by Indiana Wake
“It seems like a rather unfair advantage,” he smiled at her lovingly; she was certainly a woman to be adored.
“Unfair or otherwise, it’s probably best to just accept it.” She set her empty cup down and lightly covered it with her hand when her son reached for the pot to replenish it. “No, thank you, I’ve had quite enough.”
“I do like her, Mama.”
“I know, I can see it in those beautiful grey eyes of yours. And now that you’ve told me, it makes perfect sense. I can imagine that the two of you have a lot in common. I can’t claim to know her well, but I know she never misses the amateur dramatics. Perhaps, she even likes some of the same books you do.”
“Oh yes, she does. And like me, I do not think she has anybody in particular to share her interests with.”
“Then it is nice that you have found one another. When you find somebody to whom you’re very suited, the whole thing does happen very quickly. That is my experience, at any rate.”
“She’s reading my book for me,” he said, amazed that he had gone from being tight-lipped to offering up everything in a matter of minutes; his mother really did have an unfair advantage.
“Then, you really must like her. Did she inspire you, Joe? Is that why you’ve spent so much of the last days writing?”
“Yes, I suppose so. She understood my work, you see, and now it makes me want to get on with it. Not only that, but I don’t want Father to think that I am whiling away my days doing nothing. I know he doesn’t see any merit in what I do, but it is hard work. Ideas must be concentrated on, almost formed with sometimes.” He sighed loudly and leaned back heavily in his chair. “Oh, what is the point? He will never understand that, will he?”
“Don’t be so hard on your father, Joe. If he didn’t want you to be happy, he would never have seen you go off to Salem to study anything other than law. The two of you are just different and that’s all. And you are only different in some things, not everything. Just carry on doing with what you’re doing, keep writing, and look for someone who will make something of your book. That will probably come harder to you than the writing of it, my dear, but it must be done if you are to find a way to survive. Your father is not wrong in everything, you see.”
“I intend to find a way to survive doing the thing I love, Mama. I have it in mind to contact one of the professors at Salem when I’m finished. If he likes it, he will know what to do with it.”
“I have every faith in you, Joe. I would never try to turn you away from your passion in life, not me of all people. I know how it feels, you see, to have people trying to deny you the right to follow your own path.”
“I know.”
“But I shall only do what I can to keep my two dearest men close together, for I would never have been able to follow my own dreams were it not for your father.”
“I know he’s a good man, Mama,” Joe said and felt it.
If only there was not this point between them. It was not that his father would deny him his dreams, it was just that his father did not understand his dream. He had understood his wife’s progression, it made sense to him, but Joe’s interest in this world did not. It was not control that his father wanted, he simply lacked understanding. But in the end, did the latter not lead to the former?
“Have you met any of Amanda’s family?” His mother took him entirely off-guard by changing the subject altogether.
“No, not yet.” He decided not to divulge his unfounded suspicion of mystery. “Do you know them?”
“Only a little. They are a healthy family, you see, so our paths do not cross very often. Mr. Hargreaves is a very successful man; his farm is one of the largest in the area.”
“But?” Joe said and grinned at her.
“But what?” she said innocently.
“You are not the only person who sees things in people’s eyes, Mama. There is just the tiniest hint of disdain, I believe.” He took a sip of the rapidly cooling tea and stifled a laugh.
“No disdain, I promise,” his mother said gently. “People are all different, that is all. I believe Mr. Hargreaves to be an ambitious man, one who would like to be at the upper end of Oregon society. He has long harbored a wish to be better acquainted with the Thornhill family,” she said, and Joe almost laughed at the subconscious face his mother pulled. “Old Bart Thornhill wouldn’t entertain him, but now that he’s gone and Kirby Thornhill holds the reins, I believe that Mr. Hargreaves is renewing his efforts.”
The Thornhill family had never been of much interest to Joe. They were the wealthiest family in the area, living in a very fine mansion and commanding respect simply by dint of the fact that they had so much. But as far as Joe could see, they used their wealth to manipulate, to turn everything to their own advantage, and while they stayed on the right side of the law in doing it, he found them somewhat reprehensible regardless. The world was always turned quite neatly in favor of such people and everything that Joe had learned in life had taught him that there was a great deal of unfairness in that.
“And how is he to manage that?” Joe asked. “If the father would not entertain him, why would the son?”
“Because Kirby Thornhill is great friends with the Walton family. Of late, I believe the Hargreaves and the Walton family have become better acquainted.”
“You think Mr. Hargreaves has formed this alliance by design?”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised. I am afraid that some men can often be a little blinded by their ambition and every step they take is only ever in furtherance of it. I suppose that is why I have never particularly warmed to Mr. Hargreaves.”
“And Mrs. Hargreaves?”
“She is the sort of woman who does her husband’s bidding, I suppose. And his sons, Seth and David, are what I would describe as chips off the old block.”
“Like father like sons.” Joe chuckled.
“Precisely. Look, there is nothing at all wrong with the family, they are very respectable and very pleasant. But I must admit that I have always had a fondness for Amanda; she always strikes me as a diamond amongst rocks.”
“I know how she feels.”
“You are the cheekiest boy,” Dr. Macey said and shook her head.
His cheek had been a diversionary tactic; the truth was that he was already beginning to wonder to what lengths Amanda’s father would go to achieve his ambitions. Already he was wondering if Amanda might form a part of it all somehow and it was a feeling he did not like.
“Of course, you would be marrying Amanda, not her family,” his mother went on and Joe’s eyes flew wide open.
“Marrying? For goodness sake, Mama!” he said and laughed heartily.
“As you rightly pointed out, my dear, I have a talent for knowing.”
Chapter Ten
“It’s always such fun when Garth Walton and the men come in, isn’t it?” Sandy said in an excited, breathy way.
It was Wednesday, always a surprisingly busy day of the week in the diner. It had been made all the busier when Garth had decided to put in an appearance. He was always surrounded by other men; mostly his father’s employees who could do no other than look up to him. And Amanda had the distinct feeling that Garth Walton had the sort of ego which needed him to be admired.
“I wish I could agree,” Amanda whispered back and relished Sandy’s look of surprise.
Sandy, of course, had no idea of the little seed of an idea which was germinating in the mind of Amanda’s father. Like most young ladies in town, Sandy assumed that Garth Walton was a free man. To all intents and purposes, he was, and Amanda would like to keep it that way.
Apart from the idea of finding a different man on her own, Amanda had also dearly hoped that Garth Walton’s eye would be drawn to another woman altogether, silently putting an end to her father’s unspoken plans before they were ever said out loud.
“How about some more pie?” Garth said and winked at Amanda, causing a ripple of amusement among his entourage.
“Certainly,” Aman
da said coolly. “Apple or peach.”
“Can’t I have both?” he said and looked her up and down. “I always like a peach.” His tone was so lascivious that Amanda’s cheeks flushed violently. “But I can’t resist a round, rosy apple either.”
Her embarrassment caused the half-dozen men with Garth to laugh and sneer; one even let loose a low whistle.
Sandy, clearly impressed, moved closer in hopes of securing a little of that attention for herself. For Amanda, it was simply demeaning; she felt like an object on display. Surely, Garth would never behave this way in front of her father.
“Sandy, would you cut Mr. Walton a slice of each pie, please?” Amanda said flatly. “I need to make a fresh pot of coffee.” She hurried away to the other end of the counter, determinedly ignoring what she knew was an inquisitive stare from the man her father would see her married to.
She hated this. She hated the very thought of being trapped with a man of such dull wits. How funny he must think he was, making her squirm with embarrassment in front of his friends. He would be much better off with Sandy, who adored attention of that kind.
Even with her attention placed fully on preparing fresh coffee, Amanda was aware that a customer had just entered the diner. As soon as she had poured the boiling water on the coffee, she hurried away, relieved for a chance to take the customer’s order and leave Garth and his cronies to Sandy.
“Good afternoon.” Joe Macey, already settling himself down at a table, looked up at her with a bright and handsome smile.
He was carrying more papers and she knew it was the next part of his book. She had been so looking forward to it as well as to seeing him again. The picnic had been magical, and she had hoped, day after day, that he would appear in the diner.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in this week, I got caught up in this.” He nodded at the pile of papers, easily three times as much as he had previously handed her. “I suppose you inspired me to keep going.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she whispered, casting a hurried look over her shoulder. “What can I get you, sir?” she asked in a louder voice and took her little notebook out of the pocket of her apron.
“Erm…” He looked concerned. “Is everything all right? Have I upset you?” His own tone was mercifully quiet.
“No, not at all.” Amanda could do no other than look at him a little desperately.
She knew she was being overly cautious, but if Garth spotted something out of the ordinary and reported it to her father, she risked losing this new and wonderful friendship. In her heart of hearts, she knew her father would never allow it; it would interfere with his own wants.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She could see he was trying to read her expression.
“I’m still waiting for my curvy peach to serve me up a little coffee!” Garth called out bawdily and his friends laughed.
Joe’s eyes widened as he looked over and he began to move. In that moment, Amanda knew that he was about to leap to her defense.
“No,” she said under her breath. “Please, don’t — I’m busy here,” she called over her shoulder and gave Garth a pale smile. “I’ll be right over when I’ve taken this gentleman’s order.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Garth laughed heartily; it was a muted relief for her to realize he hadn’t noticed a thing out of place.
Why would he? He was just about the dimmest man she had ever met and didn’t notice anything outside of his immediate vicinity.
“Am I interrupting something?” Joe asked quietly and she could see the disappointment on his face.
“No, you most certainly are not,” she said with a little too much vehemence. “I’m sorry, I can’t even explain it to you here.” Her eyes began to fill with tears, and she hoped she wouldn’t cry.
Why did Garth have to turn up like he did? Why did he have to ruin things for her without even trying? How she despised him in that moment, and how she despised herself for not being stronger. If only she’d had the courage to tell her father that she knew what he wanted and that she would never go along with it. If only she had the sort of family who would listen to such objections.
“I see,” Joe said and cast a glance over at Garth, who was now in conversation with the simpering Sandy. “After work? Maybe we could go for a walk?”
“Yes.”
“I could walk you home,” he said, and her heart sank.
“You can’t,” she said as her throat tightened with misery and her voice gave her away. “I’m sorry,” she added and turned her watering eyes back to her notebook. “What can I get you?”
“Just coffee, please,” he said and drew the pile of papers back across the table towards him, holding them on his lap.
In a miserable daze, she poured Joe’s coffee and returned to his table, setting it down with a nod. She knew she couldn’t speak; she knew her voice would break.
Joe drank his coffee down while it was still hot and hurried out of the diner without a word, totally unnoticed by the bawdy group.
“Why so glum, sugar?” Garth said as she silently began to clean the tables; tables which were already clean. “Why don’t you come on over here for a minute? I’ll cheer you up.” The crowd of men jeered at the comment.
“No,” she said so quietly she was certain he didn’t hear her.
It was all Amanda could do to keep busy, to keep going about her daily tasks. If Joe didn’t return to her after she had finished her day’s work at the diner, she would have her answer. She would know that she had lost a most wonderful friendship.
Chapter Eleven
Joe had realized immediately that there was something wrong in the diner. At first, he had thought the men sitting at the counter, all ranchers or farmers or a mixture of the two, were just giving Amanda a hard time. That was until he saw the look on her face. She hadn’t wanted him to say anything at all to them and he doubted that it had much to do with the fact he was so outnumbered. And then he hadn’t been able to help himself; he had offered to walk her home. In the daylight. He’d seen the dismay in her eyes so clearly.
Joe hadn’t returned home after the diner. His mother didn’t work on Wednesday afternoons, unless there was an emergency, and so would likely still have been in the house. He knew she could read him and, if he returned still carrying the manuscript papers he had taken to the diner, his mother would have immediately realized something was amiss.
Instead, he had walked over to Willow Lake, pleased to find the place as deserted as ever. He whiled away a few minutes in silent judgement of a town full of people who didn’t care at all for the beauty on their very doorstep. He knew they had a right to spend their time as they wished, and he knew he was diverting himself from the real source of his low mood.
He sat in the very spot where he and Amanda had sat on Friday. How much his world had changed in that one afternoon, albeit a change that was largely internal.
He had fallen for Amanda Hargreaves, of that there was no doubt. But there was more to it, for she had really read and understood his work. She had given him the courage to continue, to studiously work away for days afterwards, easily ignoring his father’s occasional glances.
It wasn’t that he thought himself without talent. In fact, he had done well at University and was confident that he had what it took to become a published writer. But no man knows how his thoughts will be received by others, and to hand over the first few pages had been a source of extraordinary anxiety.
That anxiety had disappeared as soon as he realized how well Amanda understood him and his work. In all his twenty-two years, Joe was certain nobody had connected with him so well and so quickly.
Their afternoon by the lake had been wonderful. To comfort her as she told him of her father’s arbitrary behavior in finding her a job of his choosing had been a privilege. Not only that, but he had returned to the feeling of holding her again and again in the days since. He had known there and then that she was the woman he wanted, and his mother’s pleasant in
terference had seemed to confirm it.
Now, he wondered if they would ever be more than they were now. With a sigh, he rose and headed back towards town. He would meet her and hear her out. What else could he do?
When he reached the diner, it was to find her bidding her boss a good evening. She looked so crestfallen that he felt guilty, as if he had some part in it all, and hurried to join her the moment her boss was back inside the diner counting his money.
“Amanda,” he said when he caught up with her.
“You came,” she said, brightening a little but looking for all the world as if she was about to cry.
“Of course, I did.” he said gently, fighting an urge to reach for her. “I need to know that you’re all right.”
“I am. Although, I’m not really.” She paused and looked all around her, as if she was a hunted woman.
“Shall we walk down to the river?” he said helpfully, knowing it was in the opposite direction from her home.
“Yes, please,” she said, and they turned, making their way quickly and in silence.
They darted down one of the side streets which led out of the main bustle of town and into the relative peace and quiet of the riverbank.
“I hope I didn’t upset you,” he said, trying to find a way to open the conversation. Joe was still carrying his manuscript and he could see her looking at it. “I haven’t been home,” he began, by way of explanation. “I walked down to the lake. You don’t have to take it, not if you don’t want to. Or can’t,” he added the last with a significant raise of his eyebrows.
“Please, I would love to keep reading,” she said and tentatively held out her hand to take the papers.
He gave them to her and felt a sense of her misery; it was almost overwhelming.
“What happened?” he persisted gently. “Who was that man who called out to you in the diner?”
“His name is Garth Walton,” she said with such a derisory sneer that Joe was relieved. “And sooner or later, my father will demand that I marry him. And, just like the diner, it will not be my choice.”
