A Love So True

by Melissa Jagears

  Divorced. That word certainly didn’t sink in as well as free.

  At the factory, men were exiting, holding down their hats and rushing down the sidewalks. She waited for Mr. Parker to open the carriage door for her, unsure she had the coordination to turn the handle at the moment. He helped her down, opened an umbrella above her, and escorted her to the crowded exit.

  What was she going to do when she saw David? She wanted to run into his arms and kiss him, but just because she was free to do so didn’t mean she should be that forward.

  They waited beside the exit for the door to clear, and then she slipped inside.

  Looking around, her chest squeezed over the fact that she had no idea where she was, or where David might be.

  A balding man a few feet from her took his coat off a hook and headed in her direction as he shrugged into his slicker. “Can I help you, miss?”

  “Can you tell me where Mr. Kingsman might be?”

  He turned and pointed at a black metal balcony, sitting like a crow’s nest high over the myriad machines and stacks of glass jars scattered across the huge factory floor. “Unless he’s already gone, he’s likely up there. Second door. Interior office.”

  “Thank you.”

  She carefully picked her way around the obstacles on her way there—the clanging of her heels on the first step made her look to see if anyone was glaring at her for making such a racket. Only a handful of men remained in the building, most talking to each other, though a few looked busy cleaning.

  With each step, she climbed faster.

  She knocked on the second door but heard no answer. She pushed it open and peered inside a large office with six desks, all in different states of disarray, except for a corner one that was tidy.

  Across the room was a door with Mr. Burns stenciled on it. Considering there were no other interior doors, it must be where David worked.

  She crossed the room and gently rapped on the door.

  “Come in,” someone barked—not David’s voice at all.

  She couldn’t just walk away now after knocking, and though David hadn’t answered, he might still be in there. She turned the doorknob and peeked inside.

  A man with David’s brow and nose, but with gray hair and a much harder jaw, looked at her with a sneer. “Who are you?”

  “Miss Wisely, sir.” She glanced around the room, but David wasn’t there. She couldn’t help the huge sigh.

  “What do you want, Miss Wisely?” He looked her up and down as if trying to judge her. “You aren’t one of the women my son fired, are you? Because if so, you’re wasting your breath coming to me. Your dismissal is final.”

  “David fired the women?” The only women she knew he’d employed were the prostitutes. Hadn’t he said he was going to figure out how to help them stay?

  Then it hit her, and she tilted her chin. “Did you just assume I was a lady of the night?”

  David’s father only stared at her. “And what gives you the right to address my son so informally?”

  She refrained from slapping a hand over her mouth for using his Christian name—nothing was wrong with doing so between good friends. “He and I are friends. No, more than friends. Is he still around or has he left for the day?”

  “You’re the one he wanted to marry?” His gaze was as menacing as an unsprung mousetrap.

  She gave him a slight nod. Who else had David informed of his intent? Her heart beat sluggishly for him. Since she’d kept her secret from everyone, no one would pity her for losing her chance to marry a really wonderful man. But if David had told people he wanted to propose, he’d likely been humiliated when he’d had to tell them she’d refused.

  “Why are you here, then?” David’s father leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled against his chin, his eyes narrowed. “He told me he wasn’t interested in you anymore.”

  She blinked. He wasn’t interested? That didn’t sound like David, but then, if he was hurt enough, who knew what he might have said. “The reason I turned him down is no longer valid. I’d like to tell him so.”

  Mr. Kingsman shifted in his seat and roll-tapped his fingers against the desk, from index finger to pinky in successive rhythm. “Tell him what?” His eyes sharpened in on her like a hawk on a field mouse.

  “I’d prefer to tell him myself.”

  “He’s returned to Kansas City.”

  She wilted. “He already left?”

  “Yes. To pursue Miss Lister. She changed her mind about getting engaged.”

  Pursue her? “Would that be Marianne?”

  “Yes. She’d broken his heart going after his secretary, but she’s repented of her foolishness, and they’ll mend their rifts. It was too bad you were caught in the crossfire of a lover’s spat.”

  “But . . .” Had he truly gone back to Marianne so quickly? David had said his father held quite the sway over him, and with the way she’d broken his heart, she couldn’t blame him for leaving Teaville. But had she really been the second one to hurt him, and in so short a time?

  No. Hadn’t he said at Mr. Hargrove’s that he and Marianne were just friends?

  “David told me he had no further interest in pursuing you, so I suggest you leave my son be.” He waved the back of his hand at her and picked up the paperwork in front of him.

  She wasn’t enjoying this conversation either, but she wasn’t going to leave before he knew there wouldn’t be a problem if his son did choose to pursue her. “Well, of course he didn’t have any further interest in me last week. He thought I was married.”

  Mr. Kingsman raised his head. “You told him you were married when you were not?”

  “No, or maybe yes. But I didn’t do it intentionally.” Ugh, for so many years she’d kept from telling anyone she was married, and the one time she’d uttered it, she’d made a muck of things. “I’m actually divorced, but I didn’t know that until today.”

  “You’re divorced?” He asked that as if she were a child who didn’t understand the term she’d used.

  She straightened her shoulders and met his eyes evenly, daring him to challenge her. “Yes.”

  He shrugged as if that settled everything. “Our social set doesn’t take kindly to divorcees—gold diggers, most of them.”

  “I’m not a gold digger.”

  “Neither was the Baroness de Stuers of the New York Astors, but she was still shunned from good society after her shameful divorce. If her own mother wouldn’t allow her back into her parlor, why do you think you’d be welcome in ours? David already had concerns about your lack of fortune, and now this black spot . . . ?”

  Mr. Kingsman shook his head and made a clucking sound with his tongue as if he felt sorry for her. “My son might do a lot of things I don’t agree with, but he knows what is and is not acceptable. You’d lose him connections. You’d make him a laughingstock.”

  She took a deep breath. David had told her his father belittled his every dream. What would keep him from doing whatever he could to stomp on hers? “I don’t believe you know your son as well as I do. He’s not that worried about money.”

  “Which makes him a fool.” He shook his head as if she too were a fool for thinking such a characteristic admirable. “Miss Wisely, I understand how you could have fallen for my son, and he for you. He does tend to get wrapped up with the pitiful ones. But I will not approve of you marrying my son, and with the baggage you bring, even he would see how your connection to us would be detrimental. We didn’t work our way up in society to fritter it away by attaching ourselves to a pariah.”

  She swallowed hard. Some people did feel that way about divorcees, but David wouldn’t . . . And yet, would he have let himself fall in love with her if he’d known she was divorced from the beginning? He would certainly tell her it didn’t matter now, but though it might not matter to the heart, could she live with hurting his livelihood? She certainly wouldn’t help improve his relationship with his father.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Wisely, but even David would see ho
w bad of a match you’d make. Though you might throw yourself at him and prey upon his sympathies, he would eventually heed my advice. He always has, because it’s good advice. I’m sorry if I’m upsetting you, but it’s best I tell you now. Save yourself some humiliation and keep yourself away from my son for his own good.”

  She wouldn’t drop her gaze from his, despite the self-satisfied sneer on the man’s face. “I’m not convinced David would actually do as you wish.”

  “You’re right, and if you happen to actually love him, all the more reason for you to do what’s best for him. You can save him from himself.”

  Love was supposed to be selfless. And though David’s father wasn’t, she certainly wanted to be.

  She stood, shaking at the thought that such a man could be her father-in-law. He definitely looked down his nose at her—but that didn’t make him wrong about how others would treat David if he married her. If his father acted this cold toward her now, how could she expect his business partners to treat her differently?

  But David didn’t think like his father, or his peers for that matter. And perhaps that was exactly why she should trust his father about how she’d truly be seen. The problems he’d face with her on his arm would pale in comparison to anything he’d face marrying Marianne, who he’d admitted was a fine lady. And how could any woman not fall in love with David?

  If she told him she was divorced, he’d probably be the kind of man who’d feel duty bound to marry her after he’d already proposed.

  If offering him her love would only make his life worse, perhaps it wasn’t a good thing to offer at all. She’d once rushed into a marriage and lived to regret it, so how could she live with herself if she caused David to do the same?

  36

  “So, Miss Wisely, have you decided whether or not you want to be moral-society president?” Mrs. Albert looked at Mrs. Naples for a second before pinning her eyes back on Evelyn.

  “I have given it some thought. . . .” Until the Lowes found someone to take over the mansion, she wouldn’t have time. But her problem wasn’t so much that she was unsure of if or when she could take over, it was the title of the position. Could she really be the moral-society president? In the opinion of some, a divorced woman wasn’t much better than a loose woman. And though there were several divorcees in town who ran successful businesses, none had the gall to take a position of leadership in the church.

  “I was thinking that instead of having a president, we could all choose to organize projects we have a passion for and the rest of us could help.” She smoothed her hands atop her quilt block. “I don’t mind quilting, but if I were president, I could see that project going downhill. Mrs. Naples is surely the best one to head that up. But I’d love to lead our efforts to help the women and children of the red-light district. Maybe Charlie could take control of our food distribution since she’s always giving away farm animals and extra vegetables.”

  “Good plan. I’d much rather head a canning bee than a quilting one.” Charlie tugged on her needle, and her eyes went wide. She ducked her head under the frame and groaned. “Dagnabbit, I sewed my skirt to the quilt again.”

  Evelyn couldn’t help but chuckle with the rest of them, and even prim Miss Sorenson giggled a little. Thank God for Charlie’s unfeminine charm. Though her poor sewing often set them back, at least she kept them from being serious all the time.

  Charlie’s cheeks and neck were bright red, yet her eyes danced while her mother worked at saving her daughter from becoming a permanent part of the quilt.

  After the laughter died down, Evelyn continued. “I bet all of us have something we’d like to champion. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lydia would want to head up something related to books one day.”

  Her friend’s face brightened, and she brought up both hands, palms forward. “Actually, the last time I was out in the traveling library coach, I thought it would be a good idea to have a Bible drive. Some of the rural folks own a family Bible, but they treat it more as a family record than something to read. I’d love to see every family, if not every family member, have their own Bible.”

  “See?” Evelyn’s smile grew. “Someone could volunteer to be a secretary to keep our ideas straight and schedule things, and so on, but we could all take part. That way no one has to bear the brunt of the work, and we all get to see something dear to our hearts get attention.”

  “An excellent plan. I’ll fill the secretary role if no one else wants it,” Momma said. She paused and looked around, but no one made a peep in protest. “So then, as secretary, I say it’s time for a vote. How many agree to Evelyn’s idea of parceling out projects?”

  Every hand raised, except for Charlie’s mother, who was busy freeing her daughter from the quilt but let out a hearty “Aye.”

  “I can ask the members who aren’t here to get their opinions, but I doubt any of them will oppose.” Momma stood. “So, meeting dismissed!”

  The women started putting away their notions, and Evelyn couldn’t help but beam at some of the ideas already floating around the room. Even if she never had any volunteers to help with her projects—for even she found the district uncomfortable—it seemed there would be plenty of charity projects to keep them busy.

  She gave Momma a kiss and hug before leaving with Lydia.

  “I knew you were the one to get this group going in the right direction.” Lydia gave her a side hug.

  The moment Mr. Parker shut them inside the Lowes’ coach, her friend scooted forward on her seat. “Now, I’ve been about to die for bursting. Nicholas told me this morning David left Teaville without even a word to him. Do you know what happened?”

  Evelyn squirmed. This was not the most comfortable place to spill her life’s story, but likely the only time they’d have no little ears nearby. And she wouldn’t keep her secret from Lydia any longer. The coach jolted forward. Thankfully Evelyn already had a good hold of the armrest.

  “I just can’t fathom why he left so abruptly,” Lydia continued. “He was positively enamored with you, told us he wanted to marry you.”

  “He did?” She picked up one of Lydia’s ladies’ magazines and fanned herself with it. She’d been hoping David’s father had been the only one who knew he’d had those intentions.

  “Well, in a roundabout way, but it was obvious enough.” Lydia oofed with a rut, then settled back against her seat.

  “I think he left because I turned down his proposal.”

  “What!” Lydia bounced in her seat again though they’d hit no bump or rut.

  She couldn’t look at her friend. “That can’t be such a surprise. I’ve always said I wasn’t interested in marrying.”

  “But that’s ridiculous. I saw how you looked at him the night of the ball.”

  She had lied to David about wishing on stars that night—but she’d believed her wish to know how it would feel to be kissed by him to be immoral. To think, she could have kissed him. She emptied her lungs and kept her eyes on the space between them. “I know you’ve always wondered why I was so averse to marriage, and since that has to do with David leaving . . . I hope you’ll still be my friend after I tell you what happened.”

  “I can’t imagine anything you could say that would keep me from being so.”

  Of course not, knowing Lydia. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be hurt. “Well, the reason I turned David down was because I believed myself to be married.”

  Silence.

  Evelyn looked up and almost laughed at the utter confusion on Lydia’s face. “I’ll make the story short now, but you can ask me whatever you’d like later, since I’ve already told my parents. When I was eighteen I married a man Daddy would’ve never approved of while I was at my great-aunt’s for the summer. Daddy’s discernment proved right, and after a month, James left me. I was too ashamed to tell anyone, but I found out he divorced me six years ago. Though he abandoned me, the court ruled I’m at fault, and I’m not going to contest it.”

  Lydia blinked with exaggera
tion, then shook her head. “You say you’re divorced?”

  “Yes.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why David would leave. No man working so hard to help the women in the district would outright give you up for that.”

  “No, I don’t think he would either, but I didn’t learn I was divorced until three days after David proposed.”

  “So you thought you were still married?” Lydia looked up at the coach ceiling. “You’ve thought that for . . . ?”

  “Nine years.”

  “Oh my, dear girl.” She reached over for her hand. “Why didn’t you ask us for help?”

  “I did. Just last month, I asked Nicholas to find James for me. I only gave him a name and description, so he didn’t know why I was looking for James, but I’m thankful your husband was willing to find him without asking questions.”

  “So when did you telegraph David? Have you gotten a response yet?”

  Evelyn shook her head and tugged her hand from Lydia’s grasp. “I . . . I haven’t sent him any messages. After I learned of my divorce, I talked to his father.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “He convinced me David would be better off marrying someone other than me.”

  Lydia scrunched her face tight, like a child holding in an outburst, and shook her head. “From what I’ve heard, the elder Mr. Kingsman might try to force David to do as he wishes, but if David wants something, he’ll push back.”

  “I know.” And that was why she wasn’t certain she should start a war between them. “David won’t shun me because of my divorce, but his father, the circle he does business with, those who socialize with them . . . How many will shun him because of me? He’s got a bright future, which I will not ruin. He’ll find someone else.”

  “Now, Evelyn Grace.” Lydia straightened and glared at her as if she were addressing her one-year-old. “You have to let him know.”