkin was several inches shorter than Miss Leonard, he couldn’t—nor did he want to—shake the feeling that Larkin was perfectly made for him. To think their relationship began over a tray of cookies spilled by Miss Leonard’s brother.

  The words will you marry me? languished on the tip of his tongue. Only he couldn’t ask until he’d gained her father’s approval first. The Whitworth family honor was too important to them for E.V. to bring it any shame.

  They stopped at the refreshment table. Larkin filled a glass of punch, handed it to him, then picked up a plate and looked over the food offerings.

  Aware of how alone they were, yet at a public event, E.V. found himself admiring the curve of her neck and the finger-length strands of hair escaping from the bun, which seemed even blacker against the yellow and ivory stripes of her silky gown. He clenched the punch glass. He wasn’t going to touch her. Wasn’t. Not even when the distance between them was less than an arm’s length.

  Was there anything in life he desired more than her?

  “I hope you like egg salad and smoked salmon.”

  E.V. blinked. “Ahhh …”

  “They seem to be the norm at weddings here in Tumwater,” Larkin continued, “which is why I intend on having something totally different when we—umm, when I marry.” Her head tilted to the left as she looked up at him, and her mouth curved enough for him to see hints of her dimples. “Were you paying attention to me?”

  To her words, not so much.

  To her, absolutely.

  And he felt as much irritation as joy in being this close to her.

  Understanding exactly how a parched man viewing an oasis felt, E.V. downed his punch. Two years of waiting. Two years of once-a-week marriage requests and immediate rejections. Two years of answering even the most obscure question about his family while enduring reminders of his father’s failure from Larkin’s father. E.V. had been steadfast, resolute, and patient. By remembering his sinful nature was dead and Christ now lived through him, he could endure as long as needed. The reward was too great to give up now.

  The prize—Larkin—was too precious to lose.

  “You wished to speak to me?” he asked as the musicians began another tune. Immediately he regretted the exasperated sound of his tone. Since he couldn’t explain to her the struggle between his honor and his desires, he simply mumbled, “Sorry. Please, go on.”

  “Yes.” Looking unsure of herself, she took the punch glass and gave him a plate of finger-sized sandwiches. “E.V., I know we—you—well, at least I felt there was something special between—” She broke off, and her gaze shifted as if to see who was watching them.

  E.V. glanced to his right and groaned.

  Miss Leonard strode purposely toward them, her progress occasionally halted by couples exchanging partners in the brisk dance.

  Larkin touched his wrist, drawing his attention. “Do you remember when Reverend Bollen preached about prayer the Sunday before Thanksgiving?” she rushed out.

  He nodded.

  “He said faith in action is trusting God with our future even when our prayers aren’t answered.” Her gaze focused on where he’d turned his hand enough to touch the inside of her wrist, yet she didn’t draw away. “I am trying to trust. I also need to know that I have reason to hope my future will include—”

  “Mr. Renier!” Miss Leonard called out.

  Larkin pulled away, leaving E.V.’s skin chilled despite the unseasonable warmth in the barn. She turned from him and smiled at Miss Leonard. “Is there a problem?”

  Miss Leonard stopped too close to E.V. for his comfort, but the table on his left blocked him from moving away. “Daddy needs to speak to you.”

  “About?”

  She playfully tapped his arm. “About trees, silly.”

  E.V. took a leisurely bite of an egg salad sandwich. After a quick grimace, he chewed, swallowed, then muttered, “Miss Whitworth and I are in a conversation,” before finishing off the bland sandwich.

  “Daddy said now.“

  Annoyed by her demanding tone, E.V. reached behind him to pat the table in search of a punch cup. He wasn’t their lackey. “Give me a moment, will you please?”

  While Larkin refilled his drink, Miss Leonard’s lips pursed, and if he were a gambling man, he’d swear one of her feet was tapping impatiently on the straw-covered barn floor.

  “Fine. But do know if Daddy feels you aren’t serious about working with him, he has an increased offer from a more established and experienced mill that he’d be a fool not to accept. Good day, Mr. Renier.” Without even sparing Larkin an I acknowledge your presence glance, she swiveled on her heel and began walking away.

  E.V. looked across the barn to spy Leonard’s ashen-blond, oiled head. The man stood at least half a foot taller than any other man in the room. He was speaking to the other two sawmill owners in town. The shorter, sour-faced one was currently buying Leonard’s lumber; the taller, heavily-wrinkled-despite-his-age man was the one E.V. had heard was also courting Leonard’s business. His competition.

  Panic welled in E.V.’s chest. Earlier this week, Leonard vowed he’d make a decision who to make a new lumber contract with at the wedding reception. So far, he had yet to say a word on the subject to E.V.

  Help me, Lord. I need his lumber.

  “Wait, Miss Leonard!” Once she halted, E.V. took the drink Larkin offered and lowered his voice so only she could hear. “This is important. I have to—I can’t lose—”

  “Mr. Renier,” Miss Leonard said in that increasingly shrill voice of hers, “Daddy isn’t as patient as I am.”

  E.V. grimaced.

  Larkin waved him away. “Go on. What I wanted to say can wait.”

  “Are you sure?”

  With a soft curve to her lips, she nodded.

  E.V. downed the apricot-flavored punch as quickly as he could. “Don’t leave. We haven’t had our dance yet.”

  Larkin took his plate and empty punch cup and said nothing, which was something E.V. loved about her. Unlike most females, especially the verbose Miss Leonard, Larkin spoke only what needed to be said and not to fill silence.

  “You’re a gem.” After snatching two of the remaining sandwiches off his plate, E.V. leaned forward to place a kiss on Larkin’s cheek when he remembered Miss Leonard and no telling how many others watched them. He drew back. Until he secured her father’s approval, he wouldn’t do anything to slight Larkin’s reputation or her family’s honor. “I won’t be gone long.”

  She merely nodded again.

  E.V. caught up to Miss Leonard and walked with her to her father, who stood talking to the two sawmill owners. Unlike Jake Pearson and Harvey Milton, who seemed to have found other females to dance with, David Bollen stood against the barn wall glaring, it seemed, at E.V.

  Mr. Leonard stopped talking and patted E.V.’s shoulder. “Nice to see you again, son. Burr, Odell, and I were discussing how focused you’ve been in building up your sawmill these last two years. Took Burr four years to achieve the same production level. Took Odell, here, seven.”

  “Would have taken less than seven,” Odell grumbled, “but my wife kept having babies. Women are a distraction.”

  Burr patted the shorter man’s back. “While my success came in half the time, I have a fourth of the children you do. I’d gladly trade years for more sons.”

  Silas Leonard nodded. “I know what you mean.” His gaze settled on E.V. “When a man reaches our age, he realizes how important children and grandchildren are.” His eyes narrowed a bit as his gaze shifted to his daughter then back to E.V., who immediately felt a wave of wariness. “Renier, take Abby for a spin about the room. I’ll talk to you after I finish with Odell and Burr.”

  “Sir,” E.V. started, while trying not to show his aggravation at having been called son by a man he wanted as nothing more than a business associate, “I don’t mind discu
ssing the lumber contract right now.”

  “That’s all good and fine,” Leonard answered, “but I need to ponder the matter more. Go dance.”

  “Earlier David Bollen expressed interest in dancing with your daughter. He’s right over—”

  “David Bollen?” Miss Leonard laughed. “I treasure my toes too much to dance with that clod.” Clearly oblivious to how loud her words were, giving audience to the dozen Tumwater residents around them, including Bollen, she tugged on E.V.’s arm. “Hurry, Mr. Renier, the two-step is about to start.”

  Feeling deceived by the Leonards, E.V. didn’t move. If tomorrow he heard folks in Tumwater were wagering on him proposing to Abigail Leonard—

  The sudden taste in his mouth was more unappealing than the egg salad sandwiches.

  Mr. Leonard’s heavy brows rose. “Listen, Renier, I don’t have to give ear to what your mill can pay me. I have other options.” He nodded to the center of the barn. “Get on. I wouldn’t want my daughter’s day ruined.”

  E.V. reluctantly nodded and, with Miss Leonard clinging possessively to his arm, stepped toward the dancers already lining up. Right now he was their lackey. And within reason, he would do what they asked until he secured that five-year, nonnegotiable, fully binding contract to buy lumber from Silas Leonard. The moment he did, he would distance himself from their family.

  Minus Garrick Leonard. That man had twice the character the rest of his family members had.

  “Before we dance,” E.V. said as socially as he could despite his grim mood, “I’d like more punch.”

  “Why? She’s gone.” The cheerfulness in her tone was undeniable. Miss Leonard stopped walking in the middle of the barn and pointed to the refreshment table. “See. Larkin left, even though you kindly asked her to stay. Imagine how dishonoring she will be to her future husband when he asks her to do something. She has such a selfish, rebellious spirit. A God-fearing man would be a fool to marry her.”

  E.V. gritted his teeth to keep from countering her spiteful assessment of Larkin. Confident his girl was merely somewhere else in the barn, he circled slowly, seeking her yellow-and-ivory-striped gown. Once he found Larkin, he’d ensure that she knew he loved her.