by E. E. Burke
“You loved her.” Victoria stated it as if it was a fact, not a question.
He had loved his wife, much as he hated to admit it because she sure as hell hadn’t loved him. Now, though, he felt nothing. Like she had died without leaving any good memories. “She killed whatever love I had for her.”
“But that’s why you won’t let yourself care. You think I’m like her.”
Half of what she said was true.
“You’re nothing like her. You’re honest and generous and selfless. You have more kindness in your little finger than she has in her whole body.”
“If she was so bad, why did you love her?” Victoria’s expression seemed less cynical. There was an anxious tone to her voice, as if the answer meant a great deal to her.
David had no desire to talk about his past. He only wanted to discuss their future. However, Victoria made it clear she would go no further until he opened that door. For her—only for her—he’d do it.
“Rachel wasn’t bad at first, or I couldn’t see it. Her family was dirt poor. Her father spent what little he earned on whiskey. Her mother passed on when Rachel was sixteen, and she ran away from home. I gave her a job because I wanted to help her…” That wasn’t the whole truth. “It didn’t hurt that she was pretty and vivacious. But then the old man came after her. He just wanted the money she made, but he took a strap to her when she refused to give it to him. She begged me to protect her. The only way I could do that was to marry her.”
Vulnerability, he’d discovered, was a strong aphrodisiac. Rachel had sensed and exploited his protective streak. He hadn’t blamed her for manipulating him, and had been foolish enough to think love would change her, soften her and make her less grasping. He’d been wrong.
“It wasn’t long before she complained about being bored with working in the store. I thought having a baby would help, and for a while it seemed to settle her down. Then she got restless again. When she started taking Fannie out all the time, I worried. I had crazy fears about something happening to them. We fought over it, constantly. Then she started sneaking away after I went to sleep. One night, I tracked her down and found her in bed with another man. She left with him the next morning.”
He would’ve killed the gambler had he not feared he’d be jailed and Rachel would leave town with Fannie.
“The most generous thing she did was to leave Fannie with me instead of taking her. But that might be because her lover didn’t want a child along.”
Victoria had been watching him, weeping. “She took something with her just as valuable. She stole your trust.”
David’s throat closed. He wanted to deny Rachel had gotten away with anything, but he couldn’t. Victoria had it right. He’d let his faithless wife steal away with part of his soul. What was left might not be worth salvaging.
That wasn’t what he should say. Not if he wanted Victoria to stay with him.
First, he had to dry those tears. He took her hand and checked beneath the hem of her sleeve, found a lacy handkerchief tucked away in the spot women kept them for emergencies, and then he wiped away the evidence that she cared too much.
She’d become important to him, too, in some ways, necessary. But he couldn’t for the life of him put what he felt into words. All he knew for certain was that he wanted to marry her.
He tucked the handkerchief into her palm. Cupped her small, delicate hand in his, holding it like he’d once held a baby bird, fearful he’d crush it if he didn’t take care. “I do want you as my wife, and not just because of Fannie.”
She searched his eyes with a kind of desperate hope that sent a shudder through him. “Can you love me, David?”
The simple question struck with the force of a hard punch. He leaned back, staggered. This shouldn’t come as a surprise. He’d known from the start what she expected, what she’d come out here to find. Only, he had fooled himself into thinking he could satisfy her with physical passion. But no, she would accept nothing less than love.
Sadness pulled at her eyes. “I didn’t think so.”
When she stood, he shot to his feet, panic setting in. As she walked to the door, he followed in her wake like a shadow. When she crossed the threshold, he stopped.
He watched as she descended, battling the urge to dash down the stairs after her. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, he called her name.
“Victoria.”
She paused.
If he told her what she wanted to hear, then she might stay.
Yes, but for how long? A month? A year? How long would it take before she realized she had married a different man than the one she’d fallen in love with?
“Don’t leave.” His agonized whisper must not have reached her because she stepped off the last riser and kept going. Even if she’d heard him, he had nothing more to say.
The night before Rachel had left, she’d told him that he was a bore, a tedious fellow who didn’t understand a woman’s needs and cared for nothing but work. He wasn’t the man she thought she’d married, and he couldn’t give her what she wanted.
He couldn’t give Victoria what she wanted, either. He couldn’t offer her what he didn’t have—a whole heart.
Chapter 10
Victoria drew her cape around her shoulders. Her arms, legs, chest, even her heart, felt numb. The walls of the storeroom closed in on her, overwhelming darkness threatened. It seemed as if she was walking through a dream, or a nightmare.
She’d heard David call her name, had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. Hoping. But when he said nothing more, she decided it was only her mind playing tricks on her. He hadn’t said a word when he’d followed to the door, and then he had stopped following. He wouldn’t call her back just to tell her what she already knew.
He couldn’t love her.
His silence at her question only confirmed what she suspected. When he’d told her about that wretched woman who’d ripped his heart out she’d known. Her hopes had collapsed in that moment.
Still in a daze, she entered the store. They hadn’t opened yet as it was still early.
Fannie sat on the counter, swinging her legs as she devoured a pastry. The excitement of the morning had given her an appetite. She’d dressed herself, right down to the mismatched stockings and patched frock. Victoria had tried to plait her hair, but the result looked like a cross between a misshapen snake and a porcupine. Why on earth David thought she would make a good mother was beyond her. She couldn’t even manage a proper braid.
Questions swirled in her mind. Should she go home? Unthinkable. Take the next train west? Irresponsible. Devise a plan? She’d thought she had a good one when she answered David’s advertisement.
She needed to get away. Have a few moments alone to think about what she’d done, and what she should do next. If she didn’t leave right now, she would do something foolish, perhaps break down. David had kindly wiped her tears, but he wouldn’t know what to do with a flood.
Bottles of milk rattled in the tray as Maggie carried them to the icebox. “Would you like something to eat? I’ve put out pastries. Help yourself…” Maggie’s head turned, and her gaze followed, topped by a perplexed frown. “Victoria? Are you all right?”
She floated past the potbellied stove, which had been stoked to just the right level of heat, something she would have to learn how to do, especially if she ended up on her own. “I’m not hungry just now. I think I’ll take a walk.”
“A walk?” Maggie’s reply was incredulous. “It’s freezing outside. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”
Victoria drew the hood over her head and cut off Maggie’s concerned voice by closing the door. She squelched a spurt of regret at her rudeness. David’s sister could stew for a while. If not for Maggie’s interference, he wouldn’t have an unwanted bride to deal with.
On the other hand, he could’ve put a stop to the travesty at any time. Instead, for some reason he’d played along. Even to the point of taking her through an Irish handfasting ceremony,
which conveniently offered the option of a limited term.
David might desire her. He might even be fond of her. Yet in the end, he wouldn’t commit his heart, which meant she couldn’t trust him with hers.
The wind buffeted her as she walked down the sidewalk. Her cape served as a poor shield. David was right about the wind never ceasing. It blew in across the plains and barreled into town, defying everything in its path. The unstoppable wind could knock down any barrier.
She could be persistent, too. She would blow down walls if she thought it would make David love her. But he was impervious to the cold, and unmoved by her efforts. He’d let her walk away. He’d let her go, without a word. Perhaps it was time she let go.
As she wandered aimlessly, her teeth began to chatter. Maggie was right, it was too cold to stay outside, and despite being devastated, she had no wish to freeze to death. She crossed over and started back. Her hands, despite gloves, grew numb, as did the tip of her nose. That was nothing compared to the frozen wasteland inside.
Without giving it much thought, she stopped in front of a window with a display of Christmas toys set up in a scene from the first Christmas. Even the hopeful message didn’t help. She’d followed a false star to a false promise.
“Excuse me, miss. May I be of assistance?”
It took Victoria a moment to realize the man was talking her. She dipped her chin politely. “No, thank you. I’m just out taking the air.”
He kept a firm hold on his black hat as the wind picked up. “Pardon me for saying so, but the air might take you.” His sky blue eyes shone with amusement and a mustache the color of cinnamon lifted beneath a smile. “Could I persuade you to come inside out of the cold? Offer you a cup of coffee, or tea. Whatever you prefer.”
Going somewhere with a stranger wasn’t part of her plan. Not that she had a plan, but that wouldn’t be part of it.
“We’ve not been properly introduced.”
“Let me fix that.” He swept off his hat. The wind ruffled ginger hair as he dipped his chin in a smart bow. “Gordon Sumner, at your service.”
Her gaze moved from the dignified gentleman to the window where gold letters spelled out the name he’d given. Her short trek had taken her nearly full circle, and she’d ended up across the street from David’s store. No sign of him, though. Hard evidence he didn’t want her, which left her feeling more bereft.
The nice gentleman waited politely. Being miserable didn’t mean she had to be rude. “Mr. Sumner. You’re the owner of this establishment, I presume?”
“You presume correctly. However, you have me at a disadvantage. You are…?”
“Victoria Lowell.” She held out her hand and he took her fingers briefly. Fine manners, elegant suit, and glib tongue, he showed signs of a gentleman. Whether he possessed other gentlemanly traits remained to be seen. She’d thought David O’Brien a man of great sensitivity with a romantic soul. Come to find out, that was his sister.
“Lowell. The name is familiar,” Mr. Sumner murmured.
Her family was well known in social circles up and down the East Coast, so it was no surprise the erstwhile Easterner might’ve heard the name. “As you said, we’ve never met.”
“That’s a Boston accent. Brahmin, if my ear serves me well.”
Victoria hated the term Oliver Wendell Holmes had given the tight-knit Boston aristocracy. Brahmins were the highest caste in India’s rigid system. She thought the epithet very un-American. “I am formerly of Boston.”
“About that cup of coffee?” Mr. Sumner rubbed his hands up and down on his arms. Perhaps he was getting chilled after having come outside without an overcoat.
The eastern merchant didn’t look like a rascal, as David had dubbed him. Actually, he seemed rather nice…and utterly uninteresting.
She cast a longing glance over her shoulder across the street and tried to tell herself she didn’t expect to see David.
“That’s a nice tree O’Brien put up. I wouldn’t have expected it,” Mr. Sumner mused.
Nor would she have expected it a week ago. But since then, David had given her glimpses of the man she’d imagined him to be, the man he probably was before he was wounded. Last night, he had created magic with nothing more than a handful of ribbons.
“Mr. O’Brien can be very creative when he chooses to be.”
He could also be amusing and thoughtful and caring, and upon occasion, romantic.
Still, he refused to give his heart. Perhaps he was afraid or he no longer possessed one. That awful woman had taken it. Whatever the reason, there was no changing him. No matter how much she longed for love, she would never find it with a man incapable of giving it. It was time she approached her life with more practicality. If nothing else, David had taught her that.
For now, she would remain in town. Find a place to live, and she’d need a job. She wouldn’t abandon Fannie, though. As difficult as it might be, she would continue Fannie’s lessons until David found another teacher, or a woman content to wed him without love. That woman wouldn’t be her.
She turned to the waiting gentleman. “A cup of coffee sounds nice.
* * *
David changed out of his grease-stained shirt and trousers into clean clothes. His nerves jumped every time he heard a sound. He kept listening for Victoria’s voice, expecting her to walk in and take him on like she had when she’d challenged him over Fannie’s lessons. His wife was small, but mighty. She didn’t back down. She wouldn’t give up and walk away from her vows. Not unless she thought he’d given up by letting her go.
Even so, Victoria wasn’t like Rachel. Even if he hadn’t spoken words of love, she knew the depth of his commitment. He’d pledged his devotion and protection for the rest of his life. There was nothing more binding than that. Once she was over being upset, she would realize this. She wouldn’t leave him.
Heading downstairs, he checked his watch. Seven. She’d been gone less than an hour. She was probably in the store having pastries with Maggie and Fannie.
Victoria wasn’t downstairs, and she wasn’t in the store.
Fannie sat next to a tray of pastries on the countertop with jelly on her face, playing with her doll, the one that looked like Victoria. An invisible band tightened around David’s chest.
“Have you seen Victoria?”
His daughter nodded.
Maggie’s head popped up from behind a display case and she shook out a cleaning cloth. “Victoria went for a walk, at least that’s what she said she was doing. I thought she acted strange. Distracted. Like she was in a daze. Is she still upset about burning the biscuits?
“The biscuits, no.” His heart pounded harder. He didn’t want to admit, or even acknowledge, that he’d burned more than biscuits. “Did she say where she was going?”
“She didn’t, but it’s too cold to go very far.”
Which meant she wasn’t on her way to the depot, which was several miles away. No one would walk that distance in this weather.
His hardheaded wife might.
David’s heart raced as a sense of urgency overtook him. He threw open the door and ran outside. Stupid, pigheaded fool. That’s what he was, for letting her walk away without convincing her to give their marriage a chance. He had to tell her he trusted her, and that he needed her for more than what she could do for Fannie.
She wasn’t on the sidewalk in either direction.
He dashed past the hitching rail, slipping in an icy patch alongside a tarp-covered wagon. One of the ropes keeping the tarp down proved to be his salvation. He clung to it until he got his feet under him.
She couldn’t have gone far in this cold.
David scanned the street. He nearly jerked his neck out of joint doing a double-take when he caught sight of her standing outside the Five Cent Store, talking with the owner.
Victoria smiled, took Sumner’s arm and allowed him to escort her inside.
Anger roared through David faster than a wind-blown fire. By God, he’d kill the bastard. At the
very least, he’d punch Sumner in the face for making off with his wife.
Before he reached the opposite sidewalk, he halted. Why would Victoria go over there? If she got cold, she could’ve crossed the street and come home. Instead, she’d sought refuge with his competitor, a man she couldn’t know very well. There could be only one reason. She knew that Sumner’s would be the last place on earth he would think to look for her. Therefore, she must not want him to find her. Which meant she was hurt, or furious, or more likely, simply done with him.
Cold dread pooled in his gut.
Forcing himself to turn around, David retraced his steps. Barging into Sumner’s store and hauling her across the street wouldn’t prove anything, except to show her he had a bad temper. If Victoria wanted to come home, she would do so. If not…
Reaching his store, he threw open the door so hard it banged against the wall.
Fannie twitched as if someone had fired a gun.
Maggie jerked up from behind the counter. “David? Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“Get the cash drawer,” he ground out. “We’re opening.”
His sister checked her watch. “Not for half an hour.”
David stuffed his anguish deep down inside. He would focus on work and not think about Victoria being over there with another man. Reason told him it didn’t mean anything. However, reason wasn’t preventing his gut from churning with anger.
He lifted Fannie off the counter. For a split second, he considered taking the doll and throwing it away. Seeing it every day would be pure agony.
Who was he kidding? He couldn’t shut Victoria out of his mind that easily.
With a lump in his throat, he handed the doll to Fannie.
She gazed at him with a question in her eyes.
“Victoria’s gone.”
Maggie put something on the shelf behind him. “Gone for a walk, you mean.”
“I mean she’s gone.” He might as well tell his sister the truth. “I let her go.”
Maggie grabbed his arm and jerked him around to face her. “What did you say to her?”
