Lorna Seilstad

by When Love Calls

  Hannah reeled back as if she’d been slapped. “I think we should discuss this more later.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. It’s my life and my choice.” She tipped her chin in the air. Her decision was final.

  Tessa grabbed Charlotte’s arm. “But we promised to support each other’s dreams.”

  “And what if my dream is to marry George? Are you going to support that?”

  “No, we aren’t.” Hannah shook her head. “Not unless you find yourself again. You can’t let George or anyone else define you.”

  “You’re not my mother!”

  “But I’m your sister.” Tears pooled in her hazel eyes. “And I love you enough to tell you the truth, even if it hurts.”

  Lincoln and George returned, and Charlotte sighed with relief. However, George didn’t move to join her. He didn’t even meet her gaze.

  Had Lincoln and Hannah ruined everything?

  Hannah touched the tip of her jack to the rim of the plug. Hearing a sharp click, she let the cord retract and spoke into her receiver. “I’m sorry, sir. That line is busy at the moment.”

  “Can’t you break into their call?”

  “Is it an emergency, sir?”

  “No, I guess not. I’ll ring them in a little while.”

  “I’ll ring you when the line is free.” She made a note of the caller’s number on her tablet. “Thank you.”

  She waved goodbye to Jo, who was off for her break, then leaned back in her chair and rubbed the back of her neck. After a nearly silent streetcar ride home on Saturday, tensions remained high into the night and on Sunday.

  Before Lincoln left Saturday evening, he explained he’d told George that he and Charlotte needed a little vacation from each other. Lincoln told him not to come around for two weeks, but he could write her. He’d even given George ten cents for postage.

  “I know I should have talked it over with you first,” Lincoln had told her. “But I thought if she had a little space from him, she might start seeing things clearly. I don’t think he’s a bad kid, but he’s young and selfish.”

  At first Hannah bristled at his taking control of the situation, but the more she thought about it, the more she admired Lincoln’s willingness to do so and his gentle way of dealing with both Charlotte and George.

  If only she had been as gentle.

  Charlotte had gone to their bedroom and locked the door as soon as they’d gotten home that day. After Tessa threatened to go in the kitchen and rearrange every spice in the cupboard, she had finally let them in to go to bed.

  Even Sunday’s sermon hadn’t helped. The preacher had talked about how often love demands making tough choices, including leaving people and places you care about or risking your heart or your pride. Hannah’s thoughts had wandered back to the story of Ruth and Naomi and how Ruth had left her homeland because she loved her mother-in-law. She’d also taken a huge risk. Her chances of finding love in a new country as an outsider were slim, and in that day, no husband meant a life of poverty.

  The preacher pointed out the choices Jonathan made to be loyal to David even when his father wanted to kill David, and Queen Esther risking her life by going before the king to save her people.

  “At some point,” Brother Molden had said, “you will be faced with a choice where there seems no right answer. Love demands you put others’ needs before your own. Love demands you make the tough choice, even if it costs you.”

  Suddenly the light for one of the second-floor courtrooms lit on the switchboard. How strange. The court seldom used the phone when in session. Hannah inserted a jack into the plug. “Number, please.”

  “We need the police up here now!” Urgency in the caller’s voice made Hannah’s skin prickle.

  A loud bang rang out.

  “Hello? Hello?” She tried to raise a response. No one responded, but she heard scuffling and shouting.

  Her pulse raced and the room tilted. Where was Lincoln? Didn’t he say he had court this morning?

  Fighting her panic, she sucked in a breath and jammed the jack into the police department’s plug. She rang them hard.

  “Sergeant Griffin.”

  “This is the courthouse switchboard operator, and we have an emergency. There’s a dire need for assistance in one of the upstairs courtrooms. They requested I telephone the police, and then I believe I heard a gunshot.”

  “Miss, could it have been something else? Perhaps a chair falling over?”

  “No, it wasn’t a chair!” If she could grab the man and pull him through the telephone lines, she would.

  “Easy, ma’am. Which courtroom?”

  She relayed the data.

  “I’ll send someone right away.”

  Cupping her hand over the earpiece, she listened for anything that might indicate if Lincoln was there or even a hint of what was now going on in the courtroom.

  Two policemen burst through the front doors. Footsteps pounding, they raced across the first floor and up the marble staircase.

  More movement and muffled voices came through the telephone line.

  A clatter in her ear told her someone had picked up the earpiece. “Are you still there?” the previous caller asked.

  “Yes, this is the operator.”

  “We need a doctor up here.”

  “Who’s hurt?” Her voice cracked. She prayed it wasn’t Lincoln.

  “One of the lawyers got a little roughed up while we were wresting the bailiff’s gun away from the suspect.” He paused.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Well, he’ll probably go away for a long time now.”

  “No, I mean how badly is the attorney hurt?”

  “Nothing too serious.”

  Click. He hung up his receiver.

  Only her training kept Hannah from racing up the stairs and seeing who the injured man was and what the caller had meant by “nothing too serious.” Her fingers trembled as she placed a call to the nearest doctor.

  She jolted when Jo opened the Dutch door and stepped inside. She carried a bouquet of pink and white peonies that filled the air with their sweet scent.

  “Everything all right, Hannah?” Jo eyed her critically. “You look like a ghost.”

  “There was an emergency upstairs.” Hannah quickly covered her mouth. “I shouldn’t have told you that, right?”

  Jo smiled. “If there’s an emergency, I think you should share it with me.”

  “Someone shot a gun upstairs in one of the courtrooms. I’ve telephoned the police, but I don’t know what’s transpired since then.”

  “And you don’t know if your Lincoln is up there?”

  Tears pricked Hannah’s eyes.

  “Then why are you sitting here? Go.” Jo made a shooing motion with her hands. “I’ll handle things.”

  Without a second thought, Hannah discarded her headset and hurried out of the tiny room. Once in the foyer, she gathered her skirt in her fist and rushed toward the stairs.

  37

  “Hey! What’s your hurry?”

  Hannah stopped and turned at the sound of Lincoln’s voice. He jogged up to her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him without letting go.

  He eased her back but kept his hands on her arms. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

  “Are you really okay?” Emotion thickened her voice.

  “I’m a little out of breath from chasing you, but other than that I’m fine.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

  “Upstairs. A shot was fired in a courtroom.”

  “Which one?” He glanced upward. “Did you think I was there?”

  She nodded.

  “My case finished early. Listen, I need to go see what happened, but first I want to show you the surprise I picked up for you.” He swept his arm toward the front door.

  She turned and spotted the surprise—all six foot two of him. Her heart leapt, and she hurried across the marble floor much more quickly than any proper Hello Girl should dare.


  But it was worth it.

  Walt, freshly shaven and in clean clothes, drew her into his arms and lifted her off the ground.

  Free. Walt was free, thank goodness, and freedom smelled like Diamond C soap.

  Jealousy barbed Lincoln as he watched Walt sweep Hannah into his arms, but he shoved the unwelcome feeling aside. In the battle for Hannah’s heart, he’d already won, and if he loved her, he needed to accept that Walt would always be a part of her life.

  Walt released her, and Lincoln joined them and placed his hand on the small of Hannah’s back. She was his, and Walt might as well know that.

  Hannah smiled at him. “Why did they release Walt?”

  “After the fire the other night, it wasn’t hard to convince the detective they had the wrong man in custody. I went to talk to him first thing this morning.”

  “Thank you.” Pure joy radiated from her.

  “I want to head upstairs now and see who was hurt,” Lincoln said. “Walt, I trust you can find a way home?”

  “I’ll take the streetcar. It’s only a half-mile walk from the end of the line, and I have a new appreciation for being able to walk in open air.”

  “Then I’d better get going.” Lincoln offered Walt his hand.

  Walt shook it. “Thank you for everything.”

  “My pleasure.” Lincoln placed a kiss on Hannah’s cheek. “And I’ll see you later.”

  Since Walt wanted to walk a bit before he got on the streetcar to head home, Hannah asked him to accompany her on a visit to the open-air market on Locust during lunch. She’d checked with Jo before leaving, filled her in on Lincoln’s well-being, and requested an early lunch so she could see Walt off. Jo had told her to enjoy herself.

  Walking beside Walt on the Mulberry Street sidewalk seemed strange. His gait was longer than Lincoln’s, and when he took her elbow to step off the curb, his touch was foreign. Hannah glanced at her oldest friend. It was probably because he’d been locked in jail for the last month. She’d simply grown unaccustomed to his presence.

  Four horse-drawn wagons were lined up in the vacant lot where the open-air market was held. Bushel baskets filled with spring produce lined the wagons.

  “Do you know how good all of this looks after the food I had in jail?” Walt held up a handful of spinach. “Even this is tempting, and you know how much I like spinach.” He wrinkled his nose.

  She laughed. “Well, give it to me. I love it.” She paid the farmer and put the fresh greens in her basket.

  “What about Lincoln? Does he like spinach?” Walt stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  Was Walt digging? She shrugged and added a generous amount of shell peas to her basket. “That hasn’t come up.”

  He removed the basket from her arm. “He took me to his house to get cleaned up. It’s really something.”

  “Yes, he’s quite proud of it.” How did she get him to end this line of questioning without being rude?

  “He has expensive tastes. He’s not like you and me.” Walt picked up a small head of cauliflower and handed it to Hannah, brushing her hand in the process. “Even his washroom has a china sink, but you probably know that.”

  “I haven’t seen his washroom, only the dining room and parlor for Charlotte’s graduation dinner.” She moved around to the other side of the wagon and selected a pint basket of strawberries. “He loves these. Maybe I should get two for when he comes over.”

  “Is he over at your house often?” A note of jealousy rang in his words.

  “I guess you could say that.”

  Walt scowled. “You think that’s wise? I mean, is it setting a good example for your sisters?”

  Hannah shot him a glare. “We do nothing inappropriate. I thought you knew me better.”

  “I do know you. Probably better than you know yourself.”

  She found that hard to believe, but the sentiment brought a smile to her face anyway. Dear Walt. He did want her to be happy. As the awkwardness seemed to melt away between them, she found herself recalling some of her favorite times with Walt. Fishing at the pond. Getting caught stealing apples from the neighbor. Putting on Romeo and Juliet in school. Walt had made a horrible Romeo, and he kept complaining about Shakespeare not speaking plain English.

  Hannah traced her lips with her finger. What kind of Romeo would Lincoln make? She had no doubt his “she doth teach the torches to burn bright” would make her weak in the knees.

  After purchasing a pint of strawberries, she offered them to Walt. He popped a handful in his mouth and moaned. Strawberry juice trickled down his chin.

  “You never could eat without making a mess.” She laughed and dabbed at the corners of his lips with her handkerchief. “Let’s go. That’s all I can afford today.”

  Turning down Locust Street, she looked up at the Observatory Building. With a five-story tower on top of the ten-story building, it was the tallest office building in the city. She wondered if the view from the top was anything like the view from the state capitol.

  She grabbed Walt’s arm. “Let’s go up there to the top.”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “To see the view.”

  “It’s the same view from a different angle.”

  She sighed and took her basket from him. Once Walt made up his mind about something, he seldom changed it—especially if he thought he was being sensible.

  As she and Walt passed beneath the brightly colored storefront awnings, her thoughts wandered. Walt knew her based on who she was. Lincoln knew who she wanted to become. Walt was familiar, safe. Lincoln was fresh, a challenge. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Walt, right now her heart ached for Lincoln.

  They crossed the street and stopped in front of the Savory Hotel. With its neoclassical cornices, it was her favorite hotel in the city. She peered in the window to see the hotel’s plush lobby. Behind her, the clopping of horses’ hooves on the paved brick street blended with the sound of someone’s automobile. Would automobiles someday outnumber carriages?

  Walt placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hannah, I need to tell you something.”

  She turned, and the look in his eyes made her nerves tingle. “What is it?”

  “I had a lot of time to think in jail, and I hope you know I have your best interests at heart.”

  Hannah stiffened. Nothing good came from a sentence prefaced by that.

  He took her hand. “I think you’re making a mistake with Lincoln Cole.”

  “That’s none of your business.” She yanked her hand away and marched down the sidewalk.

  He fell in step beside her. “I know what you need better than anyone.”

  “No, I know what I need more than you do.” She stopped at the corner where the streetcar would pick him up. “And for your information, he loves me and I love him.”

  “Then I’d say you have some deciding to do.”

  The streetcar approached, bell clanging. She held her basket in front of her like a barrier. “And why is that?”

  “Because I love you too.”

  Dropping into a chair in the conference room at the courthouse, Lincoln crossed his ankle over his knee and adjusted his tie.

  Pete looked up from the documents before him. “Did you get Cedric home okay? How serious were his injuries?”

  “He got a pretty good knock on the head, but I think he’ll live. He said his client reached for the bailiff’s gun and fired the shot before they could subdue him.” Lincoln drummed his fingers on the table. “After I took him home, I went to visit the fire marshal about the Grennen place.”

  “And?”

  “He found something that indicated some sort of an infernal device.”

  Pete’s brows tipped inward. “Consisting of what?”

  Lincoln shrugged. “Dynamite, caps, and fuses, I suppose.”

  “But what triggered it?”

  “He wasn’t sure how it was triggered. The evidence probably exploded along with the porch.” Lincoln leaned forward and placed his elbows o
n the table, clasping his hands in front of him. “I don’t think there’s any way this fire is related to the last ones, but the fire marshal feels they are because of the Western Union link.”

  “It’s a pretty weak link this time too, but if you disagree with him and tell the detective, you’ll be putting your client back in jail.”

  Lincoln nodded.

  “It’s a tough call. Are you going to tell Hannah about this?”

  “There’s no need, really, and there’s nothing she could do except fret about Walt being arrested again.”

  “And she’ll have enough to fret about soon enough.” He chuckled. “Don’t look so nervous. We got a telegram at the office this morning. Your aunt is coming for a visit.”

  38

  “When will she be here? And did it say why she’s coming?” Lincoln tapped a pencil against the tablet in front of him. Excitement rippled through him. Six months was a long time between visits with the woman he held so dear. How much time did he need to make arrangements for her stay?

  “She’ll be here in less than two weeks.” Pete drew his hand down the length of his beard. “As for her reasons, I’m guessing she simply wants to check on you. Have you written to her about Hannah?”

  Lincoln nodded. “I learned a long time ago not to keep secrets from Aunt Sam. She has an uncanny sense about such things.”

  “She’s always been quite a character. If I had to hazard a guess, I think she’s coming to meet your girl.” Pete coughed. “What do you think she’ll say about Hannah?”

  “She’ll probably be thrilled I’m finally interested in someone—even if Hannah doesn’t fit the usual mold of a politician’s wife.”

  “About that …”

  “Listen, Pete, if you’re going to try to talk me out of seeing her, then I don’t want to hear it.”

  “No, no. That’s not it.” Pete waved his hand back and forth. “I’ve been thinking about your political future.”

  “And?”

  “Are you sure it’s what you want to do? I mean, you like to win.”

  “You think I’ll lose?”

  “Probably not. Since you’re following in your father’s footsteps, name recognition alone will most likely earn you the bid.”