Love's Sweet Beginning

by Ann Shorey

  Cassie followed him, Mr. Fitzhugh at her side. Strolling close to Garrett’s brother gave her a sense of walking through the past. She couldn’t remember how many Sundays she’d spent in her fiancé’s family pew in St. Louis.

  Mr. Fitzhugh bent his head down to whisper near her ear. “Perhaps we could have a few minutes alone after church?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve promised the afternoon to Mr. West. But I must talk with you before you leave tomorrow. Could you come to the restaurant in the morning?”

  “There’s nothing I’d like better.”

  They reached the buggy, and he helped her in before Jacob could make his way around to the passenger side.

  Sandwiched on the front seat as they traveled toward the church, Cassie felt tension crackle between the two men. When she’d invited Jacob to attend services with her, this hadn’t been what she intended.

  Mr. Fitzhugh brought news of her mother. She welcomed him for that reason.

  Aside from that, she wished he’d go back to Calusa.

  As they made their way down the center aisle of the church, Cassie sensed people stirring to gawk. When they passed Faith and her family, her friend’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

  Cassie mouthed, “Talk to you later,” before leading the way to an empty pew on the left side of the sanctuary.

  Jacob slid in next to her, leaving the space on his right for Mr. Fitzhugh. He glanced past Jacob, then murmured “Excuse me” and stepped around him to sit on Cassie’s left.

  She stared at her lap, waves of heat washing over her. Being in church with Jacob West would be news enough on its own, but to arrive with two escorts? What would people think?

  To her eyes, Reverend French seemed to smile in her direction as he moved behind the pulpit. “Our opening hymn this morning is ‘And Can It Be?’”

  Cassie rose with the rest of the congregation. She shook her head slightly as she reached for a hymnal. Here she stood with Jacob and Mr. Fitzhugh. Can it be, indeed.

  Jacob moved close when she held the hymnal out to share. She couldn’t help but notice how well his resonant bass voice harmonized with her alto. On her left, Mr. Fitzhugh held another hymn book and shot disgruntled glances in her direction while he sang.

  After Mrs. French played the closing notes, Cassie sank back onto the pew and listened with half an ear to Reverend French’s sermon. He’d chosen as his topic a passage from the book of Deuteronomy, dealing with Old Testament law. She stifled a yawn and prayed Jacob wouldn’t be equally bored. To have him accompany her to church, regardless of his motive, filled her with joy. She planned to invite him again next week.

  After the final hymn had been sung, Jacob waited until most of the congregation left so that his crutches wouldn’t be jostled by worshipers headed for the door. Now he stood with other townsfolk on the lawn outside the square brick church, watching while Cassie and Faith Saxon whispered together.

  The service hadn’t been as unpleasant as he’d feared. He expected a pulpit-pounding preacher hollering about judgment, like the one who’d conducted his mother’s funeral. Instead, Reverend French talked about laws God had instituted for his people, and how each one was for their benefit.

  The hymns had soothed him. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed singing, and Cassie’s voice blended perfectly with his. Maybe he’d attend next Sunday, whether or not she invited him to join her.

  His fingers tightened on the handgrips of his crutches when Mr. Fitzhugh stopped next to the two women and bowed in Cassie’s direction. Their voices carried over the buzz of conversations surrounding them.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning before my train leaves.”

  “Please, give me the news from my mother now. Surely it won’t take that long.”

  “I’d rather wait until we can be alone.” He sent a pointed look at Jacob before lifting Cassie’s gloved hand to his lips.

  He tipped his hat in Jacob’s direction. “Good day, Mr. West.”

  “The same to you.” Jacob wished he could move fast enough to grab the man by the shoulder and force him to allay Cassie’s fears. Making her wait for news was cruel.

  20

  Cassie watched Mr. Fitzhugh stride south, she presumed toward the hotel. His strong resemblance to Garrett had given her the initial impression that they shared the same nature. But where Garrett had been relaxed and easygoing, she sensed in his brother a desire for control. If only he’d make time to give her news of her mother, she wouldn’t have to see him again tomorrow.

  She pushed the thoughts away. An afternoon with Jacob lay before her. She wouldn’t ruin their time together by worrying.

  Faith’s voice brought her back to the moment. “Who was that? He was rather rude to interrupt us without apologizing.”

  “His name’s Patrick Fitzhugh. He’s the brother of my late fiancé.” She explained how he’d come to the station in Calusa as she was leaving and then showed up unannounced at the grocery yesterday. “He came to bring me news about Mother, but so far all he’s said is that she’s well. If that’s true, then why is he here? I fear he’s hiding something drastic.”

  “He wants to wait until he can comfort you without Mr. West’s presence.”

  “I don’t want his comfort.” Cassie shuddered. “I want him to give me whatever news he has, then go home.”

  “Looks to me like Mr. West would be happy to comfort you.” Faith giggled. “Enjoy your buggy ride.” She hurried toward her waiting family.

  Smiling, Cassie crossed the lawn to Jacob. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Sundays are my best time to visit with Faith. She’s either busy at home or in the mercantile—and of course, I’m busy too.”

  “I understand. Perhaps once Becca’s familiar with the kitchen, you could take an afternoon off now and then.”

  “That would be wonderful. The hardest part of my job is the lack of time to spend with friends. Without Mother, my cabin is a lonely place sometimes.” She bit her lip. Why would Jacob care about her friendships? As far as she could see, he seemed to get along fine with few friends of his own.

  His gaze softened. “This afternoon, we won’t think about loneliness.” He moved as near as possible, allowing for the barrier his crutches created between them. “I asked Mrs. Fielder to surprise you with a picnic lunch to take with us on our ride. We’ll stop by the restaurant on our way.”

  “A picnic sounds delightful.” She slipped her hand beneath his elbow. “Where are we going?”

  “Pioneer Lake, although I can’t walk far on uneven ground. We’d have to stay in the buggy and watch everyone else do the walking for us, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind a bit.”

  Sunbeams skated over the ripples on Pioneer Lake. From their vantage point under a weeping willow, Cassie and Jacob watched children running and splashing along the shore. Couples strolled around the water’s edge.

  Jacob’s coat lay folded over the seat back. When he turned up the cuffs of his shirt, Cassie fought the urge to run her fingers over the dark hair on his muscular forearms. Her improper thoughts caused her face to warm more than the heat of the afternoon warranted. What on earth was the matter with her? Her mother would be scandalized.

  To occupy her hands, she tucked a cloth over the near-empty picnic basket. “Jenny outdid herself. Chicken, strawberries, biscuits—it was a lovely meal.”

  “The first of many, I hope.” He rested his index finger alongside her chin and turned her face toward him. “Do you think you can work with me as your employer and still allow me to spend time with you away from the restaurant?”

  “Oh, yes! With no trouble at all.”

  She liked the way he appeared gentle and resolute at the same time. She liked the way his voice rumbled when he spoke. She liked his wavy black hair. At the moment, she couldn’t think of anything about him she didn’t like. She knew her mother didn’t share her opinion, but given enough time she’d change her mind. Jacob’s fine qualities outshone Garrett’s, and Mother had bee
n fond of Garrett.

  “Then it’s settled.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve never let myself get this close to anyone before.”

  “But you and my friend Rosemary—”

  “We were both lonely. Doc Stewart was the better man for her. Turned out she thought so too.”

  Cassie leaned against the seat back, knowing the time had come to explain about Garrett, but reluctant to break the spell of the afternoon. After a moment, she straightened. Omission was as wrong as commission.

  “As Mr. Fitzhugh mentioned, two years ago I was engaged to his brother. My fiancé, Garrett, died in an accident shortly before our wedding date.”

  He stilled. She studied his face, but the leafy curtain over them shadowed his expression. After a few seconds he slipped his arm around her shoulder.

  “Two years is a long time. Are you ready to care for someone else?” His rumbling voice drowned out the children’s laughter.

  “Indeed I am,” she whispered.

  “Good. We’ll agree to let the past stay in the past.”

  Thoughts of Garrett vanished when Jacob pressed his lips to hers.

  After the breakfast rush ended on Monday, Cassie paced from the kitchen to the dining room, her thoughts bouncing between her afternoon with Jacob and Mr. Fitzhugh’s promised arrival. The westbound train would depart at nine. So far, he hadn’t appeared. Surely he wouldn’t leave without seeing her.

  “Are you going to make those pies or wear a track in the floor?” Jenny folded her arms around her middle. The aroma of apple cider hung over the room like a sugary cloud. “Becca’s got the filling about ready, and I need to use the range. It’s time to get stew cooking for dinner.”

  “I’m sorry.” She took pie pans from the shelf. Besides the six that she prepared for the restaurant daily, she had three orders to fill. “I know I’m wasting time, but Mr. Fitzhugh said he’d be here this morning. I don’t want to be up to my elbows in flour when he arrives.”

  Jenny pretended a long-suffering sigh. “I reckon I can wait a few more minutes.” She took a cup, filled it with leftover coffee, then sank onto a chair near the worktable. “Might as well get off my feet.”

  Cassie heard Jacob approach before he reached the kitchen. He stopped at the entrance and glanced around, his gaze settling on her. “Your friend is here. He’s waiting in the grocery.”

  “Oh, good. I was afraid he wasn’t coming.” She smoothed her hair back from her face, then removed her apron.

  She caught Jacob’s frown before he turned away. Once they left the kitchen, she placed her hand on his arm.

  “After he answers my questions about Mother, he’ll be on his way.”

  “Not a minute too soon to suit me.”

  Mr. Fitzhugh bounded forward when they reached the grocery. “Mr. West, with your permission, I’d like to have a few minutes of Miss Haddon’s time away from your establishment.”

  “By all means. As it is, she’s waited far too long to hear why you came.”

  Cassie frowned at Garrett’s brother. He should have asked her permission, not Jacob’s. Did he think she was a child?

  He gazed down at her. “Miss Haddon. Shall we get some fresh air?”

  She ignored his extended elbow and marched out the door ahead of him, turning right on Main Street. “The morning is quite warm. That tree across the street will offer shade while we talk.”

  He put his hand on her elbow and guided her to the butternut tree that stood as a sentinel in the middle of the block. As soon as they stopped, she tugged her arm free and faced him. “What’s wrong with my mother? She must be dreadfully ill if you needed privacy to inform me of her condition.”

  “Your mother’s in fine health.”

  “But isn’t that why you came? You said my mother sent you.”

  “No, I said your mother told me where to find you. Actually, Reverend Greeley sent me.”

  Cassie stepped backward until the flat ridges of the tree’s bark pressed against her shoulders. “Reverend Greeley sent you?” Her voice squeaked. “I’ve spent this whole weekend worrying about my mother. Why didn’t you say so to begin with?”

  His jaw tightened. “It’s rather a delicate matter. Fortunately, your pastor opened the door with his sermon yesterday.”

  She stared at him, wishing she’d stayed in the grocery with Jacob. Mr. Fitzhugh was obviously deranged. Inching away from the tree, she tried to leave enough space between them so he couldn’t touch her.

  He held up his hand. “Please listen. If you recall, part of yesterday’s passage in Deuteronomy dealt with the duty of the brother of a deceased man to marry the man’s widow.”

  She shook her head slowly as comprehension dawned. “That’s Old Testament.”

  “Reverend Greeley says God’s law stands as written. I’m responsible for you now.”

  “So this is all Reverend Greeley’s idea? Tell him I said no.”

  He gentled his tone. “Give yourself time, Miss Haddon. Cassie. I’m not a bad fellow. Having you as my wife would fulfill my scriptural duty, and it would certainly ease your poor mother’s heart for us to live in Calusa. I’m sure in time we’d learn to care for one another.”

  “No!”

  “I realize I’ve botched this.” He took a step forward.

  The train’s whistle rolled through the humid morning. He stopped and turned in the direction of the sound. “The next time I come, I’ll court you properly.”

  “Don’t come back, Mr. Fitzhugh. The answer will still be no.”

  She picked up her skirts and bolted toward West & Riley’s.

  21

  Cassie burst through the kitchen entrance, her hand at her throat. The screen door banged behind her.

  “Good gracious! Was the news as bad as all that?” Jenny bustled over from the stove, concern clouding her hazel eyes. “Did something happen to your ma?”

  “No. Far from it.” Cassie slumped against the wall to catch her breath.

  “Then what’s got you all aflutter?”

  Surrounded by the familiar kitchen aromas of apple pie filling and breakfast bacon, she wondered if she’d overreacted. Mr. Fitzhugh lived in Calusa. Reverend Greeley could believe whatever he wanted, but his outdated ideas couldn’t touch her here in Noble Springs. She dragged in a steadying breath and told herself to be calm. She was safe in Jacob’s restaurant.

  She glanced between Jenny and Becca and forced a smile. “The reason for Mr. Fitzhugh’s visit took me by surprise. An unwelcome surprise, I might add. Thankfully, he’s on his way back to Calusa.” She dusted her hands together. “Time to start on those pies. Becca, would you please carry that pot of apples over to my worktable?”

  “Yes, missy.”

  Jenny gave her a searching look. “I can tell when you’re upset. There’s something you’re not saying.”

  “Nothing important.”

  “Humph. When you’re ready to talk, you can always come to me.”

  “I know. Thank you.” She slipped her arm around the woman’s ample waist. “We’d better get busy. Time’s flying, and Mr. West doesn’t pay us to stand around.”

  “This is your day to be boss, is it?” Jenny faked a grumble and marched to the range, where steam rose from two skillets.

  After Jenny turned away, Cassie tied on an apron and walked on wobbly legs to her worktable. She’d never considered such a thing before, but Mr. Fitzhugh’s determination left her shaken. Could there be truth in his words? Did Scripture really say Garrett’s brother was required to marry her?

  While Becca watched, Cassie measured flour and salt into a large bowl, then cut lard into the mixture. “This is the important part,” she said, striving to keep her voice level. “Just the right amount of water to moisten.” She lifted a pitcher, but the base struck the side of the bowl and most of the water splashed over the floury mix.

  Her hands shook when she replaced the pitcher on the table. Using a fork, she tried to fluff the flour and water together. The result stuck to the bowl
like wallpaper paste. She fought a desire to panic. Much as she’d like to throw the whole thing out and start again, she couldn’t waste that much wheat flour.

  She opened the flour bin and dumped several scoops into a smaller bowl, then dropped in additional lard. While she cut through the mixture with two knives, she sent Becca a weak smile. “I’m sorry. This is not the way I usually make piecrust.” The knives clattered against the side of the bowl.

  Becca’s soft brown gaze rested on her. “Maybe I’ll go see if Miz Fielder needs me. It don’t help none to have someone starin’ at you when you’re in a fix.”

  “You’re so right. Thank you.”

  The young woman’s kindness threatened to undo the fragile control she’d maintained since her meeting with Mr. Fitzhugh. Somehow she had to get nine pies ready for the ovens in the next few minutes. She scraped the contents of the smaller bowl into the large one and stirred the ingredients together, her wrist aching from the weight of the additional dough. As soon as the crust felt workable, she removed a portion and flattened the sticky substance on a floured cloth.

  Cracks appeared in the dough with the first pass of the rolling pin. Her stomach tightened. No matter what, this crust was going in the pans. Their dinner customers expected dessert. She picked up pieces of dough and pressed them together inside the first pie pan, then repeated the technique with five of the remaining pans. After a struggle, she managed to fill and cover each pie, although the results looked more like a patchwork quilt than anything edible.

  While Becca carried the completed efforts to the ovens, Cassie stared at the three empty pans, representing customers’ orders. Her shoulders sagged. Jacob charged fifty cents for a whole pie—she’d have to do what she could to produce pies worth that much money.

  She poked at the dough remaining in the bowl, sprinkled more flour in to balance the stickiness, and flattened another disk on the pastry cloth. Jacob trusted her to fill these orders. She couldn’t disappoint him.