My Heart's Desire

by Wendy Lindstrom

“Tansy put it in our bedchamber.”

  “So my aunts knew about this too.”

  “We were all plotting against you, darling.”

  She sighed. “Thank you for the best day of my life. Will you please show me our new home?”

  “That’s what I’d planned to do before you distracted me.” He grinned and took her hand. “Kitchen first.” A bottle of red wine sat on the counter with two glasses that he promptly filled. “Do you think we can navigate while carrying these?”

  She accepted the glass with a smile. “If I can cross a rutted field in the dark without spilling a drop of wine, I think I can manage a hardwood floor and a few doorways.”

  He tapped his glass to hers. “Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Grayson.”

  “Our home.” She lifted her glass to toast him. “I wish I had something to give you in return.”

  He linked his fingers with hers. “You’re all I want.”

  “I hope that never changes,” she whispered, paralyzed with fear to think, to know that this sweet bliss could shatter at any moment.

  He lit a lantern then led her through the dining room, a small music room, and a large water closet downstairs. Upstairs, they passed four partially furnished bedrooms, two of which Cora and Adam would use, and at the back of the house a small nursery connected to a master bedchamber as big as their parlor.

  Faith trailed her fingers across a tall chiffonier and matching dresser in a lustrous cherry wood that brought a rich warmth to the room. Awed by luxury she never thought to enjoy, she admired the dressing table with a beveled oval mirror—and was shocked by the reflection of a bride in her finest dress standing beside her husband. A huge canopy bed loomed behind them, with a bouquet of herbs and wildflowers lying on the white linen pillowcase.

  “Somebody left a salad on our bed,” he said, nodding toward the herbs.

  She laughed and set her empty glass on the bed stand then picked up the bouquet. “It’s a tussie-mussie,” she said. The stems were tucked into a white lace doily and tied bouquet fashion with a pink ribbon. “It’s from my aunts. Tansy must have left it when she brought my bag.”

  Duke leaned his shoulder against the carved cherry bedpost, and finished his wine. “What exactly is a tussie-mussie?”

  “It can be a gift. Or a curse. It depends on what herbs you put in it.” She skirted the bed to show him the herbs. “Basil is for love and good wishes, peppermint-scented geranium for happiness, and lavender for devotion.” She brushed her finger over a daisy-like white flower with a deep yellow center. “Chamomile is for wisdom and fortitude.” Which she would surely need to get through her wedding night. “This blue, star-shaped flower is borage for bravery.” A virtue she could use more of right now. “And this wild rose is for love.”

  “You forgot that one,” he said, pointing to a green stalk with tiny leaves and miniature pink flowers.

  “Thyme. For daring.”

  He chuckled. “Thyme for daring. That must be from Iris.”

  Her face flushed. Only Iris would have thought to add the thyme, knowing Faith would find the tussie-mussie on her marriage bed. Today, on her wedding day when she needed it most, her aunts had brought love and encouragement and a bouquet of heartfelt wishes.

  “Now you know why I love those women,” she said, sniffing the green, reviving herbs to hide her discomfort.

  “I’m glad you have them.” Duke was watching her play with the herbs, but she sensed his thoughts were elsewhere.

  With a sigh, she laid the tussie-mussie on the dressing table, looked at her handsome, patient husband, and swallowed hard. It all hinged on this, her wedding night, and making him believe she was an experienced woman. One rushed intimate involvement was hardly enough knowledge to get her through the consummation, but she wasn’t a virgin, and for that she could finally be thankful.

  Someday she would tell him the truth—when he was ready, when their future would be more important to him than her past.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Duke folded his newspaper and put it on the coffee table. After thirty-one years of living in his parents’ home, it felt deeply satisfying to be sitting in his own house with his own family. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more fulfilled and happy.

  “Daddy, do you know a story about a moose?” Cora asked. She sat on the sofa with Faith, who’d been reading to her.

  From the minute he and Faith were married yesterday, Cora had begun calling him daddy, and each time he heard the word from her sweet little mouth it melted him.

  “No, princess.”

  “What about a dog?”

  Adam lifted his head as if someone had just handed him a silver dollar. “Are we getting a dog?” Sprawled on the floor, he looked up with hopeful eyes.

  Faith laughed. “No, Adam, and before you ask, we don’t need a dog.”

  His expression fell and he turned back to his book.

  Duke thought of Boyd’s silly dog Sailor and knew Adam would love a mutt like that. But he wasn’t talking about pets on his first night of being a family man.

  Cora slid off the sofa and leaned against his knee. “Will you tell me a story?”

  He glanced at Faith, but her smile said she wasn’t about to bail him out of his new duty “Sorry, Cora, I don’t know any.”

  “Just make up something,” Adam said, his eyes glued to his book. “She won’t care.”

  Make up something? Duke had spent so many years teaching himself to be precise, accurate, and truthful, he couldn’t begin to concoct a tale. But Cora’s hopeful stare melted him. Gads, he couldn’t fail at his first test as a father. “All right,” he began, summoning his nerve. He would tell her a true story. “One winter when I was a boy we had a huge storm that buried everything in snow.”

  “What kind of snow?”

  “Um, the white, fluffy kind,” he said, seeing Faith hide a smile behind her hand. “My brothers and I spent the morning shoveling out the entrance to the barn. When we finished, we decided we could slide off the roof and land in the huge snow bank we built.”

  Cora’s eyes goggled. “Was it scary on the roof?”

  “Not really,” he said. “My brothers and I climbed trees much higher than our barn.”

  Adam closed his book and sat up to listen. “Did you go off the roof?”

  “All afternoon. We hit that pile so many times it half crumbled. Kyle gouged a path through it, and before long, we had a long, icy slide. My brother Boyd got this crazy idea about riding our toboggan off the roof. He said we’d slide down the shingles, hit the snow bank, shoot through the grooved path, and sail clear across the yard.”

  Adam’s eyes lit with excitement. “Did you do it?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Faith winced. “You didn’t.”

  “Radford warned us not to. Kyle said we were idiots. But Boyd made it sound like such an adventure, I had to try. We got the sled clear to the roof peak, but when I jumped on, my weight jerked the sled out of Boyd’s hands. He was supposed to ride with me, but I streaked down the roof alone and shot into the air like a lightning bolt.”

  “How far did you get?” Adam asked, his eyes lit with excitement.

  “Too far. I overshot the snow bank and landed in the shoveled driveway. I broke my arm, and when my parents found out what we were up to, we all got a strap laid across our backsides.”

  Faith arched an eyebrow at Adam. “So the moral, young man, is that you don’t climb onto the roof.”

  “Sorry, wrong story,” Duke said. This job as father was more complicated than he thought.

  “You’re fine,” Faith said, “but I know a certain young man who might be impressed and tempted to try something like that.”

  He’s a boy, Duke wanted to say. Boys climb trees. They swing from wild grape vines to drop twenty feet into the gorge. It was the adventure and the thrill that drove them to be daring—or dumb. Duke didn’t know about girls, but Evelyn had done many of those same daring, albeit dumb, things with
them. That wild sense of adventure, to him at least, had been the best part of his childhood.

  Not that he wanted Adam jumping off a roof. But a boy was entitled to some adventure in life.

  Faith chased the children upstairs to put on their nightclothes. Alone for the first time all evening, Duke stole a kiss from her.

  With a light laugh, she clasped his hand and led him upstairs to tend the children.

  For the first time in his life, Duke helped his wife tuck their children in bed. Adam suffered Faith’s hug then jumped onto his new mattress. He sat on the coverlet in his nightshirt looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Um, I don’t know what to call you, Sir.”

  Duke didn’t know either. It would have been easier if Adam, like Cora, was Faith’s child. But he wasn’t, even though she treated him as such. So that left Duke feeling like a father, but relegated to brother-in-law and guardian. “You’re nearly a man, Adam. Why not call me Duke?” He hoped the acknowledgment would allow them to be friends and still give Adam someone he could depend on.

  “Sure, Duke.” Adam sat up a little straighter on the mattress. “You and your brothers sure did some wild things when you were boys.”

  “You will too, Adam. I just hope you’ll be smarter and more careful than we were.”

  Adam grinned. “I promise I won’t ride a sled off the barn roof.”

  “Thank you for that small blessing.” Faith kissed his boyish cheek. “Enjoy your new bed and sleep well.”

  “I will.” He flopped to his side and bunched a thick feather pillow beneath his head.

  Duke extinguished Adam’s lantern feeling a tender affection for the boy and a deep desire to be a good father and friend to him.

  When they reached Cora’s room, she was sprawled sideways across her bed, lightly bumping her heels against the wall and singing to herself.

  “Time to tuck you in,” Faith said, turning back the coverlet. She swept Cora into a tight hug and kissed her cheek. “Sweet dreams, honey”

  Cora kissed Faith’s cheek then reached so naturally for Duke, he felt his heart do a crazy little somersault. “Goodnight, Daddy” she said. She squeezed his neck with her skinny arms, and kissed his cheek with her puckered lips.

  Being a sheriff for eight years had numbed Duke in some ways, making him able to handle life-threatening situations with a cool head, but nothing had prepared him for the rush of tenderness he felt for Cora. He’d tucked his nieces and nephews into bed many times when his mother kept them overnight, and though he loved those children with all his heart, they belonged to his brothers. This little rose-scented girl with her bright eyes and blabby mouth was his—the daughter he would love and protect and rescue from being fatherless.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  When Adam got to the swimming hole in the gorge, Rebecca was in the water. He hadn’t seen her since Faith and Duke’s wedding three weeks ago, and he hated it. Did she consider him her cousin now? Could they still be friends?

  “Set this in the shade,” Faith said, handing him the huge basket of food she’d brought for the picnic with Duke’s mother and brothers. Everyone from Adam’s family was there, and Doc Milton and Patrick and Cyrus were tagging along too. It seemed like the men were always around now, but Adam liked listening in on their naughty jokes.

  The stones on the creek bank burned his bare feet, and he hurried to the water. Submerged to his shins, Adam watched Boyd swing over the creek on a wild grape vine and drop into the water with a splash.

  Boyd’s four-year-old son Colter grabbed the vine. “I want to do it!”

  “All right, but hold on until I tell you to let go.” Boyd treaded water in the middle of a deep pooled area of the creek, fanning his muscular arms to stay afloat.

  On the bank, Kyle lifted the boy, made sure he had a firm hold on the vine then gave him an easy push over the water.

  “Let go!” Boyd shouted.

  Colter released the vine and fell. As soon as he surfaced from the water, Boyd grabbed him and swam ashore with his dripping, grinning, dark-haired son clinging to his strong back.

  Teaching courage and daring, and giving rescue, was something fathers did that Adam hadn’t known about.

  Rebecca’s dad went in next then waited for his sons. William swam ashore on his own, but Joshua needed some help. After a while, the fathers and sons got all mixed up, and Adam learned that fathers take care of their brothers’ children. Another slice in his heart. Why didn’t his own father want him?

  “Adam!” Rebecca waved to him. “Come try the swing.”

  Anything was better than standing on the bank thinking about a man he hated. The vine swing was exciting, but it would have been more thrilling if the drop was longer.

  His aunts and Rebecca’s grandmother each took a ride on the swing, hooting and laughing so loudly it embarrassed him. Tansy blew a kiss to Cyrus then dropped into the pool and pretended she was drowning. When he swam out to rescue her, he stole a kiss. Iris hooted like the boys, and kicked her feet so high when she rode the swing, her red drawers showed. It made Patrick whistle like a fool. And Duke wouldn’t stay away from Faith for a minute. She blushed and laughed and pretended to push him away, but she liked Duke’s teasing. Only Aster and Doc Milton behaved themselves while everyone else acted foolish.

  Adam swam downstream where the water rushed over rocks. Alone, he dug up stones and piled them in different shapes, liking the way it changed the sound of the burbling water.

  “What are you doing?” Rebecca asked, from behind him.

  Startled, he dropped a rock against his knee, but refused to wince at the bloody scrape. He glanced upstream where everyone was still splashing and hollering. “My family is embarrassing.”

  “So is mine,” Rebecca admitted. “They’re all playing charades and laughing like they’ve had too much wine.”

  “Are they drinking?”

  “No, just acting silly.” Rebecca dug up a rock and stacked it on the pile. “My dad says we’re cousins now.”

  They were not cousins.

  “I don’t think we are,” she said. “But maybe my dad will let us be friends now.”

  The ache in his chest lightened. “Did you find my note last week?” he asked, fussing with the rock pile.

  “Joshua found it, but I got it away from him before he could show my father.”

  Adam’s gut rolled. “I won’t leave any more.”

  “There’s a better place,” she said, looking upstream to make sure they weren’t overheard. “You know the creek that cuts through our apple orchard?” At his nod, she continued. “Under the little wooden bridge there’s an old bird’s nest on the side nearest my house. I’ll check there for notes.”

  He remembered the bridge from when he’d chased Rebecca through the orchard at Faith’s wedding. “All right, but you better go before your dad gets angry.”

  But it wasn’t her father’s voice that boomed down the gorge. It was Duke’s. “You two get up here where we can see you. I don’t want you floating into Lake Erie.”

  Adam rolled his eyes, and Rebecca laughed as they made their way back toward their noisy, embarrassing families.

  After a month of marriage, Faith still had to pinch herself to know she wasn’t dreaming. She never knew life could be filled with so much joy and laughter, or that she—a prostitute’s daughter—would be blessed with a beautiful home and loving husband.

  Each evening after chores, she and Duke and the children, and sometimes her aunts or his family, would share a filling supper then retire to the parlor to read and play games. After tucking the children in bed, she and Duke would spend time together talking and cuddling in the parlor. She’d wanted so badly to confide in him and ask his forgiveness for not telling him the truth about her background before they married, but finally she decided she wasn’t going to tell him at all.

  She couldn’t. He’d been wearing his sheriff’s badge on his leather vest for eight years with pride and devotion. Each morning, he strapped on his gun belt
, pulled on his vest, and whistled his way out the door, sure of himself and sure of Faith. He was so content with his new family, and so proud of his new wife, the truth would crush him.

  So now when she ached to confess, she maintained her silence to protect her husband.

  In early September, Adam went back to school with a firm warning from Duke to behave himself and stay put in the schoolroom. Adam grumbled, but did as he was told, and Faith was grateful for Duke’s help.

  Although Duke was busy with his job as sheriff and working the mill with his brothers, he asked again if Faith would let Adam work at the mill with him on Saturdays. It scared her too much to let him go, so Adam continued to work at the store and help in the greenhouse when not in school.

  Faith only gave massages to Duke now, and his shoulder was steadily improving. With fewer demands on her time, she was becoming the sort of wife and mother she’d dreamed of being.

  Her aunts seemed to be settling in, too. Dahlia spent most of her evenings at Anna’s house, helping the women who sought refuge there. Despite Tansy’s objection to Cyrus being a Yankee, she was clearly falling in love with the man. Iris and Patrick were a mystery: They obviously cared for each other, but they were at some sort of standoff that Faith didn’t understand and couldn’t ask about.

  In late September, Cora got sick to her stomach, keeping Faith at her bedside for four exhausting nights. The fifth evening Cora was better, but Faith wasn’t feeling well.

  The next evening Faith felt better, and after the children were sleeping, she sat in the parlor enjoying the early autumn night with her husband.

  “This has been the longest, most miserable week of my life,” he said, sitting beside her on the sofa.

  “Mine too.”

  “Your eyes are dark. Are you unwell?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just worn out from sitting up with Cora.”

  “I’ll make you feel better.” He held her against his chest and rubbed his hands over her back, kneading her tight muscles with his warm fingers.