by Dorothy Love
He extinguished the lamp and lay listening to the night birds rustling in the trees. He hadn’t been looking for a woman. Especially not a Boston Yankee accustomed to finery and big-city entertainments. Who had traveled abroad, for goodness’ sake.
But then he saw Ada. Finding her standing on the railway platform that morning had been like finding a perfect string of pearls lying in the middle of the road. He couldn’t believe that no one had claimed her. It was ironic that in fulfilling his duty to Lillian in a place he’d never really wanted to be, he’d found the woman who, despite their differences, he could come to love.
SIXTEEN
Creation! Surely there must be an easier way to beat this blasted heat. Ada pushed her sleeves up to her elbows, grasped the smooth wooden handle of the ice pick, and attacked the block of ice the deliveryman had brought. Shards of ice flew about the kitchen, lodging in her hair and on her forearms before melting into instant rivulets that dripped off her forehead and elbows. The blisters on her palms, the result of yesterday’s floor scrubbing, oozed and burned.
“Ada?” Lillian called. “What’s taking so long? Where in blazes is my ice water?”
“Coming!” Casting about the kitchen for a more efficient implement, she took up the meat cleaver and managed to hack off a chunk. She crushed it with a few more blows from the ice pick, filled a couple of glasses, and took them to the parlor.
Standing near the open window, Ada took a long, cooling sip and peered out. Waves of August heat shimmered above the browning grass. Nothing moved. Even the songbirds had gone silent.
Lillian drained her glass and handed it to Ada. “You’d better finish getting supper ready. Wyatt will be here any minute.”
A shiver of expectation raced through her. Since the accident on the river, she found herself thinking of Wyatt Caldwell at the oddest times. She imagined him riding the ridge scouting timber or working alongside his men, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, or sitting on his front porch at the end of the day as the last of the light filtered through the sun-shot trees. She wondered if he ever felt lonely watching his men head off to their homes and families.
She shook her head. No use in wondering. They were on different paths.
“Everything’s almost ready.” She took their empty glasses to the kitchen, put the ice back into the icebox, and opened the oven door to check on the cobbler. It was torture, heating up the cookstove for so long on the hottest day of the summer, but blackberry season was almost over, according to Robbie Whiting, and Ada wanted to make something special for Wyatt.
Hoofbeats drummed along the road. She untied her apron and hastily tucked the tendrils of hair that had escaped their pins, then returned to the parlor just in time to see Wyatt stride in. He leaned over and kissed Lillian’s cheek, then glanced up at Ada. He snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot—I have a delivery for you from town. I’ll be right back.”
She chewed her bottom lip as she waited. Maybe there was at last some word from Edward. The long-awaited explanation that would allow her to put her troubled heart to rest. To forget about the past with all its pain and regret.
But she didn’t really believe there would be a letter. It had been too long.
Wyatt reappeared carrying a large box.
“My supplies from Mr. Biddle!” Ada opened the box and rummaged through the contents, running her fingers over the smooth hat block and the squares of milliner’s gauze and netting. A bill fluttered to the floor. Too afraid to look at the enormous amount she undoubtedly owed, she tucked it into her pocket. “I had almost given up on these. I need them for Mariah’s hat.”
“You should have had it sooner,” Wyatt said. “The rail agent asked whether I could deliver it. I took it over to my office a couple of days ago and forgot it was there.”
“Well, I, for one, will be happy when that hat is done,” Lillian said. “It’s all Mariah can talk about. You’d think she’d never seen a hat before. Now, put that box aside and let’s eat.”
Wyatt tucked into his meal, obviously relishing the green beans and warm cornbread slathered with butter. When his plate was empty, Ada rose to serve the cobbler.
“I don’t want any,” Lillian said. “When it gets this hot, the berries aren’t as juicy.”
“I never pass up a chance for blackberry cobbler.” Wyatt drained his glass. “We can eat it on the porch. Might be cooler out there.”
“Go ahead.” His aunt waved him away. “See how long it takes before the mosquitoes carry you off.”
“Why so cranky, Aunt Lil? You’re not your usual sweet self tonight.”
Her usual sweet self? Oh mercy. Ada almost laughed out loud as she ducked into the kitchen. The hotter the weather, the worse Lillian’s mood became. More than once this week, Ada had felt her patience withering in the wake of the older woman’s constant complaints. As if Ada had the power to change the thermometer.
Lillian’s reedy voice carried easily from the dining room. “You’d be cranky too, Wyatt Caldwell, if you spent all day stuck in this oven of a house.”
Ada heard Wyatt’s chair scrape as he pushed back from the table. “We could go swimming,” he said. “River’s down again, and the current’s not too strong. We could go right now. It isn’t that far, and there’s still an hour or so before it gets dark.”
Ada hurried out of the hot kitchen and handed him a bowl of cobbler. He sent her a lopsided grin and dug in. “This is very good. You don’t know what you’re missing, Aunt Lil. So, how about it, Ada? Shall we go for a swim?”
She studied his face. “You’re suggesting that we go swimming in our street clothes? I certainly don’t have a bathing costume.”
“I can think of another option.” His blue eyes glinted with mischief. “But it isn’t exactly acceptable in mixed company.”
Ada blushed, and Lillian waved one hand in the air. “What foolishness!”
“At least we can take a walk.” Wyatt licked his spoon clean. “It’s bound to be cooler down by the river, and there’s enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes away. What do you say, Auntie? We’ll go slow. You’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m too tired,” Lillian said. “Besides, my hollyhocks need watering, and I have two more Christmas pageant costumes to sew. You two go on if you’re a mind to.”
He considered this for a few moments. “All right. If you’re sure. We won’t be gone long. Ready, Ada?”
The voice of reason whispered in her ear. Falling in love will break your heart. “The dishes,” she murmured.
“They’ll be here when we get back.”
He lit the lamps and set a glass and a pitcher of water on the table in the parlor next to Lillian’s chair. “We’ll be right back, Aunt Lil. Stay put, all right?”
She picked up her needle. “You’d better quit fussing over me and go on, if you’re going. Sun’s almost down.”
Wyatt and Ada crossed the yard and followed the well-worn path through Lillian’s summer garden and down to the river. The sun rode low in the trees. Long shadows dappled the grass. The water shimmered like hammered gold.
“I love the river this time of day,” he said. They picked their way along the bank, stepping over roots embedded in the ground and the flotsam and jetsam that littered the shore in the wake of a recent storm. A faint breeze stirred the trees and cooled their faces. Fireflies danced about their knees. “I reckon it’s nothing special to someone used to having a whole ocean to look at, but it sure does soothe my troubled soul.”
Ada gazed out at the placid river. “Problems at the mill?”
“Not at all. It’s you that’s troubling me, Ada, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Me?” She looked up. “Is my work unsatisfactory?”
“On the contrary.” He took her hands and turned them over, palms up. “I noticed at supper—you’ve got blisters.”
“Yesterday Lillian decided the kitchen floor needed a good, old-fashioned hands-and-knees scrubbing. I tried to convince her it was clean enough,
but the more I talked, the more agitated she became. In the end it was easier just to do it than to keep arguing with her.”
He pushed his Stetson to the back of his head. “I’m sorry for that. I never intended for you to work as a housemaid. I only wanted somebody to help her with the things she can no longer do for herself. Promise me the next time she gets such a notion in her head, you’ll send for Libby Dawson. She’s a good worker, and the Dawsons can use the money.”
“All right. But you know Lillian. When she decides she wants something, she doesn’t like to wait.”
“Me either.” He paused. “I’m not very good at things like this. I’m not sure just what to say.”
She stilled and lifted her gaze. Her eyes locked on his. He trailed one finger along the curve of her cheek and cupped his hand at the back of her neck.
Oh mercy! Wyatt Caldwell was about to kiss her.
And I want him to.
She released a trembling breath as the truth settled into her heart. Plain and simple, it was far too late to stop her feelings for him. And whatever the consequences for her millinery business, she could no longer deceive him about it. He deserved better.
“Mr. Caldwell—Wyatt? There’s something I need to tell—”
“Shhh!” He held her close, one arm about her shoulders. “Did you hear something?”
From the direction of the house, she heard a muted shout.
“That’s Lillian.” Wyatt released her, and they took off at a dead run, racing over the slippery bank and along the path to the house.
Lillian met them on the front porch, brandishing a lantern and a broom. She was shaking, her eyes wide and teary.
“Aunt Lil! What’s the matter? Sit down.” Wyatt tried to help her to the porch swing but Lillian stood firm, her tiny feet planted wide apart.
“An intruder, that’s what!” she told him. “I saw him plain as day.”
“Who was it?” Wyatt looked around. “Maybe you dozed off and—”
“I did not doze off. After I watered my hollyhocks I came in, and I was sitting there sewing, and all of a sudden a head appeared at the window.”
“I see.” Wyatt sent Ada a worried look. They ushered Lillian inside.
“You don’t believe me,” Lillian said. “But I know what I saw. By the time I got the broom and the lantern, he was headed toward Two Creeks.”
Wyatt took the lantern from Lillian and headed for the door. “I’ll look around outside.”
Ada put her arm around Lillian’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll make some tea. It’ll calm your nerves. Wyatt will find whoever is out there.”
Lillian followed Ada to the kitchen and sat at the table while the kettle heated. Ada cleared their supper dishes and put them into the dishpan to soak, one ear tuned to the outside. Was someone sneaking around the house? If so, surely she must be the cause. Who would want to hurt Lillian? When the kettle whistled, she made their tea, and they sat in silence, awaiting Wyatt’s return.
A few minutes later he came inside and set the lantern down. “Nothing to worry about, Aunt Lil. I didn’t see a soul.”
Ada offered him some tea, but he declined. “It’s getting late, and I’m taking the morning train to Nashville. I’m trying to convince the governor to push through the appropriations bill for the new college. I’d like to get that timber shipped before fall.” He patted Lil’s mottled hand. “Promise me you won’t be afraid tonight.”
Lillian squared her shoulders. “I know how to shoot a gun. If he comes back, I won’t think twice about blowing him clear to kingdom come.”
Ada followed him onto the porch. He closed the door and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to alarm you, but there are fresh footprints in the garden.”
“So she did see someone.” Ada swallowed. “Could it have been Klansmen wanting to scare me away?”
“Maybe. But I can’t think of what you’ve done to rile them up.”
“Perhaps the fact of my being here is enough. Perhaps I should leave before Lillian comes to harm.”
He shook his head. “Most likely it was a hobo off the train or some drifter looking for a handout. We get a lot of them in town during the summer. Anyone bent on actual harm wouldn’t have run away once he saw how frail Lillian is.” He paused. “I’ll speak to the sheriff tomorrow. In the meantime, I know it’s hotter than blue blazes, but I want you to close the first-floor windows tonight and keep the doors locked. Just in case.”
“All right. I’ll put Lillian upstairs in your old room.”
“I wish I could stick around to keep an eye on the place, but the governor is expecting me.”
“We’ll be fine.” She wasn’t at all sure this was true. But she didn’t want to burden him when he had such an important meeting coming up, and she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t handle whatever situation arose.
“I’ll ask Sage to come by tomorrow to check on you. Barring any delays, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.” He touched her cheek, a questioning look in his eyes. Her heart stumbled inside her chest as he turned and headed for his horse.
After he rode away, Ada went inside. Lillian had fallen asleep at the table, her tea untouched. Ada moved quietly, washing the dishes and laying kindling in the stove for tomorrow. She closed the windows, locked the doors, then gently shook Lillian awake.
“Wyatt thinks you should sleep in his old room tonight. I’ll help you up the stairs.”
“But all my things are down here! What about my sewing? And my Bible?”
“You’ve done enough sewing for one night. I’ll bring your Bible up, though. What would you like me to read tonight?”
Lillian opened her mouth as if to protest again, then closed it. “Psalms. If you don’t mind.”
Ada took Lillian’s arm and they slowly made their way upstairs. She opened the door to Wyatt’s room.
Lillian sniffed. “It smells like sawdust in here.” She frowned. “And Wyatt’s old boots.”
Ada smiled to herself. Yes, it smells like him. Wonderful. The memory of their moment on the river, the feel of his hand when he touched the back of her neck sent goosebumps skittering across her skin.
She helped Lillian into the bed, opened the window, went down to fetch the Bible, then settled down to read.
“God is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea . . . Be still, and know that I am God.”
Lillian’s eyes drooped. Ada set the Bible aside, but Lillian stirred and opened one eye. “One more? Psalm twenty-seven, perhaps?”
Ada turned the thin pages. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”
“Not ghosts.”
“No. Not ghosts.”
Ada set the Bible on the night table and turned down the wick on the lantern. Crossing the narrow hall to her own room, she quickly got ready for bed. Though she was exhausted from a long day of working in the heat, sleep wouldn’t come.
She looked out her open window at the twinkling mass of summer stars, her mind replaying the night’s troubling events. Was her presence here in Hickory Ridge putting her—and Lillian—in danger?
The last leg of Wyatt’s return trip—from Knoxville to Hickory Ridge—seemed interminable. The train was crowded with harried mothers and crying children and half-drunk salesmen arguing politics. Wyatt rubbed his tired eyes, stretched one leg into the aisle. Despite his success with the governor, all he could think about was those few moments alone on the river with Ada.
The look in her clear gray eyes had told him what he’d wanted to know but had been afraid to ask: that her tender feelings matched his own. That and her quickened breath and the way she’d trembled at his touch.
The question now was, what did he intend to do about it?
Hats by Ada. He studied the small ad prominently displayed on page two of the Gazette in his
lap. When he’d first seen it yesterday morning on the outbound train, he’d felt a familiar jolt of anger and a deep sense of disappointment. How could he trust her with his affections if he couldn’t trust her to keep her word on something so simple as canceling an ad? But as the train chugged toward the capital, he’d calmed down and tried to see things from her point of view.
She tried so hard to keep up appearances. Her shoes were always shined, her few dresses clean and brushed, but all the shining and brushing in the world couldn’t hide the fact that the heels of her shoes were rundown and her skirts were threadbare and peppered with holes. He wasn’t much of a fashion expert, but he’d seen enough well-dressed ladies in the capital to realize Ada’s clothes were out of date. Nowadays, ladies wore some kind of little pillow thing at the back of the skirt, an armload of extra cloth that served no useful purpose as far as he could tell, and the top part—the bodice?—had more little bows and buttons and such.
Her hats were old too. Last Sunday she’d decorated the brim of the one she was wearing with a scrap of shiny ribbon, but underneath, it was still the same old worn-out hat. Obviously, she was saving every penny, forgoing even the most basic of necessities in order to establish her business.
He had to admire her grit. It couldn’t be easy making a life on her own. He hated that she was being less than truthful with him. On the other hand, what choice had he given her? In the same circumstances, he’d do whatever it took to survive, regardless of his personal feelings.
The train lurched, sending the box on the seat beside him sliding onto the floor. He felt a stab of guilt. After his meeting with the governor, he’d stopped off at Waterfield and Walker, the biggest hat store in Nashville, and treated himself to a brand-new Stetson. Now, thinking of Ada and of how little she had, he wasn’t sure he wanted to wear it. Maybe he’d save it for a special occasion.
The whistle sounded as the train slowed for the last sharp curve before the Hickory Ridge station. Around him, other passengers gathered their belongings. He folded the newspaper and tucked it into his leather pouch, still thinking about Ada. He could give her a raise. She certainly deserved one. But he could well imagine her reaction to anything that smacked of charity. Just look at how she’d come undone when he’d bought that copy of Mr. Thackeray’s novel.
