by Mary Davis
“You look dapper yourself.”
He tugged at the lapels of his coat. “It is nice, but I prefer comfortable everyday clothes.” He swept his arm to motion behind him. “I brought a carriage.”
“You really didn’t have to.”
“I want you to arrive in style. Besides, it could rain before the evening is over.” He escorted her to the carriage, helped her up and climbed in himself. He snapped the reins, and the horse lurched the rig forward.
“Did you rent this?”
He shook his head. “It belongs to my father-in-law.”
Her breath caught. “Is he going to be in attendance tonight?”
“Of course. He’s one of the investors. Don’t worry. He’ll like you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Because of his daughter.”
“Doreen is gone.”
“Yes, and he might not like the idea of you and another woman. He may see me as replacing her.”
Lindley was silent a moment, no doubt contemplating her comment. “I’m sure it’ll be all right.” But his tone wasn’t so confident. “I’ll talk to him. It’ll be fine.”
Was he trying to convince her or himself? Bridget’s insides twisted. Lord, please don’t let him think I’m trying to replace his daughter.
Lindley pulled up to the front of the hotel, handed off the carriage to a stable boy and helped Bridget down. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
She would try. Then an unbidden thought kicked up her apprehension. What if she had met his father-in-law? She hadn’t thought to ask his name. Mercy. Could she claim an illness and return home? This party meant a lot to Lindley. She didn’t want to spoil it for him either by going or not.
After tonight, she would find a good time to tell him. She didn’t want to ruin his evening.
Music and voices floated out the entrance into the cool evening air. Lindley ushered her inside, took her shawl and handed it over to the cloakroom clerk. He escorted her into the main ballroom.
She forced a deep, calming breath into her lungs. Lord, make this evening go well.
Lindley surveyed the room. “There he is.”
She knew he meant his late wife’s father. Was she ready for this?
He guided her across the room to a portly man with stark white hair, a mustache and a severe expression. “Miss Bridget Greene, this is my father-in-law, Gabriel Andrews.”
She’d never met this man. She let out a relieved breath as she bobbed a quick curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Andrews.” So, Gabe had been named after his grandfather.
He regarded her and spoke in a level voice. “So you are the Miss Greene my grandchildren speak so fondly of.”
She couldn’t tell from his tone if that was good or bad. “They are sweet children.”
Mr. Andrews narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her.
Lindley cleared his throat. “Miss Greene is their teacher.”
Mr. Andrews swung a silencing glance to Lindley and then looked back to her. “May I have this dance?” He held out his hand.
Bridget didn’t know how she could refuse, so she put her hand in his. As she was being led away, she looked back at Lindley, who gave her an encouraging nod. But she could see the worry in his face.
Mr. Andrews was proficient at waltzing. But the way he studied her face unnerved her. This was the man who’d negotiated a husband for his daughter. She kept a genial smile in place as though his inspection didn’t bother her. Certainly he had questions. Was he going to ask them?
“So, my granddaughter talked her way into your classroom.”
That was not the first thing she’d expected him to say. “Yes. She arrived during recess. I couldn’t send her off on her own. She behaved herself well enough.”
“Yes, when she wants something, she can be as sweet as sugared molasses.”
“Isn’t molasses sweet enough without sugaring it?”
“My Dora is even sweeter.”
Ah, his Dora. He obviously loved his grandchildren very much.
“Doreen was my only child. So Gabe and Dora are my only grandchildren. They deserve…”
“Mr. Andrews, I’m not trying to replace your daughter.”
His expression softened. “That’s not what I was getting at. My Francesca passed away soon after we lost Doreen. My grandchildren deserve a lady’s touch in their lives. Oh, they have Lindley’s sisters and mother, but it is not the same as having a woman in their home, caring for them day after day.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Was he giving her and Lindley his blessing? Not that Lindley had proposed.
“Don’t get me wrong. Lindley does a fine job with them. But a mother’s love is different. Gentler, softer, nurturing. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She couldn’t really say. Her own mother hadn’t the time for her. Although not all that nurturing, Mother had been gentler and softer, Bridget supposed. But she had seen it with the mothers of her students. “I suppose they are.”
He deftly guided her around another couple. “I nearly lost Doreen when she was ten. Lindley saved her from being run down by a charging freight wagon. Poor boy was injured.”
“Lindley told me. Then you and his father arranged their marriage.” Oh, dear. She shouldn’t have said that. She just didn’t understand what kind of father could do that. And Mr. Andrews seemed to adore his daughter.
“Oh, I was against it at first. With Doreen being deaf, I was going to keep her under my wing for the rest of her life to protect her. My wife convinced me that would not be good for any of us. So Warren and I came to an agreement with the stipulation that when they grew up, if either of them were in love with someone else or they really didn’t like each other, they didn’t have to marry. Though we didn’t tell them that.”
So he wasn’t coldhearted. He was actually looking out for his daughter’s well-being.
“Lindley treated Doreen well. He took good care of her. And she loved him so very much. If I’d had my way, she never would have gotten married and had the pleasure of having children she loved as much as any mother could. And she was good for him. He was a bit awkward and shy with girls. Don’t know why, growing up in a house full of them. Or maybe that’s why.”
The waltz ended, but Mr. Andrews didn’t release her or walk her off the dance floor. Instead, he said, “Another.”
That went against good etiquette.
“Please.” He flashed Dora’s smile.
She relaxed. “I’d love to.”
The next waltz started up, and he led her around the floor. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Not much to tell. I teach at the school.”
“Have you always lived on the islands?”
Her stomach tightened. She didn’t like this line of questions. “No.”
“Where’s your family from?”
“My grandparents lived in Illinois.” Truth but not all of it.
“I visited Illinois once. I rather liked it there.”
Bridget managed to keep the conversation away from her background except where it pertained to the children and school.
At the end of the tune, Mr. Andrews escorted her off the floor. He bowed over her hand. “Thank you for the delightful waltz.”
“The pleasure was mine, Mr. Andrews.” She accepted the offered cup of punch from Lindley and sipped.
“Please call me Gabriel.”
“Certainly. And you may call me Bridget.”
Gabriel turned to Lindley. “You have a lovely lady here.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Gabriel motioned with his hand. “Come with me. There is someone I want you to meet.” He led the way.
Bridget was going to remain put, but Lindley took her arm and guided her around the room with him. Lindley kept his voice low. “So, you won over my father-in-law.”
“I really didn’t do much. He seems like a sweet man.”
“I knew he would be taken with you.
”
Gabriel stopped near a tall, black-haired man who was talking with another man.
Bridget sipped her punch. She had been so focused on getting ready for tonight, she had forgotten to drink much water today.
The men finished their conversation, and the tall man shifted his attention to Gabriel and thrust out his hand. “Gabriel, good to see you.”
“Zachariah, I’d like you to meet Lindley Thompson. He’s my right-hand man. He’s the one who’s been working here at the mine for the past few months. And this is his sweetheart, Bridget Greene. And this is Zachariah March.”
Bridget choked on her punch. March? Oh, dear. She coughed.
Lindley patted her back. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “Just swallowed wrong.” Where could she run to and hide? But it was already too late.
Mr. March took her hand and bowed over it. “Miss…Greene, was it?”
He knew it wasn’t, but he hadn’t given her away. Yet. “Mr. March.” She struggled to give a polite smile.
“It is a delight and pleasure to meet you. Please call me Zach.” He winked.
She gave a nod of assent. “And you may call me Bridget. If you gentlemen will excuse me, please.” She walked away, her stomach twisting violently. Though Zach’s wife was her friend, she didn’t know him well enough to know if he would keep her secret.
The room seemed to grow suddenly hot and stifling, so she hurried outside for some fresh air.
A groomsman met her gaze. “May I help you, miss?”
“No, I’m fine.” She slowed her pace and strolled to the end of the wide porch. She drew in several deep breaths to calm herself.
What if Zach was telling Lindley and Gabriel she wasn’t really Miss Greene? Maybe she shouldn’t have left the men alone. Should she go back inside? Or just leave?
Coming had been a bad idea. She should have confessed to Lindley. She had tried to at the schoolhouse yesterday but had been interrupted. If she had told him, then she would know if his feelings were true. Now, if he found out from someone else, from Zach, he would only feel betrayed.
She had to get away from here. She would pack her things and leave before Zach could tell anyone about her.
No. She had to find Lindley and tell him before anyone else did. He deserved to hear the truth from her.
No. Not at the party. That would spoil his evening. Unless her past didn’t bother him. But not telling him would bother him. She had to at least try to talk to Lindley.
“Bridget!”
She stopped at the sound of Zach’s voice and turned slowly to him. She was caught.
He strolled up to her. “Bridget Greene.” He tested her name in his mouth. “It has a nice ring to it. But then, so does Bridget Thompson.”
He was toying with her.
“Are you in love with him?”
What did that matter? “What do you want?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Dare she answer? “Yes, I love him.”
“Does he love you?”
What did he intend to do with the information? “Yes.”
A broad smile broke across his face. “Good. I’ll tell Fina. You really should write her more.”
She hadn’t dared for fear a letter might get intercepted by someone who would divulge her whereabouts.
“Don’t look so worried. I won’t tell anyone.”
“You won’t? Why not?”
“Fina would be impossible to live with. When she’s angry, she has a very long memory. It’s best to let her have her way. As stubborn as a mule.”
She relaxed at his friendly tone. “I just might tell her you said that.”
“It’s nothing she doesn’t already know.”
“Didn’t she come with you?” She would love to see her dear friend.
“Regrettably, no. She came down with a terrible stomach ailment the day before we were to leave. Doctor ordered bed rest.”
“Nothing too serious, I hope?”
“She was already feeling better, but the trip would have worn her out.”
“Give her my best. And tell her I’ll write soon.”
“I will. She will be sorry she couldn’t come.” He offered her his arm. “Now let me escort you back inside. Unless there is someone else you were running away from.”
Not that she knew of. She took his arm.
* * *
Lindley’s turn to dance with Bridget. He bowed in front of her. “May I have this dance?”
She gave him a playful smile. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
Lindley smiled and guided her to the middle of the floor. “I’ll make an exception for you.”
She put her left hand on his shoulder and raised her other one for him to take.
He liked having her in his arms. His pulse picked up speed. Leading her in the first steps of the waltz, he wondered where she had learned the dance. When would a simple schoolteacher have had the opportunity?
After once around the floor, he asked, “Zachariah March. You know him?”
She took a quick breath. “’Twas your father-in-law who introduced him.”
He hadn’t missed her slight hesitation before she’d answered. And she hadn’t exactly answered him. He wouldn’t have thought much about the introduction had he not seen the two talking moments later on the porch. Then he had thought back to Zach’s comment. Miss Greene, was it?
The two knew each other. But how?
Chapter 16
Lindley walked to the schoolhouse on Monday to see Bridget. She had said she would be cleaning the building today.
On Friday, when he’d apologized, he hadn’t spoken from his heart as Cilla had told him to do. He had merely said words. And he hadn’t groveled nearly enough. Hardly at all. Bridget had made apologizing easy. And he hadn’t told her how he felt about her.
Now Zachariah March had shown up. He had spoken to her in a rather friendly manner after church. And he meant something to her. Lindley just didn’t know how. But if he didn’t want to lose her to this man, he needed to let Bridget know exactly how he felt and what his intentions were.
She came out the door with a bucket and tossed the water onto the ground next to the stoop. She had a scarf tied around her auburn hair and wore a plain gray shirt and brown plaid skirt. Not a very attractive outfit. She had obviously dressed for her day of cleaning. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead.
He sighed. She was so beautiful no matter what she wore. He moved toward her.
She looked up, grimaced and took a step back as though to flee inside. She smoothed a hand down her skirt, swiped off her head scarf and touched her hair.
He stopped at the foot of the steps. “You look beautiful.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“The Good Book says, ‘Thou shalt not lie.’”
He clapped his hand over his heart. “’Tis no lie. You are beautiful to me.”
“I’m a mess.”
He took the pail from her, set it on the top step and grasped her hand. He wanted to ask her again about Zachariah March but suspected that conversation wouldn’t end any better than the one about his arranged marriage. “When I came to apologize on Friday, I didn’t say all I wanted to.”
Cilla had told him to speak from his heart. He hadn’t really understood then what she meant, but he did now.
He pointed to the steps. “Would you like to sit?”
“What I’d like to do is run and hide.” She glanced at her head scarf she had gripped tightly in her free hand. “Very well.” She sat.
He removed his hat and sat next to her, keeping her hand firmly in his. “You needn’t worry. No amount of dirt can hide how pretty you are. As you told me the first time I came to your house to retrieve my children, ‘It’s just dirt.’”
She dropped her scarf on her lap. “You’re right. I’m being foolish.”
“I like that it matters to you
how you look in my presence.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Now I really feel foolish.”
He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Please don’t.”
Did he have the courage to tell her? He wanted to. He took a deep breath. From his heart. “I love you.”
She smiled and then frowned. “Oh, Lindley. I…I need to tell—”
“Shh.” He knew she might not feel the same way about him yet. He didn’t want to rush her. He cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t have to say anything.” He pressed his lips to hers.
She didn’t resist and kissed him back. She wouldn’t have responded like that if Zachariah March meant something to her romantically, would she?
He pulled back. “I love you so much. It’s okay if you don’t know yet. I don’t want to pressure you. I just wanted—no, needed you to know how I felt.” Now did he also have the courage to ask? He hoped this was the right time. “I never contemplated marrying again after Doreen died. But you have made me consider things I had never thought of before.”
Her expression held both hope and concern. Joy and pain.
“You don’t have to answer right away, but I want you to know how much you mean to me. I want you to be my wife. Will you—”
A high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream from somewhere in town split the air.
A chill coiled around Lindley’s spine. He jerked his head around. “Dora!”
“No. How do you know?”
“I just do.” He took off at a run. Fear stampeded through him in a rush, pushing him faster. The impact of each footfall vibrated up his body, stabbing him in the heart.
“Mr. Thompson!” Troy ran down the street toward him. The boy stopped in front of him and put his hands on his thighs, doubling over to catch his breath.
Lindley put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Take it easy. Catch your breath. Then tell me what’s wrong.” He prayed it wasn’t Dora. But why else would the boy be coming to him? Not Gabe. Lord, please let my children be safe.
Troy sucked in several ragged breaths. “You have to come— Quick— Your daughter— Dora— A horse— She’s hurt— Hurt bad.”
