Free…but shackled by the fear of an unknown future, by the little voice in her head telling her she would fail. And shackled by the surprising and welcome gentleness she found in Hank.
Hank came around the counter.
He’s so close, I could reach out and—No!
He searched her face. “Why did they do that?”
“Because I refused to follow their plan; slave away in the store, making lace, manning the register, keeping the account books, living my life under their thumb. Never falling in love, never marrying, never knowing what it feels like to be loved…”
Why had she said that?
Hank ran his thumb over her mouth and she shuddered. “Tilly, I wish I knew what to say. I wish there were some way I could help you.” The sincerity in his voice nearly undid her.
She pulled away. “Don’t worry about me, Hank. I’ll stay here, in the store, and I’ll work my fingers to the bone creating the best dresses in Texas. I will do everything I set my mind to,” she said with more bravado than she felt.
He smiled. “I know you will, Teacakes. You’ve always done exactly as you wanted and I’ve always admired you for that.”
At the sound of that wretched nickname, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The fear that had abated while standing close to Hank returned five-fold. Had he come to tease her? To throw her mistake back in her face? She couldn’t believe that gentle, kind, thoughtful Hank she’d gotten to know over the last several weeks would do something so heinous.
But did she really know him? Could she trust him?
“You know I hate that nickname, Henry.” She moved to the front of the store beside the door. “You never did finish telling me why you were here.”
He joined her. “I thought I’d take you to La Beau Bayou for tea and then maybe visit Mrs. Hanlon so you can meet her twins.”
Oh, that sounded wonderful. Don’t let him in, there is so much more at stake now. You can lose everything, her mind and heart clamored. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Hank. I am just too busy here to play your games today.”
He recoiled. “Games? What games?”
“This silly game of courting me. Despite what you say about wanting to marry me, I know you only really want to rid yourself of the guilt so you can feel better about yourself. But—but I can’t be that atonement for you, Hank. I just can’t. And so, to save you the trouble of ever having to ‘court’ me again, I absolve you of all past wrongs against me. There, you are free.” She made a show of wiping her hands.
Tension ruled the interior of the store and Tilly watched as the muscles ticked in his jaw. Long moments later, he spoke. “You know better.”
“What?” she asked, confused.
“You know, can feel, this is different. That I am different. What’s between us is more than past sins or present guilt. When I said I wanted to marry you, I meant every word. I still do. I want to marry you more than anything else I want in this life. But you… You are so afraid to let me in, to let yourself feel anything for me, that you refuse to see what’s right in front of you.”
Tilly trembled beneath the weight of his gaze and the truth of his words. “What’s that?” she whispered.
“Everything, Tilly.” With that, Hank left the store.
The silence he left behind soon filled with the sounds of her heart breaking.
Chapter Thirteen
Tilly pulled the pins from her mouth and nodded. “There, that’ll do perfectly,” she declared confidently. She’d just finished pinning the hem of Ray’s wedding gown. Sitting back on her heels, she took in the full picture.
The satin crème-colored dress was hemmed with Tilly’s handmade lace and trimmed with velvet ribbons. It was beautiful dress. And on Ray, it was stunning.
“Oh, Ray, you look amazing!”
Ray blushed and spun, watching the dress twirl. “You think so?”
Tilly smiled. “Do frogs jump for juicy flies?” she asked in her best “Ray” imitation.
They laughed. It felt good to laugh.
“There it is,” Ray pointed at Tilly’s face.
“There’s what?” Tilly touched her cheeks, confused and a little alarmed.
Ray cupped Tilly’s face. “There’s that smile I’ve been missin’ this whole week. I’d started feelin’ like I was the only one happy about gettin’ married. You’ve had a sour puss ever since you moved into your shop.” Ray furrowed her brow.
“Did your parents say somethin’ else to you?” From the look on Ray’s face, Tilly knew her friend was ready to go to battle for her.
“No, nothing like that. I’m just…tired. I haven’t been sleeping well and I have a lot on my mind.” It was the truth; it just wasn’t a detailed truth. The detailed truth was that she’d lain awake every night over the last nine days, playing and replaying the scene in her shop. The scene where Hank said things that shouldn’t bother her, but did, then turned and walked away.
She’d seen Hank since then. They greeted each other cordially and she spent time with him helping Ray and Billy prepare for the wedding. But they hadn’t, not once, spoken to each other as friends would. He treated her like a polite stranger. It was as though he’d given up on her, given up on courting her, on marrying her.
During the long days leading up to Ray’s wedding, she’d find herself wishing Hank was there. She wanted to see him, talk with him, even smell him. She missed his smile, his voice, his laugh. Why did that hurt so much?
Shouldn’t she be happy that he wasn’t pressing his attentions anymore? It’s what she wanted. Right? From the very beginning, when Hank told her he’d planned to court her and marry her, she’d been against it. Convinced he only meant to tease her in a new way or, at least, make himself feel better about being such a bully to her when they were children.
But the more time she spent with Hank, the more she spoke to him, listened to him, watched him interact with others, watched him watching her, the more she wondered if he wasn’t telling the truth from that first afternoon.
He wanted to marry her. Her. Teacakes Tilly. But then again, she wasn’t Teacakes Tilly any longer. And Hank Bartlett wasn’t “The Bully” any longer.
She’d changed. He’d changed. Deep down she knew that. Could see it in everything he said and did. But she didn’t know why her mind refused to see it even when her heart knew the truth.
“You in there, Tilly?” Ray’s voice intruded on Tilly’s thoughts. Tilly moaned at the weight of all she had to carry.
“Ray, I think I did something terrible,” she confessed.
Ray pulled Tilly into the corner where Tilly had set up parlor chairs. “Spill it,” Ray commanded before Tilly could even sit back.
A sad laugh tumbled from Tilly’s lips. She took a moment to slow her suddenly pounding heart and told Ray about her confrontation with Hank. Ray nodded and mhmmed at the appropriate spots. Once Tilly was finished, Ray heaved a sigh.
“I’d noticed you two actin’ chilly toward one another. I just figured you were tryin’ to keep your courtship a secret. I didn’t know you’d gone and done somethin’ so stupid.”
Tilly flinched at her friend’s too-true observation of her mental aptitude.
“So, what’re you gonna do?” Ray asked.
“What am I supposed to do? He’s given up. That’s what I wanted in the first place. I never wanted him to try to woo me. I never asked him to come back to Dry Bayou and court me. It’s utterly ridiculous that he ever thought it would work. I mean, I’m the last woman on earth he should ever consider marrying.” She spoke the words, but they didn’t feel like the right words. They felt like lies.
“Tilly, you know I’m not one to tell people what to do or how to think. But I think you need to do somethin’ about all these lies you keep tellin’ yourself.”
Tilly blinked. Ray’s words slowly sank into her mind. “What are you talking about?”
“You are one of the smartest, kindest, loveliest women I know, and if Hank sees even a speck of
that, he knows you are worth your weight in gold. Think about it, Tilly. The man left town, made somethin’ of himself, returned to town after six years, and the first thing he did was lay out a plan to pursue you. It’s obvious he didn’t just hop off the stagecoach and get a hankerin’ for a pretty blonde. He thought about this, thought about you. If that isn’t sincerity, I don’t know what is,” Ray finished and stood.
“I’ll let you think about that. In the meantime, help me get out of this dress.”
Tilly went through the motions of helping Ray from her dress, hanging it up, and then putting away her tools. Her mind and heart were at war; her mind tried to discount her dear friend’s words, but her heart ached for them to be true.
She wanted Hank to want her. She wanted Hank to court her. But was that enough to give up on her dream of owning her own store or being her own person? If she gave in and let Hank court her, would it get in the way of her being a success? Hank had only been home for several weeks and Tilly was already an emotional, distracted mess.
She couldn’t afford distractions. Not now. Not when she was on her own; living in her own dress shop, eating the meals Dora snuck out of the house for her, and praying that the bell over the door would tinkle with the promise of regular income.
Without the money she’d make from her dress shop, she couldn’t support herself. She’d already used all the money she had on renting the store and ordering the fabrics.
If she didn’t make money in those first three months, she wouldn’t be able to keep her store open. Then, she’d have to go crawling back to her parents, begging them to let her come home. Her, the Mosier who failed. Could she take that chance?
“Don’t you forget, I need you at the church bright and early tomorrow mornin’,” Ray reminded her. “I’m gettin’ married!” she crowed, her excitement glowing from her face.
Tilly laughed. “You are? I didn’t know that,” she teased.
Ray grabbed Tilly in a tight hug and they stood there for long moments.
“Oh, there’s one more thing I need you to do for me,” Ray said as she turned toward the door. “Can you pick up somethin’ from the church tonight? Billy left it there for me and I can’t take the chance that he’ll see me before the weddin’.”
“Of course.” Another brief hug and Ray left.
Tilly burst into tears.
Chapter Fourteen
Hank turned from where he sat in the front pew of the church and watched as Tilly slowly made her way toward him down the wide center aisle. She’d spotted him when she first entered the building and she’d stumbled a little, which told him she was surprised to see him.
Surprised was good. It meant that Ray had done her part without giving anything away. She’d gotten Tilly to the church and now it was his turn. He swallowed down the lump of apprehension in his throat and stood to greet her.
She looked lovely, as always. Her golden hair was loose around her shoulders and her blue eyes glimmered in the dwindling sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. She was nervous; he could tell by the adorable way she was nibbling her bottom lip, which only made it more plump, more kissable.
He coughed to hide his groan. “Good evening, Tilly.”
“Hank.” His name on her lips made his heart ache.
Oh, how he missed her. Over the last nine days, he’d made a point of avoiding her. Not that he didn’t want to be with her, touch her, talk with her. He wanted to give her time to think about what he’d said. But he also needed time to plan. When he’d walked away from her that afternoon in the store, he’d wanted to shake her, make her understand that what he felt for her was real. He wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t deny the power between them. He wanted to pull her into his arms and show her, with his words and his lips, how much he needed her.
But she needed time, so he’d given it to her. He knew it was a risk; that maybe she’d forget about him, about his desire to marry her, and just move on with her life. But it was a risk he had to take because she was worth any risk.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. Her eyes didn’t meet his.
“I was waiting for you.”
Her gaze shot to his. “You were?” She sounded breathless.
He nodded and took a step closer. “I was.”
She turned a delicious pink. “Oh?” her voice cut through his heated thoughts. “Why?”
“I wanted to give you something.” He pulled the brown paper-wrapped parcel from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it. Tilly stared down at it with a confused look on her face then met his gaze again.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
She shrugged and unwrapped it. He held his breath.
“Hank! How did you get this?” she marveled.
He smiled. “I have my ways,” he said, deliberate in his evasiveness.
She flipped the thin hard bound book over in her hands and he could see she was trembling.
“But how did you know…”
“That you liked H.B. Dillinger books?”
She nodded, her eyes wide and her lips parted.
God, he wanted to kiss her. “Ray told me.” Ray had told him a lot of things over the last week. Most of it made him all the more eager to make Tilly his own. Some of it made him want to drag her parents out into the street and have them tarred and feathered.
“Ray? She’s the one who sent me here to—” Tilly snorted. “She tricked me here, didn’t she?” she asked, her tone surprisingly light.
“You wouldn’t have come otherwise.”
“That’s not—”
“Yes, it is,” he interrupted her, knowing full well what she’d say. “You would’ve ignored any note I sent, even if I made it a command.”
He thought back to the note he’d sent her those weeks before, effectively telling her she was going on a walk with him. That was one of the best days of his life.
A smile formed on his face at the promise of more intimate picnics by the lake.
Tilly ran her fingers over the book cover and down the spine. “The Seamstress,” she read the title. “I haven’t read this one.”
“You wouldn’t have. This is a new one. Actually, that’s the very first copy.”
Her face brightened with a grin and his heart thudded to a halt.
To see that smile for the rest of my life…I’d give her anything her heart desired.
“Hank. Thank you,” she said and clutched the book to her chest like a precious infant.
“You’re welcome.” So very welcome.
She turned to leave but paused. “I can’t give you anything in return.”
He held up his hand. “I only ask that you read it, tonight, and then come find me tomorrow morning.”
“I can do that.” She began nibbling her lip again.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Tilly left the church and Hank sank onto the first pew.
Will she come?
*
Back in her bedroom—the storage room—she sat on the edge of her makeshift bed and gazed down at the cover of the book Hank gifted to her.
She’d gone to the church as Ray asked her to and was shocked to find Hank there, waiting for her. She’d seen him all week, but she’d avoided him and the heated emotions that surfaced whenever he was near.
But he was never near enough. Always out of reach, distant, in the same room with her, but not there with her. Even Ray had noticed. Was that why she agreed to help Hank get her to the church?
Tilly snickered, somewhat thankful to her friend for her sneakiness because she’d gotten a brand new book out of it!
It was bound in deep green leather and the words were embossed in gold.
The Seamstress.
It was a curious title for an H.B. Dillinger book, but it didn’t diminish her desire to read it. The other H.B. Dillinger book she’d been trying to read over the last week still sat unread on her desk in the corner.
“I really
should read that one first…” But Hank asked her to read this one. Tonight. Then find him in the morning.
Why? And how did he get the book in the first place? He’d attended medical school in New York City. Had he met H.B. Dillinger there? Were they friends?
She shrugged. She’d ask him tomorrow. But first…
Tilly lit the lantern and set it beside her. She cracked open the book and stared down at the title page.
THE SEAMSTRESS
A MARIE HENRY NOVEL
BY H.B. DILLINGER
Over the next several hours, Tilly sat glued to the pages of the book. It told the tale of Marie Henry, returning home from her many adventures as a government spy, determined to settle down and open the dress shop she’d always dreamt of. The book recounted Marie falling in love with the handsome and charming town doctor, but then the doctor fell ill with a sickness of the heart. Could Marie save him? Would they get married? Would they live happily ever after?
Tilly, her heart in her throat, noticed there were only a few pages left in the book. She was desperate to see how this tale ended. She took a deep, calming breath and flipped to the next page.
It was blank.
Alarm fired through her. “What?” She flipped to the next page and the next. They were all blank. Finally, there was only one left. Heart racing, her hand trembled as she turned the last page.
TILDA MARIE MOSIER:
IT’S UP TO YOU TO FINISH THIS BOOK.
HOW WILL YOUR STORY END?
Tilly shot to her feet. “What?” How was this possible? How could this book have her name printed in it, let alone a personal message? Then it came to her: This is Hank’s doing.
He somehow convinced H.B. Dillinger to write the book and leave her a message at the end.
But why? What was Hank’s purpose? The story was about Marie Henry going home and opening a dress shop… She gasped. “This book is about me?”
Unable to grasp the reality of her own words, she set the book aside. She climbed into bed, fully clothed, and begged the Lord to make the morning come fast.
The Seamstress (Dry Bayou Brides Book 2) Page 6
