His laughter sounded unexpectedly high, as if nervous. “I thought my intentions were understood.”
“Did you?”
“Everyone expects us to marry, Sally.” He inched a bit closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders. At least the peppermint seemed stronger now, with each word he spoke. “Haven’t you noticed? Even your parents expect it.”
“Is that a reason to marry?”
He laughed a peppermint laugh. “It certainly is. They’re wise, and they support something that makes perfect sense.”
“But why should it make more sense for you to marry me than for you to marry any other young lady in town?”
“You silly goose! You’re egging me on, aren’t you? Well, I’ll succumb. I’ll say it. I don’t want any other girl in town. How could I? All my dreams are about you.”
This was the first time Willis had spoken so directly of his feelings. As to seeing her in his dreams, she wondered what that had to do with love. Her own dreams rarely made sense, and had little to do with reality.
“Those are pretty words, Willis. But I’m not sure we know each other well enough to announce a wedding day. Besides, my parents depend upon me. I do all of the family accounting; did you know that? I’m not sure I’d have the time to run my own household and continue to help here as well.”
“Surely your parents want you to have your own life, not to be shut away taking care of them.”
“No, of course not. But until I figure out a way to do it all. . .living in town with you is a bit farther than I expected. I always pictured myself on a farm nearby, not all the way in town.”
“Live out here in the middle of the cornfields?”
“Of course. The days go quickly running a farm. And it’s lovely out here.”
“You mean lonely, don’t you?”
“You’re proving my point, Willis. We hardly know one another. You would know I’m more comfortable with family and fewer visitors than socializing every day if I lived in town.”
“It’s only that you’re not used to it yet. Once you’re my wife and we’re entertaining people who need my services as a lawyer, or those we’ll know through my father, you’ll soon learn to love all kinds of people passing through our door.”
Sally pushed away immediate disappointment that he so quickly and easily dismissed her worries. Worse, the image of countless dinner parties left her dreading such a prospect.
Still, she must consider his words carefully. After all, Alice had been telling her for years that she needed to spread her wings, test herself in more social situations. Perhaps she really did have a gracious hostess inside of her. How would she know? She preferred spending time by herself, it was true, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn to enjoy the company of others. There were people at church she genuinely enjoyed and could easily imagine socializing with.
However, rather than a picture of Willis as the host and she, his hostess, a sudden, unbidden image filled her mind. What would it be like to entertain with such a friendly counterpart as Lukas Daughton at her table?
Chapter 8
Spring planting ended as it always did, followed by plenty of chores, fretting over crops, neighbors exchanging goods rather than dollar bills. In addition to the eggs and butter that Sally sold or bartered through the year, she collected honey from the hives on their land to trade along with jams and berry pies she made with her mother. Their creations seldom sat long on the Gibbons’ store shelves.
Although it would have been easy to do so, Sally didn’t allow herself to deliver afternoon repasts to the Daughtons once their work returned to the mill site in town. As her mother reminded her, Willis was a dependable, popular citizen of their town. It wouldn’t do any good to offend him. Besides, both she and her mother were so busy with berries and honey that the sunny days, as always, flew by.
But, as usual, when she visited town at an early time of day, she looked around for Lukas Daughton’s familiar face. He seemed as privy to her butter and egg schedule as she was herself.
“Hold up there, Leonidis. Ho!”
Sally’s heart skipped, recognizing not only the name of the horse but the voice bidding its halt. She turned, seeing Lukas pulling up in a wagon beside the store she’d just exited.
“Morning, Miss Sally,” he called as he hopped from the rig. “It’s a glorious day!” Tipping his hat, he stood close, towering over her.
“And what makes this day so good?”
“It’s bound to be a good day when I see you.”
Warmth flooded her cheeks in spite of herself. “Good morning, Mr. Daughton.”
“It’s Lukas,” he said, and bent closer to whisper in her ear, “but you already know that, don’t you? Now if only I can convince you to use that name instead of my father’s, this day will be all the brighter.”
She had no intention of admitting it was a struggle not to call him Lukas, since his name came so easily to mind. Lukas’s charm was as consistent as his attention, but each passing day of progress on the mill brought his departure that much closer. That was enough to help her resist him—at least with her actions, even if her mind had already surrendered.
“I thought you should know your brother-in-law will be joining us next week, after he returns from his visit to Chicago with his most recent load of livestock. He’s volunteered to work with us a few hours a day for the next two weeks.”
“Yes, so my sister told me. My father hopes to help as well, now that you’re raising the walls of the mill.”
“We’ll welcome whatever help we can get,” Lukas said.
She began to turn away, thinking their conversation was at its logical end, but he detained her. “Your brother-in-law invited us to dinner tomorrow night. Will you be there, Sally?”
She knew about the dinner because Alice had slyly invited Sally, too. Sally saw right through her sister’s intention to put her together with Lukas. Like it or not, Alice was a romantic. Sally being left with a broken heart at the end of the summer didn’t seem to frighten her sister at all.
But the way Lukas had lowered his tone, the same invitation her sister had tried so casually to extend sounded downright intimate. Dropping the polite “Miss” before her name hadn’t escaped her, either. That must be why she had such a difficult time tearing her gaze from his.
She knew what she must say, despite every silent objection demanding she say something else. “I–I’m afraid I can’t be there, Mr. Daughton.”
“Why?”
She knew it was wiser to keep her thoughts to herself, especially those having to do with him. But she must make it clear she had no intention of welcoming his attention. “For the same reason I won’t call you Lukas.”
She tried to leave it at that, to walk on and let him draw his own conclusion, but he stepped in her path. It was a bold move, impolite even, but not unexpected.
His smile, though, erased every bit of his former surprise, as if whatever conclusion he had drawn bolstered his confidence instead of the other way around. “Most people,” he said, his tone still far too captivating, “might think someone who is avoiding them doesn’t like them. But do you know what I think?”
She lifted one brow, not daring to ask but not moving away, either.
“I think in some cases, avoidance means just the opposite. It’s like someone who loves the taste of candy, but knows they’ll eat too much and end up with a toothache. So they won’t even look at candy. But it isn’t because they don’t like it.”
“And you, Mr. Daughton, are like candy?”
His grin went lopsided as he nodded. “I just have to convince you I won’t leave you with a toothache.”
Perhaps not a toothache, but almost certainly a heartache. She bit back the words and walked around him.
“You realize the only way to prove me wrong is to show up?” he called after her. “Prove you can be indifferent to my company. I dare you to be there, Sally.”
She didn’t look back, just let her gaze dart away with th
e hope that no one else had heard him.
Chapter 9
Of course, she knew all along she would accept Lukas’s dare. Not just to prove something to him, but to prove to herself she was every bit as sensible as she knew herself to be.
As she would have done for any dinner party, she wore her newest dress and took special care with her hair. She wished her parents were going, but the table in Alice’s kitchen would barely seat the entire Daughton clan without adding two more places.
She arrived on foot at Alice’s only a few minutes after six, and the door was already open to let in the breeze. Seeing the two Daughton wagons, she knew her arrival would draw everyone’s attention and so rather than going in the front door she circled around to the kitchen entrance, where she found Alice.
“Oh! You’ve arrived just in time to stir the soup,” Alice said, handing her a spoon.
Grateful that her sister was too occupied with dinner preparation to scold her for sneaking in, Sally set to work—knowing she couldn’t avoid the rest of the evening for long.
Still, she put it off until dinner was served. She carried in a tray of bowls filled with soup, stealing a glance at the guests until her gaze stopped at Lukas. He hadn’t noticed her yet; he was staring out the open door, as if looking for the latecomer. Her.
His gaze didn’t find hers until Arthur invited everyone to sit at the table.
Proud of herself for having escaped any before-dinner awkwardness, she took her seat at last. She ignored Lukas’s lingering gaze of appreciation, saying nothing as he claimed the seat next to hers. She thanked him politely when he played the servant and filled her glass from the pitcher of lemonade. And when their fingers grazed after they both reached for the bread, she pulled away as if burned, because that was how his touch felt. Like a lightning bolt that tingled throughout her body.
No one who knew her would think her quietness odd. Only she knew it wasn’t just her shyness holding her tongue tonight. It was the sinking realization that if Lukas Daughton ever wanted to kiss her, she would be powerless to stop him.
And that was hardly what a woman, who might yet one day become engaged to another man, should be thinking.
At the evening’s end Sally was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved she’d done nothing to encourage Lukas’s attention—surely she’d won the dare—but disappointed because, inside, she knew she’d lost. Thoroughly and completely.
Eager to return home, to be alone to conquer her thoughts of him, she was the first to the door after helping Alice to clean up.
“You’ll allow me to see you home, won’t you?”
Sally shot a panicked gaze to Alice, avoiding Lukas’s, who had stolen up behind her to ask the question.
“That’s a fine idea,” said Alice, much to Sally’s dismay.
“But. . .” Sally’s heart thrummed. “The stars offer plenty of light, and the road is wide between here and home. I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own—”
“I wouldn’t let you go off alone. It’ll be dark soon,” said Arthur, stepping toward the door as well. “Your father would have my hide.”
Alice handed her the flour sack she’d filled with leftover cake, an offering to their father for having to miss the meal. The smile on her face was decidedly knowing. “Don’t forget to give this to Pa.”
“I’ll carry it,” Lukas offered. For the second time that evening, his touch grazed Sally’s and the same fire ignited, reminding her just how eager she was to be alone with him.
How was she to avoid this man when everyone else wanted just the opposite?
The rest of the Daughtons crowded into one wagon while Lukas helped Sally into the other. His father went ahead, and without a word, Lukas directed his horses to follow at a leisurely pace.
If she were less suspicious she might not have noticed the widening distance between the wagons. It was as if Lukas wanted no one overhearing them in the still night air.
“So?”
The single word might have confused someone else, but she knew instantly what he meant. She kept silent, pretending not to know what she fully understood the topic to be.
“If you can’t deny it, I’ll assume this evening proved you aren’t indifferent to me.”
“Mr. Daughton—”
“Are you going to call me that forever? Right up to the altar?”
She laughed at his words. Marriage was such a ridiculously unexpected idea, especially coming from him. “The altar, indeed.”
He scratched his ear, laughing along with her. “I admit those words came as a surprise to me, too. But I’ve got to say”—he slid her a smile—“it’s easy to see why they slipped out. It’s nice having the prettiest girl in town believe in us.”
She stared ahead. “I’m sure you’ve easily convinced a number of girls that you know what you’re doing. And will no doubt do the same in the next town you visit.”
His grip tightened on the reins; she saw the tension ripple across his knuckles. “This mill is going to be the best we’ve ever built. I’ve been thinking about staying to see it work.”
“For how long?” Sally asked, heart thudding anew.
She followed his gaze to the nearby undulating land, the row of trees in the distance, and the setting sun still shimmering at the edge of the flat horizon beyond. The fertile ground would produce an unending source of grain to keep any mill working far into the future.
Though he didn’t answer her question, he turned his gaze on her. “Sally, I’ve been patiently watching you in Willis’s company since I came to town. Do you know what I see?”
She dared not speak, or even spare him a glance.
He went on anyway. “You look at him the same way you look at any other nice enough fella. You’re comfortable around him, and if that’s enough for you, maybe you’ll be happy. But you don’t look at me that way, and I’d like you to admit—to yourself if not to me—there could be more in life than just being comfortable.”
A rush of warmth spread through Sally, this time without a single touch. She told herself she should be mortified, to be read so easily by a man she had no intention of encouraging. But even though she knew he was right, she still couldn’t look at him for fear of what he would see in her eyes.
“Being comfortable is better than being heartbroken,” she whispered. “So if you would please take me the rest of the way home, Mr. Daughton, I would appreciate it.”
Chapter 10
Lukas had a good view of the horizon from a beam on the second floor of the mill. Already the landscape of Finchville had been redrawn, now that the second story was nearly complete. Though he scanned the view of town and beyond, Sally was nowhere in sight. He could use some of her sweetened, cool tea.
The thought of her made him smile, despite his growing fatigue. He’d enjoyed working with her father and brother-in-law whenever they could help out, but they weren’t there today, with other farm chores demanding their time. Not that their presence guaranteed she would visit.
His hammer rejoined the chorus of his brothers, all perched on corners of the second story. For the past month he’d been hoping she would visit, but so far she’d stayed away. His hopes of seeing her today were about as parched as his tongue just now.
“Bran! Lukas!”
Owny had left them earlier for the shed they’d built on the other side of the millpond, where he was finishing his work on the millstones they would soon place inside the mill.
“Come quick!”
Lukas beat his brothers to the ground, alarmed at his brother’s tone. Owny could jest with anyone, but never with a hue and cry.
Inside the shed, Lukas saw remnants of the millstone Owny had been grooving. Mined from local granite, it would have been hard to break, but it now lay in pieces in the center of the wooden floor. Their own sledgehammer was left nearby.
Horror filled Lukas at such a deliberate act, but no sooner had the realization hit him than his father, the last to arrive and closest to the shed door, turned on his
heel. Lukas raced past, beating him to the small patch of bushes and weeds, an inconspicuous spot they’d chosen not long after receiving the town’s approval to build the mill.
“They’re all right,” he called to his father, who had lagged behind Lukas and all three of his brothers. They’d placed the French millstone—the best stone to grind the finest flour—in the copse just to be out of the way, freeing their wagon of the ballast their horses had dragged all the way from Baltimore. These two stones were the last of the five pairs they’d purchased, having used the others in former mills they’d built between Finchville and Baltimore.
His father took a look for himself, and with a pat to Lukas’s shoulder, directed them away from the spot.
“Who do you suppose did such a thing?” Owny asked.
Lukas was so eager to cast the name Willis Pollit that he barely caught himself in time. Who else in town didn’t want their mill to succeed? It was no secret his father had hinted he could have hired someone from Chicago for the job, but it was Willis himself who most wanted the Daughtons to leave. Or at least Lukas. That much was obvious whenever Lukas smiled Sally’s way—something Lukas had no intention of stopping.
“I’ll go see the sheriff,” Lukas said. “Owny, you’ll need to scout another piece of granite. We promised a working mill before the first snow, and a working mill it’ll be.”
“What do you think of the idea, Mrs. Gibbons?”
The older woman’s smile bounced between Sally and her sister. “Like it or not, that mill is here to stay. I say your celebration is the finest idea I’ve heard all summer.”
Alice, who had met Sally at the store, fairly squealed with delight. Having the store keeper spread the word about Sally’s idea for their “First-Fruits Festival” was a vital part of their plan. “And we’ll have music, too! Think of all the harvest songs we know!”
As they chatted on about a celebration to honor the mill’s opening, Sally’s enthusiasm suddenly seemed more than just that. She felt hopeful, too. Enough people had doubted the placement of the mill that this celebration would go a long way to bringing the entire town together again.
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