A heavy foreboding settled over the room. This was the first time in years that Jeffery could recall wishing his father lived nearby. But the thought only lasted for a moment. He didn’t want his parents meddling any more than they’d already done, trying to make him return home and take up his father’s practice or live on the family’s wealth. He needed to handle this himself and show Beth he was more than a drifting writer with only a few prospects.
Not for the first time Beth wished she could have time alone with Jeffery. His calm demeanor and caring attitude soothed her nerves. Why had she ever thought him intrusive or obnoxious? Her thoughts flitted to Brent. Would he take the time to speak reassuring words to the others or simply whisk her off to some secluded place where they could be alone? But Brent had been caring since he returned, even if he hadn’t evidenced any desire to meet the other boarders in her home. She could only assume that was a result of Aunt Wilma’s animosity toward him. “What do we do now? Should we try to find an attorney?”
Jeffery perched on the edge of an overstuffed chair. “I have no idea if there is a law firm in town. It’s possible Mr. Lansing has secured the only one, although not probable.” He grimaced. “Where there’s a need, there are typically more.” He swiveled toward Katherine. “You have lived here for years, Mrs. Jacobs. What is your recommendation?”
Katherine didn’t reply, and Beth glanced at her, wondering at the lengthy silence. The pink in her cheeks had faded. Beth got swiftly to her feet and hurried to her landlady’s side. “Are you all right?”
She placed her hand over her belly. “I feel a little sick to my stomach.”
Frances grunted. “I am not a bit surprised. This business is enough to sicken anyone.” She peered at her daughter. “But it is not at all like you, Katherine, to wither under pressure, no matter how troubling. You need to lie down.” Frances cut off her daughter’s protest. “I know you are a grown woman, and the mistress of this house, but I am still your mother, and I know what is best.” She rose and took Katherine’s hand. “Come along. We cannot take any chances with you in such a delicate condition.”
Aunt Wilma emitted a sharp cry, and Beth gasped. Could Mrs. Cooper be implying …?
Her aunt rushed to Katherine’s other side and placed a protective arm around her waist. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us? You should not be doing as much work as you do, or waiting on any of us.” She cast an anxious look at Frances. “You haven’t said a word.”
Frances lifted her chin. “It was not my place to speak about such things.”
Katherine gave a strangled laugh. “I haven’t said a word to anyone except Micah. Not even to Mama or the girls. Mother, how did you know?”
Frances smirked. “I am not an imbecile, Daughter, nor am I blind. I will admit I did not know for certain until now, although I had my suspicions for a while. If you will remember, I gave birth to two children myself.” She eyed Jeffery with amusement. “I beg your pardon if we are causing you embarrassment, Mr. Tucker, but it will be apparent soon enough that my daughter is with child. I see no reason to beat around the bush.”
Jeffery tipped his head, but Beth was certain she saw a smile creep onto his face. “I have two younger siblings, ma’am, and a mother who has a fondness for being frank as well. Pray do not concern yourself with injuring my sensibilities.”
Beth stepped forward, all thought of the impending trouble from Isaac Lansing suspended. “I can set the table or help prepare the meal if you’d like.”
Katherine shook her head. “Lucy and Amanda can take care of the table, thank you.” Then she smiled. “I suppose I could allow you to help this one time with supper preparation, if you truly don’t mind. The bread is already baked, as well as a cake set aside. Lucy can get jars of applesauce from the pantry when she gets home, and I have vegetables to go in the stockpot for soup.”
Beth nodded. “I’ll get started right away while Aunt Wilma and Mrs. Cooper get you settled.”
Jeffery moved to her side. “And I will assist if you’ll advise me what to do. I might not be the best cook, but I can fetch and carry. That is, if you’ll permit me the honor of helping?”
Pleasure warmed Beth’s heart. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She wanted to hold on to this happiness and forget the worries the letter from Mr. Lansing had stirred. Then a cool breeze blew over her spirit, dispelling the warmth. If only this additional trouble hadn’t happened right when things seemed to be improving.
She headed for the kitchen with Jeffery on her heels. No sense in worrying about what she couldn’t change. The Bible mentioned there being enough trouble in the current day without worrying about tomorrow, and she needed to take that to heart. She’d had more than enough anxiety over things she couldn’t control in her life. Surely it wasn’t a sin to enjoy some time with Jeffery and allow the business with Lansing and even the problems with Brent to be forgotten—at least for now.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jeffery watched Beth’s graceful form move ahead of him toward the kitchen and had to rein in his thoughts. Shame coursed through him. This woman wasn’t his fiancée or even someone he was courting. He had no right to imagine their relationship, which had yet to evolve into anything deeper, was more than casual friendship.
He averted his gaze and tried to concentrate on the document he’d read. Surely Lansing would know the Jacobses weren’t wealthy people, and he didn’t stand to gain much by pursuing his suit. It was spite, pure and simple. He’d met men of a similar nature. They hated to be thwarted, ridiculed, or held in low esteem—and it had been apparent from the first that Isaac Lansing had the highest regard for his own person, whether warranted or not.
They arrived in the kitchen and Beth halted, hands on her trim hips. She tipped her head to the side, resembling a princess surveying her kingdom. “I’m always surprised by how perfectly Katherine maintains this room. I don’t know how she keeps up with all the work, even with Lucy’s and Mrs. Cooper’s help.”
Jeffery moved over to the cupboard where a stockpot rested. “I’m quite certain you will do an admirable job in your own home someday.” He gave her a warm smile.
She busied herself at the washbasin. “I imagine I’ll live with Aunt Wilma until I’m old and gray.” Her light laughter tinkled musically across the kitchen. Happiness filled every corner of the room.
“I’m guessing some fortunate man might have other ideas,” he quipped back.
Her laughter stilled. “Somehow I doubt that, but it’s kind of you to say so. The vegetables are laid out and clean; they simply need chopping. Are you handy with a knife?”
He smirked. “Yes, I believe I can handle that task.” He moved up beside her and peered into the basin. “Do you want me to cut them in the basin or into the pot?”
“The pot, I think.” Beth scrunched up her nose. “I guess I should have asked more questions, but I don’t think it will hurt to toss them all in at once. Katherine has the stock ready to go. I’ll scrub the potatoes while you slice the carrots and onions.” She giggled. “I hate chopping onions; they make me cry.”
They worked side by side in silence for several minutes until Jeffery could stand it no longer. Just being near her stirred his senses. She stood so close that a loose strand of her hair persisted in finding its way onto his shoulder as she bent over the sink. Everything about her intrigued him. It amazed him that she could still laugh with all the troubles piling around her. Where did that kind of peace come from?
He rocked back on his heels and set the knife down on the counter. “How do you do it?”
She raised a startled gaze to his. “What? Clean potatoes?”
He choked on a laugh. “No. I mean, how can you still smile and joke when you and your aunt are being named in the lawsuit? I’ve seen you upset before, but you never appear to let things go very deep.”
“You’re wrong, Jeffery. If only you knew …”
Thoughtfulness smoothed her face. “I’ve worked hard lately to trust the Lord and not carry everything myself. You’re a Christian, aren’t you? I’ve seen you in Sunday services several times since we arrived.”
He shrugged. “As much as the next man. My family was faithful in their church attendance while I was at home, and I was baptized at an early age. I accepted Jesus when I was a child, so yes, I’d say I’m a Christian. I’m not certain what God has to do with the lawsuit or anything else that’s going on though.” He let the chopped carrots fall from his hands into the pot. “All done but the potatoes.”
“Thank you.” She handed him a clean spud and resumed her work. “I’m discovering that God wants to be involved in everything we do.”
Jeffery snorted. “I’m sorry, but I cannot see God being concerned with the mundane details of our lives. I suppose it would be appropriate to ask for His intervention on behalf of everyone named in the suit, but anything much smaller than that, I can’t agree.”
“But why?” Beth turned wide eyes on him. “If He created us, why would He then abandon us to our own devices and problems?”
“I assume He has enough on His hands running the universe and wouldn’t care to be involved in the petty things of earth.”
Beth poured a pot of water over the remainder of the peeled potatoes in the basin. She reached for a towel and wiped her hands, then picked up another knife.
Jeffery wondered at her silence. Had he offended her with his views? He hadn’t realized she took her Christianity so seriously. His parents had always given money to their church and been faithful in attendance, but he’d never heard them advocate ideas like this. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I guess you’re simply making me think about my own beliefs. Aunt Wilma raised me in church as well, and I’ve often questioned why God lets so many bad things happen to good people. But I don’t think it’s because He’s busy elsewhere. I was taught that He loves us and cares about every detail of our lives, although I’ll admit I’ve wondered at times how that could be true.” She worried her lip.
Jeffery studied her, intrigued but concerned at her evident distress. “What’s bothering you, Beth?” He spoke the words quietly. Tumbling the last bits of potato into the pot, he laid his knife on the countertop. “I think we’re done, and the teakettle is on, as well as coffee. Let’s sit for a bit, shall we?”
She nodded, plucking two cups off a shelf and placing them on the table.
Jeffery poured coffee for himself and tea for Beth, then took a seat opposite her. “Would you care to talk about it?”
“Maybe I should.” She wrapped her hands tightly around the cup, then lifted it to her lips. “I’m terrified to, but somehow I want to trust you.” She murmured the words. “I need to trust you. There have been so many times in my life I …” Tea sloshed over the side as she set the cup on the table.
As soon as the words slipped out, Beth wanted to take them back. What had she been thinking? Maybe she should try to lighten the mood and change the subject. She’d never talked about her past to anyone but Aunt Wilma. Not even Brent.
Jeffery touched her hand. “You can, Beth. I will never betray your trust in any way. Tell me only what you want to, and I swear to you, I’ll listen and try to help.”
Beth’s heart jumped at the warmth of his touch. She longed to intertwine her fingers with his and never let go. How much to tell him, and where to begin? She shuddered at the thought of him knowing about her physical scars, but was there a way to tell him the rest without that? Surely she could. “It’s about my past.”
He didn’t speak, but the pressure of his hand urged her forward.
She plunged ahead. “Aunt Wilma isn’t really my aunt.”
“I see.” He smiled. “So it’s a courtesy title, then. She’s your guardian.”
“Yes. No. I guess I need to start over, as I’ve already given you the wrong idea.” She withdrew her hand, hating to do so, but knowing propriety demanded it. What if someone walked in and saw them? Besides, it was too hard to concentrate on what she was saying when he was touching her, and she’d already started badly.
“I beg your pardon?” Jeffery leaned forward, giving Beth his full attention although his gaze drifted to her fingers entwined on top of the table.
“Aunt Wilma is my guardian, but she never adopted me. I’m an orphan.” She blurted out the words, unsure how else to present them.
He gave a slow nod. “That’s not unusual, although I’m very sorry it happened. Is that what’s been bothering you?”
“Not entirely. It’s possible my parents abandoned me when I was young. The doctor who examined me believed I might have been four or nearing four years old when the Arapaho brought me to Fort Laramie.”
Jeffery leaned forward in his chair. “The Arapaho. How surprising. Why did they have you?”
“We’re not exactly sure, but I’ve gotten inklings lately. I’ve had some dreams, and bits of old memories are returning. At first we wondered if they’d kidnapped me, but now I don’t think so.”
“What kind of memories?”
“I have a vague recollection of a wagon train. I was sitting by a fire, crying …” She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know the rest. Why had she ever broached this subject? She sat up straight. “I was injured, and I remember a dark shape looming over me. He picked me up and placed me on some kind of litter pulled behind a horse. That’s all I remember about that day. I woke sometime later in a teepee with a woman putting salve on my wounds.”
“How were you hurt?”
She paused, unsure how much to tell him. “I may have fallen on some hot coals. I’m not certain.”
Jeffery shifted in his chair. “Do you think the Arapaho might have snatched you from your camp while your parents were scouting? Maybe you were kidnapped, not abandoned.”
“I’ve wondered that, as well. But the Arapaho weren’t on the warpath when I was young, and there was no record of a wagon train being attacked by them. Do you remember seeing a drawing in my tablet of a little girl sitting on the ground crying?”
“Yes. It was quite striking.”
“It came to me while I was sitting on the hillside one day. I remembered dust disappearing in the distance, running, crying, falling, then terrible pain. I didn’t put it all together at the time. I simply drew what I saw. But lately, I’ve had dreams …”
“And what of your parents? Surely they wouldn’t have left you alone with an injury. Do you have any recollection of them at all?”
“Do you recall when we were sitting on the hillside talking, and I picked a buttercup?”
He nodded.
“That brought back a memory of my mother holding the same flower and plucking off the petals, playing a wishing game with me. I think she loved me when I was little. There are other hazy ones, of a woman holding me and rocking, but I’m not certain if they’re of my mother or the Arapaho woman who cared for me.”
“So they were kind to you?”
“Very. I even picked up some words. From what Aunt Wilma discovered, I may have lived with them up to five months. They brought me to Fort Laramie in the spring, and the last wagon train went through before the snow closed the passes the winter before, probably no later than early September.”
“So you might have been lost from a wagon train.” Jeffery sat forward, his glance intent. “Do you remember anything about traveling?”
“No.” She fingered the necklace that never left her throat, then lifted the locket so he could see it. “This is the only clue I have to my past.” Carefully, Beth pried open the two halves and leaned forward so he could see the miniature portraits.
He stared at it for a minute. “She looks like an older version of you. Of course you have no idea who she or the man might be.”
“None. The pictures haunt me and give me hope, both at the same time. Aunt Wilma r
eplaced the chain years ago. The one I was wearing as a child was delicate. For years she made me put the locket away, fearful I’d lose it, but when I turned thirteen I insisted on wearing it. I’ve not taken it off since.”
“I understand.” His face was grave. “Not knowing what happened must be difficult. It’s possible you could have fallen out of a wagon, you know. Or they might have died on the trail. I can’t imagine your parents abandoned you.”
“I’ve thought of that, but don’t you think someone would have come looking? Surely they’d have missed me before much time went by. How far could a small child walk in a day? And wouldn’t I have run after the wagons?” She shook her head. “There’s no telling how long I was out there before the Arapaho found me. That’s one of the reasons I believe I was abandoned.”
Jeffery gave her a shrewd look. “One reason? Is there another?”
“I’m sorry, it’s not something I care to talk about right now.”
“I didn’t mean to be overly inquisitive.” A smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “And don’t worry, I would never mention it to anyone or use this in my book.”
Surprise surged through Beth. She’d completely forgotten about his novel. She searched his eyes. “Thank you. Truth be told, I hadn’t worried you would. Not this time, anyway.”
“Hmm, not this time?” Jeffery grinned and winked.
Color rose in Beth’s cheeks.
He pushed back his chair, then walked to her side of the table and held out his hand. She accepted it and Jeffery drew her to her feet, retaining his grip. “I’m sorry, Beth. Sorry I ever worried you.” His tone softened, and he stepped closer. “I am so glad you felt you could trust me with the pain of your past. I am deeply honored.”
Wishing on Buttercups Page 18
