by Davis, Mary
Eve impatiently broke the silence. “So, what does our—or should I say your dear Lucas have to say in his latest letter?” she crooned.
“How could you two accept his marriage proposal?” Allison scolded.
“Don’t get huffy with us, Allison.” Vivian preened the ruffles on her sleeves. “You want to see Cinda happily married as much as anybody. We were only trying to do a favor for a friend. She is our friend, too.”
“I’m going to get hysterical if someone doesn’t tell me what is in that last letter,” Eve said, coming off her seat.
Cinda heaved a sigh and relinquished the letter as Eve plucked it from her hand. Cinda moved her lips to the words as Eve read the dismal letter aloud. “Why, isn’t today the second of April?” Eve’s cheery tone settled a cloud of gloom and doom over Cinda.
“Yes,” Cinda moaned. It was true then. She was expected to marry a stranger whose arrival was imminent.
“We certainly didn’t expect this.” Eve’s eyes brightened with excitement. “For him to rush out here as soon as he got a positive reply, I mean. I can’t wait to finally meet him.”
“Just what did you expect?” Cinda snapped.
Vivian shifted in her seat. “We expected to break the news to you first. . .slowly. . .gently. Then we’d giggle over wedding plans.”
“He must be pretty desperate to rush out here, grab his bride, and vamoose.” Eve’s thoughtless words were out before she could stop them. She quickly gave Cinda a wide-eyed look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. . .oh.” She stopped before she made things worse.
Is that what my friends really think of me? Cinda wondered. That I could only be the wife of a desperate man?
“You heard what he said in the letter. He has to get back for spring planting.” Vivian sat rigid as she tried to smooth things over. “If he is desperate, it’s only to be a good provider. He’s being a perfect gentleman by coming all this way to escort you safely back to his home. He could have simply sent you train fare and let you travel all by yourself out to the wilds of Montana. That’s the way it’s usually done.”
“Why are you pushing this, Viv?” Allison asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Because,” Vivian said tightly, “because I want to believe Lucas is the right man for Cinda.” She straightened the skirt of her dress, then her voice softened. “I don’t want her to turn into an unhappy old maid. There! I’ve said it. I’ve said the terrible words we have been all thinking. . .old maid.”
“Vivian, I had no idea you cared so much!” Allison said with surprise.
“Well, I do.” Vivian looked off across the lawn, but Cinda could see the sincerity on her face.
“I don’t have to be married to be happy, Viv.” Cinda stood and laid a hand on Vivian’s shoulder. She could tell there was more to this for Vivian than a practical joke. Vivian placed her hand on Cinda’s. “I don’t even want to get married, ever.”
Allison sputtered behind her, and Cinda turned to her. “What?”
Allison’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘what’?”
“Not every woman wants a husband.”
Allison straightened in her chair. “Ever since the day we met, we’ve dreamed of getting married. When we were fourteen, we even planned our weddings. Remember?”
“That was your dream, Allison, not mine,” Cinda interrupted before Allison could go on with any more unpleasant truths. “I just went along to make you happy.”
She knew it was a lie, and she felt a rush of shame. Her whole life she had wanted a man to love her more than life itself, the way her father had loved her mother. But she knew now she would never have a love like that; she had given up that unattainable dream several years ago. Now, an inch and a half taller, the dream was even more impossible.
“I don’t believe you. I know you better than that.” Allison was near tears.
“I don’t believe you either,” Vivian stated matter-of-factly.
“I believe it. Give her a stack of dusty old books, and she’d be happy,” Eve said.
“Eve!” Vivian scolded.
“If we are being honest here, then let’s be honest,” Eve said, a little indignantly. “This is the first time in three years I’ve seen her without a book in her hand.”
Eve wasn’t normally so blunt, but Cinda knew she never had understood Cinda’s reluctance with men. Cinda walked to the end of the porch so no one would see the tears welling in her eyes.
“Didn’t you ever think all that reading was to cover the pain?” Allison whispered, but Cinda could still hear.
“What pain?” Eve asked innocently.
“Eve, sometimes you are so impossible. You are so caught up in yourself you can’t see anyone else,” Allison said.
“Well, how do you like that. You try to be honest and this is the thanks you get,” Eve said.
“Eve, hush!” Vivian said.
Cinda wiped her cheeks as Allison came over to where she leaned on the rail. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine. I just had something in my eye.”
“Did you get it?” Allison asked. Cinda nodded. If her friend knew there was nothing in her eye except tears, she didn’t say anything. For that Cinda was grateful. The two returned to the rocking chairs.
“Cinda, Eve and I are sorry.” The sincerity in Vivian’s voice touched Cinda. “We never meant to hurt you. We just wanted to make you happy.”
“I am happy, just the way I am,” Cinda said.
“You should at least give him a chance, after coming all this way,” Eve said. “You never know, he may be your Prince Charming.”
Cinda could tell Eve was trying to be encouraging, but her stomach was too knotted for her to respond.
three
As the four women continued their conversation on the porch, Cinda tried focusing on the beautiful spring weather. Vivian and Eve went on about the virtues of Lucas Rawlings and what they thought he was really like. “I think he’s quite tall. Certainly tall enough for Cinda,” Vivian said.
“He said he didn’t consider himself tall. I think he could be short. He just didn’t want to say so in his letters. Even if he is average, you know most men like a small—” Eve tried to soften the blow. “I mean a shorter woman for a wife.”
“It doesn’t matter one way or the other. We have it in writing, his offer of marriage. That’s almost as good as a contract,” Vivian said.
Cinda’s stomach reeled and flipped. Some stranger was going to show up at her house to claim her. Fortunately, she would not be at home and Aunt Ginny would send him away. Still, she would have to face him sooner or later. How would she tell him she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—marry him, and that it was all a big mistake? What would he do when he found out he came all this way for nothing? She hoped he didn’t have a violent temper. What if he insisted on her sticking to their agreement? But she hadn’t agreed to anything; it was Eve and Viv who had done it all. A terrifying thought popped into her head. What if he forced her to marry him? He, too, had it in writing.
Cinda looked at Allison. Allison was shaking her head at something Eve had said. Cinda wanted to ask if she thought Mr. Rawlings could actually force her into marriage when a tall figure crossing the lawn caught her attention.
His dark hair curled up from under the back of his bowler. He wore a white linen shirt, a faded green waistcoat, and a dark brown suit that looked like it had been years since it fit properly. If he moved too fast, the stitches would likely pop for the coat stretched taut across his wide shoulders. She couldn’t help but think he was handsome, in an odd sort of way, even if he did look out of place in his old clothes and the stylish new bowler perched on his head.
“Good afternoon ladies,” the tall man said, tipping his hat. “I was told I could find Miss Harrison here.”
Cinda drew in a quick breath. Me? Why would he want to see me? I don’t know this man.
“Who is it that wants to know?” Eve cooed, leaning on the porch rail.
“Lucas Rawlings, Ma’am.” He removed his bowler, revealing his unfashionably long hair.
Cinda’s eyes grew large. For a moment she forgot how to breathe. She couldn’t help but notice his clear blue eyes even from a distance. But what was he doing there?
Cinda and Allison exchanged glances. Allison patted her arm as she rose and went down the steps to greet him. “Mr. Rawlings, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
❧
Lucas looked at the blond, bewildered. He was expecting a redhead instead of this delightful blond smiling up at him. She’d probably blow away in a good strong wind. He smiled back. “Miss Harrison?”
He took her hand and was about to kiss it when he felt a hand clamp down hard on his shoulder. He whirled around and caught the first punch in the palm of his right hand. His hand engulfed the other man’s fist and held it firmly. “I don’t think you want to do that,” Lucas said through gritted teeth. A muscle in his jaw twitched. He clenched his left fist still at his side.
A fight would not make a good impression on his bride-to-be. He would avoid it if possible. He stared at the smaller man in front of him, willing him to back down.
“David, stop it!” the blond practically screamed. “I can explain everything—later. Now let him go.”
David yanked his hand free and stepped backward. “Keep your hands off my wife.” David ground out each word.
“I understood that Miss Harrison wasn’t married,” Lucas said while his focus never left the smaller man. He didn’t come for a fight, but he could certainly finish one if necessary.
David wrapped a possessive arm around the woman and said, “This is Mrs. David Swan.”
“My mistake, Mrs. Swan.” Lucas gave the woman a nod and slight smile.
Two other women slid up next to Mrs. Swan. “Ooo, you’re a tall one,” the black-haired woman cooed.
An elegant smile slid into place on the other woman’s face, and she held out her hand to him. “I’m Miss Vivian Van Dornick.” Her tawny hair was pulled up in a sophisticated twist.
Lucas declined the offer of her hand. He dipped his head as he said, “Pleased to meet you, Miss Van Dornick.”
“Soon to be Mrs. Alvin Pratt,” the black-haired woman said, slipping in front of her. “I’m Miss Eve Weston. Do call me Eve.” She held out his hat that he had flung to the ground when David had abruptly arrived.
Lucas’s blue eyes flashed to the immodestly dressed Eve. He slowly shrank away from her as he reached for his hat. “Thank you, Miss Weston.” Lucas had a little difficulty getting it from her grasp. She had offered it to him but now seemed to be reluctant to give it up. He was relieved she hadn’t introduced herself as Miss Harrison. He couldn’t imagine spending his life with her purring around.
“I came to see Miss Harrison.” Lucas raised his hat to his head. “If she’s not here, I’ll be on my way.”
“She’s here,” Mrs. Swan said quickly and turned to call her down from the porch. But the porch was empty. She turned back around slowly and said with a polite smile, “Miss Harrison is indisposed at the moment.”
Lucas looked toward the house. He remembered there had been four ladies on the porch when he arrived. He couldn’t recall what the fourth woman looked like; everything happened so fast. He did recall her letter said she had auburn hair.
“Mr. Rawlings, would you be so kind as to come back for supper? Miss Harrison would be glad to see you then,” Mrs. Swan offered.
Lucas glanced at David who still had his arm wrapped protectively around his wife. His piercing glare continued to drill Lucas. “I don’t think your husband would approve of that, Ma’am.”
“David, tell Mr. Rawlings he’s welcome in our home.” When David remained silent, the little blond jabbed her husband in the ribs with her elbow and said through a forced smile, “David! Tell him.”
David let out a gust of air. “You’re welcome to come for supper.” David’s glare never wavered.
Lucas could tell by the man’s look he didn’t want him to return. “Until then.” He dipped his head. “Ladies. Mr. Swan, Mrs. Swan. Good day.”
“We eat at seven,” Mrs. Swan called after him.
“I’ll be here.” Lucas walked down the street.
❧
Cinda had watched in disbelief as Allison went down the steps and greeted Mr. Rawlings on the lawn. David seemed to appear out of nowhere, and the two men were instantly locked in a confrontation, David’s hand engulfed by the tall stranger’s. Cinda’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. That brute is going to hit sweet David, she thought. He could easily whip poor David.
But after a verbal reprimand from Allison, the men disengaged. Everyone was safe. Now if he would only leave, Cinda could breathe easily. She hoped Allison would just send him away. She watched as Vivian and Eve got up. Where are they going?
Mr. Rawlings’s rich, deep voice reverberated up to the porch, though she couldn’t hear what he or anyone was saying. But she knew it was only a matter of time before she was called down to join the group gathered on the grass. That was one trip she was not ready to make. She slipped inside the door and hoped no one noticed her unladylike escape.
She leaned against the wall next to the door. With her hands clenched at her chest, she held her breath and waited for someone to call after her. No one called her name. She let out her breath but stood frozen to the wall, listening to the muffled voices outside, unable to hear what they were saying. Curious as to what was going on, she peered around the edge of the front window, being careful to remain unseen. Mr. Rawlings said something, then left. Good, the ruffian has gone. She couldn’t help but watch and wonder about him as he walked away.
Cinda hoped and prayed Allison, Vivian, and Eve had the good sense to tell Mr. Rawlings it was all a mistake. Then she would never even have to face the man or explain the unfortunate situation to him.
four
Cinda had barely stepped through the door before her aunt started in on her. “Where have you been all day?” Cinda’s aunt Ginny dried her hands on her apron. Her tone was accusing, her lips pinched. “I’ve been working all day by myself while you have been off doing who knows what.”
“But you don’t like anyone in your kitchen,” Cinda said, her nerves still frayed from the day’s events. She hung up her hat and shawl on the wall pegs by the door.
“Well, you could have done a little fetch and carry for me. I can’t be expected to do everything around here. With all the cooking, there is so little time left to do the other house chores.” Aunt Ginny liked making elaborate meals that kept her busy in the kitchen, far busier than she needed to be.
Cinda had come to live with her aunt and uncle eleven years ago when she was twelve. Her father had just died and her mother had died three years earlier. Uncle Barney and Aunt Ginny, being her only relatives, took her in. Uncle Barney welcomed her warmly with open arms, but Aunt Ginny had always kept a cool distance.
Cinda knew if she had been home today her aunt would have found fault with her, saying she was in the way and useless. It didn’t matter what she did, it was always wrong in her aunt’s eyes. “I would be happy to help you with the cooking if you would only—”
Her aunt cut her off. “Do you know how to knead bread dough so it rises properly for baking?”
“No, but—”
“Can you mix up piecrust and roll it out even and make up a pie so the crust is flaky?”
“No.” Cinda sighed. It was the same old argument, over and over.
“What about roast a chicken tender so it almost falls from the bone and isn’t scorched and shriveled?”
“No, but—”
“Then what use would you be in my kitchen?”
“I could learn if you would teach me.” Cinda spoke quickly so she wouldn’t be overridden again.
“I have too much work to do to be wasting time teaching you what your mother should have.” Aunt Ginny straightened her apron and headed back to the kitchen. “You could at least set th
e table for supper,” she said over her shoulder.
Cinda walked into the dining area just off the kitchen. “I’m glad to help in any way I can.” She automatically removed three plates from the cupboard, then put one back. There would be one less for supper tonight. What would her aunt have to say about that?
“You say that now; but put hard work in front of you, you will crumble,” her aunt called from the kitchen. “Mark my words. No man wants to marry a girl who can’t cook and keep a house.”
No man? Cinda sighed, dropping her shoulders and head simultaneously. The strong, dark-haired stranger who came to claim her as his bride flashed before her eyes. He wanted her, or at least he thought he did.
“Stand up straight,” her aunt said, strolling into the room. “Ladies don’t slouch. Haven’t you learned anything?”
Cinda snapped to attention
“A man stopped by this afternoon. A very tall man.”
Cinda’s eyes got large. That was how Mr. Rawlings had found her. He came there first. What had he said to Aunt Ginny? What had she said to him?
“I didn’t like the looks of him. He’s not from around here. But then it’s none of my business what you do.”
Cinda rolled her eyes.
“I told him you were probably over at Allison’s. But then how was I to know where you were, you went flying out of here so fast this morning.” She waved her hand as if shooing a fly. “Did he find you over at Allison’s?” She turned to face Cinda with her hands perched on her hips.
“Yes,” was all Cinda could manage. She wasn’t sure what to say. How much did her aunt know?
“Who is he?”
“I really don’t know. It was all some sort of mistake.” Cinda hoped her aunt wouldn’t grill her any further.
“He seemed sure he knew you.” Her aunt pointed at the table. “You forgot a plate.”
Cinda decided to ignore her aunt’s prodding and take advantage of the opportunity to change the subject. “Allison invited me over for supper. I hope you don’t mind.”
