Thinking of second chances, his thoughts abruptly turned to Samantha and the discovery he had made. After the trial was over, he’d wandered over to the town’s restaurant. He didn’t have much an appetite since Georgiana was shot. On the way over to Castle Rock, he ate only a few strips of dried jerky. Since they were headed home, he knew should eat something to build his strength to endure whatever he’d find when he returned.
He could only call it fate that he’d caught a glimpse of something familiar when an old weathered man sitting at the table across from him pushed up his sleeves before beginning his meal. Getting up from his table, Ridge walked over to the old man.
“Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing toward a chair. The man shook his head and Ridge sat down. “That wristband you’re wearin’, I’ve seen it before.”
The man stopped eating, slipped it off his wrist, and set it down on the table between them as a look of profound relief etched across his face.
“Saints be praised!” the old man uttered. “I’d ’bout given up hope.”
The old man proceeded to tell him a story. He’d come across a young man on the brink of death almost two years back. He had been robbed, shot twice, and left for dead. He could do nothing for the boy except make him as comfortable as possible. They had taken everything, even his coat and shoes. It was a wonder he had survived the cold night. He’d asked for his name, but the boy couldn’t speak. “However, he did manage to slip this here band from his wrist. I knew it must mean somethin’ to the boy,” the old man said solemnly. “He pressed it into my hand a moment before he passed. Luckily, it wasn’t worth much or the thieves wouldn’t have left it behind. I asked around a bit when I got back to town to see if any folks recognized it. Since no one did, I hoped if I wore it ’bout my own arm, someone might get a look someday and know who it was belongin’ to. I figured I could at least do that much for the boy.”
Ridge stared quietly at the wristband after the old man finished his story. It was the one Samantha had given Mitch, he was sure. He had one that was similar in his own trunk back home. After Georgiana had gone, Samantha had made homemade jewelry to relieve some of her boredom. She had actually become good at it. She had given him one on his fifteenth birthday. Though he wasn’t much for wearing jewelry, it was plain enough, made of only woven leather. He only wore it a few times. After she and Mitch had become engaged, she had given him one as well. Mitch wore his proudly wherever he went.
Ridge told the man he knew whose it was, thanked him, took the wristband, and left, albeit forgetting his own meal. At last Samantha could have some peace in knowing the truth and maybe, just maybe, she could begin looking again to her own future.
Ridge sighed long and deep. He wished he was already back at Georgiana’s side. If she woke up today, he wouldn’t be there. Maybe it would be Dawson she would see when she first opened her eyes.
Arrgh! He was driving himself crazy.
Thinking to distract himself, he decided he’d eat the snack that Georgiana’s mother instructed Angus to put in his pack. Ridge walked over to his saddlebags and withdrew the bundle wrapped in a cloth napkin. When he did, another bundle fell onto the ground. Ridge picked it up curiously and walked over to the fire with them both. After tossing a few dried apple slices into his mouth and grabbing a hunk of jerky, Ridge unwrapped the second bundle, and a note fell open. He picked it up and began to read.
Dear Mr. Carson,
First, I want to apologize for five years ago abruptly taking my daughter from her two best friends and moving away, so far away. I was wrong in my decision, and now I realize, even to a greater extent, just how wrong a choice I made. I wish I could offer an excuse, but my selfishness could never justify my actions.
Second, I’d like to return some things that belong to you. These letters were written and mailed to you by my daughter. Unbeknownst to her or myself, my sister, Georgiana’s aunt, contrived a way to keep these letters from ever reaching you. What mean and wicked design she bore in her heart for such an act, I do not know. However, I do know something of the pain it caused Georgiana being deprived of the communication between her two dearest friends over the past five years.
I have given Georgiana the rest of the letters I found in her aunt’s possession, some from various friends, but most from Samantha Wallace. All the letters she wrote to Georgiana were there as well.
These letters I felt, I’m not sure why, should be given to you. Even though I noticed the bundle I gave to my daughter did not contain any letters written from you personally, I felt this was the action I should take. I hope and pray I have made the right decision. I know my daughter cares for you deeply. I suspect in truth that you have feelings for her too. Why else would you so diligently be not removed from her side for the three days following her accident?
For good or for bad, fate has had a hand in our lives for a reason. I pray now that happiness and love will abound and the souls kept apart for so long will find a place to bind and to keep forever.
With Sincerity,
Mrs. Charlotte McLaughlin
Ridge anxiously untied the string that held the bundle of letters together, opened the first one, and began reading. It was well into the night, and he had found it necessary to add logs to the fire many times, before he finished reading all Georgiana’s letters. Even still, he picked a few out and reread them.
It was evident that her tender heart had been broken, not by any fault of his, but broken just the same. He ran his fingers over a few smudged words and wondered if the smudges had been caused by her youthful tears. It was lucky for her aunt that he wasn’t anywhere near New York. How could a person ever be as cruel and conniving as that woman had been? What made a person’s heart turn so stone cold that they would purposely and spitefully interfere with people’s lives, causing so much heartache?
Ridge retied the string that bound the letters together and put them back in his saddlebag. As he walked to his bedroll, he pulled the blue satin ribbon from his pocket. He continued to hold it, caressing it with his fingers, as he lay down to sleep. The moment he closed his eyes, she was there at the forefront of his mind: her long golden hair softly framing her face, those gray-violet eyes staring up at his, those soft tender lips longing to be kissed. He knew what he had to do. The only question was how was he going to wait until tomorrow?
24. Dear Georgie
Georgiana couldn’t take her eyes off the box of letters her mother had just laid in her lap.
“But where . . . how did you . . . ?”
“I got a letter three weeks ago from your grandfather. He said you had asked him about some missing letters. It got me thinking, so I did some looking around. I found those hidden in your Aunt Cecelia’s room.”
“But why would she . . . how? Some of these I took to the post office myself.”
“I think Aunt Cecelia was paying Mrs. Schnell, an old school friend who works at the post office, to detain your letters going both directions and bring them to her.” Her mother was quiet for a moment, and then sighed deeply. “Your aunt wasn’t always this way, my dear.” Georgiana’s mother told her about the events in her sister’s life that had changed her so negatively. “It was devastating,” her mother said sorrowfully. “However, that does not excuse or justify her actions. She chose to harden her heart and become the kind of woman who could do such a thing to you . . . to her own sister.” Her mother’s voice broke. “There is something else I found too.” Her mother suddenly looked very saddened, as if she had discovered something profound. “While I was looking for the letters, I found a will.”
“A will?” Georgiana didn’t understand.
“My parents’ will . . . the original one. After they died, Aunt Cecelia had a new will made. I had it checked. The signatures are false.”
Georgiana was torn at the look on her mother’s face. She could tell that the sheer depth of betrayal by her sister disturbed her mother greatly.
“Would she really do such a thing?” Georgiana dared as
k. Her mother nodded her head.
“When your father and I began courting, my parents were disappointed. They had made other hopeful plans for me, marriage plans which were more advantageous for both me and our family. The first time I saw your father, though . . . the first time he looked at me and spoke in his thick Irish brogue, there was no one else.” She smiled. “He was a dream I never thought would come true, in feature, form, and voice, and I knew that I was created to love him.
“Despite the fact that he wasn’t who my parents had in mind, your father was very amiable, as well as flattering. He even made my mother blush a time or two, as I recall. I knew they would grow to love him. I could already tell they were beginning to like him. That was why I was so shocked when all of a sudden their attitudes toward him changed. Father refused to give his blessing when Michael asked for my hand, and mother, more often than not, would break out in tears whenever I mentioned his name.
“Your Aunt Cecelia, on the other hand, disliked him immediately from the first time they met and was never found wanting in expressing her opinion of him. I suspected that somehow Cecelia had a hand in the ruination of my parents’ good opinion of your father, though I could never find out the truth of it.
“Though my father had refused him, I had already pledged my love to Michael. So I packed a bag and escaped the house early one morning. We were married that same day at the courthouse and headed here to Colorado. I wrote mother and father and begged their forgiveness and explained how deeply I loved Michael, but I never heard from them. Your aunt arrived shortly after we did and insisted I return with her. I’m afraid I had allowed her too much control over my life growing up and thus she felt she could force me into returning. Especially, she assumed, after I realized how uncivilized and impoverished a life I would be living in comparison to my life in New York.
“Truth was, I was never happier than here with Michael and your grandparents, and my happiness and joy gave me the strength to stand up to her. She left swearing I was no longer her sister and I would be cut out of our father and mother’s will. I never once regretted my decision.” Georgiana reached over and gently laid her hand on her mother’s arm as she continued. “When Father and Mother died, Aunt Cecelia sent me a letter, including a copy of the new will. It saddened me deeply. Not because they disinherited me, but because I had somehow hoped they had forgiven me. I had written them often, though I never got any letters in return. Somehow the will was evidence that they were still wroth. It caused me great pain and grief for many years. But now . . . finding those letters of yours and finding the will, I wonder. Perhaps yours weren’t the first letters Aunt Cecelia hid away.”
“Does Aunt Cecelia know? I mean, does she know you found my letters and the will?”
“Actually, she was out of town on some business when I left. As soon as I realized what she had done, I packed our bags and sent your grandfather a telegram. I knew where she kept her money stash, so I bought the tickets, and we came out immediately. She should be arriving home today. If she hasn’t read my letter already, I’m sure she will shortly. She won’t be pleased, I’m certain of that. I was quite blunt, I’m afraid, and held nothing back.”
“I wish I could see her face when she reads your letter,” Georgiana said thoughtfully.
“And so do I,” her mother agreed. After wiping the residue of tears from her face with her apron, she stood up. “Well, I best leave you alone. I’m sure you would like some rest or, at the very least, you might like some time to catch up on your mail.” Georgiana gave her mother a grateful nod as she turned and walked to the door.
“Thank you, Mother,” Georgiana said sincerely.
Her mother smiled warmly and left her room. Georgiana eagerly opened one of the letters from Sammy dated five years previously and began reading.
Dear Georgie,
I can’t believe you’re not coming back! How will I ever live without you? You’re my best friend. It just isn’t fair. So for now, I will not think of you as a lost friend, but as a new one living in the city. We will be great pen pals, I will keep you informed of everything that happens in Crystal Creek, including anything and everything about “you know who” and you can tell me all the exciting things in New York.
I am already feeling better. I think this is going to be fun . . .
The letter brought back fond memories, and she eagerly sifted through the pile. There was not one letter from Ridge. He really hadn’t written, not once. It was more than a disappointment. It spoke volumes about his true feelings.
Setting the letters aside, Georgiana decided she would rather read them later. Instead, she turned her thoughts to the letter Dawson had left for her. Despite her heavy heart, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. His letter had been sweet and his concern for her well-being evident. However, there was something else entirely that had her smiling. Dawson, she suspected, had feelings for Samantha. It was obvious by the way he wrote about how much fun he was going to have showing Samantha around New York. She was happy for him and her dear friend. She realized the night of the dance they were perfect for each other. At least something good had come of all this.
Reaching over with some difficulty, Georgiana managed to extinguish the lamp without hurting her shoulder. She snuggled in the warmth of her blankets. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered where Ridge was tonight. Again she felt warmth pass through her as she distinctly remembered his presence over the past few days. Where had he gone? Why hadn’t he been here when she had awakened? Closing her eyes, she conjured up a vision of him. He was smiling at her, his warm eyes boring into her own as his face descended toward her lips to devour them in a blissful kiss. That kiss would be the fabric of her dreams tonight.
25. A Kiss to Remember
Jimmy helped Georgiana down from the wagon.
“Thank you, Jimmy.” She smiled warmly up at him, then looked at the worried face of her mother. “I’m fine, Mother.”
“The doctor would have gladly come over to the house. I don’t know why you insisted—” her mother began complaining.
“Mother, I know he would have, but I needed to get out,” Georgiana interrupted. “I’m going crazy lying in bed all day. I haven’t had so much leisure time since I’ve been here! It will be a nice change to be seen in his clinic.”
Her mother came over and patted her on the arm.
“I know, dear. It’s hard going from being busy and needed to being waited on hand and foot, but still I worry.”
Georgiana looked over to Jimmy. He seemed anxious. Jimmy, she had discovered, had been seeing Millie Gunners, the blacksmith’s daughter. She could tell he wanted to be excused so he could go visit with her.
“Thank you for your help, Jimmy. I’m sure we can manage from here.”
“Thank you, Miss McLaughlin, and you, Mrs. McLaughlin.” He nodded his head politely to each of them and was off in the direction of the blacksmith’s in a flash. Georgiana turned to her mother.
“Why don’t you pick up the things we need at the mercantile while I see Doc Hansen. Mrs. Whitaker would love to hear a tidbit or two from you, I’m sure.” Her mother rolled her eyes.
“And I’m sure, whatever I tell her, the whole town will know in a matter of hours,” her mother remarked, and they both laughed.
“You must have a good memory then, Mother.”
“Where that woman is concerned, I do. She certainly isn’t my first choice of persons to visit after all these years, but . . .” Her eyes lit up. “Maybe on second thought I should visit her. Maybe I’ll have a little fun.”
“Mother, you wouldn’t!” Georgiana pretended shock. Her mother’s mischievous smile told her she would indeed.
“Well, enjoy yourself,” Georgiana called over her shoulder as she headed toward the doctor’s office. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
When Georgiana arrived at Dr. Hansen’s office, there was a note posted. It read, Called out on emergency. Be back shortly. You can wait in the office if you desire.
—Doc Hansen.
Sighing and turning away from the door, Georgiana looked around. She had no desire to wait in a stuffy office. She had been cooped up too long. Nor did she have any desire to go to the mercantile and be subjected to Mrs. Whitaker’s endless questioning. Besides, it might ruin her mother’s fun. She would just find a place to wait outside.
Looking up the street, her eyes caught sight of the old oak. Suddenly she had a strong desire to see the inscription again that she had discovered engraved into the tree. Casually, she strolled up the street in its direction.
When Georgiana reached its branches, she paused, and as was fast becoming a habit, she looked around to make sure she wasn’t being watched before ducking under its cover. She stood motionless for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
Instantly, the memories came flooding back, and she walked up closer to the tree trunk and crouched down. As she had done before, she ran her fingers over the inscription.
The thought occurred that he must have at least liked her a little to have taken the time to carve it, even if he had never written. She thought back again to that day, and she was lost in her reminiscing until she heard a sound. Quickly she turned, startled at who might be watching, but there was no one.
Then she saw it. Something hanging from a branch . . . a bundle of some sort, a bundle of letters tied with a ribbon . . . a very familiar blue ribbon. Walking over to it, she untied it and examined the bundle in her hands. She looked around, but she was alone. Was it already hanging there when she had first ducked under the branches? She didn’t remember seeing it, but then her eyes had needed to adjust to the shadows. Maybe she had missed it somehow.
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