by Karen Kirst
What had once been her ideal now struck her as hollow. Because of Ben.
Isabel would take that secret to the grave. He was a committed bachelor and she an avowed spinster.
“In order to accomplish that, I need to find the person who dropped him here. Any lawyer worth his salt will want to know we’ve exhausted all resources in our search for extended family members. Constantly worrying about someone coming to claim him will wear away at your peace.”
* * *
Ben’s focus wasn’t on his task, and his finger came in contact with the hot pan. He tried to hide his wince, but as he lifted his sore finger to his mouth, Isabel shot him a knowing look.
“I had no idea you were so prone to accidents, Deputy.”
“It’s your fault,” he quipped. “Being around you distracts me.”
Beneath her plain white apron, she wore his favorite plum-colored blouse and matching dangly earrings. The outfit, combined with her intricate and severe French braid, hinted at a dour librarian persona. Ben knew better. The woman he’d held in his arms was vibrant and giving.
And beyond reach. Or did you conveniently push that tidbit to the recesses of your mind?
She watched over Eli as he transferred the cookies to a plate. “I wasn’t there when you tested your hard head against a fence post.”
“True. Turns out your presence isn’t necessary. Thoughts of you are enough to pose a danger.”
She frowned, and her dark eyes grew troubled.
“Done!” Eli set the spatula down with a clatter. “Can I eat one now?”
“Yes, you may.” Isabel handed him a warm cookie. “You and Ben worked hard on these.”
Eli’s smile smacked of contentment. They’d managed to cajole him out of his cranky mood by making plans for a Christmas tree and myriad decorations. Then Isabel had suggested making cookies, and the boy had leaped at the chance, as any child would’ve done.
The three of them alone in the cabin, doing domestic things, was wreaking havoc on his heavily fortified defenses. Maybe it was the atmosphere of hope this season imparted. Carolers in the streets, happy shoppers and satisfied shopkeepers, extra time set aside for family and friends, the planning of gifts. Or maybe it was the change in his and Isabel’s relationship and the fact that her home felt like a haven.
Movement at the front door sent the deep thoughts scattering. Isabel went to investigate, her surprised greeting bringing both Ben and Eli into the dining area. As soon as his gaze came to rest on John and Honor, he knew the Flores sisters’ lives would soon undergo changes.
Ben was certain the others didn’t see what he saw—Isabel visibly setting her mind to dwell only on her sister’s happiness, just as he had done when Grant and Jess conveyed their good news. He went to stand beside her and, without thinking, settled a hand against the middle of her back.
The couple remained on the threshold, John’s arm snug around Honor’s shoulders.
“Is Carmen here?” she said, her sparkling gaze darting to the bedroom.
Isabel clasped her hands at her waist. “No, she’s with Rosa. How was your evening? You’re home earlier than usual.”
The pair looked at each other and shared bright smiles. Honor snuggled closer to his side. “John proposed tonight.”
John looked as if he’d lassoed the moon. “She said yes.”
Isabel was silent long enough for the couple to notice. Then she rushed over and enveloped Honor in a hug. “Congratulations, sis. I’m thrilled for you both.”
Ben took the opportunity to shake John’s hand and offer his own well wishes. “When’s the big day?”
John looked at his fiancée with raised brows. “Our cabin’s ready, save for a thorough cleaning.”
A becoming blush bloomed in the pretty girl’s cheeks. “We discussed holding the ceremony in February.” She took hold of Isabel’s hands. “What do you think, Isa? Would that be too soon?”
Isabel’s eyes shone with affection and pride. If there was the tiniest hint of sadness, Ben was convinced the couple didn’t notice. They were too wrapped up in each other.
“I think any day you choose will be perfect.”
“Then I vote for Christmas Day,” John teased, chuckling.
Honor’s blush deepened. “I have to have time to ready a dress, my love.”
“I don’t care what you wear, you know that.”
Beaming with happiness, Honor suggested they visit Rosa’s house to tell Carmen. John readily agreed—he was so smitten, Ben was fairly sure he’d have agreed to ride to Canada if she’d asked—and they left as quickly as they’d arrived. The silence in their wake was rife with unspoken emotion.
“Isabel—”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to try one of those cookies.” She scooped Eli into her arms. “What do you say, Eli? Want another cookie?”
At his nod, she carried him to the kitchen. Ben played along, ignoring the obvious, biding his time. Isabel avoided his gaze, and he debated whether or not to leave. The wobble in her voice as she uttered a bedtime prayer with Eli made up his mind. As she exited the bedroom and eased the door shut, he caught her wrist.
Her lips parted, and her gaze slid away. “It’s late, Ben. You should probably go.”
Threading his fingers through hers, he urged her closer to the fireplace. “I will soon. I won’t be sleeping in the hut tonight, so I’ll need you to be extra vigilant. You have your dagger with you, right?”
Her sleek brows knitted together. “That and a hunting rifle. Where will you be?”
His thumb traced across her knuckles in a back-and-forth motion. “Patrolling the streets. There’s a greater chance of encountering strangers under cover of darkness.”
She flicked a glance at his bandage. “You’ll be careful?”
“I’ll do my best.” Releasing her hand so he could think, he said, “Isabel, I want you to know—” He couldn’t reveal his secret, but he could offer a shoulder to cry on. “I understand how certain changes in our lives can bring unexpected challenges. It’s natural to have mixed feelings about Honor’s engagement.”
“I’m happy for her,” she stated, her expression earnest.
“I know, but—”
“Surely you don’t think I’m jealous?”
“Of course not. I think you’re a good sister who wants the best for her siblings, even if that means their fulfilled dreams affect you in unforeseen ways. You’re going to miss her.”
“She’s not moving out of state.”
“But she won’t be here with you and Carmen. She’ll have a new family, new responsibilities.”
“Are you trying to upset me?”
“I’m trying to be a good friend.”
I want you to trust me enough to share your hurts, to let me in when you keep the whole world at bay.
She inhaled sharply. “So be a good friend and cease this talk.”
Confused by this need to push his way past her defenses, he did as she suggested. “Fine.”
He was at the door when she called for him to wait and didn’t at first recognize the battle light in her eyes.
“We haven’t discussed what happened in the hut.”
“What is there to say besides I would dearly love to do it again?” She gasped. “But I won’t.”
“Because kissing is for serious romance,” she retorted. “Isn’t that what you said? What happened, Ben? Did you forget your own rule? I told myself I wouldn’t pry into your relationship with Veronica. You haven’t breathed a word about your dinner with her, however. You’ve acted as if she doesn’t exist.”
“I haven’t spoken of what transpired, because it’s nothing to be proud of. I reiterated my stance. She didn’t take it well. We will no longer be spending time together. Does that satisfy your
curiosity?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not fully, no. Considering what happened between us, I want to know—did you kiss her, too?”
“Besides you, the only other woman I’ve kissed is Marianne Ogden, my former fiancée.”
Isabel narrowed her eyes. “Your former what?”
“You heard me.”
“You were engaged to be married?” She gaped at him. “I don’t believe it.”
“Want her address?” On second thought…
“You said you hadn’t been burned by love.”
“I never said that. You assumed.” He shoved his hand through his hair. Talking about this was a bad idea. “We were young. Things didn’t work out. It wasn’t a tragedy.”
At least, the part about not marrying Marianne. In hindsight, he’d been spared a lifelong union with a woman whose loyalty wavered depending on the circumstances, a woman who’d used his reticence to her advantage, repainting their breakup in order to portray herself as a victim. The other part had cut at the root of his masculinity. His inability to sire children had made him feel abnormal. He wasn’t about to share any of that with Isabel.
“Tell me what happened, then. If it wasn’t serious.”
“Why should I when you aren’t willing to open up to me?” He pivoted toward the door.
“You were right,” she rushed out.
He didn’t turn his head; instead kept his gaze on the wooden slats inches from his face. “About?”
“Honor and John.” She edged closer. “I do have mixed feelings. Not having her around is going to take some getting used to.” She sighed. “I’ve had to act strong for my sisters ever since I can remember. I worked hard to shield them from my parents’ unhappy marriage, to take the brunt of the town’s ridicule. As the oldest, I was the most logical target.” Her voice dropped an octave, and there was no denying her pain and disillusionment. “Sometimes, though, I wonder what it would be like not to have to be the strong one. To have someone I could lean on.”
Ben squeezed his eyes shut. With everything in him, he wanted to hold her in his arms. Comfort her the only way he knew how. Promise he’d be there for her when she was feeling sad or lonely or overwhelmed.
But he couldn’t do that, could he? He wouldn’t be around. Not forever. Because he was broken. Less than whole.
“The first step to dealing with problems is admitting them,” he said woodenly, lifting the latch. “Good night.”
She didn’t react until he was on the porch. “I opened up to you like you asked.” Confusion colored her voice. “And your response is to offer empty platitudes? You’re honestly going to walk away right now?”
“I’m sorry.”
More sorry than you’ll ever know.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
She was a bigger fool than Sally Hatcher, Veronica Patton and the Smith sisters combined. Isabel pounded at the red-hot metal with all her might. She’d bared her soul, fully expecting Ben to repay the favor, and for what? He’d expected her to trust him but he wasn’t prepared to reciprocate?
Isabel had ignored her instincts and allowed him into her life. She’d stupidly forgotten the potency of his practiced charm. Ben was a master at making a woman feel like she mattered to him when, in reality, none of them did. Marianne Ogden must’ve ripped his heart into shreds and neglected to instruct him how to put it back together again. As a result, he was exacting his revenge on every susceptible heart unfortunate enough to cross his path. He could, too. Because he was extraordinarily handsome. He possessed a certain boyish charm that made it difficult to be mad at him. Most importantly, he was a devoted lawman bent on protecting others…true hero material.
She’d known what he was and had still succumbed, making her worse than the others he’d duped. She pounded the metal too thin and it cracked.
With a frustrated growl, she set the tongs aside and tossed her gloves to the ground, belatedly registering the shiny black boots in the patchy grass. Her gaze racing up the tall, formally dressed masculine form, it took a moment to reconcile his identity with his presence on her farm. Why would the mercantile owner pay her a visit?
“Mr. Darling. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
His keen gaze roved over her work area before returning to her. “Please, call me Quinn. I beg pardon for interrupting your work.”
His smile was kind, his accent reminiscent of his Boston roots. The heir to a clothing empire, he’d left the family business to strike out on his own. He’d wound up marrying his shop assistant, Nicole O’Malley. Theirs was one of the families Isabel had admired from afar, a model of devoted commitment and proof that some people did find the real thing.
“Do you have a moment to discuss a business proposal?”
His words sparked suspicion. “Does your visit have anything to do with Ben MacGregor?”
In the shade of his black bowler hat, twin raven brows lifted a notch. “In fact, the deputy is the reason I’m here. Is that a problem?”
Removing her apron, she projected a calm she didn’t feel. Ben hadn’t just walked away. He’d added insult to injury by sharing her secret without permission. “He told you about my knives.”
He inclined his head. “He was in the store this morning at the same time I was lamenting my dissatisfaction with my current supplier. I’ve had several customer complaints. Ben took me aside and suggested I come and see you.”
“I don’t sell to locals.”
“Your identity could remain anonymous.” He grew thoughtful. “Sometimes that increases customer interest. The mystery, you know.”
“You haven’t even seen my product.”
“I have faith in Ben’s judgment.” He smiled. “I’m also a businessman. I would of course like to see samples before making a formal offer.”
Isabel pondered his request. Selling her wares in town would add to her earnings. Circling her portable forge, she said, “I have several I can show you.”
They strolled to the cabin in silence. Quinn gestured to the handful of wagons outside the mill. “I thought you usually filled the miller position.”
“Carmen volunteered so that I could work on an order.”
Volunteered might not be the best description. Still humming with frustration and hurt, Isabel had craved privacy today. Alone in her makeshift forge, she was able to make use of a physical outlet for her heightened emotions. Because she had so rarely asked for a break from the mill, her sisters had instantly agreed to help. Carmen was better with the customers, and Honor had been happy to spend the morning with Eli.
Considering Honor was still in a state of euphoria, she likely would’ve been content no matter what task was set before her.
When they stepped inside, Honor and Eli emerged from the kitchen, where they were heating water to wash dirty laundry. Quinn greeted them warmly, his gaze growing puzzled as he contemplated Eli.
Isabel put it down to curiosity. He was a topic of interest. It wasn’t every day a boy was found wandering the woods alone.
Going to the hutch, she removed the walnut box where she stored her finished products. She placed it on the table and lifted the lid. “As you can see, I have these smaller ones, what Ben refers to as gambler’s daggers, as well as larger ones.”
Quinn studied them one by one, taking them out and testing their weight and strength, admiring the various handles. He seemed partial to those blades paired with antler and bone. When he was done, he folded his hands behind his back.
“I have to agree with the deputy. You’re a skilled craftsman, Miss Flores. If you’re amenable, I’d like to stock your knives in my store.” He named a price and a percentage he’d take in commission that struck Isabel as fair.
She glanced at the weapons. “I accept your offer, Mr. Darling.”
His handsome face brightened.
“It’s Quinn, remember? And I’m very happy to hear that. I look forward to establishing our working relationship. My next question is this—what will you choose to do about your identity?”
Isabel didn’t give herself a chance to think. “Display my name. It’s time I stop worrying about my father’s reputation and start building my own.”
He smiled. “You’re making the right choice.”
They decided he’d select five from her collection to start with, since Isabel was reluctant to part with them all. After he’d made his choices, he cast a furtive glance at the kitchen.
“Would you mind if we spoke on the porch for a moment?”
More intrigued than concerned, she led him outside and waited for him to speak.
“I have a strong sense of having seen Eli before.”
Her heart leaped into her throat. “Where? When?”
“In the store.” His eyes were intense. “Earlier in the fall, I had a young female customer come in and order a particular fabric for some baby clothes she wished to sew. She made an impression because she was a new face. Not only that, she was pregnant and far too thin for her condition. I was so concerned that I concocted a fake contest in which the customer who ordered that particular item received complimentary sacks of flour, sugar and salted beef.”
She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the wooden post. “Did she have blond hair?”
“Yes. Did you know about her?”
“Eli has spoken of her. We haven’t gotten much information and didn’t want to press him. Thinking about her makes him sad. H-he said she died.”
Sympathy swirled in his eyes. “He was with her that day. I gave him a bundle of licorice.” He frowned. “I kept thinking they’d return, but they never did.”
“He mentioned a sibling, but we didn’t know whether or not to believe him.” She gazed at the window, but the curtains blocked her view. “He’s so young.”
“Would you like me to go over my ledgers from that time? I may be able to discover her name.”
“Yes, please.” Isabel sighed. “I have to tell Ben.”
