Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Elizabeth Rolls

  “That’s about as perfect as they come,” Gretchen said, pouring coffee into a cup.

  Trim, with brown hair and eyes, and bright red lips, Alice took the cup and saucer from Gretchen. While holding the saucer in one hand, she lifted the cup with the other and took a small sip. A frown formed between her dark brows as she said, “I truly thought there was an issue by the way Mr. McCormick acted.”

  Jenny refused to glance at Gretchen as she said, “He was here when the delivery happened and I don’t believe he’s ever experienced something along those lines.”

  “Births can tend to agitate some men,” Alice said. “I thought he was there to tell me it was time to install a telephone line. I can’t even say how excited I am about that. It will make all the difference in the world for my patients to get hold of me. You are having one installed, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Jenny answered. “We aren’t.”

  “Why not? I’m glad it’s his company covering this area. I’ve heard good things about it and his prices are far better than what other people have paid. A telephone truly could be a lifesaver. Well worth the cost.” Alice took another sip of coffee. “I was impressed by him. A man so young owning such a thriving company, and out selling lines himself.”

  Jenny’s ears began ringing. She shook her head against it and against Alice’s comment. “Connor doesn’t own the Rural Rochester Telephone Company.” He’d said he worked for it, not...

  “Yes, he does,” Alice said. “I read an article about him in the Rochester Chronicle last year. It had suggested he would be running telephone lines from Rochester to Syracuse this spring. I’d started to be concerned that it wouldn’t happen.”

  Jenny’s back teeth clenched. He’d lied to her again. For no reason, he’d flat out lied to her.

  “He’s also the reason the railroad crossing finally got new gravel hauled in,” Alice said. “He called the county and two days later, it was fixed. Impressive if you ask me.” Alice set her cup and saucer on the counter. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll stop by next week to check on Rachel and Annie, and I highly suggest you reconsider having a phone installed.”

  A nod was the most Jenny could muster as Gretchen followed Alice out of the kitchen. Hell could freeze over before she’d have one of Connor’s telephones in her home.

  * * *

  Connor raised a brow at the man sitting next to him on the chrome stools in the only diner in Twin Pines. “You don’t say?”

  “I do,” Howard Fletcher said, rubbing at the whiskers covering his double chin. “And it’s the gospel. Gretchen filled his hide with enough buckshot that old Doc Dillon was still plucking it out a week later.”

  “Dr. Dillon?” Connor asked.

  Howard nodded as he took a large bite of the gravy-covered beef. He owned the gas station next door and seemed to know everything about everyone—the very reason Connor had asked Howard to join him for dinner.

  “Alice Dillon,” Connor said, just for clarification. He’d sold a phone to the doctor’s office in town a couple of weeks ago, but hadn’t put two and two together until after leaving Jenny’s house. Then he’d driven straight to the big white house on the edge of town to send the doctor out to Jenny’s place. His mind had been too plugged up with other things when Jenny had said the doctor’s name.

  “Oh, no, no.” Howard took a drink of milk and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before continuing. “Not Alice. Her pappy. Roland. He died, oh, gosh, must be going on five years ago now. That’s when Alice moved home, took over his practice. She’d been down in New York City, working in one of those big hospitals. That’s why she never got married, you know. Never had time. They had her working day and night. Way I hear it, she lived right there at that hospital. That can’t be good for a young gal like she was back then. She’s a good doctor, though. Everyone trusts her. Mainly ’cause we trusted her pappy. He was home-grown. She was, too, as far as that goes. We got some good home-grown folks here.”

  Connor had watched the doctor leave town, and had watched for her return. She’d assured him that all was well with the new baby and her mother. That eased his mind about that situation, but there were still others filling his head.

  He pushed his plate to the opposite edge of the counter. The roast beef had been the only choice written on the small chalkboard on the wall. That wasn’t completely true; he’d had a choice of having either green beans or fried cabbage on the side. The board had also said there was a choice of a ginger bar or an oatmeal cookie for dessert, but he’d been informed that the cookies were all gone on account of Mr. Whipple buying a dozen to give to the children on the school bus for the ride home.

  He’d forgone the dessert. What he ate wasn’t as important as the conversation. Jenny had been wrong when she’d said that he didn’t know what love was. He knew. He also knew how it could crush a person. If she wouldn’t give him the answers he wanted, he’d get them elsewhere, and his companion could very well be that person. In a town this size, everyone knew everyone else’s business, and Howard had been more than willing to talk while pumping gas into his Phaeton a short time ago.

  “This Andrew Jewel, that was his name, right?” Connor asked.

  “Sure was.” Howard nodded toward the small plate beside Connor’s larger empty one. “You gonna eat that bread?”

  “No.” Connor slid the small plate closer to Howard. “Go ahead. This Andrew was caught sneaking around Gretchen’s after dark a few years ago?”

  Howard took the bread and while swiping it in the gravy on his plate, said, “He claimed he’d blown a tire on the road and walked up the driveway to get help. Don’t know what kind of help he expected.” He popped the gravy-soaked bread in his mouth. “But I bet it wasn’t buckshot.”

  Connor slid an extra napkin toward Howard. “Why did Gretchen shoot him?”

  Howard used the napkin to wipe the gravy off the front of his grease-stained overalls, but used his sleeve to wipe the gravy off his whiskers. “Showing up uninvited.” Leaning closer, he glanced left and right before whispering, “She’s got those young girls and their babies out there.”

  “Yes, she does,” Connor said.

  “There you have it.” Howard emptied his glass of milk and set it down with a thud. “Hillary sure puts on a good spread, don’t she?”

  “Yes, she does.” Connor made sure the waitress and owner, as well as the cook, were well out of earshot. “So this Andrew has been the only man anyone’s heard of being out at Je—Gretchen’s place?”

  “Sure is.” Howard guffawed. “Except a traveling salesman now and again. They’re getting one of your telephones, aren’t they?”

  The waitress was making her way toward them so Connor pulled out his billfold. “Yes,” he told Howard. “They’ll have a phone installed.” Free of charge, he’d see to it himself.

  “Need anything else, Howard?” the waitress asked.

  Howard patted his round stomach. “Nope.”

  “How about you?”

  “No, thank you.” Connor handed her several bills. “It was all very good.”

  Her red lips puckered as she looked at the money. “You paying for Howard’s meal, too?”

  “Yes, I am.” Offering a believable explanation, he added, “It gets lonely eating alone every night.”

  “I’ll be right back with your change.”

  “No, the rest is for you.” He gave her a wink for good measure.

  Touching the side of her blond hair, she grinned. “Well, sugar, you stop in any night.”

  “Tomorrow night it’s fried chicken,” Howard said. “Best you’ve ever eaten. Comes with corn or peas and apple cobbler.”

  Not wanting to commit to anything, Connor said, “I’ll keep that in mind if I get back in town in time.”

  Howard pulled out a grease-covered rag and blew his nose. “Where you going?”

  “Run
ning lines all the way to Syracuse. Still have plenty of people to sell service to.” That was a flat-out lie. He was going back out to Jenny’s tomorrow.

  “Your phone line is the talk of the town. Folks haven’t been this excited about something for years. Not since the president’s train rolled through.”

  “Oh? When was that?”

  “Let’s see here...” He rubbed his beard. “Best I can recall, that must have been right around 1892.”

  “Then it’s time for excitement.” He patted Howard’s shoulder as he rose off the metal stool. “Thanks for joining me for dinner.”

  “Thanks for the invite.” Howard climbed off his stool. “Glad you stopped in to fuel up the gas tank in that fancy car of yours.” He let out a low whistle. “She sure is a beauty.”

  “Thanks.” Connor pushed open the door. He and Howard parted ways on the sidewalk. He crossed the road to the small inn where he’d booked the same room he’d stayed in before, and Howard walked to his fueling station next door to the diner. He had an apartment above the station that he’d lived in since he’d opened the fueling station after his wife had died and he’d sold his farm to none other than Gretchen Olsen. That had been fifteen years ago, according to Howard.

  Entering the Bird’s Inn, a wooden building in need of another coat of white paint, Connor waved through the arched doorway, at the owners sitting side by side in rocking chairs and listening to the radio in the living room. “Just me.”

  “Grand Ole Opry’s on the radio if you care to join us,” the husband, Eric Robertson, invited.

  “That’s a good show, but I’m going to call it a day. Thank you, though. Another time.”

  “Good night,” Ava Robertson said.

  “Thank you, same to you.” Connor climbed the narrow staircase, admitting that he hadn’t been to a town this friendly in a very long time. Rochester was his town. Full of hustle and bustle, nightlife and family and friends. Twin Pines didn’t have a nightlife other than fireflies, there was no hustle and bustle and the only person he really knew was Jenny, but he was more than willing to stay here as long as necessary. Afterward, he’d return to Rochester, the life he’d always known. He’d know why Jenny had left by the time he headed home, and he’d be able to completely put her behind him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The night air blowing in through the window was pleasant and cool, and carried in the hooting of an owl. The bird must be close by, perched in one of the many trees behind the inn. Connor grinned. It had been a while since he heard an owl hooting.

  A frown tugged down on his brows as he listened more closely. Either that owl had a sore throat, or it wasn’t an owl. He tossed back the covers and picked up his watch to check the time as he climbed off the bed. It was after ten o’clock. He walked to the window and pulled back the curtain.

  Startled by what he saw, who he saw, he pushed the window all the way open and leaned out. Even with a scarf over her hair, he recognized her. “Jenny?”

  She pressed a finger to her lips and waved for him to come down.

  Still dressed, other than his shirt and shoes, he grabbed them and rushed out the door. The inn was quiet and it wasn’t until he was at the bottom of the steps that he paused long enough to question if he’d truly seen her, or had been having some kind of dream. One where he was awake and seeing things. A mirage.

  There was only one way to find out.

  He opened the door, pulled it closed quietly and ran down the porch steps. The rocks dug into his stockinged feet, but he ignored them. He’d put his shoes on after he discovered if it was Jenny, or if he’d been dreaming. While being awake. He knew he hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

  Rounding the corner of the building, his heart sank at the empty space. There were trees, grass, an old wooden swing, but no Jenny. A wave of disappointment hit him like a tidal wave. He had imagined her.

  Huffing out a breath, he turned, even more convinced that he had to get her out of his system.

  “Connor.”

  He closed his eyes, ignoring the way his mind was even conjuring up the sound of her voice.

  “Connor. Over here. Past the swing.”

  Certain the whispered words hadn’t come from within, he turned and scanned the trees behind the swing, and his heart somersaulted at the partially hidden shape beneath the long, low hanging branches of a willow tree. A woman’s shape. Wearing a dark dress and scarf, just like he’d seen out the window. Cautiously, because he wasn’t one hundred percent certain that he wasn’t imagining this, either, he took a couple of slow steps.

  She waved for him to hurry.

  He looked around, seeing nothing, and continued walking forward. “Jenny?”

  “Yes. Be quiet.”

  “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

  “Just come on. Hurry before someone hears us.”

  He crossed the lawn to where she stood, glancing around, checking to see if this was some sort of trick.

  “It’s just me,” she said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I have to talk to you.”

  It was too dark to see her face fully because of the tree branches and leaves. “How did you get here?”

  “Gretchen. She parked on the edge of town so no one would hear the truck.”

  “Why? What’s so important you’re sneaking around at night? Is it one of the girls? Another baby?”

  “I wouldn’t—”

  A dog barked in the distance.

  She grabbed his arm and tugged him to walk farther into the grove of trees. “I wouldn’t be here if it was just another baby.”

  “Why are you here?” His socks were collecting the nighttime dew. “Hold up a minute. Let me put my shoes on.”

  She stopped and released his arm, then wrung her hands together while looking around as he slipped on his shoes.

  “What’s going on?” he asked while tying the first shoe.

  “I need a ride to Albany.”

  “Oh. All right.” He tied the second shoe. “When?”

  “Right now.”

  “Right now?” He wasn’t opposed to giving her a ride, but felt he needed to point out, “That’s over a three-hour drive. It’ll be the middle of the night when we arrive.”

  She planted both hands on her hips. “I know that, but girls don’t run away in the middle of the day, they run away in the middle of the night!”

  “What are you talking about? Girls running away?” Full understanding struck. “Those pregnant women at your place, they are runways!”

  “Yes, but not from their homes, from the home.” She grasped his arm. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Will you take me or not?”

  He’d take her. That was a given. He could see the desperation on her face now that she was no longer shadowed by the trees. “I’ll take you, Jenny, but I need to know what I’m getting into.”

  “I’ll explain everything you need to know on the way,” she said hurriedly. “Please, we must leave, now. Something is wrong. I know it.”

  Her urgency triggered one inside him. “My car is out front. Go get in it. I have to go to my room and get the keys.”

  * * *

  Jenny pressed a hand to the churning in her stomach as Connor climbed in the car and started the engine. She’d thought about it, tried to come up with someone else she could ask, but there wasn’t anyone else. Connor was her only hope.

  Gretchen agreed.

  “Can you turn your lights on and off three times?” she asked.

  “Why?”

  “For Gretchen,” Jenny explained. Twin Pines was small enough that the entire length of town could be seen from both ends, and Gretchen would see the lights from where she sat in the truck on the west end. “She’s watching and will know that you agreed to take me once you flash your lights. She’ll go back home then
. Lora could go into labor at any time. One of us has to be there around the clock for when that happens.”

  He flashed his lights, and then pulled onto the road. “What is the home?”

  She hated asking for help. It was not something she did, and asking him was the worst. He might figure out the truth behind Emily’s birth, but she had to take that chance in order to help others. “A home for unwed mothers. It’s actually called the Albany Moral Hospitality Institute. Not that there is anything moral or hospitable about it.”

  “The women at your house? That’s where they ran away from?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed against the burning in her throat. “It’s a terrible place, Connor. Terrible. The girls are told they are immoral, disgraceful and that the sin in their blood will carry over to their babies. That their babies will be outcast as bastards if they don’t give them up for adoption, and that the only way they’ll be forgiven for having a baby out of wedlock is if they give up their child, just like God did. It’s terrible—the girls don’t feel as if they have any other option.”

  “And you give them one, let them live with you,” he said.

  “Yes, many of them want to keep their babies. Gretchen started helping girls who had run away from the home several years ago, and we usually see two, sometimes three a month, but it’s been over three months and I’m convinced that any who attempt to run away are getting caught.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Jenny was questioning her sanity by involving him in this. Gretchen had said he’d want to know everything, and if she truly trusted him, she would have to tell him. “I have to know you won’t tell anyone about this. Not anything about it. You have to promise, and you have to be honest, keep that promise.”

  “I’ve always been honest with you.”

  “You didn’t tell me you owned the Rural Rochester Telephone Company.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “You told me Seth O’Brien works with you at the phone company.” She’d searched her mind for every time he’d mentioned the phone company, after Dr. Dillon had left and before she and Gretchen had sat down to discuss all that Naomi at the flower shop had said today and formulate a plan to find out what was happening with girls not going to the shop, not seeking out help. Lora had been the last one, and that had been almost three months ago.