by Ann Shorey
“Miss Haddon was most apologetic. I do understand that we arrived unannounced.” Fitzhugh sketched a bow in Cassie’s direction. “We will visit more tomorrow.” With a pointed look at Jacob, he continued. “After working hours, of course.”
He clenched his fist over the head of his cane. One more word and he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened next.
Mrs. Bingham pushed her teacup to the center of the table and moved to Cassie’s side. “Have a pleasant evening, dear.” She dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I trust you’ll keep tomorrow evening free. Patrick has an important matter to discuss with you.”
Nodding as she passed Jacob, she said, “Good-bye, Mr. West.”
When the door closed behind them, Cassie leaned against the frame and rubbed her temples. “Of all the days, why did she pick today?”
His temper heated. “I’m not as concerned about the timing as I am with Fitzhugh’s ‘important matter.’ Is there something between you that you haven’t mentioned?”
“There’s nothing between Mr. Fitzhugh and myself.” She bustled to the table and carried her mother’s teacup to the washbasin, refusing to meet his eyes. “Mother seems to like him, but I don’t.”
When he opened his mouth to respond, she stopped him by placing her finger over his lips. “I must excuse myself to change my dress. After all we’ve done to arrange this wedding, we can’t be late.”
The door to the bedroom closed.
He straddled one of the chairs and fought to rein in his imagination. Regardless of Cassie’s claim, Fitzhugh wouldn’t travel all the way to Noble Springs without an ulterior motive. Men like him never did.
Now that he had a moment to think, he tried to remember what she’d said in the letter she’d written explaining the circumstances of her stay in Price City. Seemed to him that she’d glossed over Fitzhugh’s presence. Perhaps the man had made improper advances and she was too embarrassed to confess.
He rubbed his moustache. Now wasn’t the time for a confrontation. He’d find a way to ask her after the wedding.
Cassie smoothed the skirt on her rose chintz dress as she settled into the chair Jacob held for her. He’d said little on the trip to his house. She knew the arrival of her mother and Patrick had put a damper on his anticipation of Wash’s wedding. When he took the chair beside her, she laced her fingers through his. “This event wouldn’t be happening if not for you.”
His eyes brightened for a moment. “You had as much to do with the arrangements as I did. The flowers look pretty on the mantel.”
Jenny leaned over from her seat between Timothy and Cassie. “Don’t forget about the cake in the dining room. I worked a long time getting that icing just right. Had to slap Timothy’s fingers a time or two on the way out here to keep him from tasting a sample.”
Timothy’s face reddened.
“I haven’t forgotten,” Jacob said. “We’ll all enjoy a slice after the ceremony.”
Cassie peeked over her shoulder in time to see Reverend French enter. He took his position in front of the screened fireplace and nodded toward the doorway.
Becca and Wash entered hand in hand. She wore a yellow calico dress Cassie hadn’t seen before, with a crocheted white collar pinned at her throat by a shell brooch. Green glass earbobs sparkled against her skin. Next to her, Wash walked tall and proud. His white shirt gleamed almost as brightly as his smile.
They stopped in front of Reverend French and for a few moments the room fell silent. Then he opened the book he carried. After glancing at the page, he lifted his eyes to Wash and Becca.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join Washington Bennett and Rebecca Rowan in holy matrimony, which is honorable among all men and is an estate which is not to be taken lightly.”
Cassie sighed and clutched Jacob’s hand. Before long they’d be hearing these same vows spoken over them. She stole a glance at him and met his warm molasses gaze. Tingles coursed over her skin.
By the time Reverend French pronounced Wash and Becca husband and wife, Cassie had to wipe tears from her eyes. She heard Jenny sniffling next to her.
Wash turned and strode to Jacob. “God bless you, sir, for all you done. You’re a mighty good man.”
As she led the way into the dining room, Cassie’s heart swelled at his words. She couldn’t agree more.
Jenny had centered the cake on the oval pillar-style dining table. Light from an overhead lamp shone on delicate china plates and silver dessert forks. Once the bride and groom entered, Jenny cut the first slice of cake, handing the plate to Becca.
Tears slipped down the young woman’s cheeks. “I feel like I’m dreaming. When I got to Noble Springs I never thought I’d end up married, and find white folks who cared what happened to me.”
“The Lord has a plan for each of us,” Reverend French said. “He was guiding you all along.”
Cassie took a breath for courage. Here was her opportunity to settle the question of Patrick Fitzhugh once and for all. She tucked her hand under the minister’s arm and skirted them around the table to stand in a quiet corner.
“I believe that’s true for all of us, Reverend. But when things happen, how do we know whether they’re the Lord’s guidance, or man’s plan?”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a serious question for such a happy occasion.”
“I’m asking because I need your advice.”
“Well then, I can tell you two of the best ways.” He held up his index finger. “First of all, seek your answers in Scripture.” He raised a second finger. “Then seek godly counsel. You should find the guidance you need.”
She stared at the floral-patterned rug while she considered his response. Patrick claimed Scripture supported his position, but his counselor was a person she neither knew well nor trusted. Reverend French had proved himself to be a godly man, sincere in his desire to do the Lord’s bidding.
Lifting her chin, she met the minister’s gray eyes. “Would you be able to meet with me tomorrow evening after I finish at the restaurant? Please? There is a man who seems to think I’m endangering my soul if I don’t marry him.” She felt she’d choke on the knot in her throat.
He cast a startled glance at Jacob. “I had no idea—”
“No, not Jacob. Someone else.”
Jacob’s head shot around at the mention of his name. He took a step toward them.
Reverend French patted her wrist. “Tomorrow evening will be fine. I’ll be most happy to discuss this matter with you.”
“Thank you.” Her legs trembled as she walked to Jacob’s side. She prayed with her whole heart that Mr. Fitzhugh would be proved wrong. The alternative was too heartbreaking to contemplate.
Cassie sat next to Jacob on the buggy seat as they bounced their way down the track to the main road into Noble Springs. In spite of the lateness of the hour, she didn’t feel a bit sleepy. Tomorrow evening’s meeting with Reverend French boiled through her thoughts. She’d blurted out her request before remembering her mother and Patrick were expected at the same time. Somehow she’d have to juggle the two visits.
She blew out a long sigh and cuddled closer to Jacob’s side. The image of the happiness on Wash and Becca’s faces swept her concerns away for the moment. “What a happy night.”
“Yes.” He guided the horse onto the road and within a short distance pulled off onto the verge where he’d asked her to marry him.
The waning moon hung low over the water of Pioneer Lake, casting shadows over Jacob’s face. Her heart fluttered. The romance of the evening had affected him too. She lifted her lips for his kiss, but he clasped his hands over hers instead.
“We’re alone here. No one will bother us.”
Her heartbeat increased from a flutter to a pounding. What on earth was he suggesting?
He tightened his grip. “All through the ceremony my mind kept returning to Fitzhugh and his important matter. Is he the ‘someone else’ you mentioned when you were off in the corner with the reverend?”
“Yes, he is.”
He lowered his voice. “Are you carrying on with both of us?” His face was emotionless, waiting.
“Good heavens, no!”
“How can I believe you? Fitzhugh turns up like a bad penny every few weeks.”
“I’ve told him more than once I’m not interested.” She bit her lip to keep from weeping. “I have no control over his comings and goings.”
“So, if you told him you’re not interested, he must have had reason to believe you were taken with him in the first place.”
She slid across the seat and scrambled down from the buggy. She couldn’t think with Jacob so near. The brake grated into place, and the next thing she knew he stood beside her.
“Please give me a minute to myself.”
His feet crunched on the dry grass as his footsteps receded. “Take all the time you need. I’m not leaving.”
Pressing her fist against her lips, she stared out at the moonlit lake. If she evaded the truth, he’d find out sooner or later. Her mother would probably tell him, bless her. But sharing Patrick’s claim might end their engagement tonight.
Her father’s words came back to her. There are many ways to do the wrong thing, but only one way to do what’s right. Let your conscience be your guide.
“Yes, Papa,” she whispered, then stepped to Jacob’s side.
He tucked his thumbs in his front pockets when she approached. He didn’t smile.
She lifted her chin. “I first met Patrick Fitzhugh when I escorted Mother to Calusa. You already know that. What I didn’t tell you is that he believes that as my former fiancé’s brother it’s his scriptural duty to marry me. If I marry anyone else I’m going against God’s Word.”
“What?!”
She held up her hand. “Please let me finish. I didn’t want to tell you at first because I hoped if I ignored him he’d go away. Obviously that hasn’t happened, so this evening I asked Reverend French if I could call on him tomorrow after work. He should be able to tell me whether there’s any truth to Patrick’s assertion.”
Jacob clutched her shoulders and drew her closer. “What will you do if Fitzhugh is correct?”
“I don’t know.”
40
Cassie sat up in bed and slid her feet to the floor. Perhaps a glass of water would help her fall asleep. After lighting the candle on her bedside table, she padded through the cabin to the shelf where she kept a filled pitcher, then sighed and turned back to her bedroom without the glass. Water wouldn’t slow her tumbling thoughts.
She flopped back on the bed and tried to find a comfortable spot within the tangled sheets. She’d been so sure Patrick was wrong that she’d never given serious consideration to the alternative. If she couldn’t have Jacob, she didn’t want anybody. Being a spinster forever would be better than marrying a man she didn’t love.
When she awakened at daylight, she longed to stay locked away in her cabin until time to meet with Reverend French. Such a choice wasn’t possible. Becca had been given the day off.
She groaned. Jenny would be full of chatter about the wedding. Jacob would . . . She didn’t know what Jacob would do. Their parting last night had been strained.
As she left her cabin, she prayed for strength to last the day. Without Becca she’d have to bake all the pies herself as well as help Jenny with the meals. Then after work Mother and Patrick would be waiting.
One step at a time. If she didn’t heap all her worries in a pile, they might seem less overwhelming.
Jenny paused in her breakfast preparations when Cassie arrived. Her round cheeks shone like apples from the heat radiating off the oversized range.
“Didn’t Becca look nice in that yellow dress my daughter gave her? What a fine thing Mr. West did to let them get married in his house.” Jenny swiped perspiration from her forehead. “Not too many folks around here would’ve been so open-minded.”
“No, I suppose not. He’s a kindly man.” She lowered her head to hide the tears stinging her eyes. What if the reverend agreed with Patrick?
“Here, now. What’s the matter?” Jenny slid her arm around Cassie’s shoulders. “Did you two have a tiff?”
She leaned against the other woman’s side. “Not . . . not exactly. My mother arrived unexpectedly yesterday afternoon and—”
“Say no more. She may be your mother, but I must say that woman’s a trial.”
“She can be. But she was a different person before the war. Content, busy with her needlework and overseeing our home. That’s the mother I see when I look at her.”
Jenny sniffed. “We were all different before the war, but we don’t take our griefs out on other folks.”
“I know.” To change the subject, Cassie took an apron off the shelf and tied the starched waistband around her middle. “What would you like me to do to help with breakfast before I start the pies?”
“Get the tables ready, please, then chop up a mess of potatoes while I fry the ham steaks.”
Grateful for tasks to keep her hands occupied, Cassie paused in front of her new range and stuffed kindling into the firebox, then headed for the shelves where they kept the crockery.
Jacob stood in the entrance to the grocery watching her with a somber expression as she arranged place settings on the tables. A sheet of paper dangled from his fingers. She suspected he held the letter she’d left for him after her return from Price City.
Her hands trembled. His steady gaze reminded her of her first days in the kitchen, when she could do nothing right. When he had the power to dismiss her from her job. Now the threat was greater. If Patrick was correct, Jacob might be forced to dismiss her from his heart.
Cassie trudged home at the end of the workday, dreading the visit from her mother and Patrick. There had to be a way to make both of them understand she had her own plans for her life. As soon as she made herself clear, she’d hurry to her meeting with Reverend French.
Her heart raced. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so fearful. Then a verse she’d memorized slipped between her ragged thoughts.
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
What would she do if she weren’t afraid? She’d face her mother. She’d talk to the reverend. She’d trust in the Lord for the outcome.
When she stepped onto her gravel walkway, she saw her mother and Patrick waiting in the shade of the oak tree next to her front door. She squared her shoulders.
Mother held out her hand. “My dear, I hope you’re not totally exhausted.”
“No, I’m not,” she said, surprised at the truth of her response. “Let’s go inside. I’ll brew some tea if you like.”
“No thank you.” Patrick moved between them. “We wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble. You’ve spent a tiring day working in that kitchen.”
She frowned at him as she opened the door. “Then please sit and tell me the important matter that brought you here.” She knew why he’d come, but she wanted the opportunity to tell him no with Mother as a witness.
Patrick sat across the table, with her mother between them. “I came to formally ask for your hand. I can provide you and your mother the type of life you deserve.”
Mother folded her hands in her lap and beamed at him.
“Do you love me?” Cassie held her breath, waiting for his answer. What would she do if he said yes?
“I know love will grow after our marriage.”
She heaved a relieved sigh. “Without love, and given the fact that we hardly know one another, I cannot accept such a proposal.” She clenched her hands in her lap so tightly the nails bit into her palms. If this didn’t send him on his way, nothing would.
&nbs
p; “I was afraid you’d feel that way. Unfortunately, Scripture is clear.” He sent her a pleading glance. “It’s my duty to take you as my wife.”
God had opened the door and she’d step through it. She pushed her chair away from the table. “Since you’re so sure, I’d like you to come with me.”
“Where?”
“We’re going to the parsonage in the next block. I want you to explain your reasoning to Reverend French.”
“Cassie . . .” Mother scrambled to rise.
Patrick touched her arm and she settled back on the chair. “This will only take a moment, Mrs. Bingham. You stay here and rest. We’ll be back quite soon, I assure you.”
Reverend French opened the door at her knock. “I’m pleased to see you again, Miss Haddon.” He cocked an eyebrow at Patrick. “And you’ve brought a guest?”
“Yes. This is Mr. Fitzhugh. He’s raised an issue that I pray you can settle.”
After the men shook hands, he led the two of them to his study. By now Cassie felt comfortable enough in his presence to relax somewhat when she seated herself on one of the upholstered chairs.
He moved several papers and an open Bible to one side before placing his hands flat on the desktop. “Well, Miss Haddon, what’s the issue you’re concerned with?”
She shot a glance at Patrick. He sat with his hat on his lap and an expectant expression on his face. Lamplight gleamed on the Macassar oil in his hair.
Her fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. “Mr. Fitzhugh is the brother of my late fiancé, Garrett Fitzhugh. I met Patrick quite by accident when I first escorted my mother to Calusa. Then yesterday afternoon, the two of them arrived unexpectedly as I was preparing for Wash and Becca’s wedding . . .” Her voice faltered.
Reverend French nodded. “Please go on.”
“Yes, Miss Haddon. Please do. I’d like to hear your version.” Patrick’s mouth tightened.
She glared at him. “To put it bluntly, Mr. Fitzhugh believes it is his scriptural duty as Garrett’s brother to marry me. I’ve refused on more than one occasion, but he persists.” She slumped against the chair back and drew a shaky breath.
