“Oh.” Ann shot him a scolding look, as if he’d meant to mislead her. “Who was she?”
His hand worked double time on his hair. It wasn’t an easy matter to discuss. He’d spent years pushing the memories down deep.
“Her mother ran the boardinghouse where I lived. Her name was Emily.”
“You were going to marry her?”
“I thought so. I was young and smitten. She was very beautiful.” The words bubbled forth, like water from the well pump.
“What happened?”
He spread his arms out toward the expanse of land in front of them. “This happened. When I realized I had to come back, I asked her to join me. She came—for a visit at first. From the moment she set eyes on the farm, she couldn’t hide her disappointment.”
And her disgust. His stomach turned at the memory. How her dainty nose had wrinkled in disdain at the simple farmhouse and the scent of animals in the air. And that was after he’d spent a week readying it for her.
“She was disappointed? With all of this?” Ann’s cheeks flushed pink and her ladylike repose dissolved. She stood and strode to the edge of the porch. “You have a lovely farm, James. Beautiful.”
She nodded her head to punctuate the last word. As if it was the first and last word anyone could ever use to describe his farm. The only word.
“She said she’d agreed to marry a future doctor, not a farmer.”
“Where is this Emily?” Ann’s shoulders drew back and she clasped her hands in front of her. “I believe I would like to give her a piece of my mind.”
James burst into laughter as he longed to wrap Ann in his arms. She was a bewildering contradiction of English elegance and country spitfire. Both facets pulled at his emotions with equal fervor.
Be strong. Emily had seemed equally charming, at least at first. And did he have to remind himself every moment of the day this woman was intended for another?
“It’s not her fault, really,” he said.
“Not her fault?” Her voice rose an octave. “What does it matter that your profession changed? She said she would marry you. She should have honored her promise.”
The angrier Ann became, the lovelier she grew. Her rosebud mouth pinched tight and her cheeks flushed even brighter. Her anger on his behalf plucked at his heart. He had to turn this conversation in a different direction.
“The heart wants what it wants—isn’t that the saying?”
He couldn’t believe he was actually defending Emily. But he’d do anything to cool the fire burning in Ann’s cheeks and his own chest.
Ann dropped into the rocking chair with a huff. “I can’t imagine it was her heart that guided her.”
He cringed at Ann’s words, knowing full well she was right. After the pain of losing Emily had diffused enough for him to see straight, he’d begun praying for her every night. Emily needed a light for her path, and he asked God to open her eyes to it.
“The last I heard, she’d met and married a young man about to inherit his father’s banking business.”
“And now a rich banker is waiting for me, as you like to say. Or a doctor or a barrister or a shopkeeper. You say you only know it’s someone who requested a beautiful bride,” she said.
“Someone who holds a woman’s beauty above all other virtues,” James added.
Ann’s warm blue eyes widened in sorrow and her lip quivered.
He’d said the wrong thing again! His words hung in the air like a poison as he mentally grasped for the antidote. A tear slid down her cheek and his heart shattered. He stood and moved toward her, but was torn between the need to comfort her, and the certainty that he couldn’t touch her. He shouldn’t touch her.
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant. I pray your true match is a wise and honorable man.”
She shook her head and wiped the tear away with her fingertips. “It’s not that. It’s only... I was thinking of a man quite like what you just described. He was...” She paused and stared out over the front yard.
Reluctantly, he admitted, “I’ve known a man like that, too, I’m afraid.”
She turned to him. “You have?”
He put his back to her. He couldn’t let her see the shame in his face. “Five years ago, that man was me.”
“You’re teasing.”
“After Uncle Mac took over the farm, it was a matter of months before others wrote to me with their concerns about him. But I ignored them. Uncle Mac’s letters finally convinced me something was wrong. I’d receive two or three scribbled lines when he used to write pages and pages. I knew I had to return, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell Emily. As I grew to know her, I realized she’d never be happy here. So I stayed in medical school.”
“Yet you did quit, and you did return.”
He nodded. “I did, but not for another six months. For six long months I told myself I could find some other way to make everything work. I’d always planned to return to New Haven and open a small practice. It soon became apparent even that life wouldn’t suit Emily. She expected me to be a successful doctor in a large city. So still I tried to avoid coming home. I used what little savings I had to hire workers for the farm, and someone to check in on Uncle Mac.”
“She must have been very beautiful.”
His shoulders slouched at the memory of her. He’d burned her photograph, but the image of her would never leave his mind. “She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen, and also one of the ugliest.”
“What did she look like?”
He turned around and surveyed the beauty in front of him. He had to choose his words carefully. “You don’t possess the same heart, but she looked remarkably like you.”
Ann gasped. “She looked like me?”
“Yes, only her hair was dark, and her eyes were different.”
Emily’s eyes were cruel. Conniving, even—though it had taken him months to step far enough back to see them. Once he had, he knew he could never pass on her eyes or her heart to his children. Not as a farmer, or as a rich doctor.
He took several steps and closed the space between them. The muggy night air hummed, and Ann shivered despite the heat.
“I know you never understood why I didn’t speak up sooner that first day—when I knew there had been a mistake. But it was as if I was looking at Emily all over again. Your beauty blinded me in the same way Emily’s did.”
He bit back the rest. He’d also seen the kindness in Ann’s eyes and longed for it. Longed to have everything he’d thought he’d find in Emily and more.
His words hung in the air between them. A force pulled him toward her. Hadn’t he been several feet away a moment ago? He stood so close her cool breath washed over him.
She backed away and bumped into the porch post. The force sent her off balance and she tumbled into a cluster of zinnias below.
His heart jumped to his throat. In an instant James was crouched beside her. She gasped for breath and struggled to get up.
“Stay calm and stay down. You’ve had the wind knocked out of you. Breath will come—give it time.”
Her blue eyes watered and James saw the terror behind them. She opened her mouth but no sound emanated. He had to find a way to reassure her.
James cupped her face in his hands. He caressed her satin-soft skin and her pulse raced against his fingertips.
“Look straight at me. You’ll be alright.”
Her eyes locked with his, and James’s own heartbeat raced to match hers.
She sucked in a shallow breath. Then another. She moved to get up.
“Not just yet.”
He pressed her shoulders to the ground. She frowned in protest, but remained still.
James moved through his assessment as quickly as he could, testing her limbs for tenderness and
abrasions. When his fingers traced over her silky golden hair to check her head for bumps, he held his breath and recited a now-familiar prayer.
Lord, give me strength.
“Will I survive, Dr. McCann?”
Her breath tickled his ear and his heart jumped.
“I think you’ll be fine. I’ve fallen off that porch more times than I could count. Really ought to put a railing up one of these days.”
He helped Ann to her feet. She shook dirt from her skirt and plucked blades of grass from her hair.
“You’ve fallen?”
“Certainly. Of course, I think the last time I was eight or nine years old.”
Her eyes narrowed and he scolded himself for the comment.
“Don’t put up a railing on my account.”
He opened his mouth to apologize, but a figure at the edge of the field caught his eye.
“Sadie, sweetheart, you must go home,” he called out as he jogged toward the tiny girl climbing under the fence. Rather than turning toward home, she dashed forward. James stopped and waited. Her little legs pumped furiously until she was close enough to leap into his arms. He swung her into his chest and held her tight.
“Little one, you need to go home right now. This instant.” His tone was firm, but he didn’t put her down. Instead, he stroked the back of her hair as her thin arms wrapped around his neck. After a brief embrace, Sadie leaned back and took his face in her small hands. The fading light reflected off her tearstained cheeks.
“I know. But it’s Papa. We can’t wake him.”
Chapter Twelve
Ann dashed to James’s side, her stomach in knots. Had Mr. Schneider learned of the food she left for the children? Was he angry?
“Sadie? Where is George?” She’d never seen the tiny girl without her older brother. Her protector. The knots in her stomach twisted.
“With Papa. George said not to come here, but I got scared when Papa never woke for meals today.”
The sun sat above the horizon, but it was well into evening. James’s face fell and he reached for Ann’s hand. She squeezed his fingers and took Sadie from his arms.
“Sadie, we have some bread and jam inside that needs to be eaten. Could you help?”
She nodded vigorously. “I could!”
Ann forced the corners of her mouth into a smile. “Splendid. I’m going to fix a snack for you, and you can stay inside until we return.”
James placed a hand on Ann’s arm. “You’re staying here.”
Ann set Sadie on the ground. “Why don’t you try those new rocking chairs on the porch? I’ll join you in a moment.” She watched until Sadie skipped out of earshot before turning to James. “I’m going with you. You said Mr. Schneider has waved a shotgun at you. If he’s alive, having a woman with you may be your only protection.”
“If Hal Schneider is alive, he’s likely so drunk he’ll shoot at anything.”
“Then we’ll both have to keep our wits about us, won’t we?”
She hoped that if she treated the conversation as done, he’d stop arguing.
“Don’t you dare leave without me, James.” She wagged a finger in his direction, then grasped her skirts and ran back to the house. Uncle Mac had joined Sadie on the porch, and within a minute, Ann set bread and jam for two on the kitchen table. Uncle Mac raised a quizzical brow, but she had no time to pull him aside and explain.
“Sadie? Uncle Mac is going to...” Her mind raced. He couldn’t read to her or tell her a story.
“Dr-draw,” he croaked.
Ann exhaled. “Yes! You’re going to draw.” She scrounged up paper and pencil and hurried out the door.
Her heart and mind raced as she dashed back to James.
Please, Lord, grant us wisdom to deal with whatever we may find at the Schneider farm.
James remained where she’d left him and they hurried together to the Schneider’s front lawn. Or what must have been the front lawn. Thorny weeds grasped at her skirt, and she stopped to wrench them away. When she sidestepped a wild blackberry bush growing directly in the path of the front porch steps, Ann tripped over an upturned paving stone. James’s strong hands caught her by the waist and steadied her. His hand remained on the small of her back, steady and comforting, as they picked their way over the broken path.
The front porch was in a miserable state. Several floorboards were missing, and the roof sagged precariously overhead. James forged ahead and gingerly tested the remaining boards with his weight until he reached the front door. Ann followed close behind him.
“You should stay here. I’ll call for you if you’re needed.”
Ann shook her head. “I’m coming inside. My presence is no protection for you if Mr. Schneider can’t see me.”
James pursed his lips and sighed. “Fine. But no matter what happens, stay behind me. Even when he’s sober, Hal can be a mean old cuss.”
She stepped behind him. James raised a fist before the door, but left it to hover an inch from the peeling blue paint. His trepidation was obvious. “I’ll knock,” he announced, before letting his knuckles softly fall.
“If he’s dead drunk, you’ll have to do better.” Ann winced at her poor choice of words, but James only nodded.
“Of course.” This time, when his fist fell against the heavy oak door, he rapped hard and long.
Floorboards creaked, followed by a clang, like tin cans striking together. Ann sucked in a breath and held it as the door creaked open. Ann peered around James’s back. A filthy George Schneider stood a few steps inside.
George’s clothes were rumpled and gray with grime, and his hair matted down on one side. A dark streak of dirt trailed down his left cheek. Ann dashed past James and into the hall.
“George, are you alright?” She knelt down and grasped the boy by both arms. George let out a strangled sob and placed his head on her shoulder. Something wet and sticky clung to her cheek. She stroked the boy’s hair and found an oozing wound. What she’d thought was dirt on George’s face proved to be a trickle of congealing blood. “You’re bleeding!”
George lifted his head. “Don’t mind me. Just a scratch. You have to check on Pa. He’s real sick.”
James brushed past them and into the next room. It appeared he’d been in the house before, because the piles of refuse littering the floor didn’t deter him from his path. He strode straight through what appeared to be the sitting room, and opened a door which revealed a flight of stairs.
“Is he in his room?” he asked, pointing upward.
The boy shook his head. “When Pa walks funny, he can’t get up the steps. He’s in there.” George gestured to a closed room to their left.
James hesitated. His normally broad shoulders sagged, and his chest heaved with several deep breaths.
“Shall I go in with you?” Ann asked.
“No.” His voice was firm. “And I really mean it this time, so don’t go charging in anyway. Stay here with him.”
Behind them squatted a worn sofa piled with dirty clothes. Ann cleared a cushion and sat down. “Come, George. Let me look at that head of yours.”
The boy sat dutifully in front of Ann on the floor, and she made a feeble attempt to examine the wound in the dark room. Not only were there no lights lit, but curtains were drawn tight over all the windows. The lamp on the side table proved empty of oil.
“I haven’t seen you in several days. How have you been?” Ann’s hands shook as they grazed the child’s head. What waited for James in that room? Was Mr. Schneider dead? If so, for how long? What did he look like? She’d never seen a dead body. At the orphanage, several children had died of diphtheria, but their bodies were whisked away in the dark of night.
George didn’t answer, but he winced as her hand probed his scalp. Ann stopped her examination. Without any
way to see what she was doing, she might do more harm than good to his wound. She pulled the boy to his feet and into her lap.
“How did you hurt your head?”
“Will my Pa be alright?” His eyes glistened in the feeble light.
Ann wrapped her arms tightly around him. “Right now, I’m fretting over you. How did this cut come to be?”
He chewed on his lip and shrugged. “I fell.”
“You fell? You must have fallen into something to receive this horrid gash.”
George opened his mouth to speak, but they both started as the parlor door squeaked. James burst forth, his eyes wide with worry.
“George, run to my house and stay with your sister,” he commanded. The little boy remained on Ann’s lap.
She took George by the hand. The little fingers were as cold as ice. “Sadie is there with Uncle Mac and a plate of jam and bread, but I forgot to pour them milk. Will you do that? And then stay there and make sure they have everything they need until one of us comes to get you?”
“What about my Pa?”
“We’ll be along shortly, George. Right now we need you to help Sadie and Uncle Mac.”
He hesitated one more time before nodding and dashing out the door without closing it. His dark head bobbed across the barnyard and toward James’s farm.
Once George was safely out of earshot, Ann grasped for James’s hand in the dim room.
“Is it horrible?” she whispered. She grew dizzy at the thought of what might lie in the next room.
James didn’t answer. Instead, he gripped her hand and pulled her toward the parlor door. He pushed his shoulder into it and sent it swinging open.
“No, James, no! I can’t look!” James still had a tight hold on her hand, and she used her free arm to shield her eyes. “I can’t look at him, I just can’t!”
James moved her arm away from her face and released her hand.
“You’ll have to look if you’re going to help me save him. Or at least try to.”
She opened one eye. “Save him? He’s alive?”
She would have thought it impossible, but the parlor proved even darker and messier than the sitting room. James was already across the room and hovering over a figure reclining on a tattered horsehair sofa. Her eyes adjusted to the stray bits of light trickling under the curtains. James’s fingers prodded the man’s wrist and neck.
A Mistaken Match Page 13
