Hope's Design (The Daughters of Riverton Book 2)

by Dawn Kinzer

She’d tried to forget—even for a moment—the encounter with Henry earlier that day, but it had been foolish to think he’d disappear without seeking her out again.

  Hiding wouldn’t do any good. He must have asked around town where she lived after he left the store earlier that day, and now that he knew, he’d continue to show up until she finally convinced him she’d never change her mind. How she was going to do that, Hope didn’t know. But her parents didn’t raise a coward, and if her mother had the strength to risk dying from horrible diseases in Panama, her daughter could face one delusional man.

  Annie, helping with inventory at the store, wouldn’t be home for a little while. However, Hope needn’t go into battle alone. Lord, if not an army, could you please spare a few angels?

  Several more knocks followed. “Hope, please let me in. I know you’re in there.” Henry sounded calm, despite her not immediately responding.

  “Go away, Henry.” Hope leaned against the door, breathing heavily. “There’s nothing you can say or do that will change my mind. What you’re doing—showing up here—is a waste of time. Go back to New York.”

  “I can’t. I care too much about you.” He almost sounded sincere. “I just want to talk, and I’m going to stay right here until you give me a chance to say my piece.”

  “Then say it and leave,” she said firmly.

  “I’m not going to shout through a barrier.” Henry’s tone raised a notch, a sign he was beginning to get irritated.

  She wouldn’t let him inside, but she’d open the door and give him a chance to speak his mind in the chance it might appease him for now. Henry was stubborn enough to stand there all night, and Annie didn’t deserve to come home and face a man whose agitation could morph into anger the longer he felt denied and out of control. Hope wanted no harm to come to her cousin, but she knew Annie well enough. As soon as she spotted Henry, she’d become protective and confront him.

  One deep breath, then a moment to allow her heavenly reinforcements to arrive, and Hope swung open the door. Her suitor—her opponent—stood only several feet away with an enormous bouquet. The mixed shades of yellow, red, and orange dahlias were spectacular—like fireworks. The last of the season, they could have only come from one garden in town. He either sweet-talked the proud owner into parting with them with some lie, or offered her more money than she could refuse.

  Hope didn’t move beyond the threshold, but instead stood as tall as she could and crossed her arms. “Why are you here?”

  “These are for you.” He held the flowers toward her.

  “I can’t accept them.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “But, they’re your favorite.” Henry sounded like he couldn’t believe she’d reject his gift.

  Of course he would think she preferred them—his mother did. No matter how many times she told him, Henry never remembered that simple daisies were Hope’s passion. And that wasn’t the only thing he hadn’t paid attention to when they were together.

  “Henry, I don’t want flowers from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Why can’t you believe that?”

  “I traveled all the way from New York to see you, and you won’t even have supper with me. Don’t I at least deserve a few minutes of your time?” His eyes implored her to agree.

  “No, I can’t say that you do.” This nightmare had to end. “But I’ll let you say what you need to, and then I’ll expect you to walk away.”

  “Agreed.”

  Hope caught his smug expression before it slipped away. Giving him this opportunity could be a mistake, but she’d try one more time to help him see reason. Weak in the knees, she stepped out onto the porch.

  Henry laid the bouquet on the porch swing, then faced Hope, his expression softening, his eyes filling with emotion, almost as though he sincerely cared for her.

  “What is there left to talk about, Henry?” Hope, standing straight with her hands clenched in front of her, didn’t back down from his gaze—the one that used to make her melt like chocolate put to flame. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Henry kept his eyes fixed on her. “I love and miss you, Hope, and I want you to come back to New York. That’s all there is to it.” His lips curved slightly upward into a weak smile. “I know I have a tendency to get a little intense.”

  “A little?” The man could exaggerate. If he’d been a fisherman, he would have fit right in with telling tall tales of catching fish ten times their actual size. “Henry, you couldn’t discuss me working in fashion without you pacing and your jaw almost locking into place. You even said once that you wouldn’t allow it. No wife of yours would ever do anything but manage your home and have your children.”

  Henry tried to shush her, but she wasn’t going to stop now. Hope searched deep within for courage. “You bragged to your cronies and your business associates about your beautiful fiancée. But if another man even said hello or opened a door for me, you accused me of flirtations.”

  “You’re beautiful. Can’t a man be both proud and protective of his loved one?”

  “But it was the way you did it. Like I was some kind of possession.” A memory surfaced, so vivid it felt like she was reliving it. “I overheard you once. Making bets. You made disgusting wagers about our wedding night.” It still made her nauseated to think someone she had loved could be so crude. “I can’t live that way—I won’t live that way. I’m not property to be bullied and bossed, or to be placed on a shelf as a pretty decoration or toy until you decide to take me down to play or show off.”

  “Hope, I’m truly sorry for my past insufferable behavior. But I’m here because I do love you—not because I want to own you and prop you up on display like a prize.” His piercing stare never wavered, even when she attempted to peer into his soul. “I want to be the man you deserve, and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  A genuine tone filled his voice, and was that a hint of moisture in his eyes? He should have performed on stage. Henry was an incredible actor. It would have been easy to believe him if she hadn’t seen the calm too many times before the storm hit again.

  “I know you want me to return to New York with you. That much I do believe.” Hope hugged herself. She’d be brave and finally say her piece, no matter the consequences. “But it’s not out of love. You never loved me. You only wanted to control me, and I embarrassed you when I broke our engagement. After all, who wouldn’t want to be your wife?” She scoffed, the idea ridiculous to her now. “The brilliant, dashing, and successful Henry Shelton?”

  “I was good to you. I would have given you anything your heart desired,” he almost growled, as if still in disbelief she’d left him—was still refusing him. That expression—the threat outlining his glare—that’s what she knew lurked inside.

  “You would have given me everything but my freedom, Henry.” Hope closed her eyes and begged God for strength one more time. She swallowed and opened her eyes again before meeting his.

  His eyes narrowed just enough for Hope to notice. “You talk like you were a prisoner.”

  “Not a prisoner yet, but I would have ended up feeling that way.” She’d tried so hard to explain before, and she’d tried again, but he couldn’t hear what she had to say—not really. Not if his following her to Riverton was indication.

  He pushed his hand through his hair as though trying to keep his frustration under control. “That’s absurd.”

  “We’ve been through it all before, Henry.” Hope would never have been this bold in New York, but she’d grown stronger these past months in Riverton. “You wanted to bind me to you and your wishes. You wanted to make me into someone I could never be, someone who would be a wife and mother, but silent in the marriage. I have a voice, Henry, that needs to be heard. And I have a talent that I believe God wants me to use.”

  Henry shook his head. “Hope—”

  “I can’t live in your shadow, waiting for you to beckon me to your side. When I didn’t behave as you wanted, you hurt me.” Her fingers instinctively moved to her fa
ce. Physical bruises had faded, but emotional ones had not.

  “I’ll never hurt you again, Hope. I promise.” He reached for her, but Hope stepped back. “You know I can afford to stay until I convince you that we should be together.”

  “You’re crazy, Henry.” She gathered her courage and stared into his stormy eyes. “What are you going to do? Follow me everywhere I go, like you did in New York? Threaten me until I marry you? Love doesn’t work that way.”

  “I’m telling you, I won’t leave town without you.”

  “Only a few minutes ago, you agreed to that very thing.”

  “You misunderstood. I never said I would leave Riverton.”

  “Get out of town, Henry. For your own sake. I have family and friends here who watch out for me. I’m not alone, and I’m not afraid of you,” she said with conviction.

  “Maybe you should be.” His voice sounded threatening.

  Hope took several steps back.

  “Did you hear me, Hope?”

  “Yes, Henry, but did you hear me?” She crossed the threshold and slammed the door.

  ***

  Ben drove his wagon into the Annie’s farmyard and spotted an unfamiliar man watching him from the front porch of her house. Had the stranger just arrived, or was he leaving? Dressed in an expensive suit, he obviously wasn’t lacking financially, and he had looks that would make most women swoon.

  “Evening.” Ben gave the man a nod. “Nice night.”

  The stranger, without saying a word, gave Ben a searing look before descending the porch, climbing into his buggy, and taking up the reins.

  After tethering his horses, Ben watched the visitor move down the road before running up the steps to the front door. Who was that man? Couldn’t have been a salesman—he didn’t have any samples with him that Ben could see. Besides, anyone trying to sell something wouldn’t be that rude.

  Ben held a bouquet of Black-eyed Susans, the closest thing he could find to daisies, in one hand while he tried to smooth his hair with the other. This was it. Hope was either going to let him in or not. Either way, he wasn’t leaving until he had a chance to apologize for hurting her feelings after she returned from Minneapolis. Even if he had to sleep on her porch all night and Jake had to take care of the farm chores himself. His little brother owed him anyway.

  A large bouquet of flowers lay on the swing. Shouldn’t they be in water? He’d mention it to whoever answered the door. Ben rapped on the door. He didn’t have to try twice. The door swung open.

  “Henry, I told you—” Hope’s mouth stayed open, but no other words came forth.

  “Did I come at a bad time?”

  “No—I—” Her cheeks blossomed with color.

  Ben had never seen Hope so flustered.

  “It’s good that you’re here.” Her focus shifted to the flowers in his hand.

  “For you. The closest I could come to daisies this time of year.”

  “They’re lovely, Ben. Thank you.” She accepted the bouquet. “I’ll put them in water.”

  “You probably want to do the same for those.” Ben pointed to the swing.

  Hope grabbed the blooms that had been tossed there, but handled them as though they were undesirable weeds. “I’ll get rid of these.”

  Why did she sound sad? Had the flowers been from that stranger? Henry?

  She gestured to the swing. “Please make yourself comfortable while I put your bouquet in a vase.”

  His bouquet? But not the other? “Would you like my help?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be right out.” She reached the door, then whirled around. “I’m sorry. I’m not being a good hostess. Would you like coffee? Tea? Lemonade?”

  “I don’t need anything, but thanks for asking.” He had terrible timing. Hope was obviously distracted, and it probably had something to do with the gentleman who’d been there earlier.

  Ben waited for Hope to return, then followed her to the swing and sat down beside her. What had he walked into? “Hope, who’s Henry?”

  She sat quietly, her right thumb massaging her left palm, as though struggling with how to answer. “He’s the reason I’m here.” Hope looked up at him with eyes that begged for understanding. “I haven’t mentioned him before because I thought, while in Riverton, I could keep that part of my past private. I was wrong.” She laughed softly. “I guess you and I are similar in that way. We’ve both had our secrets.”

  “Who is he to you?” Ben’s breathing labored, but he had to know.

  “We were going to be married, but I broke off the engagement before moving to Riverton.” Her voice held so much sadness.

  “And he’s here to...”

  “To convince me to go back to New York and marry him.”

  “Are you going?” Ben could barely force the question through his lips.

  Her forehead furrowed. “No, I’m staying in Riverton.”

  Relief rippled through his body. “You still love him?”

  No answer came. She just stared at the floor. Hope’s thoughts must have drifted elsewhere.

  “Hope?”

  “I’d rather not talk about Henry,” she said softly.

  “All right.” Ben swallowed his questions. As much as he wanted answers, he’d respect her wishes and stop pushing.

  She tilted her head. “It was kind of you to bring the flowers.”

  He was glad to see a smile surface and the sadness flee her eyes. “I’ve been thinking and praying a lot these past few days about your trip to Minneapolis and what you tried to do for me. I know you meant well, and I want you to know that I’ve forgiven you for going against my wishes.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile broadened.

  “I’ve also been asking myself a lot of questions.” Ben cleared his throat. This wasn’t easy, but Hope deserved to hear his admission. “I have to confess there’s a part of me that’s grateful you did something I couldn’t. I don’t know what will come of you leaving my painting with Mr. Woodlin, but maybe it’s time for me to find out if I have any real talent.”

  She reached over and grasped his hand. “Ben, you can’t imagine how happy that makes me.”

  Ben yearned to pull her into his arms and feel her close, breathe her fragrance, kiss her soft lips, but he used all the strength in his body to refrain.

  They’d admitted they cared for each other—they’d shared a passionate kiss—but now that her former fiancé was trying to win her back, how could Ben tell her he loved her? That he longed to know if she loved him? It would only make her decision more difficult if she were already conflicted about her feelings for the other man.

  There must still be something between them for Hope to feel she needed to leave New York to get over him, and for the man to come thousands of mile to see her.

  Besides, what did Ben have to offer? A simple farmer, he had little to no money. By his attire, the man Hope had been engaged to obviously had wealth and could provide Hope the type of life in the city she was accustomed to and probably wanted, high fashion and all. Ben couldn’t offer that. Even on the slight chance he’d hear anything from Mr. Woodlin, there was no guarantee it would be encouraging news.

  Ben couldn’t tell Hope how deep his feelings were rooted and risk being rejected again because of the path he’d chosen as a painter. As much as he loved Hope, this time he might not recover.

  chapteR TWENTY-TWO

  Hope slowly shoved the plate of scrambled eggs and toast away from her. “Annie, it’s considerate of you to make breakfast, but I’m not hungry.” Last evening’s events had played through her mind over and over all night. Dealing with Henry, standing up to him.

  Then Ben showing up unexpectedly. Hope could have savored their peacemaking if Henry’s presence earlier hadn’t overshadowed Ben’s visit and forced her to admit she’d been engaged. Hope hadn’t imagined it—he’d acted differently after her confession. Regardless, she couldn’t keep the information from him forever—not if they were to have the kind of relationship she desired. />
  “I wish you’d try to eat something.” Annie placed a second plate on the table for herself. “You didn’t have any supper last night.”

  “Seeing Henry made me lose all appetite, but I will take a cup of coffee. Please.” An uncontrollable yawn forced Hope’s mouth open, and she covered it with her fingers. “Excuse me.”

  Annie set a steaming cup next to Hope on the table, along with a small pitcher of fresh cream.

  “Thank you.” Hope poured a generous amount of cream into her coffee, then also indulged by adding a spoonful of sugar, then another. She inhaled the aroma before taking a sip.

  Annie slipped into her chair on the other side of the small kitchen table. “I’m guessing that, along with no supper, you didn’t get any sleep last night.”

  “I barely closed my eyes.” Hope bit the bottom of her lip to stop the quivering that threatened to make way for tears. “When Ben told me last night he’d forgiven me for showing Mr. Woodlin his painting, I thought we might have a chance to be together. But after I told him about my engagement to Henry, Ben acted aloof the rest of the evening. He needed to know. I couldn’t keep it from him forever, but it seems to have changed how he looks at me. I thought he cared for me, and I even hoped he might love me. But now what am I supposed to believe?” She fingered her coffee cup, then sipped the sweet mixture, now tepid. “And what am I supposed do about Henry?”

  “Now that Henry’s had a chance to talk to you, don’t you think he’ll leave town without causing any more problems?”

  If only. “Henry is stubborn, and he likes getting his own way. He won’t give up, because his ego can’t accept that I won’t change my mind.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Which is why she’d tossed all night. “Not yet.”

  Annie’s expression grew even more serious. “You need to talk to the town marshal.”

  “What would I tell him? Henry hasn’t done anything wrong. He made an appearance in a public place, and he showed up at our front door and asked to talk. That’s all. He didn’t actually threaten me or try to hurt me.”