For Such a Time as This: A Women of Hope Novel

by Ginny Aiken

  “What is wrong, dear?” she called to Luke, mortified at the quiver in her voice.

  “Those dreams again…”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, honey. Go ahead. I’ll meet you in your room…”

  She ran from the parlor as though a pack of angry dogs were after her. But there were, of course, no dogs chasing her, just her embarrassment. And niggling thoughts about tomorrow.

  How would she face Eli in the light of day? She’d never been kissed by a man before.

  Especially since he’d said, when he proposed, that their marriage was to be one of convenience for the both of them. That kiss they’d just shared had not been in any way convenient.

  It had, in Olivia’s opinion, complicated matters a whole lot more, and they’d been complicated from the start. Especially when it came to Eli and his determination to keep hearth and home separate from business and the bank.

  She reached Luke’s bedroom door, paused to compose herself, then knocked and went in. “I’m here, Luke. Why don’t you tell me what scared you this time?”

  The next morning, Eli walked to work, a jaunty bounce in his step, a cheerful look on his face, and a happy whistle on his lips. Last night, the sweet memory of Olivia in his arms, her lips warm, soft, and yielding beneath his, had lulled him to sleep.

  The kiss had been unplanned, an unexpected turn of events. From the start he’d envisioned a business venture to benefit the two of them, but this attraction? This he hadn’t envisioned. Perhaps he should have. Olivia was quite a woman. He knew himself blessed to have her as his wife.

  From her response to him the night before, he knew she didn’t object to him. But not objecting wasn’t enough. He didn’t know how she felt about him. Not really.

  Was she coming to care for him as he was for her?

  Although the random twinge of fear struck him every once in a while, Olivia’s favorable attributes reappeared regularly and wiped it away. Would she also wipe away the pain-filled memories Victoria and her family had left in their wake?

  “Good morning, Mr. Whitman!” Mrs. Selkirk, the milliner, called out as he stepped past her store.

  “Oh, Fridays are always good,” he answered, doffing his hat to the tall lady. “They mean I’ll have half of Saturday and all of Sunday free to spend at home with my children. The weekend is a fine thing, indeed.”

  With a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes, Mrs. Selkirk stopped sweeping the sidewalk at her front door, then cupped both hands on her broom handle and leaned on it. “I reckon now that you have yourself that nice new wife you have more reason to enjoy your time away from the bank than before.”

  Eli’s cheeks warmed. “I do, indeed.” He donned his hat again. “I do still have to get to my office today, though, so have yourself a good day now.”

  “Will do, sir. Will do.”

  A handful of other acquaintances greeted him before he reached the bank, which served to increase his sense of well-being. He again whistled a lilting tune as he loped up the front steps of the bank and drew open the door.

  “ ’Morning everyone—”

  “Don’t come in!” Holtwood cried, panic in his voice.

  “Holtwood! What do you mean, man?”

  Heart pounding, Eli stepped farther into the room. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Colby frozen in place behind his window. The man generally had a ruddy tint to his rotund features, but today he matched the whitewashed wall behind him.

  Eli started toward Colby, but stopped when the man gave a minimal shake to his red-haired head, his eyes wide open with alarm. “Colby?”

  Eli spun as a flurry of activity came from behind Holtwood’s cash window across the room. Suddenly, a man ran at him, a bag in one hand, a pistol in the other.

  Eli lunged at the fellow to stop him. At the moment he made contact, a deafening explosion assaulted his ears. Searing pain bit into his upper torso.

  He gasped, fell, aware he’d been hit. He also realized he’d fallen on the bandit. With all the strength he could muster, he wrestled the thief for the pistol. Unable to grasp the weapon, he managed to land a good blow or two on the man. As he fought, he shot a glance toward Colby.

  “Go!” he said on a gasp as he prepared to land another blow. “Get help.”

  The man grunted and fought against Eli’s weight. Despite Eli’s greater size, the crook managed to buck and kick and thrash, making his injured chest burn ever worse. Blood spurted at every move he made.

  With a wriggle up, he pinned the bandit’s gun arm, knocking the weapon out of his hand. The gun skittered across the polished floor, well out of reach of either of them. As he strained, Eli realized his strength was beginning to suffer from the pain. Maybe the loss of blood, too.

  Oh, Lord, get us help soon.

  From behind Holtwood’s cashier window, Eli heard a pitiful moan. At the same time, beneath him, the robber gave a rabid growl. He bucked, twisted, and turned, sensing Eli grew weaker by the moment. He’d soon be able to fight free. With tenacity Eli had never known he possessed, he culled every bit of his determination, and hung on.

  “Enough!” a man’s voice roared from the vicinity of the front door. “You can get up carefully now, Eli. I got you covered. Just Eli. Wouldn’t want to hafta plug this thief before I get him his trial, and all.”

  Relief sapping from him whatever strength he had left, Eli rolled off the man, taking the cash bag as he went. The thief let out another of his brutish growls. He was covered in Eli’s blood, but didn’t move with Marshal Blair standing over him. Eli reached up and patted his upper chest where the pain burned the worst. He pressed with his flat palm against the blood flow, and prayed Larry would think to get the doctor.

  “Now get up!” the marshal hollered. “And be quick about it. Don’t have all day to waste on the likes of you. Whyn’t you try working for your cash every once in a while?”

  A slight smile curved Eli’s lips as the marshal subdued the thief, but not for long. The pain and the blood seeping through his fingers had him praying for the Father’s mercy. He couldn’t make Olivia a widow and the children orphans.

  Scant seconds after the marshal marched his captive out, the steel-gray-haired, mustachioed doctor marched in, black leather medical bag in hand. He checked briefly on Holtwood, then hurried to his other patient.

  “Now then, Eli Whitman, let’s see what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into this fine day.”

  Eli’s every muscle gave way to an incapacitating weariness utterly foreign to him. “Thank you for coming so quickly, sir.”

  And thank you, Father, for answering my prayer.

  As Doc Chambers dug around in his injured chest, the only thing that pierced through Eli’s fog of pain was the thought of the moment he would return home. Even though he’d stopped the thief from getting away with any funds, he knew he was in no shape to work the rest of the day. Colby wasn’t either, and goodness only knew what Holtwood’s condition would turn out to be. His unusually salty verbiage from where the robber had felled him suggested he hadn’t been injured too badly. Clearly Doc thought he could wait.

  Eli was glad. All he could think of was returning to the haven Olivia had created.

  Olivia found herself chewing on the wooden end of a pen and staring off at nothing more times than she cared to count. She was supposed to be finishing the Christmas cards she meant to send to family and friends, including the handful of invitations they still needed to distribute among the business folk of Bountiful. But thoughts of Eli held her attention captive, and she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to do anything about it. She smiled at the memory of Eli’s gentle caresses, of his warmth and care toward her.

  Although he’d only left home a short while ago, she couldn’t wait until he came back at the end of the day.

  She chuckled at her foolishness. Surely Eli would not be too pleased if she spent all her time daydreaming about him instead of working on the preparations for the Christmas Eve party. She dragged her attention b
ack to the notebook, and began to skim what she’d jotted down when she and Mama had worked out the latest lists of must-dos.

  A violent beating at the front door shattered the morning’s peace.

  “Missus Whitman! Open up, please.”

  Olivia rushed to her feet, hurried forward, breath caught in her throat, pulse pounding at her temples, fear chilling her hands. The woman outside sounded frantic.

  More pounding struck the door. “It’s me, ma’am, Irma Bowen. I need to speak to you—”

  “What?” Olivia said, panic rising. “What’s happened to Papa? Mama? My children?”

  Mrs. Bowen twisted her calico apron between plump fingers. “No, ma’am. Nothing’s wrong with your family—or your children. It’s your husband. A bandit at the bank. I don’t have much of the story yet. Marshal Blair sent me after you. You must get to the bank—”

  “And so you’ve fetched me, Irma.” Olivia grabbed the wool shawl she’d left on a small console by the door when she’d returned from walking Luke and Randy to school. “Let’s go. I don’t want to waste another second.”

  The two women rushed down the street, and to Olivia it seemed as though the block and a half distance had just lengthened by miles. She couldn’t run fast enough to her husband’s side. Over the years she’d heard horror stories about bandits of all kinds. They just as often killed their victims as let them live.

  When she reached the bank, a crowd had gathered outside on the sidewalk. An eerie silence hung over the folks. Bile chased up into Olivia’s throat.

  “Excuse me.” She edged people out of her way. “My husband…”

  They all backed away from her as though she bore some dreaded disease. Fear warred against her determination and almost derailed her ability to walk. In the end, however, her determination won out.

  She pushed forward. At the top of the steps to the front door, Larry Colby, Eli’s second cashier, met her and ushered her inside.

  “It’s good you’re here, Mrs. Whitman,” he said, blinking madly, his hands shaking, his spectacles slipping down his nose. “He’s going to need you some for a while.”

  Olivia gasped, but didn’t bother to ask what Mr. Colby meant. Before her knelt Doc Chambers, and beside him, a pair of long legs in a familiar pair of brown trousers sprawled out toward her across the floor. She flew to Eli’s side.

  Her heart leaped into her throat at the sight of the large quantity of pooled blood. “What happened?”

  Doc glanced over his shoulder. “By the grace of our Lord, not much, missy. Your man’s blessed, indeed. An inch or two lower, and he’d’a been gone already.”

  Olivia’s knees gave way as she crumpled to the floor, her gray skirt puddling around her. She pushed it aside and reached for Eli. He held his hand out to her. They both tightened their grip once they touched.

  “Oh, Eli…” Her breath caught again in a sob, while tears fell down her cheeks.

  “Hush,” he murmured. “Don’t cry. Please. I’m going to be fine. Just ask Doc, here.” He gave her a crooked grin. “He’ll tell you whether you want to hear it, whether you’re ready to believe it, or not.”

  Her eyes ran over his prone body, searching for the source of the bleeding, which she found a short distance above his heart. Her middle twisted, and the nausea rose again.

  “How can you say you’re going to be fine? Look at all that blood! No one’s going to be fine when all his blood’s spilled out over the floor.” She patted her skirt pocket then pulled out her hanky to dab her flooded eyes. “Just look. Look at the mess, and then tell me again how you’re going to be fine.”

  His middle jerked and his lips widened into a broad smile. “See, Doc? No one’s going to believe me. So are you done sewing me up so I can stand and show her I’m fine?”

  He was injured and he dared laugh at her? “How—”

  “Now, you listen to me, young man,” the older gentleman scolded. “I’m the one who’ll say when you can get up.” He turned to Olivia. “And you, missy, listen to me, too. I’ll admit it looks much worse than it is, what with all that blood, but he’s going to be fine. That is, he’s going to be fine if you both do what I say.”

  “Anything,” she said, her fingers tight around Eli’s. “We’ll do anything you feel will speed his recovery.”

  Eli rolled his eyes. “It better not have much to do with lying about like a lazy old cow.”

  Olivia glared. “You’re the one who’s hurt. Doc’s the one who knows what’s best. And I’m the one who’s going to make sure you do it.”

  Her husband’s jaw jutted like a block of chiseled rock. “What makes you think you’re going to—”

  “Well, well, son.” Doc Chambers gave a roar of laughter. “Seems to me you’ve met your match in our little Livvy, here. I can go home and rest now, sure as I am that you’ll be doing what’s right. I trust that stubborn streak of hers any day, just as I trust your stubborn streak to prod you to try and do whatever you wish. Can’t wait to watch the battle.”

  From where Olivia sat, it looked as though Eli tried to stifle another grin. “I’m doomed,” he said. “You’ve formed a mighty gang of two. You’re both gunning for me.”

  “Now, you listen here, Eli Whitman,” Olivia said, taking her hand from his and planting it, as well as her other one, on her hips. “You pay attention to getting well, and I’ll pay attention to getting you well. I’ll listen to Doc, and you’ll do the same. I’m quite experienced with bull-headed, disobedient, mischievous youngsters, as you well know.”

  Doc Chambers laughed again then rose to stand at Eli’s side, a wide hand extended toward the patient. “Let’s see if you can get up from there, son.”

  “Of course, I can, Doc.” Eli leaned on his uninjured side to help himself stand. When he rose to his knees, however, he grew lightheaded, visible in his inability to sit upright, and he planted his hands to help support him.

  “Oh!” He grimaced at the pain that must have shot straight up his bad arm from the effort.

  “No!” Olivia said. “Here. Let me help you.”

  Doc positioned himself on Eli’s injured side, while Olivia took the other. Together, the three of them got him to his feet.

  “Not so cocky now, are you?” The doctor sent a chiding look to Eli. “Looks like maybe I might know a thing or two. You listen to me and to your fine lady wife here. It’s time to behave and mind your betters.”

  When Olivia glanced at her husband to see how he took the old doctor’s words, she was stunned to see the warmth in his gaze, all of it aimed at her.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet, all silliness gone.

  Her cheeks heated. “You—you’re welcome.” Her voice shook. “But I’m not sure what for.”

  He slipped his arm across her shoulders, then eased her closer. “For coming here. For sassing me into doing what you think is best for me. For loving my children and keeping my house and… and just for being you.”

  Doc Chambers gave them a knowing look. “I’ll be right back. See if you can keep yourself upright, Eli. Don’t want to see your young lady wife worried about you needlessly.”

  As he strode away behind one of the cashier’s windows, Olivia smiled at her husband. “It’s not much, Eli. I haven’t done any more than any other woman would have.”

  He grimaced then shook his head. “Don’t be so sure of that. I doubt Victoria would have done half as much.”

  She blinked at the bitterness in his words. “Oh, surely you’re remembering through all the pain of your losses—”

  “No, Olivia. I’m speaking as a man who was betrayed by the woman he loved. Believe me. Victoria never thought of anyone besides herself.”

  Not knowing what to say to that, Olivia stood close to Eli, her arm around his waist to offer her support. She shivered at the intensity in his voice, prayed for the Father’s help and blessing as they went forward as husband and wife.

  Otherwise, she didn’t know if she could live up to the image of her Eli seemed
to be building.

  Chapter 19

  With great care, slow pace, and in spite of his constant objections to their babying, Olivia and Doc Chambers helped Eli go home. It irked to find himself like this, weak as a babe in arms. At least he’d prevented the loss of his customers’ funds. It would have been nearly impossible to replace any amount the robber and his lookout accomplice outside might have stolen.

  Once he found himself in their welcoming parlor, Eli took a stand. “Look, I’m home now, and as you said, Doc, not at death’s door. So please, both of you, enough of this absurd babying.” He waved the overzealous physician toward the door. “You can go on now. Especially since you’ve sicced my own wife on me.”

  “Now, Eli Whitman,” Olivia said, a frown line between her brows, “Doc Chambers did no such thing. I ‘sicced’ myself on you all on my own. Now we’re here, it’s time for you to lie down.” She gestured toward the sofa. “There. Let’s get you comfortable here in the parlor. No need for you to trudge up those stairs while you’re injured.”

  The doctor chuckled again. “I can see you’re in excellent hands, son. I’ll be heading on back to my place.” He turned to Olivia. “And you, missy, you send someone to fetch me if anything—you hear? Anything at all—changes. Right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Eli scoffed. “Won’t happen, Doc. I’m fine.”

  The older man shook his head on the way to the door. “Oh, for the love of good peach pie! For once, Eli, you should just take off that hard crust of yours and enjoy the sweet filling of life. I’ll be back tomorrow morning if all goes well and you don’t need me during the night.”

  Eli knew further objection would net him nothing. As Doc Chambers opened the front door, Olivia took a step forward, away from Eli’s side. He had to strain to keep his hands from reaching for her, pulling her back, and drawing her close.

  “Let me show you out,” she said.

  The doctor shook his head and stepped out onto the covered stoop. “Don’t bother yourself with me, Livvy. I’m here already.”