When Love Comes My Way

by Lori Copeland

  Tess recalled how, when their sled passed through a grove of dense pines, she had seen Jake at the top of a ridge, watching from a distance. He’d stood alone. Deep inside, she still believed he cared for her, yet he’d done nothing to stop her departure.

  Echo quietly pressed a fresh handkerchief into her hand. Smiling in mute gratitude, Tess dabbed at the moist corners of her eyes. She knew her friend understood. Drawing a deep, ragged breath, she willed her mind to cease dwelling on her memories of the timber camp and its foreman.

  “Isn’t it the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen?” Echo floated into the study and whirled about the room, modeling for Tess a stunning silk gown of Federal blue.

  Winter had finally come to an end, and the first tender buds of spring were popping out on the trees lining the cobblestone street in front of the Wellington-Kent mansion. Turning from the window, where she’d been staring at the tiny crocuses that had pushed their heads above the ground to make their first appearance, Tess smiled at the young girl.

  The past few weeks had brought about a miraculous change in Echo. Under Talbot’s dedicated care and tutelage, she had become quite a lovely young woman. Her earlier gauntness had disappeared into nubile curves, and her sallow complexion had taken on a warm, healthy glow. Tess had never seen her friend more beautiful.

  “It’s breathtaking, Echo. I see you and Talbot have been shopping again this afternoon.” She watched Echo’s smile rapidly turn to one of immediate concern.

  “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course I don’t mind. Now, show me what you’ve purchased.” Tess’s closets were overflowing with silks and satins that she couldn’t possibly hope to wear even if she lived to be a hundred.

  “Well, all right, but Talbot wanted me to remind you that the seamstress has arrived for the final fitting for your wedding gown. And you simply must see the rose crepe de chine we found in a marvelous little shop near the center of town. You’re going to adore it!”

  “I’m sure it is in excellent taste.”

  “We have to hurry, though. Talbot says he’s taking you to the opera tonight!”

  “I’ll be along shortly. I have a letter I want to finish.” Tess returned to the Louis Quatorze writing desk and resumed her seat while Echo pirouetted happily around the room, trying to catch occasional glimpses of her gown in the large gold-framed mirror hanging above the fireplace.

  Tess brought her hand to her forehead and murmured, “Echo, I was wondering if you would mind accompanying Talbot tonight. I have developed a ghastly headache.”

  “Oh?” Echo’s satin slippers paused, and she instantly turned sympathetic. “Another one?”

  Tess made her smile as wan as conceivable. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Would you mind terribly going to the opera in my place?”

  “Not if Talbot doesn’t mind.”

  Tess knew Echo would do anything she asked, and she felt a twinge of conscience that this was the fourth time this week she had asked the girl to fill in for her, but she simply was not up to a social outing tonight.

  Since her return to Philadelphia, her schedule had been exhausting. With the balls and the formal teas and the endless succession of parties and social gatherings held in honor of her forthcoming marriage, Tess had not been able to catch her breath.

  She realized she had been wretched company for Talbot. A constant depression accompanied her, and she knew he was growing more puzzled by the day with her continuing lethargy.

  During dinner one evening, he had casually mentioned Wakefield Timber and encouraged her to talk about the time she’d spent there, but she had quietly refused. Anything that involved Jake was still far too painful to discuss, though she knew Talbot was only following doctor’s orders. She had excused herself from the table early and gone to her room without dinner that evening.

  She didn’t want to hurt his already bruised feelings. He had done everything short of a miracle to make her happy, but nothing could ease the constant ache in her heart. If it hadn’t been for Echo’s company, Talbot would have been as bereft as he had been when he’d thought she was dead.

  Echo sighed. “They had to bury Waite last week. André sent a message.”

  “I’m sorry, Echo.”

  She shook her head. “He’s where he should be.”

  The door to the study opened, and Tess’s betrothed entered. “There you two are. Miss Perryworth is waiting in the solarium for you, darling.”

  Tess nodded without glancing up. “I shall be along momentarily.”

  Strolling toward the fire, Talbot and Echo exchanged shy smiles. “You look lovely in that color, little one,” he said softly.

  A flash of pain seared Tess, and her hand trembled. Little one. Jake had called her that in the magical time an eternity ago…or had it really been only a matter of weeks since she left him standing on a rise, watching her leave? Did he ever think of her? Were his nights as endless with memories of her as hers were with memories of him?

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Tess watched the young woman smile as she dipped demurely, a rosy blush flooding her cheeks. “Echo, why don’t you run along and change for dinner? I would like to speak to Talbot in private.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Would her friend ever stop calling her “ma’am”? Echo curtsied again, and then she ran happily out of the room.

  “There’s something you wanted to discuss with me, dear?”

  Nodding, she rose from the chair. “I wanted to make my apologies, Talbot. I fear I have a dreadful headache coming on, and I have asked Echo to accompany you to the opera tonight.”

  “Oh. That is most unfortunate. Shall I have Freda prepare a toddy?”

  “No. I’ll take some powder later.”

  Patting his vest, his gaze skimmed her. “I do hope you’re planning to have dinner with us tonight. You’ve grown extremely thin of late.”

  She smiled. “You worry too much about me.”

  His expression softened. “I care very deeply for you, Tess.”

  “As do I for you, Talbot.”

  “I don’t want to push you, but there are so many wedding gifts pouring in.” He shrugged. “They must be opened and tagged soon.”

  “Can’t the servants do that?”

  “Of course. I just thought you and I might want to personally open them.”

  She nodded modestly. “Then I shall try to oversee the opening of gifts very soon.”

  “Thank you. There are those in my family who would be deeply offended if they thought someone other than the bride had opened their offerings.”

  “Of course. Perhaps this weekend.” Opening wedding gifts and trying on her wedding dress were the last two things she felt like doing. However, she knew both tasks were inevitable, so she’d have to somehow manage them.

  “What of your hat business? You’ve barely visited the boutiques, and your customers are asking for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Talbot. I have not the slightest interest in hats.”

  “But once you loved them.”

  “Perhaps. An eternity ago.”

  Drawing a deep breath, he said, “Mother wishes our company this Sunday for brunch. She has invited a few of her closest friends to dine with us.”

  Her head throbbed. “Very well.”

  He checked his pocket watch and then snapped the gold case shut. “Was there anything else?”

  “Yes.” Tess folded the letter she had been writing, and then slipped it into an envelope with her initials embossed in silver. “Some days ago I received a letter from Sven Templeton, asking that the sale of Wakefield Timber be completed.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Templeton is most anxious to get on with his plans.”

  “I’m sure he is,” Tess murmured, remembering the unspeakable carnage she had witnessed under the hand of uncaring timber barons like Sven Templeton. “I’ve written to inform him that I shall be keeping my grandfather’s business after all.”

  The surprise that f
lashed briefly across Talbot’s face didn’t go unnoticed by Tess, but he recovered his composure admirably.

  “Well, darling, that is entirely up to you, of course, but do you think it is wise?”

  “Yes, and I’ve also decided that for every tree Wakefield Timber cuts, one shall be replanted.” Tess’s chin firmed. “There shall not be another pine cut from Wakefield land that isn’t replaced.”

  Talbot met her determined gaze thoughtfully. “That is quite a large and costly undertaking, wouldn’t you say?”

  “It can be done.”

  “And Jake Lannigan? Will he be in charge of this vast replanting?”

  Tess’s gaze dropped to the letter in her hand. “I have no idea what Mr. Lannigan’s plans are.” He had not written or wired since she left. She could only conclude that his plans did not, nor would not, include her.

  Talbot stepped to the window and lifted the curtain to look outside. “And if he should refuse to stay on as foreman of Wakefield Timber?”

  There was the pain again, deep and searing as ever. “That will be Mr. Lannigan’s decision. He doesn’t consult me on such matters.”

  Talbot sighed. “I see.” Letting the material drop back into place, he cleared his throat. “Let’s not keep Miss Perryworth waiting.”

  He crossed the room and bent to kiss her. Tess casually averted her face, and the kiss landed benignly on her temple.

  “Would you rather I stay with you tonight? The opera is not important.”

  “No,” she said, hoping he would go. “Echo will enjoy the performance.”

  “Is that what this is about? Do you feel that Echo and I have been spending undue time with each other?”

  “Goodness, no.” She offered a genuine smile. “I’m ever so grateful you have taken her under your wing, Talbot. I love her as I would a sister.”

  Drawing a deep breath, he nodded.

  He was so kind. Why couldn’t she love him the way she did Jake? “I’ll be along soon, I promise,” she murmured.

  “Thank you, my love.” Talbot smiled warmly at her before gracefully leaving the room.

  The moment he left, she suspected Talbot only let the issue drop because he didn’t want to upset her. She knew he wanted to forget that horrible chapter in their lives and move on, but she couldn’t forget. Jake Lannigan was seared in her mind.

  And time would do nothing to change the matter.

  30

  Jake! Do you have some sort of death wish lately?”

  He felt André reach out to jerk him back to safety just as a pile of logs broke loose and spilled out into the thawing waters of Lake Huron.

  The spring river drive was on, and the time had arrived for the shanty boys to discard their shoepacs and rubbers for corked boots and peavey poles. Harvested logs were broken out and driven by the white-water men down the crowded strip of water to the sorting booms at the booming ground.

  Melting snow and heavy rains made a turbulent sight this morning. The pandemonium of thousands of logs dumped from neighboring logging camps—all massed together and floating down rivers and streams—was a nightmare to the inexperienced.

  Jake had been through it many times, but his mind was on something else. No, not something. Someone. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “On the contrary, you have been thinking too much lately.”

  “Let it drop, Montague.”

  “I cannot let it drop, Jake! Alors! You will be killed if you don’t snap out of it!”

  Jake turned to walk off, but André grabbed his arm and spun him around. He met the angry eyes of his friend.

  “If you can’t get Tess out of your mind, then do us both a favor and go after her!”

  “I can’t go after her.”

  “Why not? She’s not married to Wellington-Kent yet, is she?”

  The facade Jake had been struggling to carry for weeks was momentarily discarded, and for the first time since Tess left, he had to pause and gather his emotions. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in months, and he couldn’t think straight anymore. “I don’t know if she’s married, and it would only make matters worse if I did know, so drop it.” André gripped his shoulder tightly, and Jake saw mute understanding in his eyes.

  “Then I beg of you, mon ami, put an end to this madness. Make the trip to the city. Tell her you have been an imbecile but you love her.”

  Jake smiled. André did have a way with words. “If it were that simple, I would never have let her leave.” He swiped at moisture that welled in his eyes with the back of his hand. A grown man crying wasn’t a pleasant sight, and if André ever spoke of the incident he’d fire him. Then hire him back. The Frenchman was not only a comrade, but irreplaceable to Wakefield Timber.

  “It would seem that you are making this harder than it needs to be.” André’s tone softened. “You are blindly in love with this woman, Jake. How often does one’s true love happen along? I beg you, go after her.”

  The muscle in Jake’s jaw tightened. “I’ve done enough to disrupt her life. I refuse to do any more.”

  “You do not think she is also grieving?”

  Shrugging off the hand André had placed on his shoulder, Jake pulled his red wool cap down tighter, reached for a pike pole, and started toward the riverbank.

  “Don’t be a fool, man! It is not too late!”

  Jake continued on, ignoring the words. The last thing he wanted was to cause Tess more grief. She was to be married or already was, and he wouldn’t interfere.

  “Jake, you are not thinking straight. Please go back to the office. I will take care of things here.”

  “No one does my job for me, Montague,” Jake shouted above the roar. “Get to work or I’ll dock your pay.”

  The Frenchman’s sober expression didn’t escape him. A river hog’s job was nothing but danger this time of year, and André was justifiably worried. Jake knew he’d been taking too many chances lately. Did he think by deliberately asking for trouble, he could somehow bring some missing ingredient back into his life? All he knew was he wanted the pain in his heart to stop.

  He spotted a large jam forming at the sharp bend leading out into the channel. One of the jacks shouted, and he bound across the rolling logs to locate the one causing the problem. The deafening roar of timber breaking away reverberated around the hillsides as several old-timers worked to break up the jam. The poles rolled and jabbed and hooked logs on top of each other in an effort to unclog the stubborn mass. Overhead, the sky was a bright blue, though the air still had touches of the last vestiges of winter.

  André had stayed back to watch the men trying to free the jam.

  Suddenly, the log causing the trouble broke loose and shot down the river, followed by hundreds of logs under the immense pressure of the moving water. Jake jumped back to regain his footing, but the log his foot had been aiming for moved to join the others in its mad rush downstream.

  André took a step forward. “Jake!”

  Jake glanced up and his boot slipped. He dropped into the roiling water and was immediately sucked out of sight beneath the churning mass of pine.

  The Frenchman broke into a run, cupping his hands to his mouth, shouting, “Man down! Man down!”

  Jacks appeared from every direction, with poles poised, eyes fixed on the churning waters for the victim to surface between the milling logs.

  A red woolen cap bobbed to the surface, but its owner failed to follow.

  André’s boots raced along the riverbank, and then he abruptly turned and attempted to plunge into the swirling mass of water. A jack grabbed him, blocking his efforts to reach the approximate place where Jake had gone down.

  “Let go!” André bellowed. “Jake’s out there!”

  “You can’t help him, Montague!” The jack shouted above the roar of the churning water. Others gathered around, their eyes searching the milling logs for signs of life.

  “He’ll wash up downstream somewhere,” someone said.

  But minutes passed, an
d Jake wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  “He’s a goner,” someone else in the crowd said, voicing what every man was silently thinking.

  “No!” André said tightly. “Please, my friend,” he urged to thin air, “hang on.”

  On a Saturday afternoon, April twenty-first, soft strains of organ music filtered beneath the study door of the oldest Methodist church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

  It was a fitting spring day, and if Tess were to judge from the sounds of the birds’ merry chatter coming through the open window, everything was right with the world.

  So why was nothing right with hers?

  She stared at the image of the stranger standing in the floor length mirror, and wondered for the thousandth time what Jake was doing. Was he well? Was he eating properly? Was he dressed warmly enough?

  The apparition looked intently back at her in a lovely tulle-and-lace wedding gown of pristine white, embellished with hundreds of tiny pearls. The creation had been hand-sewn by the finest seamstresses in all of Philadelphia and would be the envy of a queen.

  The woman in the mirror looked familiar, but surely it wasn’t her. This person was about to walk down the aisle with a man, who, though very, very kind, was not the one she wanted to spend her life with. So, if this was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, why did she feel like running out and flinging herself off the nearest bridge?

  The door opened and Echo entered the room. The cloying, sugary smell of lilies and roses followed her, the sweetness threatening to make Tess “spit up,” as King Davis would say.

  “I have never seen so many people in my entire life,” the woman confessed, breathless. “Such fine carriages and fancy clothes. I do declare it’s like living in a palace. You can absolutely smell the money packed into those pews.”

  Taking in a deep breath and then slowly letting it out, Tess picked up her wedding veil and slipped it carefully on her head. “That’s nice.”

  “Oh…” Echo’s hand came to rest on her heart. “You look like an angel.”

  “I don’t feel like an angel,” Tess grumbled when Echo stepped over to assist her. “You know, my sweet friend, Talbot and I want you in our home for as long as you care to be with us.”