“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. How was the trip?”
“It was all right. Long and loud, but all right.”
He gave her another moment to continue, but she didn’t. “And what brings you here? I thought you weren’t coming.”
“Oh, Thomas, I’m so sorry.” She stopped walking and put her hand on his arm. “When I found out what happened, I was mortified. I was beyond mortified, actually. And then I didn’t know what to do, and I thought about writing, but that seemed so impersonal, so I decided to come and speak to you myself. Can you forgive me? May I explain?”
She looked up at him with blue eyes brimming with tears. She was so lovely, so upset, his heart gave a giant tug. “Of course. Please, don’t cry.”
“Thank you.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a handkerchief, then dabbed at her eyes. “It was my father, actually. He never wanted me to become a mail-order bride, and he was furious when he found out that I’d written to you. So he’s the one who did it, not me. I would never.”
Thomas paused before speaking, trying to piece together what he was hearing. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t make sense of it. “What was it that your father did, Ivy?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Returned your letters, of course. Didn’t you get them?”
“My letters were returned?”
“Yes. He tied them all up and wrote a nasty message on top and sent them back. So, you didn’t get them? You aren’t angry with me?”
Thomas shook his head. “No, I’m not angry. Just a bit confused.” He looked down into her eyes and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here now and didn’t wait until January. I confess, I was disappointed at the delay.”
“January? Why did you think I wasn’t coming until January?”
Nothing was lining up. Thomas smiled again and shrugged. “Let’s not worry about it right now. We’ll get you checked in at the hotel and you can rest for a bit, and then I’ll come back and take you to lunch.”
“I’d like that very much.”
She slid her arm through the crook of his elbow, and then noticed the cast. His sleeve usually covered most of it, so it was no wonder she didn’t see it before. “Oh, you’re hurt. What happened?”
“A log rolled onto my hand at work. A few fingers are broken, but it should heal up nicely.” What a relief to be able to tell her that he would recover, but he thought he already had told her about the accident in the first place. He thought back. Yes, he’d put it in a letter. She must not have received it yet, which made sense if she’d been on a train coming here, but nothing else did. What on earth was going on?
***
Tabitha paced the floor of the post office, her stomach in knots. Ivy was here. Ivy was here. Of all the things she’d ever expected to happen, this was the most unbelievable. Ivy had plainly said that she’d changed her mind and wanted no more contact. Why had she come all this way, then?
Clara was upstairs with Herbert, spooning him some broth. He had managed to sit up a bit, and that was certainly a good sign. Tabitha tried to stay focused on the positive things that were happening, but her mind would not let go of the fact that right now, Thomas was talking to the girl of his dreams.
She finally opened the bag and sorted the mail, her hands trembling. The longer he spent talking to Ivy, the more he would learn about her deception. Why had she done it? It was a horrible, terrible thing, a dreadful trick, and she wished she’d never had the idea at all.
When the door opened and he came in, she had all but reconciled herself to the knowledge that he was going to be very, very angry. But he seemed calm, which surprised her.
“Tabitha, can you help me understand something?”
“I’ll try.” She clasped her hands at her waist to stop the trembling.
“Ivy tells me that her father bundled up all my letters and returned them, but I never got them. Then she tells me that she never said she wasn’t coming until January. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
Tabitha blinked rapidly. He didn’t know she’d done it—he thought it was some sort of post-office mix-up. She would have to confess. Was that better or worse than him figuring it out on his own? She wasn’t sure.
She stepped over and closed the door separating the post office from the house. She’d tell Clara and Herbert what she’d done another time, after she’d had a chance to explain to Thomas. It was best to deal with one set of issues at a time.
“I do know what happened,” she said. “When the bundle of letters came, I kept it.” She reached under the counter and retrieved it. She’d brought it downstairs as soon as she got back from the train station. “When I saw that note on top, I couldn’t imagine giving it to you.”
Thomas picked up the bundle and studied it. “You withheld this from me?”
“Yes, I did.”
“But what about the letters Ivy sent me? The two that came? Where did those come from?”
“I . . . I wrote them.”
He looked up at her, his face distorted by confusion. What she hadn’t expected was the pain in his eyes, and that was worse than any of the rest of it. “I don’t understand. Please tell me why you’d do something like that.”
She twisted her hands together. “It really doesn’t make sense, now that I think about it. But when the bundle came, all I could think about was how hurt you’d be. I thought that maybe if she’d let you down a little more gently, it would be easier for you to take. So I wrote those letters to give you a chance to distance yourself from her.”
Thomas looked back down at the letters. When he spoke, his words were measured. “Did you think I wouldn’t be able to handle the truth?”
“That’s not it, Thomas. I just . . .” Tears slipped down her cheeks. How could she explain this when it was so utterly ridiculous? “I loved you too much to want to see you hurt,” she finally said, nearly in a whisper. She reached under the counter and brought out the letters she’d helped Thomas write, along with the postage he’d paid for them. “These belong to you too. I never sent them because she asked for no further contact.”
“No, her father asked for no further contact. Her mind was never changed.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I hardly know what to say. I thought I knew you better than this—I thought we were friends, that we trusted each other.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I was stupid and thoughtless, and I deserve any bad thing you want to think about me.”
“I don’t want to think anything bad of you, Tabitha.” His voice broke, and he turned toward the door. “I need to go. I just . . . need to go.”
After he left, Tabitha sank to her knees on the floor and cried until her stomach and throat hurt. She’d been so foolish. Of course he could have dealt with the heartache—he was a strong man, one who faced life’s challenges with more dignity than most. She’d seen it time and time again—she should have trusted him to handle that one as well. He didn’t need her to watch over him like some kind of mother hen. And now she’d lost his friendship, one of the dearest things she’d ever possessed.
***
Thomas kicked at every rock and every leaf he saw all the way back to the hotel. How could Tabitha—beautiful, sweet Tabitha—have done such a thing? She’d broken the law, she’d tampered with his life, and she’d been friendly to his face while stabbing him in the back. What kind of game had she been playing? Did she think this was somehow amusing?
He’d managed to keep his temper while speaking to her, but now, it was all but boiling over. Why had he trusted her so much? And why had she abused that trust?
He took a moment to calm down before entering the hotel. Ivy didn’t need to see him this way—she was innocent in all this. By the time he entered the lobby, his breathing had returned to normal, and he was able to smile when he saw her waiting for him by the staircase.
“This is a nice hotel,” she told him, looking around with appreciation. “My room is quite comfortable.”
“I’m glad to
hear it. I’ve never been upstairs, so I wasn’t quite sure.” He motioned to a small seating area off to the side of the lobby. “May we talk?”
Once seated, he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I need to tell you something I just discovered,” he said. “I went and spoke with the postmistress about the confusion with our letters. As it turns out . . .” He paused to bring himself back under control. “As it turns out, she withheld the bundle and then sent me two letters herself, posing as you, trying to break it to me gently.”
“She did?” Ivy seemed to think that over for a minute. “That seems rather sweet.”
Thomas sat up abruptly. “Sweet? How is that sweet?”
“She didn’t want you to get hurt. I’m rather glad she did it—aren’t you?”
Thomas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re glad that she tampered with the mail and pretended to be you?”
Ivy laughed softly. “Well, no, but she did help keep the door open between us. Just imagine—if you’d gotten that bundle and then I showed up on the train, we might not be sitting here right now, having this conversation. You might have turned me around and sent me back home.”
“I don’t think I would have done any such thing,” he protested, but she held up a hand.
“Of course I don’t know this woman, so I can’t judge her intentions, but it sounds to me like she had a very good reason for what she did. What did she say? Did she explain herself?”
“She said she loved me too much to see me suffer,” he mumbled.
“Well, can you accept that and move on? We know what happened now, and we’re together. Isn’t that the important thing?”
Thomas nodded, pushing down his irritation. Ivy was incredible. How many girls would be so understanding? “You’re right. Let’s have a nice lunch, get to know each other, and put this behind us.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “There is one more thing I need to apologize for. I’m sorry I didn’t write for so long. I was so busy getting ready for school to start that many important things slipped by me.”
“That’s what I figured. It’s all right.” He patted her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “May I escort you to the dining room?”
“I’d be delighted.”
They entered the hotel dining room and were shown to a table by the smiling Mrs. Davis, who didn’t make a scene, but her eyes definitely twinkled. Thomas grinned at her behind Ivy’s back, proud to have this beautiful woman at his side.
The meal was excellent, as always, and Ivy seemed to appreciate it too. They chatted about this and that, mostly casual things, and Thomas couldn’t wait to take her for a buggy ride or some other such thing where they could be alone and really talk. He wanted to find out what was in her heart, what she was thinking, what she enjoyed. He very much liked what he’d discovered about her so far—her warm, forgiving nature—and he knew that each day would bring more discoveries and revelations.
“Let me take you for a buggy ride after we’ve eaten,” he said, leaning across the table and touching her hand. “I want to show you the town, the property—it really is a nice area.”
“That sounds lovely.” Ivy looked down at her plate. “I believe I’m ready, if you are.”
They stood and wove between tables to the doorway, where they ran into Pastor Reed, who was just coming in.
“Mr. Scott,” he said jovially. “A pleasure. And who is this?”
Thomas put his hand on the small of Ivy’s back. “This is Miss Ivy Wayne, my fiancée.”
“Miss Wayne, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you.” The pastor gave her a little bow. “You’re marrying a fine man.”
“I believe I am,” Ivy replied with a smile. “What was your name, sir?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten all my manners. Ivy, this is Pastor Reed.”
“Oh, you’re the pastor?” Ivy seemed very interested to hear this. “My uncle is a clergyman.”
“Where is his congregation? Perhaps we’ve met.”
“He preaches in Dover, where I’m from.”
Pastor Reed shook his head. “I’ve never been out that way, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful country.”
“It is. I’ll look forward to hearing your sermon on Sunday, Pastor, and it was a pleasure to meet you. Thomas is taking me for a buggy ride now.”
“Then I won’t keep you. Have an enjoyable afternoon.” The pastor nodded to each of them, then entered the dining room.
Thomas didn’t own a buggy, but he had a friend who worked at the livery stable, so within minutes, he and Ivy were on their way.
“I like this town very much,” she said as they rolled down Main Street. “It’s neat and tidy, and everything feels like a home. I believe I’ll be happy here.”
Thomas’s heart warmed at hearing this. “The whole community is friendly, and I think they’ll welcome you right in.” He threw a sidelong look her way. “And what do you think of me so far?”
She contemplated him. “I think you’re rather nice-looking, and you seem very kind. May I return the question? Am I what you hoped for?”
“I can honestly say, Miss Wayne, that you’re more than what I hoped for.”
She smiled and settled back into the seat, well pleased with his answer.
Thomas pointed out the stores and other buildings of interest, including the post office—even though he would have preferred to leave that one out of the discussion—and showed her where the doctor lived. Then he drove her out to his property. This was the moment he’d been dreaming about for months, and now that it was here, his stomach roiled. What if his humble home was too humble? He’d told her in his first letter that it needed some work—he’d wanted to be completely open with her.
“Is this your house?” she asked as he pulled the buggy to a stop in the yard.
“This is it. I know it’s not much to look at now, but let me show you around and tell you my plans for it.”
He led her over to the gardening shed first, wanting her to know that he was forward-thinking and already making improvements. Then he took her inside and all but held his breath as she looked around.
She nodded as she examined the kitchen, then stepped across the hall and into the sitting room. She only gave the bedroom a brief glance, then rejoined him in the kitchen. “I think this will be a very nice home,” she said. “It’s definitely missing a woman’s touch, though.”
Thomas grinned. “I thought I’d let you handle that.”
“I’ve already got a million ideas. Curtains, for starters.”
“Curtains you shall have.” Thomas then grew serious. “Listen, Ivy. We never really got to know each other through our letters, like we’d hoped. I’d like to spend as much time as possible with you over the next couple of days and give you the chance to get to know me before we tie the knot. I don’t want you to have any reason to regret making this choice.”
“Oh, Thomas, I already know I wouldn’t regret it. I can see your kindness shining in your eyes.” She reached out and caught his sleeve with her fingers. “But I can see that you’re saying this because of that kindness. Yes, I agree. Let’s court for three days, and then set the date. But let’s not put it off any longer than that. I’m eager to start my new life, and I’m eager to start sewing those curtains.”
He laughed. “It’s a deal.”
Chapter Fourteen
Tabitha took Mr. Hansen’s envelope and coins from his outstretched hand, thanked him, and wished him a good day. It was all routine, nothing exciting. Ever since Thomas had left the post office the day before, she’d felt empty inside. And she knew she deserved it.
Clara had been remarkably calm when Tabitha admitted what she’d done. Perhaps the toll Herbert’s health had taken on her had worn her down, but all she did was nod when Tabitha apologized. “You’re punishing yourself enough as it is. I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but I’ll let it go if you promise you’ll never do it again.” That was a promise Tabitha had been more th
an willing to make, and she was grateful beyond measure that Clara hadn’t contacted the main post office to report her.
She’d seen Thomas and Ivy go riding past in a buggy the afternoon before. Ivy was a lovely girl, no doubt about it, and Thomas should be proud to show her around town. Now what remained was for Tabitha to decide what she was going to do. Her first inclination was to leave town again, but Clara and Herbert still depended on her, and she needed to overcome her persistent desire to run away. That wasn’t how she should handle this. She needed to live it down, take her punishment however it came. The biggest punishment of all was losing Thomas’s friendship, and that would hurt no matter where she lived.
She mailed a few letters for one elderly lady who lived on the next street over, grudgingly helped Mr. Parker—who seemed a bit nervous to enter the building at all, as he should be—and wrapped up a package for Mrs. Smith. The next time the door opened after that, she looked up to see Ivy standing there.
The girl tilted her head to the side and looked at Tabitha curiously. “Oh, I see,” she said, almost to herself. “Now it makes sense.”
“May I help you?” Tabitha asked, beyond curious to know what Ivy was talking about, but forbidding herself to ask.
“Hello. My name is Ivy Wayne. I believe you’re a friend of Thomas Scott’s.” She came all the way into the office and set her bag on the counter.
“Yes, that’s right.” Tabitha held her chin a little higher. If Ivy had come in here to yell at her, she was prepared to take it. It was Ivy’s right, after all.
“I’d like to mail a letter to my parents.”
That wasn’t at all what Tabitha had expected her to say. “I . . . beg your pardon?”
“I’d like to mail a letter. I have wandered into the post office, haven’t I?” Ivy smiled—there was only humor in her voice.
“You have. I’m sorry—I was distracted.” Tabitha accepted the envelope and the money, then rested her hands on the counter. “Thomas told you what happened?”
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