“Yep. Sure do. You smell jist a mite ripe to this discernin’ nose.” Julius pulled back on the brake as the mules started descending a particularly steep part of the road. “Whoa there, girls. Easy now.”
Andrew held to the side of the seat as they jostled over some ruts in the road, and Julius turned his attention to driving the treacherous downgrade to the base of the mountain. Andrew had wanted to rush straight to Margaret’s house as soon as the wagon stopped in Bridal Veil, but Julius was right. He was definitely in need of a scrubbing first. As anxious as he was to see Margaret, he’d not subject anyone else to sitting near him until he’d had a chance to spiff up a bit.
He’d spent the entire week thinking about Margaret and wondering if she ever thought of him. Were Sammie and Joel still at her home, and had anything more been discovered about Martin Jenkins’ death? He remembered the comment Donnie had made, trying to cast aspersions on his and Margaret’s names the morning they’d found Jenkins’ body. No telling what that young man was trying to prove, but he guessed he might be jealous. Margaret had mentioned the night of the ice-cream social that she’d turned Donnie down when he’d asked if he could escort her. That alone would be reason enough. Hopefully, he’d not bothered her since and wouldn’t continue to make trouble.
Sammie and Joel were another quandary. Where had the children come from, and where did they belong? He’d grown to care about them, but it wasn’t realistic to ignore the fact that the children had run from something, or someone. They’d stated their parents were dead, but how could he know that for sure? They might have an abusive father or possibly a guardian who had a legal right to expect their return, if not a moral one. He needed to discuss their future with Margaret. As much as she cared about them, she couldn’t take them in permanently without finding out the truth. He owed it to her father, as well as to Margaret, to help her make a wise decision.
His thoughts swung toward the possibility of a future with Margaret and hung there. It took not seeing her sweet face to realize how deeply he cared. He wanted to rush to her this evening and declare himself, but something held him back. Margaret had always been charming, but there’d been little to indicate she shared his feelings. They’d reached no agreement, and other than attending church and the ice-cream social with him, there’d been nothing close to courtship. The last thing he wanted was to offer his heart and have her turn him aside because he’d rushed her when she wasn’t ready. A little more time might be best.
He settled against the bouncing seat and smiled as a house on the edge of Bridal Veil came into view. First things first. He’d get home, take a bath, grab a quick bite to eat, and walk over to Margaret’s. Maybe he could convince her to take a long walk with him tomorrow, or better yet, a picnic. That was just the thing. A quiet picnic in the woods near the stream, with time to talk and laugh. Maybe he’d get a better idea what her feelings might be, if they spent some time together while the children played nearby.
Friday evening Nathaniel stood in his backyard staring at the dead rosebush. The note still burned a hole in his heart every time he thought about it. What might have happened if he’d come to the meeting place early, before Margaret’s father must have discovered their secret? Of course, he didn’t know for sure that’s what happened, and would never know, unless he spoke to Margaret.
The thought stirred his pulse and he drew in a soft breath. Why not? Why hadn’t he done it the day he’d found it? After all, what did he have to lose? He shrugged—just another hit to his pride. But what if there was a chance of him and Margaret getting back together? He shook his head and gave a wry laugh. He thought of an old expression his grandmother had been fond of—about as much chance as a snowball on a hot griddle. He could tell from Margaret’s demeanor that she had no use for him. Besides, it appeared she’d found a suitor in that Browning fellow.
Another thought struck him as he tossed the rose on the trash pile and swung to leave the yard. What if Margaret believed he’d abandoned her? His heart sank, and he groaned. Why hadn’t that occurred to him before now?
He walked back into the house and roamed from the kitchen to the bedroom and back again, then stalked to the mantel and plucked the box off the polished surface and flipped it open. The simple, almost tragic word stared up at him once again. Yes. So much meaning housed in that word. But he’d moved on. He’d made a life for himself beyond Margaret. He’d decided long ago that it wouldn’t have worked. She was too young, too innocent, too idealistic in so many ways.
The only times they’d quarreled were when the subject of her faith arose, and she’d insisted they attend church together. He’d humored her at the time, willing to go occasionally if that’s what it took to make her happy. Maybe she’d grown past some of that by now. But then again, probably not. After all, she was with Browning in church the one Sunday he’d attended. Not that he had anything personal against church, it just wasn’t a priority in his life, and he’d always felt she made it too big of an issue.
A sudden resolve struck him and he grasped the box, withdrew the note, and strode to the door. Church be hanged. Part of his heart still cared about Margaret, and he’d be hog-tied, as Grandpappy used to say, if he’d walk away without at least trying.
Five minutes later he stepped up on the front porch of the small cabin where Margaret lived and rapped on the door. Light footsteps inside sounded through the nearby open window, and his stomach turned to mush. The door whipped ajar, and he opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut again. The young, slender girl he’d seen with Margaret at the ice-cream social stood across the threshold, staring at him. “Is Miss Garvey at home?”
“Nope.” She began to swing the door shut.
He placed the flat of his hand against the wood surface. “Hold on, miss. I’m an old friend. Can you tell me when she’ll be back?”
“Nope. She didn’t say.” She wrinkled her nose at him.
Frustration rose in his throat and threatened to choke him. “Do you know where she might have gone?”
The girl stared him full in the eyes and cocked her head to the side, looking as though she were trying to see into his mind, or at the least, into his heart. “For a walk, but I don’t know where. She don’t tell me her business, and I wouldn’t tell you if she did.”
The snippy little girl wasn’t even trying to be polite. He shook his head and tried again. “I’d just like to know…”
“She went to the waterfall,” a young man’s voice spoke from behind the door.
“Hush, Joel.” Snapping brown eyes glared at Nathaniel, then whipped around to the boy standing somewhere behind her. “We don’t tell strangers Miss Margaret’s business.”
“But he said he’s her friend.”
“Huh. Didn’t ’pear to be her friend at the ice-cream social. I saw how she looked at him, all frosty and proud. Don’t think she’d want us to go tellin’ him anything.” She swung back to the door. “My brother doesn’t know anything, he’s just guessin’. Sorry we can’t help.” This time she succeeded in shutting the door, and Nathaniel didn’t stop her.
Why were those youngsters still at Margaret’s house? He thought they were family friends visiting for a day or so when he’d met them at the social. Were they taking advantage of Margaret’s generous spirit? That girl certainly hadn’t learned any manners in her short life, and the boy didn’t seem terribly bright, from all appearances. At least he’d spoken up and given a clue to Margaret’s whereabouts.
The waterfall. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He’d walked across town to get here, and the waterfall was on the other side, close to her old—his new—house. He’d forgotten that was one of her favorite places. He shoved his hat back onto his head. Time to find Margaret and see if he could put some old ghosts to rest.
Margaret sat on the bank of the stream a hundred feet below the waterfall, plucking at the grass growing close to the water’s edge. It was the first time since the children had come, and certainly the first time since they’d tri
ed to run away, that she’d felt comfortable leaving them for any length of time. Samantha had promised with her hand covering her heart that she and Joel would still be home when she got back. The solemn look in Samantha’s eyes convinced her that the girl had spoken the truth, and Margaret left with a sense of peace blanketing her soul. Maybe Sammie was beginning to trust her, and she could get beneath the hard shell the girl used to protect her small family.
Margaret couldn’t believe how much the two young people had grown on her since they’d arrived. Sure, she’d always enjoyed children, or she wouldn’t have taken up teaching, but Samantha and Joel had struck a deep place in her heart. Not that there was a bevy of occupations a girl could turn to in a small town—which made it even nicer that she enjoyed her job. But Samantha and Joel were different. They weren’t just any children. Margaret wrinkled her brow and struggled to understand her feelings. They were hurting, scared, and needed someone to protect them—and they accepted her for who she was, demanding little in return. It had been too long since she’d felt needed in just that way.
The sun streaming through the trees warmed her bare ankles, and the soft breeze dried the last drops of water lingering from cooling her feet in the creek. The water still had a bite to it, as the snow in the high Cascades continued to melt and pour into the swollen creeks. The rush of the waterfall and the distance from town softened the whine of the planer mill to the point where the stream and the squawk of a blue jay were the primary sounds breaking the peace of the late afternoon hour.
She leaned back on the grassy bank and laced her fingers under her head. How wonderful to experience such peace, after so much turmoil and pain. Nothing would mar this hour that God had given her. She closed her eyes and lifted her heart to Him, seeking to understand what He might want to share. It had been far too long since she’d opened her soul to His voice, and even now, fear and doubt tried to creep into her spirit. What made her think God would show her the answers to the myriad of questions that sometimes kept her awake at night?
What if she thought she heard His voice again, and made the wrong decision regarding the children—or Andrew? It wasn’t just her life that hung in the balance, the way it had been when she thought God told her He’d take care of her future with Nathaniel. Obviously, it hadn’t mattered to Nathaniel, but she’d been so sure. So positive…
A nearby bush rustled and her heart jumped, then galloped like a runaway horse. Squirrels and blue jays wouldn’t cause that much movement, and deer wouldn’t approach with human scent strong on the breeze. That left a man, or a bear. She stared at the bush as the memory of the hobos who’d chased Sammie through the woods raced through her mind. Nothing moved. Maybe she’d imagined it. Her muscles began to relax, and she let out her pent-up breath.
“Margaret?” A low voice spoke a yard or so behind her.
The forest had grown strangely silent other than the pounding of the falling water just upstream.
She sat upright and whirled around, her hand clutched to her breast, trying to calm the thump of her racing heart. Her lips parted, and for a moment no sound would come. “Nathaniel.”
He took a tentative step closer, his hat clutched in his hands. “I’m sorry I startled you.” He averted his eyes from her bare ankles. “I’d hoped I might speak to you.”
His glance reminded her she’d taken off her shoes and stockings and had hitched her skirt up to her calves. She yanked the hem of her dress down, then turned her burning face away from him. “Speak to me?” Her mind fumbled to grasp his words.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him take a step backward. “I’ll just head on home. I’m sorry I intruded.”
She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “You don’t have to leave.”
He hesitated and spun the hat in his hands. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She nodded at a flat rock not far from the bank of the stream. “Please have a seat. I’m afraid I’ll get a crick in my neck staring up at you this way.”
“Certainly.” He settled himself on the hard surface and looked everywhere except at her. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
It was hard enough having Nathaniel back in Bridal Veil, but if he were playing games…. She straightened her shoulders. “Please do not trifle with me, Mr. Cooper. If you’ve come to say you’re sorry after all these years, there’s no need. I am no longer the young girl you left behind.”
His head snapped around, and his startled eyes met hers. “I beg your pardon, Miss Garvey. I did not come to trifle with your feelings, or to ask your forgiveness.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What, then?”
He stood to his feet and shoved his hand into his pocket, drawing out a folded piece of paper. A quick step brought him to her side, and he thrust out his hand. “To show you this.”
She stared at the note but didn’t move to take it. “What is it?”
He shook the missive and pushed it closer to her face. “You’ll understand after you see it. Please.”
A flash of curiosity flicked through her mind. What could it hurt? “Fine.” She gripped the corner of the paper, being careful that her fingers didn’t touch his. “How did you find me?”
He sank back onto the boulder. “I went to your house and spoke to the girl who’s staying with you. I must say, she’s not very forthcoming with information where you’re concerned.”
“You saw Sammie?” She grasped her skirt and got up on her knees. “Were she and Joel all right? I should get home. I’ve been away too long.”
He held up his hand. “They were fine and knew where you’d gone.” A twinkle sparked in his eyes. “The boy let it slip, much to his sister’s dismay. I don’t think that girl cares too much for me.”
She smoothed out her skirt, one hand still gripping the note. “Sammie hasn’t learned to trust people yet.” She glanced down at her hand, then back up at him. “What is this?”
He placed his forearms on his knees and leaned forward, earnestness lighting his face. “If you read it, I think you’ll understand.”
Margaret looked at the paper for a long moment, then slowly unfolded it. She read the single word printed there and turned it over. Then she raised her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
A flood of emotions tore through her breast. All these years, he’d had this note? He got my reply and left me, just as I thought.
She pushed to her feet and balled up the paper, throwing it on the ground. “I’d finally put you behind me and moved on. Why come back now and bring proof that you found my note and still decided to leave?” She took a step away from where he sat.
Nathaniel rose and bent to pluck the crumpled note from the grass. Shock passed over his features, followed by understanding. He took a step forward and extended his hand. “Margaret—that’s not what happened. Please listen? Your father buried it in the rose garden.”
His calm voice hit her hard and she drew to a sudden stop. “I don’t believe you.” She swiveled around and glared. “My father would never have done something like that.”
“I have our box back at the house, crusted with dirt. The company assigned me the house where you and your father lived. I noticed a dead rosebush by the back fence and dug it up. I found the box in the hole with the note inside. If you didn’t bury it, then who do you think did?”
Margaret felt the blood drain from her face. She leaned against the rough bark of a small fir, trying to take in Nathaniel’s words. Her father wouldn’t have hurt her that way. She refused to believe it. He knew how much agony she’d gone through when Nathaniel left Bridal Veil. He couldn’t have missed the sadness in her eyes, or the number of times she’d locked herself in her room and cried herself to sleep. “There has to be another explanation.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
“You didn’t bury the box?” He stood with legs spread wide, arms down at his sides.
She raised her head and stared at him. “No. I never saw it again after leaving my reply. I a
ssumed you found it and changed your mind.” She shook her head slowly, trying to understand. “You found it in our garden?”
“Yes. Under a rosebush.”
“Was it close to the corner of the fence?”
“It was.”
She moaned softly and covered her face. “Daddy planted that rose the afternoon you and I planned to leave. I didn’t notice it until the next day when I came out to sit in the yard hoping you hadn’t gone, and you’d find me there.” Her shoulders shook, and tears slipped from her closed eyes. “Why? Why would he do that to me?”
Nathaniel took a step toward her. “He didn’t like me. I always knew that, but you refused to see it. I think in your heart you must have known, since you tried to keep our relationship a secret.”
She raised wet lashes and stared at him. “But if he saw the note, he’d have known how much it would hurt me.”
He shrugged and smiled wryly. “If he read the note, he’d have known you were running away without telling him, too.”
She shoved away from the tree. “I need to get home.”
He reached out his hand but didn’t touch her. “Please don’t go, Margaret.”
She took a step back. “I don’t understand. Papa married Mama when she was barely seventeen. Why did he think he had the right to interfere in my life? I turned seventeen a month after you left. I wasn’t a child, but if he buried that note, then he didn’t trust me.”
“Or me.”
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t trust that I could make a good decision, and once again, he stepped in and made it for me.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted you to know that I didn’t abandon you, but I didn’t think it through.”
“No. You did what was right. I need time, that’s all—time to try and figure out who my father was.” She walked over to where her shoes and stockings lay and plucked them up. “I’m going home.” She held up a hand when he took a step forward. “I don’t want you to walk me. Please, Nathaniel, if you still care at all, please don’t come with me.”
Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon Page 15
