Marnie:

by Shanna Hatfield

  Quickly wrapping the woman’s purchases, she handed them to Grant.

  “Thank you, Miss Jones.” He shifted everything to his left hand and reached out to her with his right, holding onto her hand a moment longer than was necessary and giving it a squeeze before offering his arm to his mother. “Have a pleasant evening.”

  “You as well.” Marnie grinned as Mrs. Hill walked out the door, instructing Grant that if he wanted to find a wife, he could do no better than the lovely girl she’d just met.

  “You better not start planning the wedding yet, ol’ girl. If you knew my past, you’d bust right out of that ill-fitting corset,” Marnie muttered, locking the door and turning the sign from open to closed.

  “That would be a frightening sight to see, I’m sure.” A familiar, deep voice rumbled behind her, making her jump in surprise.

  Spinning around, she glared at Lars as he lounged against the doorframe leading to the workroom.

  “My stars, Lars! You scared me half to death. You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” Marnie started to breeze past him, but he caught her by the waist and swung her around into the workroom, away from the prying eyes of anyone who might look in the store windows.

  “I missed you.” He kept one hand on her waist while the other grazed along her jaw.

  When his finger traced the outline of her lips, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “I missed you, too. I was hoping you’d stop by soon.”

  “Why would you want to see me? Mrs. Hill has you practically married off to Grant,” Lars teased, tamping down an unwelcome pang of jealousy. The way the banker eyed Marnie on his way out the door made Lars want to pop him in his aristocratic nose. “If she spends much time with him, I can see why the banker is still single. No one with a lick of sense would want her for a mother-in-law.”

  Marnie gave him a disapproving look then burst into the giggles she’d worked so hard to subdue earlier. Lars chuckled and hugged her close, kissing her temple. His beard scratched her skin and she lifted her gaze to study him.

  “Did you lose your razor?” she asked, stepping back to get a better look at him.

  It appeared his face hadn’t been on a regular acquaintance with a razor for a while by the thick growth of stubble covering it. Instead of his denims, cowboy boots and hat, he was dressed in a flashy burgundy and gold double-breasted vest, black suit, and polished shoes, with a black derby hat tipped at a jaunty angle on his head. The gold chain of a pocket watch draped across his vest and he smelled like he’d taken a bath in a bottle of Bay Rum.

  “Let me guess - you’re turning in your badge and taking up a life as a professional gambler.”

  Lars pulled a deck of cards from the pocket of his suit jacket. Fanning them out with one hand, he did a few card tricks then shoved them back into his pocket.

  “I’m impressed.” Marnie turned and started toward the stairs leading up to her apartment. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

  “I’d love to, sweet thing, but I don’t have a lot of time.” Lars followed her up the stairs, staying just far enough behind he could observe the sway of her skirts as she ascended the steps.

  “The food should be ready, I just need to put it on a plate for you,” Marnie said, tying an apron over her dress while Lars removed his hat and suit jacket then washed his hands at the sink.

  “What can I do to help?” he asked, watching as she removed a roasting pan from the oven. The smell of chicken taunted him, making his stomach growl. He’d been so busy he’d forgotten to eat lunch.

  “If you’ll set the table, I’ll have this ready in a jiffy,” Marnie said, slicing into the juicy chicken breast. “Aundy brought in a few chickens for Caterina and gave me this one.”

  “We’re not eating Napoleon for dinner, are we?”

  Marnie laughed. “She didn’t mention killing her prized rooster.” Aundy’s rooster had a reputation for being one mean little chicken. If he weren’t such a good rooster, he would have long ago been made into dumplings.

  “Did you hear about the time Ilsa dumped eggs all over herself trying to get away from Napoleon?” Lars asked, grinning at Marnie.

  “I did hear that story, more than once, actually. I’m surprised Ilsa let anyone tell you.”

  “Garrett and Tony made sure I heard that one.”

  Marnie spooned carrots and potatoes into a bowl and set it on the table. “You’ll have to make do with leftover biscuits.”

  “I’ll somehow suffer through it.” Lars glanced around the kitchen and found what he was looking for, setting a jar of strawberry jam on the table along with the butter.

  “I think the only reason you eat biscuits or bread is to have something to hold your jelly and jam.”

  “Maybe. What of it?” Lars took a pitcher of milk from Marnie and filled two glasses, setting them next to the plates he’d placed on the table. He seated Marnie then took a seat and asked a blessing on the meal.

  “I won’t ask what you’re doing dressed like that, but I hope you’ll keep safe.” Marnie worried about Lars getting hurt in his line of work. The idea of something happening to him made her feel ill, so she shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind.

  “I’ll do my best. I don’t know when I’ll see you again. It might not be until this whole thing with Bowman’s gang is over.” Lars glanced up at her as he hurried to eat his dinner. The chicken was juicy and flavorful while the potatoes and carrots were cooked to perfection. As much as he enjoyed the delicious meal, the company was even better.

  Looking at Marnie as she pushed potatoes around on her plate, he wished she’d left her hair down instead of pinned in a jumble on top of her head. He liked seeing all the shiny brown curls bouncing down her back. She wore one of his favorite dresses, a pale pink gown that hugged her fine curves and brought roses out in her cheeks.

  “I understand, Lars. Don’t worry about me. I’m getting along just fine.” And she was. Although Marnie had been terrified to leave behind what had become familiar, no matter how much she hated it, she was grateful every day she woke up in the apartment above Ilsa’s store with meaningful work to keep her thoughts and hands busy.

  “I’m glad to hear that, Marnie. I knew you would.” His self-satisfied grin made her smile.

  “What about you? Have you seen Laila recently?” Marnie and Ilsa still laughed every time one of them mentioned the way Lars diapered the baby.

  “I stopped by to see her before I came over here.”

  Marnie tilted her head and mischief lit her eyes. “So you went there first, knowing you’d darken my door just in time to eat.”

  “You know I won’t eat at Ilsa’s unless I want indigestion or Tony’s cooking.”

  “I’m telling her you said that.” Marnie’s impish grin made his heart flip-flop in his chest. He loved seeing her relaxed and lighthearted.

  “No, you won’t. You don’t want to hurt her feelings or get me in trouble, even if it is true.” Lars helped himself to another biscuit, spreading a thick layer of the jam out to the very edge. “She said she doesn’t know how she ever managed without you here at the shop. It’s nice she can come in the mornings then take work home with her for the afternoon.”

  “The arrangement has worked well. If something comes up when she isn’t here, it’s easy enough to give her a call.” Marnie had quickly developed an interest in the telephone. They had one at Miss Clementine’s but the girls rarely used it. Mindful that everyone listened in on the phone lines, Marnie still liked being able to call and ask Ilsa a question or accept an invitation to dinner from Caterina or visit with Aundy about plans for after church on Sunday.

  It still astounded her how quickly Lars’ family and friends accepted her into their homes and hearts. She knew she could count on them, no matter what. She was twelve the last time she had anyone she could truly rely on.

  “I don’t have any dessert, but I do have some chocolate,” Marnie said as Lars cleaned his plate.

  “I’m plenty full, but
thank you for offering to share your candy. I know how you horde it, and it’s special to you.” Lars grinned at her as he gulped the last of his milk.

  “Not as special as you. You’re welcome to my chocolate any time.” Marnie gave him a flirty grin and Lars felt his pulse increase tempo.

  He didn’t want to stifle her in any way, but some of the flirty glances and welcoming looks she sent his direction left him overheated and filled with a yearning for something he couldn’t have. He knew she didn’t bestow them on anyone else, so he didn’t bring it up, but there were days his control hung by a thin, unraveling strand when she gazed at him with those stormy eyes and spoke in that smooth, mellow voice. Memories of the rich, sweet taste of her made his mouth water for more while her fresh fragrance haunted him. Even now, it mingled with the aromas of dinner.

  Taking a photograph from his jacket pocket, he placed it on the table as Marnie stood and carried dishes to the sink. “I forgot I had that with me and I don’t want it getting into the wrong hands. Do you mind if I leave it here?”

  “I don’t mind.” Marnie picked it up and looked at the faces. One greatly resembled Noah Webster and she assumed that had to be his father. Glancing through the line, she recognized the Newberry boy and a man named Ed she’d seen several times at Miss Clementine’s. He always asked for her friend Daisy. It was the last face that made her breath whoosh out of her as she plopped down on a chair.

  “What is it, darlin?” Lars was immediately at her side, his hand warm and comforting on her back. “Did you recognize someone?”

  She nodded her head, trying to find her voice. A face she never hoped to see again, a face that haunted her nightmares and plagued every dark thought she’d ever had sneered at her from the photo.

  Lars hunkered down beside her, taking her suddenly cold hands between his, trying to rub some life back into them. “Talk to me, Marnie. What’s wrong?”

  “The man in the photograph, the one on the end with the burned face.” Marnie leaned forward and looked at the face she barely recognized, but eyes she knew all too well.

  “Melton Feldts. You know him?”

  “I killed him.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “You what?” Sucking in a gulp of air, Lars knew he misheard Marnie. “Mind repeating that, please?”

  “I thought I killed him.” A look of terror settled on Marnie’s face and she began to tremble.

  Lars stood and picked her up, carrying her to the sitting room and taking a seat on the sofa with her on his lap.

  “It’s okay, sweet thing. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Lars gently rubbed her back, willing her to calm down.

  Marnie clung to him, but she didn’t cry. It was as if she’d disappeared somewhere inside herself and Lars began to worry that she wouldn’t return to him.

  “Marnie? Marnie, darlin’, please talk to me.” Lars kissed her forehead and brushed a few wayward tendrils away from her face. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help make it better.”

  Finally, she nodded her head, took a deep breath and leaned back against the strength of his arm around her, so she could look in his face. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s not a pretty story. It’s one that’s haunted me for eight years.”

  “Tell me and be done with it then.” Lars gave her an encouraging smile. “You know nothing you say can change how much I admire and respect you.” And love you.

  Marnie drew in another deep breath. “My father was an esteemed college professor in Portland. My mother was cultured and lovely, everything a perfect wife should be. I was their only living child, pampered and adored. When I was twelve, they died in a terrible carriage accident on the way home from the theater. My only living relative was my father’s much younger half-sister, Maudie, so I went to live with her. She had a companion of sorts who was supposed to look out for us, but she spent most of her time reading dime novels or sleeping.”

  Marnie took a breath and shifted so her head rested against Lars’ chest. “Maudie was young and flighty, only sixteen. I sometimes felt like her guardian instead of the other way around. I’d been with her just a few months when she announced she was marrying a man she barely knew named Melton. He was very handsome, but something about him didn’t seem right. With no one older or wiser to tell her it was a bad idea, they wed and things were okay for a while, although he quickly dismissed her companion. Melton often asked me about my parents and my inheritance. My father’s will stipulated that I wouldn’t receive my inheritance until I turned eighteen. In the event of my death, it would go to Maudie. Likewise, the money she inherited from her parents was in a trust until she turned eighteen. We of course had plenty of money available to live on until we came of age.”

  “What happened?” Lars could guess the rest of the story, but wanted Marnie to share it.

  “Melton was charming and romantic, everything a young girl could dream of in a husband, right up until a week after Maudie turned eighteen. I heard them arguing. Maudie was screaming at Melton, accusing him of marrying her for her money. I rushed out of my room into the hall just in time to see him snap her neck and shove her down the stairs so it looked like an accident.”

  “Oh, Marnie.” Lars kissed her temple and wrapped his arms a little tighter around her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I ran back to my room and bolted the door, hoping he wouldn’t know I’d seen the whole thing. The police came and I tried to tell them what happened, but no one believed me, especially when Melton played the part of the grieving widower so well. I started planning how I would run away and began saving every penny I could get my hands on.”

  “Did you run away?”

  “Not soon enough. I was one of those girls who, um… developed early. By the time I was fourteen, when Maudie died, I looked much older than I really was. One night I woke up to find Melton standing over my bed. I started to scream, but he put a hand over my mouth and he… he…”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to say any more.” Lars would rip Melton apart as soon as he found him.

  “He told me with his wife gone, I needed to fulfill all of her duties. He used me, Lars. He used me, beat me, and tormented me. I was just a child. A frightened little girl!”

  Marnie began to cry, covering her face with her hands.

  “Shh, Marnie. Shh. It’s okay.”

  Swallowing back her sobs, she felt driven to finish the story. “Melton found out instead of Maudie’s inheritance going to him, it would go to me. The morning the attorney delivered that news to him, I was in the kitchen, frying bacon for breakfast. He stormed into the kitchen and slapped me so hard I fell down. He told me he was going to kill me, but I had to sign over my inheritance to him first. Something in me snapped. I lunged up, grabbed the skillet of hot bacon grease and threw it in his face. I can still hear his screams.”

  Marnie shuddered again and drew a shaky breath. “I ran up to my room, grabbed the bag I kept packed and the money I saved, then raced to the train station. I bought a ticket to Pendleton and the first ‘hotel’ I entered when I got off the train was a brothel. I figured no decent man would ever want me, so I took the job they offered and you know the rest of the story.”

  “What about your inheritance? Was it enough you could have lived on without having to… um… work for a living?”

  “With the money from my parents and Maudie combined it would have been enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life, but I was afraid to find out if I could access it, even when I turned eighteen. I assumed I was wanted for murder and no one would listen to me if I tried to explain it was done in self defense, especially when I ran instead of staying there.”

  Quaking with rage, Lars thought it best if Melton didn’t cross his path anytime in the near future, because he could kill the man with his bare hands. “And you’re sure the man in the photo is the same Melton you knew?”

  “His face looks like melted wax, but those eyes I’ll never
forget. It’s the same man. If he’s part of the gang you’re trying to bring in, I hope he gives you a reason to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  Lars took Marnie’s face in his hands and kissed her damp cheeks then looked long and deep in her eyes. “You’re a strong, brave woman, Marnie Jones, and it’s my pleasure and honor to know you. Not everyone could have survived what you did, especially at such a young age. I’m proud of you.”

  “Proud that I tried to kill a man and became a harlot?” Marnie got to her feet and walked across the room to the little window that looked out over the back lot behind Ilsa’s store.

  “I’m proud that despite all that, you’ve grown into a smart, funny, tenderhearted woman who is a loyal and caring friend.”

  “Thank you, Lars. Thank you for not condemning me for my past.” She wrapped her arms around herself, but Lars turned her around and enveloped her in a hug, one that made her feel like everything in her world would be fine.

  “Never, sweet thing.” Lars kissed her lips with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes.

  Burying her face against his neck, she relished the feel of his arms around her before he stepped away and glanced at the clock.

  “The last thing I want to do is leave you right now, but I’ve got to go. Kade will wonder what happened to me as it is.”

  “I’m sorry, Lars. I shouldn’t have…” He silenced her with a long, involved, passionate kiss, one that made her knees tremble and all thoughts fly out of her head except for him.

  “I’ll come see you as soon as I can, but I don’t know when it will be.” He hurried to shrug back into his coat and brushed a hand down the front of his vest. “If you need anything, anything at all, call Aundy, Ilsa, or Caterina. Promise?”

  “I promise.” Marnie tilted her head and studied him, then straightened his tie and adjusted the collar on his shirt. “There, that’s better.”

  He settled the derby back on his head at a jaunty angle and dug a toothpick from his pocket, settling it between his lips. “Do I look like a devil-may-care gambler?”