Mr. Barrett chuckled, the sound dry and rasping to match his appearance. “You have a generous heart, Miss Delancy. Very few people would be willing to have one of these children come into town and create a hullabaloo.”
“Emma does have a kind heart,” Reverend Faulkner hurried to say. “However, I believe we’re embarrassing her, Mr. Barrett. Her face is becoming quite red.”
“I don’t expect praise,” she said, wishing she could find a way to change the subject to why the minister had wanted to speak with her, “for something I believe many people would have done.”
Reverend Faulkner exchanged a glance with Mr. Barrett. She could not guess what it was meant to convey until the minister cleared his throat and said, “As you came to the lad’s defense with such speed, Emma, Mr. Barrett and I thought you might be able to find work for young Sean in your store.”
“What would I do with a lad of his age? He can’t be more than nine years old.”
“A year older than that, according to the lad, but many of these children have no idea of when or where they were truly born.” The minister sighed. “I learned that from speaking with Mr. and Mrs. Barrett. These poor youngsters have suffered more than any child should.”
“I understand that. What I don’t understand is why you would think I should take Sean into my home.”
He smiled. “Emma, the lad is obviously not afraid to learn about new things, and he seems eager to know more about Haven.”
“Or get himself into trouble.”
“But with the right guidance to put all that childish energy into the proper direction, he could be of great help to you in the store.” Again he looked at Mr. Barrett before saying, “I’ve heard you say on many occasions you’d dearly love to have help at the store.”
“Help, yes, but you’re asking me to be a mother to that child.”
Mr. Barrett shook his head. “That isn’t necessary if you don’t feel comfortable with making the boy a part of your family, Miss Delancy. These children are brought west in hopes of getting them the education and training for the future that they would never have the opportunity to get in New York City. Shopkeeping would be an excellent trade for the boy, for, as you have seen, he’s eager to know more about the world around him. Unlike the other children, he hasn’t shown interest in the farms we passed on the train. I believe he would be much happier living in Haven than on a farm.”
“Maybe Mr. Anderson at the livery—”
Reverend Faulkner intruded to say, “He stopped me on the street during the chase and let me know that I need not ask him to take in the boy.”
“Your store would be the perfect place for Sean, Miss Delancy,” continued Mr. Barrett as if neither of them had spoken. “Rather than as a member of your family, you could consider him an apprentice.”
Emma guessed he had repeated these words with slight variations many times over. “You’re very persuasive, Mr. Barrett.”
“My job requires me to be so.”
“I could use help at the store. That is true, but it’s also true that I know nothing about raising boys. I have only a sister.” She looked hastily away from Reverend Faulkner’s kind eyes, not wanting him to guess she was not being honest.
The minister put his hand on her shoulder. “I knew we could count on you, Emma. Why don’t you go back to the store while we talk to the boy?”
“So he might not wish to be at the store?” She could not keep the hope out of her voice.
Mr. Barrett shook his head. “We at the Children’s Aid Society serve in a parental role, Miss Delancy, and it’s a parent’s place to make such decisions. Not the child’s, for no child, especially one as young as Sean, can possibly make such a choice alone.”
“Go on back to the store,” Reverend Faulkner said. “We’ll be there shortly with the necessary paperwork to have Sean O’Dell stay with you.”
Emma nodded, then backed away as the two men continued talking. She turned and almost stumbled, although the floor was smooth and even. When someone asked if she was all right, she murmured an answer that she was.
Another lie. Letting Reverend Faulkner and Mr. Barrett talk her into taking this child had been among the most foolish things she had ever done. Almost as foolish as letting Miles Cooper woo her into becoming his wife to give himself a legitimate place in her hometown.
She shivered as she stepped back out of the Grange, not from the cold, but from the memories that poured forth to taunt her. No, nothing had been as stupid as marrying Miles Cooper.
Hurrying across the green, where the grass was still brown from winter, Emma sought the sanctuary that always helped her force scenes of the past from her head. She had found a home here in Haven, and, within her store, she could focus on the present and leave behind her the events of seven years ago. She even could walk past the brick courthouse where Lewis Parker had his office without wanting to flee in fear.
Her steps slowed when she saw the weathered buckboard was still in front of the store’s porch. When Mr. Sawyer came out of the store carrying a large bag of seed, he swung the sack into the back of his buckboard as effortlessly as if it were a feather pillow. Bending to lift another that was on the porch, he paused. He stood and leaned one elbow on the wagon’s side. Again he tipped his hat to her with a grace that suggested he would be as comfortable in an eastern ballroom as here on the streets of Haven.
“Miss Delancy, I think I owe you an apology.”
She shook her head, hoping someone or something would delay Reverend Faulkner and Sean in the Grange Hall. Having them show up now might infuriate Mr. Sawyer again. Now he was very much at ease, wiping sweat from the back of his neck with his shirtsleeve. She noted tiny, perfect stitches where the sleeve had been recently mended. Her stomach cramped with sorrow, and she had to swallow her gasp. That the man obviously had a wife should not disturb her so much.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” she replied, struggling to make her voice have its normal cheerfulness. “You were angry, and rightfully so.”
“Rightfully so? That’s a change of heart for you.” He smiled at her.
She wished he had not, for he had one of those smiles that could be described only as devastatingly charming. Miles had had a smile like that, too. She had promised herself she never would be suckered into believing a man’s disarming smile again. And she had not … until now.
“Mr. Sawyer, I assure you it isn’t a change of heart.” She did not add that she had refused to let her heart change in any way during the past seven years. It was set on the course she had chosen when she fled Kansas in the middle of the night. “The boy was wrong to be poking about in your wagon, but curiosity isn’t a crime in Indiana.”
“I thought Hoosiers were known for minding their own business.”
“Haven is like every small town. Gossip brightens many lives around here.”
“But not yours?”
She needed to put an end to this conversation straightaway. All she had to do was excuse herself and go into the store to do any of a dozen tasks waiting for her. Yet she lingered, intrigued by his easy strength and his warm eyes.
“I find,” she said, “it is simpler not to listen and trouble oneself about things that may not be true.”
“A good credo.”
“Credo?” she repeated, in spite of herself.
“A credo is—”
“I know what it is. I just haven’t heard anyone use the word around here in everyday conversation.”
His face closed up as if she had accused him of stealing that seed from her store. Hefting the other bag into the buckboard, he motioned toward the door and said in the cool tone he had used before, “If you don’t mind, Miss Delancy, I’d like to settle up for this so I can get back to my farm in time to do the evening chores.”
“Yes … yes, of course.” Emma edged around the wagon to step up onto the porch. Noah Sawyer had to be the oddest man she had ever met. She had no idea why he was getting all testy over a comment she had meant as a compliment.
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br /> His hands grasped her waist and swung her up to stand on the porch. Those wide hands sent heat through her blouse and corset to sear her skin and weaken her knees. She teetered, then grabbed one of the supports holding up the roof. The hands on either side of her waist kept her from tumbling back to the ground.
“Are you all right?” asked Mr. Sawyer, with what sounded like muffled amusement.
Emma looked down at him from the porch and frowned when she saw the mirth in his eyes. “Mr. Sawyer, I don’t know how things are done where you come from, but around here, women aren’t manhandled.”
“Without their permission?”
“Yes.”
“I shall remember that the next time I halt a lady from walking blindly into a puddle.”
“A puddle?”
He pointed to what she knew was not water, because she saw the horse droppings beside it.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“My pleasure.”
“You can release me now. I’m not in danger of falling off the porch.” She put her hands over his at her waist.
The humor vanished from his eyes, and they burned with a far stronger emotion. His gaze cut into her, threatening to tear away the façade she had built with such care. Jumping up onto the porch beside her, he moved so they stood facing each other. His hands slid around her waist in a questing caress, and her breathing came fast and uneven in her ears.
Then he drew his hands away so quickly she would have guessed he had sensed the sudden burst of warmth within her. His eyes shifted away, and she bit her lower lip. She had not wanted him touching her. Yet now she was bereft, a feeling that frightened her. Behind her safe web of half-truths, she had been able to keep herself separate from the strong, dangerous emotions she could not trust. In less than an hour, Noah Sawyer had unbalanced the precious equilibrium she had created for herself in Haven.
“I’ll get that invoice for you now,” she said as she went to the door. Walking ahead of him was a mistake, she realized. His gaze drilled into her back. She did not turn to ask him to explain himself and the peculiar behavior she seemed to have too few defenses against.
A door inside the store opened, and she jumped back before it could strike her. Arms surrounded her in a far too intimate embrace, for she was pulled back against Mr. Sawyer’s chest so tightly that the buttons on his shirt cut into her.
“You may release me,” she said quietly as she had on the porch.
“Do you always get yourself into endless mishaps?” His breath curled around her braid to caress her nape.
“I have yet to get into a mishap.” She tried to escape his hold.
“You shall if you keep squirming.”
Emma clenched her hands in front of her. “So shall you if you don’t release me immediately.”
He drew away his arm and surprised her again by chuckling. “You speak your mind, I see.”
“I’ve never found it wise to refrain from doing so.” She walked over to where a man hobbled down the steps, and she offered him her arm. “Why don’t you sit on the bench here, Mr. Baker?”
Noah Sawyer frowned as he took off his hat and knocked dust out of it. From her words, he would have guessed Mr. Baker was an elderly gentleman. This man must be on the young side of forty. His left leg had been amputated just above the knee, and Noah wondered if Baker had served in the War Between the States or had suffered an accident around here. Probably the former, because Miss Delancy had said the man was half deaf, which could have been caused by the concussion of cannon fire.
A smile tugged at one corner of his lips as he looked at Miss Delancy. He had not guessed the owner of Delancy’s General Store would be such a pretty blonde. That soft gold had fallen over his hands when he had held her in the barn, trying to keep her from getting mixed up in chasing the kid.
He let his gaze edge along her splendid curves as she made sure Baker was comfortable on the bench. Her practical white blouse and dark skirt emphasized her slender waist, and his arm recalled how it had held her twice now. He would not mind holding her again, longer and when she was not trying to escape. Knowing he should look away, he cursed silently when she looked up and her amazing green eyes narrowed.
“How much?” he asked, his irritation at himself sharpening his voice. “How much is it for the two bags of seed?”
“Let me check what the latest price is.” She gestured toward the man on the bench. “Mr. Baker, this is Mr. Sawyer. Mr. Sawyer is new in Haven.” Without another word, she walked toward the counter at the other side of the store.
“New, eh?” asked Baker.
“Recently bought a farm outside of town.” He made sure he spoke his answer as loud as Baker had asked his question.
“So you’re the one Collis sold his place to.”
“Yes.”
“Heard you got taken on the price.” Baker grinned. “Said he sold it for twice what it was worth.”
“Odd, for I’ve been told I got a real bargain to get the land and the woodlot, too.”
“He sold you the woodlot for that price?” Baker’s smile vanished as he cursed, not lowering his voice.
Noah glanced at where Miss Delancy was taking down a stack of papers held together by a string. She did not react to Baker’s language, so Noah guessed she had heard it before. A woman who did not chide a fellow for speaking his mind was a pleasant change from those who threatened to swoon if rough words were spoken in their hearing.
“The liar!” grumbled Baker. “Collis let everyone think he’d gotten the better end of the deal with some gent from Chicago. Bragged about it, he did.”
“Then he was telling you some great tale. I got a good deal, and I’m from Cincinnati.” He kept his curses unspoken.
Not once had he mentioned Chicago to Jeb Collis. He would not have been so careless. Cincinnati. Chicago. Both cities were a long ride from Haven, so Collis could have confused them easily, but Noah wanted to make sure no one connected Chicago with him. Maybe he should have gone to a bigger place than Haven, a place where he would have been anonymous among the crowds.
That would have created other problems, because Haven had so many of the things he had been looking for. The people here seldom traveled far beyond the borders of their town, and even though they enjoyed gossip, they were so busy with their farms they had little time to snoop into anyone else’s concerns.
“Did you catch the lad?” asked Baker, changing the subject.
Glad to talk about something else, he answered, “The sheriff did.”
“One of them orphans off the train, was he?”
Miss Delancy was right. Baker did not miss anything that happened on the street in front of the store. Although Noah was tempted to accuse the man of faking his deafness, he knew seeing the sheriff take the boy back to the Grange Hall on the other side of the village green must have revealed the truth to Baker.
“Yes, he is,” he replied.
Baker spat toward a bucket beside a stack of cracker boxes. “Those kids are bound to be trouble. Lazy troublemakers. I’ve never met a Mick who wasn’t.”
“Is that so?” Noah asked, surprised that Baker was upset because the children were Irish. This was a prejudice he had not expected to find here in southern Indiana. He had encountered such intolerance in New York and in Boston and even in Chicago … dammit, he had to put Chicago out of his mind, as he had put almost everything to do with it out of his life.
He had thought Haven would be different, not bigoted like the big cities. He chuckled. Haven? Had he really believed it would be one simply because of its name? He must have, because he was here.
“What is so funny, Sawyer?” Shifting on the bench, Baker scowled at him. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No, at me.”
He walked across the store and leaned his hands on the counter only inches from where Miss Delancy was flipping through a sheaf of papers. He recognized the railroad’s name on the top of each of them. She looked up, and he found himself wanting to ge
t lost in those soft green eyes again.
“I told you I would let you know the price as soon as I found it, Mr. Sawyer,” she said quietly.
He noticed her fingers shook as she turned the pages. Was he unnerving her that much? He would not flatter himself into believing that. Something—or someone else—must have upset her, because she kept glancing past him toward the door. She must be waiting for someone.
That was no surprise. A fine-looking woman like Miss Delancy would have callers. Miss Delancy? He wondered what her given name might be.
“Here it is.” She pushed the invoice toward him. “The price includes the shipping, Mr. Sawyer.”
Now she was all business. He could be the same. Pulling out his wallet, he handed her enough coins to pay for the seed.
“Thanks,” he said, putting his wallet into the back pocket of his denims.
“Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” Color flashed up her face at her unfortunate choice of words.
Noah did not listen to the voice tempting him to tease her. They had gotten off to a bad start, and as he planned to stay around Haven for as long as possible, he would be wise not to alienate everyone in town. He suspected Miss Delancy’s opinions carried a lot of weight in this small village, where everyone would come into her store eventually.
He set his hat back on his head and tipped it toward her. “I sure will, Miss Delancy. Thank you for your help.”
“Getting supplies for my customers is my job.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.”
Again pink washed along her cheeks, but this time it was not embarrassment. She was pleased. When she smiled, he did, too.
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Sawyer.”
He took the page she held out to him. For a moment, it was a bridge between them, joining them in some nebulous way. Then she released her side and began to tie the other papers back together in a neat stack.
He folded the invoice and stuck it in his pocket along with his wallet. As he walked out of the store, he heard her cry, “Botheration!”
He turned to see her standing on tiptoe to put the pages back on the upper shelf. All around her other papers tumbled to the floor.
Twice Blessed Page 3
