“You can do that yourself. He told me this morning that he plans to leave for that little town of yours on Monday.”
Sam sat back heavily. That meant Father would arrive on the last day of the month, no doubt to sign the property deal the following day. If Sam was going to help Ruth’s family, he must come up with a solution in the next three days.
“Please give Miss Fox my best,” Mother said. “I hope to meet her one day.”
Introducing Ruth to his parents meant courtship. Sam gripped the telephone receiver tightly, as if he could close off this topic by squeezing shut the line. He was not ready for courtship or marriage. He’d vowed never to enter that arena again, but Mother’s words opened his eyes to the obvious.
Marriage was the one sure way to save Ruth’s family.
* * *
Even before Ruth arrived at the Grange Hall, her stomach had knotted. She couldn’t get a bite of supper down. Her hands shook. Her knees quaked as she climbed the steps into the hall. The wooden floor shook under the pounding of many feet. The band played a lively tune.
She couldn’t do this.
Attract Sam Roth? What had she been thinking? She had placed all her hope on the hopeless. For despite her sisters’ fussing over her hair and gown, she still looked like an old goose in a princess’s gown.
“I’m going home.”
“No, you’re not.” Jen corralled her. “You’re dancing with your Mr. Roth.” She and Minnie dragged Ruth toward the line of eagerly waiting girls.
Thankfully, Ruth couldn’t see the others clearly. Jen had talked her into leaving her glasses at home. The blur of dresses swirling across the floor made her head spin. These girls wouldn’t make a misstep. They wouldn’t endure awkward pauses in the conversation.
“This is a bad idea.” One dance lesson was not enough.
Ruth shrank when Mrs. Vanderloo swooped near on the arm of her husband. Even though Ruth had dyed the ruined gown and restyled it completely, she feared the woman would recognize it.
“Go out there.” Jen pushed her toward the line of girls hoping to claim a dance partner. “No one will ask you to dance when you’re standing back here with the wallflowers.”
“But—” Ruth almost explained that she was comfortable with the wallflowers, that she was a wallflower, but Jen and Minnie had spent precious money crafting her an elegant turban to match the dress. Its rhinestones drew too much attention, in Ruth’s opinion, but her sisters had been so excited. Beattie had even loaned Ruth her crystal necklace. For a moment, Ruth had almost believed the reflection in the mirror. The elegant woman looking back at her could live in Kensington Estates, but that was only a looking-glass fantasy.
Here at the hall, reality set in. No fancy gown or glittering turban could hide the fact that plain old Ruth Fox had come to the dance to catch a man.
“I’ll join you,” Minnie said, tugging her toward the line of girls waiting for a dance partner.
“Me, too.” Jen grabbed her other hand.
Ruth’s stomach lurched. “I need air.”
Ruth’s sisters either ignored her or didn’t hear, and Ruth could not break their iron grip. Her stomach spun faster than a sewing-machine pulley.
“I can’t see,” she hissed.
“We’ll tell you who’s coming,” Jen said. “There’s Peter Simmons, and he’s carrying a yellow rose. Minnie, get ready. He’s headed for you.”
“No, he’s not.” Minnie hissed back at Jen.
Ruth could feel her youngest sister’s tension and could sympathize.
The lanky young man stopped in front of Minnie and shoved the flower at her. “Wanna dance?”
Minnie trembled. “I’m busy.” She looked left and right. “I’m waiting for someone. I’ll check the door to the hall.” Without another word, she fled.
Ruth felt rather than saw Peter’s dejection. The unclaimed yellow bloom fell to the floor, and then he excused himself and left.
“It’s so tragic,” Jen sighed. “He likes her but she can’t think of anyone but Reggie.”
“Peter’s the better guy.” It didn’t feel quite right calling him a “man” just yet.
“At least with Minnie standing scout at the door we’ll know when your Mr. Roth arrives. Don’t worry. It’ll work out perfectly.”
Ruth did not see how. She had come here to win a man’s affection and get him to offer marriage. It was wrong, terribly wrong. A gentleman should take the lead, like Peter did with Minnie, not vice versa.
She would gladly give up the entire night in order to run home to hide in her bedroom. But if she didn’t do this, Daddy would have to leave the sanitarium. She must attempt to win over Sam, no matter how painful. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.
Her knees wobbled, but she somehow managed to arrive at the line of waiting girls. She must be the oldest of the lot. Even Eloise Grattan was too sensible to place herself on display like this. At least she couldn’t see the sneers that undoubtedly followed her.
“Here’s a spot,” Jen said, squeezing them both into the narrowest gap. “Hello, Jane.”
Though Ruth couldn’t make out her features in the dim light, the girl’s response identified her as Jane Grozney, whose older sister, Paulette, had married at seventeen and had her first baby a year later. Jane had been in Minnie’s class and, according to her sister, was eager for a husband. How could she ever compete with girls Minnie’s age?
Ruth hugged her aching midsection.
“Stop looking so nervous,” Jen ordered. “And put your arms down. You’re wrinkling your dress.”
“As if you ever cared about wrinkles.” Teasing her sister doused some of the nerves.
“Here comes Gil Vanderloo.”
Oh, dear. He probably intended to snub her or say something nasty. Ruth edged back, but Jen yanked her forward.
“Hi, Gil. How’s college?” Jen asked brightly.
Ruth pinched her sister’s arm to get her to stop. The last thing she wanted was to talk to any Vanderloo.
“Would you care to dance?” His nasal tone insinuated superiority.
Ruth drew in her breath. She couldn’t tell whom he’d asked to dance. If it was Jen, perhaps she should encourage her. After all, Jen had suggested Gil as her first choice.
“Go ahead,” she whispered to her sister.
But instead, Jane Grozney warbled a throaty “Me?” and left with Gil.
“I’m sorry,” Ruth said.
Jen laughed. “He’s too short anyway. And painfully dull.”
Ruth could imagine Jen’s wrinkled nose even though she couldn’t see it.
“Oh!” Jen chirped, her grip on Ruth’s arm tightening. “There he is. Oh, Ruth. I wish you could see Sam. He’s so handsome in his black tuxedo. Oh, my. His vest must be silk, and he has a white rose in his lapel. Every single girl is looking at him.”
That did not make Ruth feel better.
Jen squeezed tighter. “He’s headed this way. Stand up straight. Your turban’s a little crooked. And the clasp on your necklace worked its way to the front.”
Jen fussed over her until Ruth pushed her away. “Stop it. He probably wants to talk to you anyway. He only asked me for one dance.”
Ruth expected her sister to protest, but Jen’s attention was focused straight ahead at the mass of moving humanity that looked to Ruth like nothing more than a swirl of color and motion.
“Mr. Roth,” Jen said as a tall, dark figure halted before them.
“Miss Jen. Miss Fox.” He drew in his breath ever so slightly. “I’ve never seen anyone so lovely. That shade of blue makes your eyes shine like sapphires.”
Ruth felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Jen’s eyes were hazel, and she wasn’t wearing blue. He wasn’t looking at Ruth’s sister. He was complimenting her.
“I trust you saved a dance for me,” he said.
Ruth nodded. She couldn’t tell him that no one else had asked her to dance. She couldn’t say a thing.
“Good. I hear the band starting a new tune. Ah, the ‘Tennessee Waltz.’ Shall we?”
Ruth’s pulse accelerated, and she forgot every step that Beatrice had drilled into her head. Every instinct told her to flee, but Jen shoved her forward. If Sam extended his arm, Ruth couldn’t discern it in the dim light.
“You did promise,” he urged.
“She’s just shy,” Jen announced to Ruth’s mortification, “and hasn’t danced much.”
“Don’t be afraid,” he said softly. “Just follow my lead.”
His lead? She was supposed to follow? Ruth gulped. Beatrice had mentioned the man leading, but the instant Ruth heard it wasn’t her responsibility, she’d stopped listening. She never dreamed it meant she had to do something.
Jen must have figured out the problem because she whispered, “Lift your hand.”
“I’ll be with you for every step.” He took her hand and placed it on his arm.
Ruth’s nerves fled under Sam’s confident strength. His compliments comforted her. If only they didn’t have to dance, but he guided her onto the nearly empty floor. Only one other couple remained from the previous dance. She stood in the open, where everyone could see her fail.
Ruth clutched his arm tighter.
“You’ll have to let go.” He chuckled and gently pried her hand from his arm.
After facing her, he took her right hand in his left while his other hand wrapped around her waist. His touch generated the most delicious sensation. Not the kind of excitement that Minnie talked about all the time, but the feeling of being secure and cherished. Had he felt it, too? The tender connection held them together with the fragility of a silk thread, but even silk could bear much weight if many strands were woven together. With Sam’s assistance, perhaps she could do this.
Her heart thumped and her head spun as the room narrowed to just the two of them. This close, she could see him, and what she saw took her breath away. He gazed at her with such tenderness that she melted. Those cocoa eyes drew her in. The gentle smile made her forget that she was a poor spinster. Sam Roth treated her like a queen.
From far away the strains of the waltz urged them to move. The air had grown thick, and the music faded. She sensed the movement of his body to her right, but her feet stuck to the floor. By the time he’d taken one long step, she was hopelessly behind. She shuffled rapidly and counted faster, but he was ahead of her again. This time she took a bigger step and landed square on his foot.
He groaned.
She cringed. “I’m sorry.”
Then she stepped on his other foot. Mortified, she shot backward out of his grasp and careened into another dancer. The impact sent Ruth off-balance. She flailed her arms, but could not recover. Everything slowed.
No. No. No. This could not happen. Not in front of everyone.
Yet it was happening. Sam slid out of view as she went down.
Chapter Ten
Sam caught Ruth and pulled her close. She felt so right in his arms. So vulnerable. So lovely. Her porcelain complexion. Her perfectly curved lips. So thoroughly kissable.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth drew into a perfect circle.
Had she read his thoughts? The middle of a dance floor was no place to claim a first kiss, not with a woman like Ruth.
Still, he couldn’t rip his gaze away. The stunning dress of silver-blue lace atop midnight-blue satin only highlighted the flush of her cheeks. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful. Her eyes were especially brilliant tonight. He could not ignore their pull. Nor could he deny that in the course of one short week, his feelings for her had surpassed mere friendship. Any man would help a woman who’d stumbled. He wanted to prevent her from ever stumbling again. He wanted to wipe away every tear and worried look. He wanted to make her smile. That made the decision he’d arrived at after talking to his father more palatable. But not here, in front of everyone. This must be a private moment. He must convince her to join him outside.
“Ruth.” Her name shone with the luster of the finest pearl, and he could get no further.
Her lips softened at the mention of her name, and without thinking, he cradled her head. Such soft skin. Such luminous eyes. He brushed his thumb down her temple. That was when he realized why her eyes looked so different tonight. And why she’d stumbled.
“You forgot your glasses.” He withdrew his hand from what had been far too intimate a gesture. “No wonder you tripped.”
Her smile crumpled, and liquid pooled in those lovely eyes. Her lips, so inviting mere seconds ago, now quivered. She ducked her head, but not before he saw the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks.
She liked him.
Now he felt a little shaky. During his debate over what to do, he’d never considered that she might already harbor feelings for him. That fact threw his perfectly logical plan out of kilter. A practical marriage was one thing. Marriage for love was quite another. He’d married Lillian for love and look how that turned out. Peter was in love with Minnie, who’d scorned the lad’s attempt to win her heart. Sam had found Peter outside, dejected, and no amount of encouragement could convince the boy to go back into the hall.
Sam could understand. The room closed in on him. He couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of the hall. Now.
But Ruth awaited his next move.
He fought back the desire to flee. Ruth deserved to be treated with respect, not abandoned on the dance floor.
“I need to go outside for some air.” He motioned toward the door, unsure she could hear over the music.
“Me, too.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted her following, but her shy smile whisked away the doubts. Ruth was not Lillian. She did not manipulate men. She kept no secrets.
He offered her his arm. When she placed her pale hand on his black sleeve, he marveled at the delicate fingers. Though his heart pounded and he longed to pull her close, he kept her at a respectful distance as they threaded through the crowd. Some of the older ladies watched with unconcealed interest. Whispered comments were exchanged behind fans and gloved hands. Clearly he had violated Pearlman’s strict standards of propriety. He hoped Ruth’s poor vision prevented her from noticing.
Between eager girls, proud mothers and curious businessmen, Sam got stopped dozens of times before reaching the door. Perspiration dampened his brow. The air thickened. He was sick of fending off questions. Somewhere en route, Ruth had slipped her hand from his arm. When at last Sam reached the exit, he raced down the steps, eager to escape into the open. He could breathe again, could settle himself and do what must be done. He paced back and forth, drawing in the cool evening air. Sam made several passes before he realized that Ruth stood on the stoop.
“You followed.”
She nodded and ducked her head.
Something was wrong. “Did you forget something inside?”
She shook her head, lip quivering. “I—I...” She reached to her right, hand waving, seeking...
She couldn’t see.
Sam chided himself for selfishly storming out of the hall. “Some gentleman I am, dashing off like that.”
He climbed the steps and took her arm. She gratefully slumped against him, and he edged her toward the railing. Once she’d grasped it, he eased her down the steps. Crossing the uneven ground in front of the hall proved just as treacherous as the steps. More than once she stumbled. Each time he tightened his grip on her arm, and she managed to recover her balance.
Only when they’d moved beyond earshot of any listeners did he speak. “Promise me you’ll never forget your glasses again.”
She turned away and wrung her hands. “I—I didn’t forget
them.” Her shoulders shook.
Oh, no. She was crying. This was not going well. “You need them to see.” He swiped at his mouth, wondering what made a woman do something so foolish. Vanity? Or was she trying to impress him? “Listen to me. I couldn’t care less whether or not a woman wears glasses.”
In the light of the full moon, he saw her shake her head. “Yes, you do.”
He lightly cupped those quivering shoulders. “No, I don’t. You’re beautiful with or without them.”
She wrenched away. “Don’t say such things. I know it’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.” He positioned himself in front of her so she couldn’t walk away. “Have I ever lied to you?”
She shook her head but again turned away.
He was not about to let her hide from him. Not when it was this important. “My late wife was what society called beautiful.”
Ruth gasped softly and lifted her face. “You’re widowed?”
“She died almost eight years ago.”
“I’m sorry. How did it happen?”
He felt the question quiver on the cool air, like the moths fluttering around the lit windows. For eight years he’d tried to bury the pain of that night. He’d told no one of Lillian’s betrayal, not even his mother. Everyone assumed she had accepted a ride home with Ned because Sam had left the party early. They assumed her death caused his agony. Of the three who had known the truth, only Sam was still alive. He could lock away the truth forever, but as he looked at Ruth, he had to admit the toll that secret had taken.
The decision was simple. Confide in Ruth, reopening the wound, and gain her trust. Or hold on to that secret and lose her confidence.
He took a deep breath. “She died in a motorcar crash.” The flat words couldn’t fully mask the hurt of that night. “It was raining. They were traveling too fast. The coroner said she died instantly. A broken neck.”
Not so for Ned. He’d lingered long enough to beg for forgiveness, but Sam couldn’t give it. He couldn’t accept his best friend’s betrayal, and he couldn’t forgive the man, even on his deathbed.
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