“Of course I have faults. . . . Everybody has—”
“Then let’s hear them.” She folded her arms across her chest and waited.
“I’m not going to sit here and tell you all my faults.”
“No?” She sniffed. “But the Bible says to confess them.”
“I know what the Bible says,” he growled, irritated by the twist of events.
“Then it doesn’t apply to you?”
“Just drop it, all right? I’m sorry I tried to help.”
Silence hung in the air, thicker than the fog rolling in, and remained between them until the house came into view.
“I don’t know what you think I’ve done, Michael,” Star said in a small voice, “but I don’t want to think about the past. Your daughter was the one who taught me that our sins are thrown far away when we repent. If God doesn’t remember the things I’ve done, why should I bring them up, and why should you worry about them?”
Her words sifted the irritation from Michael. He had his own past he’d like to forget. He nodded. “I won’t bring it up again.”
“Thank you.”
He drew the wagon to a halt, and Star hopped down as the door flew open, effectively halting any chance he had to make an apology. Aimee ran out the door and into Star’s arms before anyone could stop her.
“How come you’re all dirty?” the little girl asked when she finally let Star go.
“I fell in the mud again. Can you believe that? And look—now you’re all dirty too.”
Aimee shrugged. “I like it.”
A giggle escaped Star’s lips and reached Michael’s ears like an angel’s song. Contentment flooded him.
“Star!” Ma said from the doorway, her face beaming with unabashed joy. “Just look at you! Get in here so we can dry you off before you catch your death!”
Michael lifted her bag from the back of the wagon and watched as Star fell into his mother’s arms.
Star was home. The only question was. . .how could he convince her to stay?
Eleven
Star had almost forgotten how wonderful it was to be at the Riley farm, to be fussed over by Miss Hannah. . .and admired by Aimee.
And just to be in the same room with Michael. . . Her heart had felt his absence every aching moment of each day and night during the past month. Now it soared with a joy that made her feel downright giddy.
She was grateful that the steady rain kept him hovering in the cabin, getting underfoot as she and Miss Hannah prepared dinner. The cabin echoed with the sounds of Aimee’s gleeful laughter. She sat on the floor next to the fire, squeezing rags soaked with milk into the greedy mouths of five whining puppies.
According to the little girl, Mrs. Paxter from the next farm over had hotfooted it to the front door with a wiggling burlap bag in her hands. Without so much as a howdy-do, the woman had declared poor Cannonball a pa.
Michael chuckled at his daughter’s telling of the story. “And Ma took every single one of them in just like she’s a grammy again.”
Miss Hannah rolled her eyes and shrugged at Star. “That cold-hearted Paxter woman threatened to toss the whole bag of them into the creek. Aimee let up a howl louder than an Indian war cry. What was I to do?”
Star’s gaze went to Michael, and they exchanged knowing grins. They both knew Miss Hannah wouldn’t have let anyone harm even one of the furry little bothers, war cry or no war cry.
Looking from one to the other, Miss Hannah let out a “harrumph” and propped her hands on her hips. “Aimee, go wash up and come to the table.”
Star would have followed her into the kitchen, but Miss Hannah motioned her away. “You sit down. I’ll have everything out here in a jiffy. You too, Michael. Sit and keep Star company until dinner’s on the table.”
Tingles raced up Star’s spine as Michael’s arm brushed hers when he pulled out the chair for her to sit down. He lingered just a bit longer than necessary, and Star inhaled the combined smells of soap and wood smoke. His closeness sent her heart racing. She closed her eyes as he stood behind her chair, his hand gripping her arm.
“Star. . .” His husky whisper weakened her knees, and she was glad to be sitting; otherwise she feared her legs might not have held her. He crouched down next to her. His gaze flickered over her face and settled on her lips. But just when she thought he would lean in and kiss her, he seemed to gather his wits and looked her in the eye.
Scarcely able to breath, Star waited for him to speak.
“Pa! Are they clean enough to eat?” Aimee bounded into the room and shoved her palms between Star and Michael, effectively halting conversation or anything else that might have occurred between them.
A wry grin tipped Michael’s lips. He grabbed both of his daughter’s dimpled hands and appeared to examine them. “Hmmm. They do look clean enough to eat.” With that, he brought them to his lips and pretended to devour the little fingers. Aimee giggled uncontrollably and infectiously until Star was giggling right along with her.
Miss Hannah bustled through the kitchen with a pot in her hands. She sent Michael and Aimee an affectionate smile as she set dinner on the table. “All right. Stop the shenanigans, and let’s eat before the food gets cold.”
Michael held her hand during the blessing, as he had many times before. This time, however, he didn’t let it go immediately upon saying “Amen.” Star glanced up in surprise. He held her fast with his beautiful, brown-eyed gaze. His thumb caressed the back of her hand, sending physical and emotional sensations throughout her being.
After a quick glance at his mother, then at Aimee, he focused his full attention upon Star. Her throat went dry, and she couldn’t have looked away if a herd of buffalo had stampeded through the room.
“Michael?”
“I need to ask you something,” he began.
Star’s pulse thudded in her ears.
“Can we eat?” Obviously sensing the intensity of the moment, Aimee voiced the question with a loud whisper.
“Shhhh,” Miss Hannah scolded.
“It’s all right, Ma.”
Star’s stomach turned in disappointment, but she could no more have been annoyed with the charming little girl than she could have denied her love for Michael.
“Aimee, can you wait just a few minutes before eating so I can ask Miss Star a question?”
Here? In front of everyone?
“I can wait, Pa.”
Star’s cheeks burned under Miss Hannah’s watchful gaze. The woman’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she gave a suspicious sniff. “Go on, then, and spit it out. Supper’s just sitting here getting cold as December.”
“All right,” Michael took both of Star’s hands. “I wanted Ma and Aimee here for this because they’re part of my life and deserve a say so.”
Star nodded. So far, he hadn’t said much of anything.
“It’s no secret that I have reservations about the things you’ve held back—your past and all.” He smiled, adding to Star’s relief and confusion. “But you were right earlier when you said God doesn’t hold your past against you. I believe you’ve given Him your entire heart. At least it seems so. I hope some day you’ll trust me enough to share that part of your life with me.”
“Michael. . .” Oh, how she wished she could tell him everything. What a comfort it would be to unburden herself and cry on his shoulder about Mama’s death at Luke’s hands. But every time she’d almost opened up over the weeks she lived at the farm, and most recently to Rosemary, she remembered Luke’s biting words. “What decent man will want her when he finds out what she is?”
Michael pressed her hand. “It’s all right. You don’t have to share for now. I just wanted you to know that I’m here, and when you’re ready, you can tell me anything or nothing. It’s your choice.”
Star’s lips curved into a tender smile. “Thank you, Michael.”
“Land sakes. Get on with the askin’!”
A scowl marred Michael’s handsome face, but Star couldn’t help b
ut agree with Miss Hannah. Her palms were becoming damp in Michael’s grasp, and her heart felt about to race from her chest.
He gathered a long, agonizingly slow breath and fixed her with his gaze. “I want to know if you’ll. . .”
Yes, yes, yes!
“. . .allow me to come courting.”
A loud snort from Miss Hannah echoed Star’s feelings. Star lowered her gaze in an effort to mask her disappointment with the appearance of demure consideration of his question.
“Pa wants to court Miss Star. Does that mean they’re getting married?” Aimee’s loud whisper, obviously meant for Miss Hannah, brought a rush of heat to Star’s cheeks.
Venturing a peek at Michael, she noticed the look of stunned revelation in his eyes. His own face went red. He cleared his throat and let go of her hands to take a drink of water. “Uh—Star, it seems. . .”
Awash with sympathy for the misunderstood man, Star smiled and pressed his hand. His eyes widened with renewed hope. “I’d be pleased to accept your offer of a courtship. Thank you for asking me.”
“Well, then,” Miss Hannah’s boisterous voice broke through before Michael could come up with an answer. “That little matter is settled. So how about we eat before Aimee wastes away to skin and bone.”
During dinner, Star savored every single bite of the chicken and dumplings. For dessert, Miss Hannah produced a fluffy white cake, fit for a king. Indeed, Star felt like an honored guest, and more so, now that Michael was officially courting her.
In the morning, they said very little, trying to act as naturally as possible during breakfast. Conversation during the ride into town bordered on the ridiculous, and Star grew impatient as she responded to observations about the weather—which had finally cleared up—for the third time. Still, she felt she had to ask the question that had been burning in her since his question the night before. She practiced what to say in her mind for the last mile of the ride into town, missing most of Michael’s not-so-fascinating tale of last year’s rainy weather.
“Michael,” she finally blurted, when they reached the boardinghouse and he helped her from the wagon. “What does courting mean, exactly? Wh–what do we do?”
An incredulous smile tipped the corners of his lips. “No young man’s ever come calling on you before?” He released her and grabbed her bag from the back of the wagon.
She shook her head.
He offered her his arm, but she hesitated. “What about Mrs. Barker?”
“She’d better get used to me.” He sent her a wink and tweaked her nose. “I’m going to see my girl safely inside every time I drop her off from now on.”
Star’s stomach turned over at the meaningful smile. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and held her head high.
“To answer your question,” he said, pausing at the step, “courting means I’ll escort you to services on Sunday, we’ll have picnics together and go to socials and dances. You will come for dinner as often as possible. In other words, we are getting ready for the possibility of a future together.”
The images his words invoked filled Star with such hope, she didn’t have the heart to tell him that if she didn’t find another position soon, her money would run out and she’d be forced to leave Hobbs. She pushed the grim thought from her mind and sent him her best smile. “Then I suppose you’ll be escorting me to the box social next week?” The bazaar the month before had been such a success, the ladies society had organized a box social to raise money for a church bell.
He chuckled. “The gentleman’s supposed to do the asking.”
“After the hard time you had asking if you could come calling, I’m afraid asking anyone anything doesn’t seem to be your gift.” She gave him a teasing grin. “I thought I’d save us the time and trouble by bringing it up myself.”
“About asking you to court instead of what Aimee said. . .” His face reddened. “I just—”
“Michael, you don’t have to explain. I was—am happy that you think I’m good enough for you to come calling on me. If you decide in the future that you made a mistake. . .well, better that mistake is one you can fix.”
The intensity on his face as he looked into her eyes nearly melted Star’s legs into a puddle. “You humble me, Star,” he said, his voice soft and filled with emotion.
The door opened suddenly, causing Star to jump. “Mrs. Barker,” she said into the scowling face. “You nearly scared the life out of me.”
“What are you two doing, standing out here in broad daylight?”
Michael went rigid. Star pressed his arm, hoping to thwart any comment he might feel compelled to make in their defense.
“Mr. Riley was kind enough to carry my bag to the door.” Star turned to Michael, silently pleading with him not to offend her landlady.
He handed over the bag and tipped his hat. “I’ll see you soon, Star. Good day, Mrs. Barker.”
“Good day, Mr. Riley,” the landlady returned, and Star caught a glimpse of amusement in her eyes.
“Mrs. Barker?”
The elderly lady laughed and opened the door wider to give Star room to walk through. She squeezed Star’s shoulder. “He certainly is a good catch, young lady. I don’t imagine I’ll be able to keep him out of the parlor much longer, will I?”
A giggle burst from Star’s lips. “No, Ma’am.”
“It’s just as well you’ll have a man like Michael Riley looking out for you. That Joe is here to see you.”
“Joe? From the restaurant?”
With a frown, Mrs. Barker waved toward the kitchen. “Who else? He’s in there. Probably intending to beg you to go back to that disgraceful place.”
“Oh, I hope so,” Star said quickly. “I have to work if I’m to continue to pay rent, Mrs. Barker.”
An indulgent smile curved the older woman’s thin lips. “I suppose you’re right.”
To Star’s amazement, Joe did ask her to come back. Within an hour, she was back at work. She floated through the day, despite the demanding customers, Joe’s grumbling, and Jane’s sulking. The girl seemed to have mellowed a bit, and Star hoped she had put aside her dislike. Regardless, God had a reason for sending Star back. Her work here wasn’t finished, and she prayed Jane would give her a chance to show her Christ’s love.
❧
“Star will be ready in a few minutes,” Mrs. Barker said regally. “She asked me to inform you that Joe held the restaurant open a little later than promised, and she is running behind. You may sit in the parlor and wait.”
“Thank you.” Michael groaned every time he thought about Star going back to that restaurant to work. Better that she’d taken the position as housekeeper for Mrs. Slavens. Working for the woman couldn’t be any worse than working for Joe. But Star was firm in her decision, believing God had sent her back for Joe’s daughter. The fact that Ma agreed with Star irked him. He had hoped to persuade her to come back to the farm for good, but even Ma balked at the idea.
“You know how folks talk.” With her hands on her hips, she’d looked at him with a disgusted frown. “Now, if you had asked the right question the other night and made short work of the engagement, things would be a little different now, and Star wouldn’t have to go back to that place.”
He had no defense against Ma’s argument. She was right, but Michael couldn’t quite bring himself to make the commitment of marriage without more assurance that Star would be content to be a wife and mother and that she wouldn’t bring trouble into his life like Sarah had. He wanted to trust Star, wanted to release the lock he’d placed upon his heart, but for now, it was better to play it safe.
With a conscious effort, he was attempting to stop comparing her with his late wife, but at times it wasn’t easy. Like Sarah, Star was beautiful. Breathtakingly so, though there was a gentleness, a sweetness about Star that Sarah hadn’t possessed. But what Clem had told him about her stealing from her guardian only served to strengthen the similarity between the only two women he’d ever loved.
�
�Michael?” At the sound of Star’s breathy voice, he stood and turned toward the door. The sight of her caused a sudden lump in his throat, and he swallowed hard.
Her beautiful violet eyes stood out more than usual in the blue dress she wore. Her mahogany hair hung in curls about her shoulders and was held back with a ribbon to match her gown. “You’re a vision,” he said when finally able to speak.
A beguiling blush stained her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re very handsome yourself, tonight.”
She’d seen him in the same Sunday suit every week since she’d known him, but the sincerity in her voice couldn’t be denied. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Shall we go?”
Once outside, he headed for the wagon, but Star hung back and tugged at his arm. “Let’s walk to the church. It’s not far.”
“Are you sure? The night air’s a bit nippy.”
Tucking her hand inside the crook of his arm, she tilted her head and dazzled him with a smile. “I’m plenty warm.”
Unable to deny her something she obviously wanted to do, he covered her hand with his free one and returned her smile. “Then, let’s go.”
They walked in companionable silence, and Michael barely noticed the chilly air. He felt nearly uncontainable joy to know that, for the next couple of hours, he had the pleasure of her company and soon everyone would know they were courting. This pleased him on a couple of levels. For one thing, every desperate female between sixteen and thirty-five would know he was calling on Star. And two, the young men constantly vying for Star’s attention would also know that fact as well. Then it occurred to him, they were going to a box social and Star had no box. How was he going to know which one was hers?
“Where’s your box?”
“What? Oh, you mean for the social?”
“Yes.”
“Rosemary took it to the church earlier so that you wouldn’t know which one it was.”
“But that’s not fair. How will I know which box to bid on?”
“That’s the whole fun of a box social! Isn’t it wonderful? Rosemary says no one is supposed to know and you just end up eating dinner with whomever buys your box.”
But For Grace (HEARTSONG PRESENTS - HISTORICAL) Page 12
