Winning Olivia's Heart

by Mary Davis

  “Then what?”

  “Why do you put up with Olivia? She can be difficult at times. You could have any number of girls who would be far more compliant.”

  “I don’t want any other girl.” Liv disappeared from his sight. “The marriage vows? For better or for worse? I take those seriously.”

  “But you’re not married yet.”

  “I committed my heart a long time ago to her as though I am. I promised her father I’d take care of her.”

  “And here I thought you were all brawn and good looks.” Nick nudged him with his elbow.

  “Not all. There’s more to me.”

  “But not much,” Nick teased.

  Troy grinned and then got serious again. “I love Liv.”

  “I’m not sure I can see why.”

  Troy viewed her as his equal. She would be at his side, not trailing behind. More than a wife. A partner. She was smart, and he could discuss anything with her. “I don’t know why exactly. I just do. I think I’ve always been in love with her. But since I was sixteen, I knew for sure.” That was ten years ago. “She’s spirited. Keeps me on my toes. Life is never dull with her.”

  “And never easy.”

  He’d never wanted a docile wife. He wanted Liv. “She’s scared. The more she pushes me away, the more I know she needs me. I want to help and protect her.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “Losing me. Losing her mother. Her grandmother. She hasn’t always been like this. Only since her father passed away. That hit her hard. Her grandmother is old. Her mother’s wheelchair bound. Her father was the robust one. The one she counted on. And he died.”

  “I never thought of things that way. She always seemed to be all right.”

  “No one saw her real hurt. No one but me. I had hoped my steadfastness this past year would have proven to her I was going to stay by her side no matter what. I think she wants to depend on me but is afraid I’ll die or something.”

  “I hope everything works out the way you want it to. I’m going to see if Felicity has left Olivia’s.”

  “You really think she’ll forgive you so quickly?”

  Nick held out his arms as he walked backward. “I guess I’m just better at persuasion with my girl than you are with yours.”

  “Not likely.” Troy walked with Nick. “When are you going to marry her?”

  “When I get my land cleared. I’m hoping to finish up this fall. Then maybe we can marry in the spring.”

  “I can lend you a hand next Saturday, and maybe a few nights this week.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Tell Felicity I’m sorry. And that I coerced you.” He parted ways from Nick and headed to the waterfront. Praying before going to the boardinghouse would strengthen his resolve. He’d also better pray while he dressed for the evening. An evening he hoped would be brief. Then he could stop by Liv’s and tell her all was well.

  Chapter 6

  Olivia pushed a chunk of potato around in her stew. Had Troy eaten yet? What fancy dishes had the Joneses’ cook prepared? Had Hewitt Raines already shown up and freed Troy? But if so, wouldn’t he stop by her house to tell her the good news? Unless it wasn’t good news. Her stomach tightened.

  “Is everything all right, dear?” Mother set her spoon aside.

  No, everything wasn’t all right. Troy was with another woman. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t supposed to care.

  “You’ve played more with your food than eaten it.” Gran took her last bite of stew.

  Olivia pushed her bowl away. “I’m not hungry.”

  Mother folded her hands in her lap. “Since we are all apparently done eating, we should talk.”

  She gave Mother her attention.

  “Your grandmother went out today and found us some work. Two private households. One needs only washing done. The other needs everything, washing, ironing, mending and sewing clothes. We had hoped to be hired by the hotel and boardinghouse, but they don’t need us at the moment. If they do, they’ll let us know.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Olivia twisted one hand in the other under the table. “We can ask around after church tomorrow. Maybe we can garner more work.”

  “That would be good. The work we’ve found so far won’t earn us all we need and won’t keep us busy for long, but it’s a good start. We’ll pick up the items on Monday, deliver the laundry on Wednesday and the sewing and mending on Friday.” Mother seemed to have everything figured out. She glanced at Gran, who gave her a look back.

  What weren’t they telling her? “Is there something else?”

  “The household that needs all our services…” Mother shifted her gaze away.

  Olivia waited.

  Mother didn’t continue but looked to Gran.

  “Just tell her,” Gran said. “The silence isn’t going to change anything.”

  “I’m sorry, dear.”

  “Sorry for what?” What had upset Mother so much?

  “Jones,” Gran said. “The household that need so much is the Joneses.”

  No, no, no. If Troy wasn’t over there right now, she wouldn’t mind so much working for them. This was too much to bear. Adding insult to injury.

  “We don’t expect you to lay a hand to any of their clothes,” Mother said. “We’ll have you work on other people’s laundry.”

  Olivia stood and stacked the dishes in silence.

  “Olivia?” Mother said.

  “I have dishes to do.” There was nothing she could say. They needed the money, so she couldn’t insist that they not take the work.

  She would suffer in silence. As usual.

  * * *

  Troy stood with his boss and four other prominent men of the Friday Harbor community. They spoke of everything from the schoolhouse and politics to the cannery and how to increase town growth. The parlor seemed less foreboding when he wasn’t here alone with Violet. But he’d still rather be elsewhere.

  The ladies sat across the room from the men. Violet wore a gown to match her name. She kept trying to gain his attention with a wave of her hand or a little too loudly spoken “Oh, my.”

  Troy purposely would not look on those occasions, but he did glance in her direction other times. Just as he was about to make eye contact with her, he would turn back to whichever man was talking and seem consumed in the conversation.

  He glanced at the mantel clock. Where was Hewitt? Troy had hoped the man would show up at the start of the party so he wouldn’t have to suffer through supper and the whole of the evening. He glanced at the small brass clock on the secretary desk and then the crystal tabletop one. Same time as the other clock. Hewitt? You’d better not chicken out. But the man had seemed determined.

  A servant entered the parlor and announced supper.

  Troy strode to the doorway, stopped, and looked back at Violet. “Are you coming?” He hoped that seemed dispassionate enough.

  By the murderous expression on Violet’s face, he’d succeeded. She rose and held out her hand, obviously expecting him to come to her. He simply poked out his elbow for her and waited.

  As others left to enter the dining room, Violet crossed to him and squeezed his arm. “You should have come over to the settee to retrieve me.”

  Her grip caused only mild discomfort. Her expression? Positively entertaining. He struggled not to laugh. “Pardon my ill manners.” He headed toward the dining room, propelling her to take several quick steps to keep up. He hoped this string of behaviors met with Hewitt’s definition of “indifferent.”

  It certainly was amusing to see Violet not in control for a change.

  The smell of the savory foods nauseated him. He managed to get the first two courses down, but by the third one, he doubted Hewitt would appear at all.

  Beside him, Violet pivoted to face him and smiled sweetly. “You’re not eating your shoulder of lamb.”

  “My appetite seems to have waned.” He took a sip of water from his crystal goblet.

  Her fork clinked against
her plate, and she spoke in a hushed tone. “Don’t think I’ll put up with you claiming some sort of ailment to be excused from this evening.”

  He let his mouth curl up on the corners. “I wouldn’t dream of excusing myself.” He would wait to be asked to leave after Hewitt arrived. He hoped that would be soon.

  He’d eaten most of his lamb by the time that course was removed. As the next course was being served, a commotion erupted at the front entry.

  “Violet!” a mournful voice called.

  Violet’s eyes widened as recognition registered in her expression.

  About time.

  She jumped to her feet, as did all the men around the table, including Troy.

  He, for one, was glad to get this little drama over with.

  Violet clutched his arm. “Come.”

  He let her pull him along.

  Dripping wet, Hewitt stood near the front door.

  Violet tightened her hold on Troy’s arm. “Mr. Raines, whatever are you doing here?”

  Hewitt had been right. This was exactly what Violet wanted. To be on the arm of another man for Hewitt to see. She was a master manipulator. Something Liv was not. But Violet was too young and naive to realize Hewitt was far more seasoned in the art.

  The man fell to his knees in front of her. “Violet, my love. I’ve come to beg you to take me back.”

  She turned her face away from him and raised her chin. “As you can see, you are as easily replaced as a pair of shoes.”

  Hewitt took her free hand in both of his. “Forgive me. Take me back. I can’t live another day without you.”

  The man might be overdoing it.

  Violet loosened her hold on Troy’s arm.

  Evidently, Hewitt knew Violet well.

  Troy wasn’t sure if he should say anything. Should he argue or tell Hewitt to leave?

  Disinterest.

  Saying nothing would show that best.

  She waved a delicate hand in Hewitt’s general direction as though he were nothing more than refuse. “Troy, tell this man to leave.”

  That was the last thing he wanted to do. “The poor sap is drenched.”

  With a huffed breath, Violet pulled her hands free of both men and folded her arms. “I wish for you to leave.”

  Evidently she needed more pleading.

  “I’ll prove my devotion to you.” Hewitt stood and raised his fists toward Troy. “I’ll fight for you.”

  Troy took a step back. Certainly they didn’t need to resort to a physical fight.

  To her credit, Violet moved in front of Troy and spoke to Hewitt. “I will not tolerate violence.”

  “As you wish.” Hewitt glanced at Troy to do something as he let his hands fall to his sides.

  But what should he do?

  “Leave.” Violet pointed.

  Lowering his head, Hewitt backed toward the door. “This wound will never heal, even if I live to be a hundred.”

  No.

  Hewitt had to stay. Troy was the one who needed to leave.

  The man sidestepped off the area carpet and onto the wet marble floor. His arms windmilled as his feet lost their grip.

  But Troy could tell that the man had himself under control as he landed and let himself fall back so his head hit the floor. But not too hard. His eyes closed.

  Troy could see the playacting for what it was only because he knew to look for it. Everyone else seemed fooled.

  In a swish of fabric, Violet rushed over and knelt. “Hewitt, are you all right? Speak to me.” She cradled his head on her lap. His wet hair made dark patches on her dress.

  Hewitt’s eyes fluttered open, and his lips moved as though he wanted to speak but didn’t. His eyelids closed.

  “Hewitt, darling. Can you hear me?”

  He opened his eyes again and touched her cheek with a finger. “Violet? Is that you?”

  “Yes, darling.” Violet smiled and then raised her gaze. “Father, we need to get him into bed and call for the doctor.”

  The butler and Mr. Jones helped Hewitt to his feet and assisted him up the stairs. Violet followed.

  That had been brilliant. Troy was tempted to applaud the performance but refrained lest he give the man away.

  “Violet?” Troy asked. “Shall I take my leave?”

  “I think that’s best.”

  Troy stepped outside onto the covered porch and let the cool rain-drenched air refresh him. Freedom.

  He walked through the drizzle to Liv’s. It was late. The lights were all extinguished. He would see her tomorrow.

  He wished she hadn’t gone to sleep not knowing the outcome of the evening.

  * * *

  Olivia wearily opened the front door Sunday morning and stopped short. What was he doing here? Although she already knew.

  Troy pushed away from the porch’s support post, doffed his cap and bowed. “Good morning, ladies. Your coach awaits.” He swept his arm backward toward the waiting buggy. Every Sunday he rented that buggy and escorted them to church.

  She hadn’t been sure if she would be able to manage getting Mother to church without him. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

  “Liv, you know me better than that.”

  That she did. She had hoped and prayed he wouldn’t show up. Was there nothing she could say to deter him? Seeing him made getting over him that much harder. But she would have been disappointed if he hadn’t come. Had his plan worked last night?

  He dodged around her and wheeled her mother out and down the ramp at the side of the porch he and Father had built after Mother’s accident. He lifted Mother easily into the backseat and went around to help Gran in beside her.

  Oh, no. That left Olivia up front with him. “Gran, you ride in the front. I’ll sit back here with Mother.”

  Gran waved her hand in the air. “Nonsense. I prefer the back.”

  “You can see better up front.”

  Gran gave Olivia a pointed look. “Don’t argue with me, young lady.”

  Olivia caught Troy’s triumphant smile as he helped Gran into the back. Like Troy, Gran was not easily deterred.

  “You are such a nice boy,” Gran said. “Don’t you think so, Olivia?” Gran was plotting against her. She did have a sweet spot for Troy.

  Troy could be quite charming when he wanted to be. The problem was he wanted to be with every woman over the age of consent. He had a way of making any woman feel special.

  He held his hand out to her.

  She stared, contemplating declining his offer. It would serve no purpose to refuse and risk falling in the muddy street. Not that a little dirt would harm her gray calico dress that matched the sky and her mood.

  She placed her hand in his no longer than absolutely necessary. “Thank you.”

  He put Mother’s wheelchair on the back of the buggy and climbed up front beside her. “I know why you wore that dress.”

  He couldn’t possibly.

  “You think it makes you unattractive. But you are beautiful no matter what you wear.”

  Her mouth turned up in response to his compliment. But she quickly tamed it. He had been wrong about her reason. None of her other dresses with color in them appealed to her anymore. The drab dress mirrored her bruised emotions. “Mr. Morrison, you may save your breath. Your flattery no longer holds sway over me.”

  “Oh, but I think it does. How else will you know I’m sweet on you?”

  Unbelievable. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe by staying out of other ladies’ arms.”

  “I told you that wasn’t my fault. You sure know how to throw a bucket of cold water on a moment.” He snapped the reins.

  Unfortunately, Troy had given her too many opportunities. She wished he hadn’t.

  Anyway, she was done with dithering. She had made up her mind to work at the cannery. So the matter of her heart was settled.

  * * *

  After the service, in the churchyard, Troy left Mrs. Bradshaw and Granny Bradshaw with a gaggle of ladies. He took Liv’s arm and led her
away from the others, not letting her mild protest stop him. He pointed at Hewitt with Violet securely attached to his arm. “See there. That’s Violet’s fiancé.”

  “Him?”

  “Do you know Mr. Raines?”

  “No. Of course not. I’ve seen him around town.”

  As long as Hewitt didn’t start flirting with Liv. “See how happy Violet is with him?”

  “I’m delighted for her.” Her tone ran counter to her statement.

  “This nonsense with Violet is over.” Couldn’t she see there was nothing to be jealous of?

  She pulled free and faced him. “You still don’t get it. It’s not Violet. It’s not even the dozen other women who flirt with you.”

  It sure seemed that way to him.

  “It’s you.”

  “Me? I can’t control what they do.”

  “But you can control what you do.” Her voice held no emotion. “You don’t try, even a little bit, to discourage any of them. That’s why Violet was able to use you. You don’t learn.”

  He’d learned. Violet would never get the better of him again.

  “You don’t care that it hurts me when women flirt with you, and you do nothing about it.” Her arms hung limply at her sides.

  “I care.”

  “Well, I don’t. You do whatever you like. With whomever you like.” She walked away.

  Gooseflesh prickled his skin. Liv was different this time. Dispassionate. Her voice had been flat as though she really didn’t care. Had he truly lost her this time? He hurried to catch up. “Liv, please. I promise to rebuff any woman who comes near me.”

  “I have more important concerns than to fret over what you are up to.”

  “Please don’t give up on me.”

  “Not you. Us. I have put my hopes in us for far too long. It’s not going to work. I can’t continue this way.”

  “I can change.” The look in her eyes told him she didn’t believe him.

  “Can you see to it that Mother and Gran make it home?”

  “Of course. You know I will.”

  “Thank you. I wish you all the best.” She walked away.

  He watched her retreat. Hopefully not forever. Suffering her wrath was far easier to take than this detached version of Liv. Her anger had let him know she still cared. Deeply.