Only the Heart Knows

by Lena Goldfinch

  “Miss MacKenna?” Gus asked, giving the papers a pat and looking at her with a questioning lift of his brows. He didn’t smile, not precisely, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, as if he thought she’d detected some defect in him. Perhaps because she was biting her lower lip in indecision?

  All while Adam, a subscriber to the paper, was standing there.

  She’d embarrass Gus forever if she said anything.

  No, she couldn’t say anything that might embarrass him. Besides it not being her place, she’d heard enough of her own shortcomings growing up. Too Tall Mandy MacKenna. Her own mother’s insistence that she not purchase shoes with too high a heel. Mandy knew too well how it felt to not “measure up.” It hurt. And she wouldn’t do that to Gus.

  She straightened her posture, while at the same time endeavoring to appear shorter—an impossible feat—and gave Gus a reassuring smile. She in no way wanted this good kind man to think he didn’t measure up in her eyes.

  Gus smiled back at her, a hint of relief showing in his eyes.

  When Mandy looked up in a businesslike fashion to address Adam again, she found him watching them with a curious expression on his face. He was not only watching them very closely, but there was a decided twinkle in his eyes.

  Mandy saw herself and Gus suddenly, as if she too were standing near the door.

  How short Gus was.

  How impossibly tall she must appear in comparison.

  Was Adam laughing at them? At her?

  Some small part of her shriveled up inside.

  She was too tall.

  They did look funny standing side by side. They must.

  How could Adam ever see her as attractive or appealing—or feminine? She was Too Tall Mandy MacKenna. And that was never going to change.

  The sound of cruel laughter filled her mind.

  The snickers behind her back as she walked down the boardwalk of Cross Creek the first time, her skirts too short because poor Mama hadn’t had time to let them down yet. Mandy had had grown during their travels, and she’d been almost unbearably thin. All elbows and knees. All stretched out like salt-water taffy. She’d especially felt like that standing next to her perfectly petite little sisters, girls who grew at a more normal rate and whose skirts hadn’t gotten too short.

  Mandy had never lacked a mirror to look in. She knew what she looked like. She knew what the boys had called her behind her back. And to her face. Even today, she wore it like a placard on her back.

  All that old noise—and all those old memories—shot through Mandy like stinging arrows.

  The newspaper office swam, not enough for her to fall, but enough that she had to place a hand against the shelves. Fortunately, Gus had turned and was making his way back to his desk, so he hadn’t noticed her slight bobble.

  To her alarm, however, Adam passed by him and was at her elbow in seconds. “Are you all right, Miss MacKenna?” He lowered his voice. “Mandy?”

  Mandy nodded, embarrassed.

  He thought she was ill, possibly sickly natured.

  “I’m fine,” she said, waving dismissively, suddenly aware of how close he was standing to her.

  “You suddenly went a little pale...” There was a questioning note in his voice. He placed his warm hand over hers on the top shelf, as if to steady her with his presence, as if to comfort her.

  Protect her.

  Her head swam again, but in an entirely different way.

  He was so near. He was so tall.

  Taller than she was.

  Something like a summer heat radiated off of him. Probably from spending so much time in the sun, she told herself, feeling rather dim-witted.

  “You’re sure?” he asked quietly, privately, dipping his head closer to hers, so close she could feel his breath against her cheek, or imagined she could anyway.

  All sorts of warm tingly sensations swept over her from head to heel. Like a thousand tiny fireflies lighting her up from within. Her cheeks grew flushed and warm, probably flooded with pink. It was the most confusing sensation.

  “I’m sure,” she said. She seemed unable to think properly with him near. The same thing had happened when they’d danced together. She often lost the capacity for speech when he greeted her in the aisle on Sundays, or outside on the church lawn.

  Gus cleared his throat, and she became aware that she’d been gazing rather intently into Adam’s eyes.

  She should look away, look down at her papers.

  Look anywhere else.

  But she didn’t seem able to. He had little white-gold flecks in his blue eyes. She hadn’t known that. She was lost in a host of confusing thoughts, leading among them: What if Adam didn’t think I was too tall? With him standing so close, she could almost believe it. She saw no trace of amusement in his expression now. In fact, there seemed to be something else. She’d like to think it was male interest—it certainly felt like it—but she feared she was only seeing what she wished to see. Seeing the concern in his eyes.

  Her dreams back home were sure to be full of this moment for the next few nights. Weeks. Perhaps months... She’d always wanted to stay home and help Papa manage the ranch. It had been her dream so long it was part of her skin. It had been her dream, but perhaps it wasn’t the right one.

  Maybe that was why she’d answered that matrimony ad. Deep inside, she wanted more. She wanted this—what she thought she glimpsed in his eyes. She wanted him. A house. A home. A family. A dog. She wanted everything. To be a wife. A mother. She wanted the satisfaction of working closely on a ranch with him too.

  All of it.

  She wanted everything.

  But what if she could never have it?

  What if Adam—her Banks—didn’t want her? Could she blow her feelings out like a candle flame? Extinguish all that light inside her whenever he was near? Her heart ached with loss at the thought of giving up her Banks.

  I love him.

  Not because he was tall. Or made her heart flutter or stole her capacity for speech. Like now. Well, yes, because of that—to be honest—but also for his letters. She knew him. In between the lines of his letters to Ask Mack, she’d glimpsed an endearing insecurity. But he hadn’t let it stop him. He hadn’t known much about ranching, but he wanted to do a good job. He knew he could fail, but he kept going, pushing past any fears he might have felt. He’d made tough decisions.

  Like firing Old Pete.

  He hadn’t wanted to. She’d seen his reluctance in his letters, letters she’d answered, but hadn’t published in the paper.

  He was a man who fought to succeed and do the right thing. And he was intelligent. He had a head for numbers—that was clear. That wasn’t his trouble in the least. He simply needed someone trustworthy to assist him with all the particulars of ranch life that he hadn’t grown up with. He needed someone he could trust. Someone who had his best interests in mind. Who’d protect him and not go behind his back or mock him for the things he didn’t know.

  He needed a good manager.

  Or a wife.

  Mandy’s thoughts came to a full stop.

  He didn’t need a “mail-order bride.” What good would that do him—some city girl who didn’t know anything about Colorado ranching?

  He needed her. Mandy. And maybe he’d never realize it if she didn’t put herself forward. Not just for her, for him.

  Mandy sipped in a shallow breath, quailing at the idea of him turning her away. He’d be kind about it—maybe a little too gentle. They’d both be embarrassed. They’d have to see each other in town—for years and decades to come.

  Unless he said yes. Perhaps he’d be more likely to accept if she posed it as a business proposition...

  Did she dare?

  Could she?

  Mandy spun away from Adam, her eyes fixed on the wall. She tried to straighten her papers, but her aim must’ve been off, because she dropped one whole stack of them onto the floor. They flew about like falling petals—so many white, perfectly rectangula
r flower petals.

  The wood planks of the office were blackened with age, making all those white papers seem even whiter. It didn’t seem something awful at first—a mess—so much as something beautiful. If only she weren’t so embarrassed. If only Adam Booker wasn’t standing right beside her. And Gus hadn’t let out a gasp.

  Adam bent with her to pick them up.

  Mandy’s task was hampered by her voluminous skirts and petticoats, which pooled around her, and by the comforting structure of her corset, which kept her posture so nice and straight. But for bending down and picking up papers? It was nearly impossible. She could just barely reach one with her fingertips and drag it closer.

  “Here, allow me,” Adam said, scooping up several pages with ease. His chaps folded awkwardly at the knee, but he had a natural male grace that more than compensated.

  “Adam,” she said, barely loud enough for herself to hear, hoping Gus wouldn’t hear. Half-hoping Adam wouldn’t either.

  He looked up from his work of gathering. “Mandy?” he asked, equally as quiet. It was clear she’d intrigued him, his gaze was so focused on her, then at her nod he bent again over the papers.

  “The ad you were asking Gus about... Was it”—Mandy gathered her courage—“was it an ad for The Marriage Papers?” She hoped he’d appreciate her tone of respect. All the while, she strove for an innocent expression, but inside her heart raced so fast she feared it might stop altogether.

  “What?” Adam’s face grew positively ashen, and she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He was looking for a mail-order bride? When there were several perfectly good prospects here in Cross Creek? Her sisters were two right there. And there was Lacy, who’d be near marriageable age in a few years.

  It had surely been a moment of madness when Mandy had put herself forward by answering his ad, for she quaked at the idea of revealing her identity.

  What had she been thinking?

  “I’m the one who answered your ad,” Mandy said, numb with a certain kind of anxious cold that crept over her limbs. She trapped another sheet of paper with one fingertip and drew it to her one tiny smidgeon at a time.

  “You?” he asked, a little too noisily.

  She cautioned him with a look. Too loud. But hopefully, behind all the cabinetry and the printing press, Gus hadn’t heard.

  She waited a breath and, when Gus’s head didn’t appear over the top of the cabinets, she continued, “Yes, it was me.” Her heart hammered so loudly she feared Adam could hear it. Never had she felt so exposed.

  “You?” he repeated, clenching the papers in his hand so tightly she feared they’d be permanently creased.

  She bit her lip, asking herself why she’d said anything. Couldn’t she have kept it to herself? Forever?

  She nodded. “It was me.”

  Or was it I? she thought wildly, as if it mattered.

  “Is this—is this some sort of joke?” he asked, his frame stiffening. His voice had grown tight, as if his collar had started to strangle him. But of course it was because of her. He thought the worst of her.

  “A joke?” she repeated, horrified.

  Chapter 22

  Adam’s heart hammered so loudly, he feared it would break right out of his chest.

  Was she mocking him? Choosing this moment to shame him?

  He wouldn’t have thought it of her.

  His Mandy.

  He’d come to think of her that way.

  He’d wanted so desperately—for so long—for her to feel something for him too.

  “Why then?” he asked, struggling to appear calm. His arms and legs had locked into their current position, until he feared he couldn’t move. Summoning all his will, he commanded his body to obey and was able to reach for the last of the fallen papers. He flattened the ones he’d nearly crumpled in two and made one neat stack on the floor, then passed them across to her without comment. All her sorting had been undone, he thought, but at least he’d been able to help her pick them all up.

  They were still crouched low, across from one another.

  “Could we speak in private, do you think?” She must’ve been perched on her toes, with her dark blue skirt spread out around her, her back straight in a serviceable white blouse, yet she appeared almost willowy and delicate to him, her eyes wide and impossibly vulnerable. He’d always suspected, but now he could see clearly they were indeed the color of nutmeg, like her hair.

  In private?

  Why would she want to talk with him in private?

  Alone? What did she intend to say that she couldn’t simply say right out? I’m sorry I wrote that letter. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m not even sure why I did it…

  How had she seen it in the first place?

  Adam’s eyes fell on the papers clutched to the front of her blouse, and he knew. He’d sent it in, somehow. She’d seen it while sorting. Likely. And, somehow, Gus hadn’t seen it.

  That stopped him.

  If she’d wanted to make a joke of him, surely she would have shown the thing to Gus. They could have shared a good laugh together at his expense…

  “—a ride back to the ranch?” she was asking him.

  “What?” he asked blankly, aware they’d spent entirely too long picking up papers. Gus was sure to notice soon.

  “Miss MacKenna?” Adam heard Gus ask, as if on cue.

  “Just a moment,” Mandy called back. “We’ve almost got them all.” To Adam she whispered, “A ride to my ranch?”

  “But what about your carriage?” Had he seen it outside at the hitching post? He couldn’t remember.

  “Darby can return without me. Gus will let him know.”

  “He won’t mind?” Adam paused. “Your riding home with me?”

  She straightened, quickly rising to her feet, and began meticulously arranging her papers, turning them this way and that, so the print all went the right way. Gus looked relieved to see her and Adam appear into view again. Or to see his papers undamaged. He did frown a bit, so perhaps he’d noticed the two of them engaged in secret conversation. Either that, or he noticed how rumpled some of his precious papers were.

  Adam’s lips twitched involuntarily.

  “It’s done all the time,” Mandy whispered in an aside, in a somewhat defensive tone.

  She leaned toward him, and a tantalizing sweet scent tickled his nose—her soap, perhaps. What was it? Something vaguely familiar... Honeysuckle?

  She blinked at him, as if waiting for some response.

  What was done all the time? Oh, yes, the ride. That was true, especially so back in Denver where he’d grown up.

  “Why,” she continued, her voice more demure and soft now, hesitant even, “even if we were courting it would be perfectly acceptable.”

  Adam’s blood pulsed in his ears. All he could hear repeating in his mind was courting, courting, courting.

  Perhaps that explained why the next word out of his mouth was: “Courting?”

  Gus looked up.

  Mandy froze to a statue.

  “If,” she said quietly and very distinctly, perhaps as aware as he was that Gus was now openly listening.

  The way she stressed the word put Adam neatly in his place, but his thoughts couldn’t help jumping ahead to the ride to her family’s ranch, how she’d be up on the front bench next to him. Maybe her wide skirt might brush up against his chaps... Maybe he’d get another whiff of her soap.

  “Of course,” he said, making a show of smoothing down the front of his chambray work shirt. Much as Gus had smoothed his lapels earlier. Proper, professional. Gentlemanly. He hoped.

  He was all-too aware that he was about as green as a rancher could be. He’d felt so ill-equipped, especially around Old Pete. Around Mandy’s father too, truth be told. He’d felt people looking at him when he’d first arrived. He’d heard their thoughts as clearly as if they’d spoken aloud: What had Joseph Booker been thinking?

  They would have seen Adam arrive in his city banker’s suit and thought how young a
nd inexperienced he looked. They may as well have said so to his face. Old Pete had often intimated enough, Adam thought sourly, trying hard not to be bitter.

  “I’d be happy to give you a ride up to your place,” he said more loudly. If it was proper—and it was—then why should they whisper? That only made it sound as if they were engaged in something improper. Best to have it all out in the open. Seen and heard.

  Gus’s eyebrows rose clear up to his hairline, almost.

  “Thank you, Mr. Booker,” Mandy said, all prim and proper. She gave her stack of papers what seemed a comforting but final pat. “I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of the sorting, Gus. Shall I come back tomorrow?”

  Gus’s eyes widened, which caused Adam to wonder why. Why would Gus be alarmed at the thought of her returning tomorrow? Or perhaps at her saying so in front of him, Adam?

  “No, no need,” Gus said quickly. Then as if something occurred to him, he said, “Shall I pass that one...paper along to your cousin then?”

  A small line appeared between her brows, then cleared. She gave Gus a pleased little smile.

  “Very clever.”

  At least that was what Adam thought he heard her murmur under her breath, which was also curious. What paper? Why was Gus clever? Adam found it all confusing, but he wanted to know. He wanted to know everything about Mandy. What she did. What she liked. What she didn’t like...

  “Yes,” she said aloud. “Yes, please give it to Darby.” There was something off in the way she said it, Adam thought, like it was scripted, or ever so slightly stilted. Like an actress playing a theatrical part, and she hadn’t mastered her lines yet.

  And why would she say it like that, unless there was something more to her response...? What was this paper, and why was giving it to Darby so clever?