Thaddeus thought fast. "Who would have minded the saloon if you'd gone to San Fran?"
"True enough." She drank almost the whole second shot of whiskey in one swallow and turned dreamy eyes his way. "You're sore, huh?"
"So... uh... Dan?" Thaddeus asked, trying to steer the conversation once again.
She was staring at his crotch. "Right, right. Well, then the new doctor came to town. She's a woman, mind you," she added in case Thaddeus didn't know. "You haven't met her yet, have you?"
"Nope. So, Dan married the doctor?"
She shook her head and drained her glass a second time.
"No, that's what we were all thinking might happen, because they went out a few times, just to Fuller's. Not here, mind you. Maybe she don't like chicken."
Ada laughed to herself. "And then all of a sudden, Dan got himself engaged to Jessie's niece."
Thaddeus furrowed his brow. Why couldn't he picture the girl?
"You know Jessie?" Ada asked, seeing his expression.
"Of course, I know Jessie," he said. She'd been working at Fuller's for roughly fifteen years. "But I can't picture her kin."
"Belinda," Ada said, as if that should clear things up.
"Belinda?" He shook his head, drawing a blank. "Is she my age?"
"Roundabout. Jessie's sister moved away when Belinda was around two years old."
No wonder he didn't remember her.
"Five or six months ago, she came back to Spring. Presto, she's Mrs. Dan Freeman," Ada said. With that, she got up and walked away. Apparently, the conversation was over when her glass was empty.
Dan had moved lightning fast to make Belinda his wife. Thaddeus decided to pay a call the next day and offer his congratulations. Maybe he'd even get some tips on how to push Ellie in the direction of looking kindly on his proposal.
Hell, if Dan could do it, he could! He tipped back his drink and felt better than he had in hours.
* * *
"You sent that young man packing pretty quick," Mrs. Longwood declared as she brushed out Eliza's hair at bedtime.
They'd fallen into a routine that was as close to friends as Ellie could recall. And something about Mrs. Longwood tending to her reminded her of her mother.
"You didn't work for us before my mother died, did you?"
"Why, yes I did. I knew your parents because your mama's mother and my mother were friends."
"You grew up with my mother?"
"We did. And then after your mama had you, I offered to help out. She never had much strength after that, but I loved being here in this house. Everything was so nice and genteel, and your parents were such good people, though your father was all business." She laughed. "Yes, indeed. He always paid me to the penny, even when I said I'd stay here for free."
Eliza wanted to ask Mrs. Longwood questions regarding her own life without sounding rude or nosey—such as, if she was a missus and not a miss, where was her husband?
"Even when you were a little thing," her housekeeper continued, "I used to sit in the room here while your mama brushed your blond curls. And if she needed to lie down, she'd do it right on your bed and let me take over."
"That's why this seems so familiar, then," Eliza said. "Why did you... I mean, why did we stop?"
"Stop brushing your hair?" Mrs. Longwood laughed.
"Not only that. I mean, at some point, you and I stopped being close. Didn't we?"
"I've always loved you, Eliza. As if you were my own."
Eliza's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected that open declaration from her housekeeper. Why hadn't she ever realized before that this woman was so much more than the cook and cleaning lady?
Mrs. Longwood continued to run the brush through Eliza's blond locks. "I loved you before your mama died, and I promised her on her deathbed that I would continue to do so. It hasn't always been easy."
Eliza considered what a difficult girl she'd been, and of course, her temper had often flared. "Because of my behavior." She bowed her head.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean that, child. I meant because I didn't know what to do with such a headstrong young lady. And your father insisted on doing things his way when I believed you might need more of a gentle touch. It wasn't easy for me to see you make mistakes and then... this."
Mrs. Longwood put the brush down and their eyes met in the mirror. Eliza could see the woman was trembling. "I've failed you and your mama. I should have stopped you leaving after your father died."
Eliza stood up and took the woman's hands in her own. She pulled her to the bed so they could sit together.
"You couldn't have stopped me. I was so unhappy and so lonely." Oddly, she didn't feel either of those things now. "And I'm not sorry I'm carrying this baby. He or she is most definitely not a mistake. Nor was going away and realizing how much of my life I was squandering feeling sorry for myself and how I truly value what I have right here."
Everything she'd been through over the past year, from her extensive travels to making up with Charlotte and, of course, to finally experiencing a perfectly blissful union with Thaddeus Sanborn—more than once—yes, it had all been worth it.
"I'm going to be a better person because of my child. You'll see."
"You've already changed. I noticed it from the moment you returned. I guess you finally grew up."
Is that what she'd done? Maybe so. Well, a grown-up lady would know how to deepen their friendship.
"May I please ask you something without your taking offense?"
The older lady shrugged. "I don't know until you ask."
"How are you a Mrs. Longwood? What happened to your husband?"
"Why would I take offense at that? I'm a missus because the most handsome man in these United States, Patrick Percy Longwood, fell in love with me and asked me to be his wife. I didn't hesitate. I didn't scarcely breathe before I was saying yes, yes, yes."
Eliza smiled because Mrs. Longwood's entire face lit up as she talked. "Did my parents know him?"
"They did. He worked for your father at the mine, and your mother liked him. She said he was just right for me. But he was from New York and determined to fight in the war. He rode off one day and he never came back. The Union Army sent me his things eventually."
Eliza didn't know what to say. Not so many women in the west were war widows, but she'd met numerous in her travels the farther east she'd gone. She reached her arms around Mrs. Longwood and hugged her.
"I got his name, but I sure wish he'd given me a child. That was one reason I was so happy to help raise you."
"Now, you can help raise my baby."
"Yes, I will indeed, but I hoped I'd be looking after a whole family. You and a handsome husband. I thought you'd found your special someone when you got engaged to Mr. Dalcourt, even though I never saw any sparks between you two."
Eliza shook her head. "No, we didn't have any sparks. A whole lot of affection, though, and respect."
"He seemed like a nice enough fellow, but if there weren't any sparks," Mrs. Longwood said with a shrug before glancing at her from under her eyelashes, "not like you have with Mr. Sanborn."
Eliza gasped, but Mrs. Longwood patted her hand. "It wasn't hard to see, child, nor to realize he's the baby's father—just by the way he looked at you."
Eliza dropped her gaze to her lap and couldn't contain a large sigh.
"You always had a soft spot for that boy. Well, not a boy, anymore," Mrs. Longwood added. "Did he come back to claim you?"
Claim her? That was a funny way of putting it. As though she were a piece of land that he wanted to stake.
"I suppose so. He offered to marry me and take care of us." She indicated her stomach.
"Why aren't you over the moon, then? Your face brightened like the dawn when you laid eyes on him."
Eliza put her hands to her cheeks. Had it really? How could she explain her reluctance to let Thaddeus back into her life when she hardly understood it herself?
Most women, many, in fact, would b
e perfectly delighted to accept his offer of marriage—even if for the sole purpose of erasing the stigma of unwedded motherhood. Why, she knew many people of her parents' generation who'd accepted marriages of convenience in order to run a business and raise a family, or to have enough hands on a ranch or a farm.
Who was she to scoff at a potential husband?
She was Eliza Winnifred Malcolm Prentice. That's who!
Ultimately, any answer to Mrs. Longwood would have to wait until she could put into words what she was feeling. Instead, Eliza asked a question. "Didn't you ever find another man you wanted to marry?"
Mrs. Longwood shook her gray-haired head. "I never bothered looking. I knew everyone in Spring City, and there wasn't anyone like my Patrick. He was just right for me, like your mama said."
She eyed Eliza thoughtfully. "Besides, I always felt as though I'd given Patrick my heart and didn't have it in me to give to another man."
Standing up, Mrs. Longwood stretched and offered Eliza an encouraging smile.
"Maybe if I'd gone out in the world like you, I would have found someone else. But I wasn't that brave. Besides, I liked tending you and your father. It was the least I could do for your mama. Now, it's time for prayers and bed."
Eliza was tired, too, but she found it difficult to sleep. She kept thinking of her long-departed mother brushing her hair and of Mrs. Longwood being a young woman in love. So many things she had never even considered. And her own baby was coming. She would be the mama this time.
Gratitude, pure and simple, coursed through her.
And Thaddeus wasn't dead or missing, not ripped from her life like her housekeeper's beloved Patrick. No doubt, if Mrs. Longwood knew how long she'd loved Thaddeus, and how deeply, she'd think her a fool not to grab him with both hands and hope for the best.
Why couldn't she open her heart and her arms to him as she'd done before? He already owned her heart—he always had. Like Mrs. Longwood said, Eliza simply didn't have it to give to any other man. So why had she actually refused him?
Giving her pillow a sound punching, she turned on her side, staring into the darkness beyond her window.
Of course, she knew the answer: When she was younger, she'd believed she didn't deserve any better than for him to use her in his barn and then ignore her. The belle of Spring City, whom no one liked and who liked no one—that was her! Except Thaddeus had been the exception. She'd loved him blindly, unconditionally, even after he'd taken her so summarily in his barn and then passed out in the hay.
She recalled leaning over him, staring down at his handsome face after he'd disengaged from her quivering young body and closed his eyes. She'd kissed him but getting no response, she'd fixed her skirts and crept home—fully expecting him to be on her doorstep the next morning, declaring his love.
Even when he hadn't, she'd tried to tell herself it was all right. After all, his had been the only affection she'd received from any man, except her father. And as unsatisfying as it had been, she'd taken the experience and locked it deep inside of her, a strange and brittle treasure.
She'd cherished the memory, holding onto it so tightly that she hadn't realized when it had slipped from her fingers and shattered—like one of those beautiful glass ornaments on a Christmas tree that all too easily end up in small shards on the floor.
A little older, a little wiser, she wasn't willing to settle for Thaddeus offering to look after a wife and child whom he didn't really want. She was quite able to take care of her family all by herself. Mrs. Longwood was correct. She was brave, and whatever was coming next didn't scare her.
No—what scared her was the tepid Thaddeus, the one who'd entered her home that day, all hat-in-hand, with his talk of "liking them" to be married, in the same way as someone liked a good slice of pie. And he spoke of their baby as if it was a burdensome responsibility that he would grudgingly own up to.
Where was the Thaddeus who'd hungered for her so badly he'd grabbed her off her front porch when they were eighteen? She'd seen glimpses of him when they were traveling, and truth be told, she yearned for him still.
As if thinking about the past stirred it up and called it forth, she heard something hard strike her window—a pebble, perhaps—and knew at once who'd come calling.
Chapter 17
"Ellie," Thaddeus called up to her faintly. He most certainly didn't want Mrs. Longwood to answer and come at him with a broom.
He tossed another rock at her window. "Ellie."
Something in the back of his mind told him this was not a good idea. But he couldn't help himself.
"Ellie."
And there she was, at the window, the moonlight making her white nightdress seem to glow and causing her golden hair that streamed over her shoulder to gleam radiantly. He grew hard and protective all at the same time. But the damn earth was rolling under his feet, and he had a feeling it might hit him in the face if he wasn't careful.
"Thaddeus, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Trying to get your attention, darlin'."
"Well, you have it. Now what?"
"I dunno. I didn't think that far."
"I doubt you're thinking at all." She rested her elbows on the windowsill and her head on her hands. "You're swaying."
"Am not."
"You are, too. Go home and sleep." Her voice sounded a tad annoyed. That wasn't how he wanted her to feel.
"Why don't I come up and get in your bed? Just like when we were on the road together. Don't you miss my arms around you?"
"Thaddeus, you shouldn't be saying stuff like that so loudly."
"Ellie, I'm coming up."
"No, you're not."
He ignored her words and grabbed onto the railing first and then the trellis, and he began to climb. If only the blasted house wasn't moving so much—he had to cling firmly to the lattice and the climbing roses, thorns and all. Goddamnit, they hurt!
He halted, hanging there, a couple feet from the ground.
"Thaddeus, stop it."
She was right. He'd never reach her at this rate. He let go and fell with a thud, lying on his back in the night-damp grass, looking up at her. She was the most beautiful creature in the world. She had his whole heart and soul. But she didn't want him. She never had.
"Are you all right?" she called down to him.
She did care! He was elated.
"Yes," he managed, though the wind had been knocked out of him.
"Then go home. I mean it. Right now."
She didn't care! He was crushed. He watched her pull her head inside and slam the window. He rolled over, got to his hands and knees, and then he heaved, once, twice.
Man alive! Mrs. Longwood was not going to appreciate finding that in the grass the next morning. He had to do something.
He wandered over to Drake's barn and took two buckets, filled them with water and forgot momentarily why. After a minute, he felt like throwing up again and did so, this time behind the barn. He felt enormously better and remembered why he was getting buckets of water.
Returning to Ellie's, he threw the water on the mess he'd made and hoped that made it better, though all it did was spread it around some.
He sighed and returned the buckets to Drake's so they wouldn't suspect a nighttime thief. He had nothing left to do but stroll home.
Home was empty, cold, and lifeless. None of which should have bothered him. Never would have before. But now he longed for Ellie's warmth in his bed, her laughter and her wry wit, even her scathing comments directed at him.
Normally, he would have had another drink and called it a night. But he had no liquor in the house and no stomach for it either, apparently.
He patted his pockets. Surprisingly, he had some cigarettes, but remembering how they made her hold her nose and not want to kiss him, he left the packet on the kitchen table and climbed the stairs for bed.
Was he whipped?
Hell, no! But he was weary.
He'd been on the move so long, it seemed strange not to be rum
maging around in his bag for something to lay his head on. He stretched out on the bare mattress, not bothering to look for sheets, and then he felt around for the pillow and tucked it under his head.
He'd made his fortune, secured his future, and he'd grown up, but he still had very little to offer a woman. Except his love. He drifted off to sleep dreaming that he was jumping from train to train and from riverboat to riverboat, searching for Ellie.
* * *
Thaddeus climbed the stairs attached to the side of the feedstore. Above it, Dan lived with his new bride, just as his parents had lived there when Dan's father ran the store. He looked the same as ever, except maybe a little rounder in the middle. If Belinda was any bit as good a cook as her Aunt Jessie, that explained why.
Thaddeus kept his mouth shut about his friend's slightly thickening middle as Dan grabbed him firmly by the hand and shook it. Dan, however, wasn't so tactful.
"You look like shit," he said.
"What?" Thaddeus was surprised. He'd put on a clean shirt and pants.
"Your eyes are bloodshot, you haven't shaved, and your hair looks as if you've been dragged through sagebrush. I guess you didn't want to show me up in front of my missus."
Thaddeus laughed but tried to smooth his hair down. "Where is the unlucky lady?"
Dan chortled. "You're right. I'm the lucky one. Follow me."
A moment later, after they strode through to the small kitchen at the back and Thaddeus met Belinda, he couldn't help but think Dan was right. He was damn lucky, for sure.
Belinda was pretty and sweet, soft-spoken and, as he found out, a blessed good cook. She offered him a plate containing slices of vanilla cake, lavender cookies, and toffee squares, and the robust aroma of fresh coffee teased his nostrils.
Thaddeus pretended to look behind him for the rest of the guests. Then he laughed. "I can see why Dan is filling out so nicely."
Belinda blushed and lowered her gaze. "He does love my cooking. I think that's why he married me."
"Heck, no," Dan said, grabbing her around the waist and hugging her. "At least, it wasn't only her cooking. Her coffee is over the moon, too."
Thaddeus saw how they looked at each other. "I imagine it was her good nature and attractive face that caught you."
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