by Mary Davis
“I’m flattered, but let me save you some trouble. I came only to work, not to find a husband. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
He dipped his head. “Perhaps for now.”
She caught a glint in his eye. Maybe he would be as insistent as Troy, after all.
* * *
Troy fisted his hands at the sight of Liv talking to William Ecker outside the cannery. Though he stood across the street some distance away, there was no mistaking what he saw. What were those two doing together? William seemed to be offering Liv a ride in his buggy.
Don’t accept, Liv. Don’t. The thought of her in the company of another man tore at his insides. Was this how Liv felt when she saw him interacting with other ladies? This twisting inside? A gnawing sensation?
Liv walked away.
Finally.
But William did not. He stood, watching Liv.
Stop it.
Troy strode up the street and cut across on another road. His step faltered at the sight of Liv’s hunched shoulders and her limp arms hanging at her sides. He hurried up to her. “Hello, Liv.”
She sucked in a startled breath. “Troy.” She straightened her entire frame and pushed her mouth into a slight smile. “Fancy seeing you about in this part of town.”
“I work not so far from here. Is everything all right?”
“Of course. I’m fine, just fine.” She pulled at her sleeves.
Now he knew something was wrong. “Your mother and grandmother are well?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You aren’t normally out this time of day.”
She waved her hand. “We are all just fine. Nothing to worry about.”
There was something to worry about. Though he didn’t know what. “Are you headed home?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll walk you then.”
She spoke too brightly. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“No trouble.”
“Honestly, you don’t have to.”
What was she hiding? “Why not?”
She hesitated, obviously trying to come up with a feasible excuse. “Because.”
Because was what one said when one didn’t have a real answer. Or didn’t want to give a sincere response. “Because of William Ecker?”
She stopped and stared at the ground. “What?”
He knew she’d heard him. “I saw the two of you. Why were you meeting with William?”
She gave a schoolgirl giggle and pulled at the cuff of her blouse. “Nonsense. I wasn’t meeting with him. I merely ran into him and said hello.” She continued walking.
He matched her pace and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Then you won’t mind my walking you home.”
A moment passed before she answered. “Of course not.”
No rebuff? No attempt to pull her hand free? And why did she smell so strongly of fish? He suspected that if he asked, he would get another noncommittal answer.
She chattered almost nervously the whole way to her house.
What was wrong? She wasn’t herself. What had happened to her fire? Her witty remarks? She was cordial and polite, reminiscent of the Liv from two years ago, but without the spark of life she used to have.
He wouldn’t press the matter now. He stopped at the street end of her walkway.
She slipped her hand from his arm. “Will you be staying for supper? I’m afraid it will be a bit. I lost track of the time and haven’t started cooking yet.”
“I can’t. I promised Nick I’d go over to his place and help him out.”
“Oh.” She almost sounded disappointed.
“Nick’s hoping to get his land cleared this fall so after he plants in the spring, he can marry Felicity.”
“She will be so happy about that.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “Maybe another time for supper?”
“Certainly.” She headed up her walk.
Again no rebuff.
Regardless of her grit, she was obviously tired. He stared after her. He would figure out why.
* * *
On her porch, Olivia turned to see Troy still standing at the end of the walk. She’d appreciated having his arm for support. She’d only slept in fits last night in anticipation of going to the cannery today.
She wanted to run back to him and insist he stay for supper. Did she want Troy or not? Did she trust him or not? Yes, no. No, yes. A jumble of confusion bounced around inside her.
Troy doffed his cap and gave a sweeping bow with it.
She waved back. She wanted to let him take care of her, but for all the wrong reasons. Fear of losing him? A roof? Not having to work at the cannery?
He strolled off down the street.
Come back, her heart whispered.
She opened her front door to the smell of supper cooking. Bless Gran’s and Mother’s hearts. She hadn’t expected the two of them to cook, but she was grateful they had.
Her arms were heavy with fatigue as she raised them to remove her hat. It had taken all the energy she had left not to faint into Troy’s arms. To let him comfort and soothe her.
Mother wheeled up to where Olivia still stood by the door. “The cannery?”
Olivia didn’t need a lecture right now. “We need the money. With the sewing, laundry and cannery money, we might have enough for rent.” She gripped the handle on Mother’s chair and pushed. “Supper smells good.”
“We thought it was the least we could do with you working all day. How did it go?”
“Fine.” She didn’t elaborate on how tired she was or how her whole body hurt. Or the odor of fish she’d never be able to scrub off. She couldn’t actually smell the fish any longer. Her nose had probably been permanently damaged so she would never smell things right again.
She’d pretended she didn’t reek of fish while Troy walked with her. She hoped he hadn’t noticed. But how could he not?
Sitting at the table, she nearly nodded off while Mother said grace. She would get used to this work. She would.
When she’d finished eating, she cleared away the dirty dishes. In the corner of the kitchen, a mound of laundry awaited her.
Mother hurried in. “We couldn’t get the clothesline strung up in here. If you can do that, Gran and I will wash the clothes.” Father had attached a series of hooks high on the kitchen walls for rainy days.
“Mother, you’ve tried to do wash before.” Olivia rolled up one sleeve and then the other. “It doesn’t work well from your chair. You end up as wet as the laundry. Your talents are best used with a needle and thread.” Mother could make the smallest stitches and mend a tear so that it was almost invisible. “And the last time Gran hunched over the washtub, she was laid up in bed for a week because of her back. I’ll do the wash.”
Mother stretched out her arm. “Olivia, wait.” She glanced at the pile of laundry.
Olivia held up a hand. “It’s best if I don’t know.” If she could pretend none of these clothes belonged to Violet, the chore would be much more bearable.
“The water’s hot on the stove.” Gran gave her a look of sympathy.
“I appreciate that.” As Olivia hauled the washtub across the floor, her sore muscles protested. She shaved off pieces of lye soap from the bar into the tub, dumped in the hot water, and added several items of clothing. She opened the cupboard where they kept the indoor clothesline and set the cording on the counter. Then she started with the supper dishes.
As she washed dishes and clothes and strung the line, her mind wandered back to Troy time and again. No matter how much she told herself not to, he was always in her next thought.
She didn’t know where her second wind had come from, but she was only halfway through the pile when she ran out of clothesline. All the washing was a nice change from her day’s work at the cannery and had seemed to remove the salmon smell from her hands and arms. She dried her hands and went into the parlor, where Mother and Gran busily sewed.
Mother l
ooked up. “Are you through, dear?”
Olivia shook her head. “The line is full. I’ll take them down in the morning and wash a few more things before I head off to the cannery. I’ll wash the rest tomorrow night. What can I help with?”
“You’ve done enough for one day. Off to bed.” Mother waved her away.
She appreciated that. “Good night.” Now that she had nothing to do, her second wind rushed out of her. With great effort, she lifted one foot and then the other to keep her feet from scuffing the floor and giving away her exhaustion.
Once in her room, pulling off her clothes took the last of her energy. She fell into bed. Visions of Troy with Violet danced through her thoughts. She wasn’t sure if she cared anymore.
Maybe that was best.
Chapter 8
On Wednesday, Troy waited and watched from a distance. For the third day in a row, Liv and William spoke at the end of the workday. Was she meeting him? On purpose?
Had she truly thrown Troy over for another man? Had she indeed had enough of him?
Nothing had happened between her and William as far as Troy could tell. He never took her hand. She never rode in his buggy. But something was going on between them.
He remembered this same possessive, jealous feeling from eight years ago when several boys started paying Liv more attention. Though at that point, he’d known for two years that he wanted to marry her, she’d been too young to be courted. So he’d waited, until others took an interest in her. Now he had that same sickening gut reaction that he might lose Liv to another man. She’d always come back to him. Had this time been one time too many for her?
No.
He would win her back. He had to.
Liv walked away, and William watched her. He needed to stop doing that.
Right now.
Once Liv was far enough up the street, Troy crossed to William, who still stared after her.
“What is your interest in Miss Bradshaw?” He didn’t care that his voice had a harsh tone to it.
“Hello, Troy.” William gave him a pleasant smile. “I take an interest in all my employees.”
“Employee?”
“Olivia started at the cannery on Monday. She didn’t tell you?”
She hadn’t. “And your interest in her? It’s more than just as her employer.”
William eyed him a moment. “You sound like a jealous man.”
That’s because he was. “Wouldn’t you be if another man was showing your girl attention?”
“She said the two of you had parted ways.”
She’d said that? She must be angrier than he realized.
“Well, we haven’t.”
William glanced up the street in the direction Liv had gone. “Does she know that?”
Evidently not. “She just needs a little time.” Time he’d always been willing to give her. Until now.
William studied him a moment. “Very well. But I won’t wait long.”
Troy appreciated that. He’d hoped she would have come around once the dinner party was over but apparently not.
Why was she working anyway?
He would have to figure a way to talk her out of this job.
And to get back into her good graces.
* * *
On Friday afternoon, Troy recorded deposit amounts from the teller’s slips into the ledger. He had watched Liv grow more and more tired as the week wore on. He suspected she took the position at the cannery to show him she could build a life of her own without him. There was nothing wrong with her doing so, but he wanted them to build a life together.
Jack poked his head in. “Customer to see you, sir.”
Troy closed the slips inside the ledger and rose. “Send him in.”
The office boy disappeared, and Nick appeared in the doorway.
Troy stepped out from behind his desk and shook Nick’s hand. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Nick smiled but said nothing and closed the door. When he turned back, his casual demeanor had been replaced with a serious expression.
Troy hoped nothing was terribly wrong. “Have a seat.” He motioned as he sat.
Nick pulled up the chair and leaned forward. “Felicity is concerned for Olivia.”
“I am, too. She’s exhausting herself with this foolish job she’s taken to prove something to me. I’m just not sure what.”
“It’s not about you this time.”
Troy doubted that. Liv’s actions had been spurred by something he’d said or done for as long as he could remember. She wanted a reaction from him. Sometimes he obliged, and sometimes he did not. He didn’t want her to think she had total sway over him.
But this time seemed different. This time she was more resolute. This time could split them, especially if William got in the way. She had a burr under her saddle that went beyond Violet. Once he figured out what it was, he could remove it, and all would be well again.
Nick continued. “Their landlord is demanding their rent by the end of the month or else they have to leave.”
He hadn’t known they were having financial difficulties. “Leave? Where would they go?”
Nick shook his head. “Even with Olivia working, they won’t likely have the money.”
“How do you know this?”
“Olivia told Felicity, who told me. I came right over.”
“So that’s why she’s working. Why didn’t she come to me?”
Nick raised an eyebrow.
“Right. She’s angry with me again.” Or so she would like everyone to believe.
“Don’t tell her I told you.”
“Because Felicity wasn’t supposed to tell you, and you weren’t supposed to tell me.”
Nick nodded. “Regardless of what the ladies think, I knew you should be told.”
“I appreciate that. I’ll talk to her on Sunday.” If he made a special visit, she might realize how he gained this information. He didn’t want Nick or Felicity to receive a scolding.
After Nick left, Troy opened the cover of the accounts ledger, contemplating doing something he never did. Snooping into a customer’s account for personal reasons. He’d purposely stayed away from the Bradshaws’ account. It hadn’t seemed right to be privy to their exact balance.
But because Liv was putting herself at risk, he needed to know how bad it really was. Maybe they had money in their account and weren’t aware of it. It had been months since Liv came into the bank for business.
He took a deep breath and turned the page. He stared in disbelief.
Zero? How could they not have any money whatsoever?
* * *
On Saturday, Olivia stood over the washtub, scrubbing their own laundry. It had been a long tiring week. Monday evening had brought rain that lasted through Tuesday evening. So when she’d washed the laundry they’d been hired to do, she had to hang it across the kitchen to dry overnight. Not ideal, but it worked. Then Mother and Gran ironed it and worked on mending while she was at the cannery. She hated that Mother and Gran had to toil so hard in their conditions.
Wednesday, after a full day at the cannery, she’d delivered the laundry and the completed mending. Thursday evening, she helped with the mending and sewing. Friday evening, she delivered the remainder of the mending and sewing while collecting next week’s work.
And by Thursday, Mr. Ecker must have realized her fortitude and that she wasn’t interested in him. He had stopped escorting her out of the cannery and offering her a ride. So tired by Friday, she wished he hadn’t. She would have liked a ride to rest her tired feet and body.
She scrubbed and scrubbed the clothes she’d worn to the cannery all week, but they still smelled of fish. Maybe the sun beating down on them would cast out the odor, but mist hung in the air like a curtain. So she draped the skirt and blouse over the line stretched across the kitchen.
Gran spoke in a sugary tone. “You have a visitor.”
That could only mean one person.
Could she will him away? She was too t
ired to resist his charm. Taking a deep breath, she swiveled around.
Troy stood in the doorway next to Gran. “I’ve come to take you for a carriage ride.”
“That’s very kind, but I have work to complete.” She was pleased she hadn’t snapped and had actually sounded pleasant.
“Come now.” Gran motioned her forward. “You’ve done plenty of work. Go enjoy yourself.”
Enjoy? Was that even possible anymore? “It’s raining.”
“Just a light drizzle.” Troy flashed his dimpled smile. “I’ve borrowed Nick’s trap.”
Gran took Olivia’s hand and placed it on Troy’s arm. “I won’t let you do any more work until you have rested a bit. Now go.”
“Well, if it’s rest I need, then I should lie down.”
Troy covered her hand. “You can rest while you’re sitting in the buggy.” He pulled her along.
Gran draped a shawl around Olivia’s shoulders, and Troy took her blue and white-lace umbrella from the stand.
She hadn’t the strength or energy to resist either of them. A respite would be welcome.
Outside, Troy opened the umbrella and held it over them.
She stopped midway down the brick path and faced him. “Only a few minutes. I have work to do.” She didn’t relish all that needed to be done and wished she could put it off. But tomorrow was the day of rest. And rest she would with a nice nap in the afternoon.
He nodded his assent, guided her to the two-wheeled carriage and helped her in. He turned the rig around on the street and headed down into town.
The rhythmic clomping of the horse’s hooves and the swaying of the buggy pulled at her eyelids.
* * *
Troy reined in the horse down by the waterfront and set the brake. He and Liv had sat in a rig similar to this many times. Sometimes to view the sunset, sometimes to watch raindrops make tiny rings in the harbor.
Today, they would do neither. Liv’s head had lolled to the side and rested on his shoulder.
He shifted her enough to put his arm around her shoulders to both keep her warm and to support her better while she slept. She was wearing herself out. But at least now he knew why.
