Chapter Twelve
He’d always thought men in love were the worst kind of fools, but now, as Roy tramped down the muddy sidewalks of Paradise with a spring in his step, he couldn’t imagine why. He suddenly felt as if he were Rip Van Winkle awakening from a twenty-seven-year sleep.
Ellie was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Loving her gave him a purpose in life—in fact, thinking about her and their future together made the whole cockamamy idea of family and children finally make sense to him for the first time. Their kisses had unlocked that mystery.
He smiled to himself and patted the bulge in his coat pocket where a small box lay.
Knowing Ellie had changed him. Completely. And to show that he was a different man now, he was going to do something that until this morning he hadn’t dreamed he’d do in a million years. He was going to see his mother.
No, more than that. He was going to forgive her, bury the hatchet, and start new. After all, she would be the grandmother to his children!
Roy knocked on her red door and waited. After a few moments, he heard the light tread of her footsteps, and then the door opened. Seeing her always surprised him—like being confronted with a specter from a hazily remembered dream. He took a deep breath and smiled.
She beamed back at him. “Roy! How nice of you to drop by.”
Her greeting, which almost made it sound as if his “dropping by” were nothing out of the ordinary, took him aback. He hesitated warily at the door a moment.
Then he remembered. He was a new man. A magnanimous man.
He stepped across the threshold. “I should have come before now.”
He looked around the narrow, deep rooms and at first was surprised by their ordinariness. Beautiful green velvet drapes hung over the front windows, but otherwise the room was empty. In the second room, reached through an open archway, the only adornment besides a worktable and two high-backed chairs was a basket of fruit over the mantel.
She followed his gaze. “I know,” she said with her disarming, lilting laugh, “it’s a very dull house, so far. The upstairs isn’t much better, though it will be once all my things are shipped from Philadelphia.”
“I see.”
“Down here is my workroom.” She gestured toward the chair. “The fire is nice and warm here, Roy. Would you like to sit down?”
He couldn’t stop staring at that basket, with its apples and jars of applesauce and apple cider. It could only have come from one source—Ed—but his uncle hadn’t said a word about seeing Isabel the day he’d come to town.
“Did you buy that at the mercantile?” he asked, pointing to the basket.
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “It was left at the door. I wish your uncle had come in and given it to me in person. I’ve so wanted to speak to him!”
Good heavens! Was that what had had Ed so riled up when he came back from Paradise the other night? The poor man’s references to cowardice and new clothes hadn’t made a lick of sense to him then, but now he was afraid he was beginning to understand.
Of all things! She’d cast her spell on his uncle—innocent, happy Uncle Ed, who was now a bundle of nerves. He felt his own nerves jangling and came dangerously close to telling Isabel that she might as well give up hunting for husband number three because Ed was too good for her by a long shot.
But then again he remembered that he was a changed man. A man who understood how wonderful a thing love was. In his present mood, he shouldn’t begrudge the wonderful feeling to anyone.
Even a woman who had a history of abandoning McMillans.
He took a deep breath. “Uncle Ed’s shy, you know.”
Her full lips tilted up in a smile. “Yes, I know. I’ve wanted to go out to his farm, but I was afraid I’d take him by surprise. Now, however, I worry that waiting for him to come see me mightn’t be the wisest course, either.”
“Oh, I think it is,” Roy said quickly. Then he added, “I mean, I’m sure he’ll come around again.”
Maybe sometime this century!
“I hope so.”
Even in her widow’s weeds, Isabel was stylish and beautiful. Her skin was still taut, her figure tall and trim. He guessed that she was one of the best-looking older women he’d ever seen. That thought gave him an unmistakable, absurd feeling of pride, and for a moment, he was that four-year-old little boy again, boasting to all the other little boys at a prairie church meeting one Sunday in the McMillan soddy that he had the prettiest mother.
He hadn’t been wrong, after all.
Strangely, for a moment, he felt a prick of uncertainty, as if he were a traitor to the little boy who had felt so lost and abandoned and resentful toward his mother all those years…but then he remembered. Now that he was a changed man, he could admit a few of Isabel’s good points. He could mull over what Ed had told him about her, and start to see her leaving Nebraska all those years ago from her perspective. After all, Ed had intimated there had been violence in the house, and as much resentment as he’d harbored toward her, the thought of someone raising his hand to strike her made him shudder with anger. It was as unthinkable to him as someone hitting Ellie.
No woman should have to stand for that.
She took his arm and jostled it lightly to get his attention. When he looked down at her, surprised to have been caught lost in thought, she was grinning. “My, I always forget what a serious man you are, Roy. But I must say, you’re handsome. Handsomer, even, than Abner was.”
He was almost shocked to hear her mention his father—and so casually. “I was just thinking to myself how well you looked.”
She smiled happily. “Thank you! We’re a regular mutual admiration society today, aren’t we? Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you.”
The narrow, high-backed work chair she’d led him to didn’t exactly make for comfortable seating, but he did his best to settle into the thing. Unfortunately, something was poking at him. He swivelled, then realized that something was his own coat. Remembering his purchase of that morning, he half stood and pulled the box out of the right pocket.
He’d meant to wait a while to bring the subject up, but now that he had the thing in his hand, he didn’t see any reason to beat around the bush. Besides, he was too eager to get a woman’s opinion on his purchase—a real woman’s opinion, since he didn’t trust Cora Trilby. She would have told him anything to make a sale.
“Look here—” he said, causing Isabel to swing away from the fireplace, her brows lifted in question. He felt his cheeks heat now that it was actually time to tell her. Heck, he didn’t even know what to call this woman. Mother? Ma? Isabel? And here he was about to divulge his biggest secret to her!
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…
Family, he reminded himself. Continuity. “See here, um, Mama,” he blurted out awkwardly, jutting the little box toward her, “I’ve bought this ring for Ellie. I intend to ask her to marry me.”
“Eleanor?” she asked, blinking in surprise. “Not the blond girl from the mercantile?”
Good heavens! Had everyone been spying on him and Clara? “No, no. Clara is just a…” Pest was the word that came to mind, but he let it drop. “Ellie and I are in love.”
Isabel clapped her hands together in obvious delight. “Oh, Roy—how wonderful!”
He shrugged modestly, though inside he felt proud and absurdly puffed up by her approval. “I haven’t actually asked her yet, but I intend to tonight. I was hoping you would give me an opinion on the ring. I’ve never bought a woman jewelry before.”
She opened the little box and pulled out the silver band and gasped in delight. A flower pattern of tiny pearls and diamond chips adorned the band. “How perfectly beautiful!”
His pulse kicked up and he scooted closer to her. “Do you think I should have picked something simpler? They didn’t have much, and I didn’t want to wait to go to Omaha.”
“Absolutely not, Roy. You couldn’t have chosen a better engagement g
ift. Any woman would be delighted with it, and I’m sure Eleanor will be overwhelmed.”
Roy frowned. “I hope so.”
He hadn’t seen her wear jewelry—probably she’d left all her valuables in New York, assuming that Nebraska was not the place for flaunting wealth.
Isabel pushed the ring onto her little finger and admired it, and looking at his purchase adorning his mother’s long elegant hand made Roy feel more sure about his choice. It was pretty and unique. Like Ellie.
She smiled at him. “So you’re going to be a married man!”
Her tone made him feel as though getting married was a huge accomplishment. “When will the wedding be?”
Roy shook his head. “It’s hard to say. Ellie might want a long engagement.”
Isabel laughed. “Oh, I doubt that! I’ll wager she’s more eager than you are.”
“But you see, we come from such different backgrounds, and I’ve never met any of her folks….”
His mother tilted her head doubtfully. “I was under the impression that she’d left very few people behind.”
“True, but I still don’t want to rush her into anything. Moving clear across the country will be a big step for her.” Just the thought of moving Ellie from Park Avenue to his farm had him tied up in knots. “It will be a big adjustment for her, although she’s made quick progress learning all about the farm, and doing housework.”
His mother laughed. “I don’t wonder!”
“Of course she’ll probably want to make quite a few changes out on the farm. New furniture and such. I’m ready for that.”
Isabel shook her head and gazed on him with something like awe. “Roy, I have to say I so admire what you’re doing for that poor girl!”
He smiled and was about to raise his shoulders in another modest shrug, when suddenly he felt a prick of apprehension. “I wouldn’t call her that.” He frowned. “Unless you know about…”
She sighed. “I know it all.”
The baby. He and Ellie had barely discussed the matter, but Roy was certain of one thing. “I’ll raise the child as if it were my very own.”
His mother gazed at him in an admiration that went straight to his head, swelling it a few sizes. “How wonderful to hear you say that, Roy.”
“Heck, I’m glad she’ll be having a baby right away,” he said. “I hope we have dozens.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “It wasn’t just the baby, it was everything. You should thank me, you know. I played matchmaker with you two!”
Roy frowned quizzically. “No you didn’t. You told me there was something brewing between her and Parker.”
She laughed. “I knew that would make you look twice at her. You see, I so wanted to do something nice for you—and her, too.
The poor girl was practically begging me for a job, but from some sort of intuition—call it unearned maternal wisdom, if you will—I sensed something would happen between you!”
Roy gaped at her. Even after chewing them over a second time, her words were incomprehensible to him. “Ellie asked you for a job?”
“Yes, that day I visited you after your toe accident. She felt she’d already caused too much trouble and asked me to take her in. But of course she’d had no experience.”
Roy frowned. “Of course not! Her life hadn’t prepared her to make hats. My wonder is that she’d even want to!”
Maybe that silver mine investment was even more disastrous than she’d let on….
Isabel laughed. “Well it’s a certain bet she’d have a hard time finding a position like the one she had before, unless she went to Omaha or at least Kansas City. Certainly no one in Paradise is in need of a serving maid.”
The blood rushed through Roy’s temples creating a roar inside his head. Serving maid?
Had his mother gone mad, or had he?
“Look, the kettle’s ready!” she said, hopping up spryly and taking two cups out of a small cabinet shelf. “I’m so glad you’ve come, Roy. I’ll admit I’ve been in rather low spirits lately.” She hummed to herself as she took the kettle from the fireplace.
Roy barely heard her. He was still so stunned about Ellie. A maid? Surely his mother was wrong! He bolted out of his chair, startling the words out of her. “When did Ellie tell you about herself?”
She poured water from the steaming kettle into a waiting pot. “That same day. I guessed the truth.” She laughed. “Anyone could from those sad little weeds of hers.”
Roy breathed a sigh. She’d guessed—wrongly, no doubt. His mother, who always dressed like a fine lady, though she wasn’t one, probably wouldn’t understand the mentality of a rich woman who didn’t care about clothes. “She dresses like a maid.”
Isabel tsked pityingly as she filled a tea strainer. “Yes, and then when I told her that it was obvious she wasn’t the grand lady she was pretending to be, the poor thing just sagged in relief, and out poured the whole sad history of that snooty young ne’er-do-well she worked for who seduced her, and then her being fired in such a humiliating way, and her desperate decision to come here. She’s quite a talker, your Ellie—so entertaining, though. The way she described it her life seemed like something straight out of a novel.”
Roy’s head was reeling. She hadn’t been mistaken. Ellie had told her—told Isabel, whom she barely knew. But not him, her would-be husband. The man Isabel had told her to try to wrap around her little finger!
Novel? It didn’t surprise him that Ellie’s life would seem like a novel, since she’d apparently done nothing but plot it out since coming to Nebraska! His face burned as he remembered it all—a deception that had begun since before she’d stepped off the train. Her widowhood. The far-fetched story about a husband who’d drowned in the ocean. He’d been such a gullible fool, he’d spent half an hour teaching a maid how to change bedsheets!
What an actress!
Of course he’d known all along…or, at least, he’d certainly suspected her from the very beginning. From the moment he saw her at the railway station, carrying nothing but a few dusty bags, he’d had his doubts. That’s how he’d broken his toe—checking on her to make sure she wasn’t up to no good with his brother. His trouble was he should have kept a closer eye on her and not have been swayed by her coquettish ways and pretty green eyes. Those honeyed kisses…
His head pounded. He couldn’t speak. Anger roiled in him, especially when he heard his mother next to him, humming as she poured out two cups of tea. Humming! Because she was happy that he had just been duped. In fact, she’d encouraged Ellie!
At the sound of a cup rattling toward his back, he stiffened, then pivoted on his heel.
His mother’s eyes widened. “Aren’t you going to have your tea?”
His jaw clenched so tightly he was afraid he would grind his teeth down to dust. His voice came out as a bare rasp. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Her face fell. “Is something wrong, Roy?”
He wasn’t going to cry on Isabel’s shoulder about this, that was for damned sure. He wasn’t going to cry, period. He wasn’t such a damned fool that he didn’t know a bit of luck when he saw it. Isabel and her little revelation had just saved him from attaching himself to a scheming woman.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said stonily. “I’m just eager to get back to the ranch. To talk to Eleanor.”
“Oh, don’t forget this!” She pulled the ring off her pinkie finger and turned to drop it in its little box. When she handed it to him, her brow was furrowed. “Are you sure you won’t stay and take something to drink? You look feverish.”
He stuffed the box into his pocket. “No, it’s important that I go now.”
In fact, he had to hold himself from hitting the door running. Gathering his wounded pride around him like a second coat, he said good-night to his mother and strode quickly down the sidewalk. The sound of his boot heels against the pine planks echoed in his ears. Deceived. Deceived. Deceived.
So much for being a changed man!
“I don’t think I�
��ve ever seen a woman so happy.”
“That’s because there never was one.” Ellie grinned at Parker, hesitant to bring up a taboo subject. She decided to throw caution to the wind. “You must feel pretty good yourself, knowing that Roy isn’t in love with Clara Trilby.”
A slight smile tipped at his lips. “I’ll admit I was worried. My mother had me convinced that wedding bells were ringing.”
Ellie laughed. “Appearances can be deceiving—thank heavens!”
He nodded. “You know what the most amazing thing is? I’ve never seen Roy so happy, Ellie.”
That observation meant all the world to her. More than her own happiness, even, she wanted good things for Roy.
And she was going to make those good things happen. Starting now. She had her sleeves rolled up over a steaming laundry tub in the kitchen, filled with his clothes. She was going to show him that she was someone who could work hard and stick by him through thick and thin. She was going to show him….
That she loved him. Every time she thought about it—and about the miracle of his loving her back—she felt her body go as limp as one of her overcooked dumplings.
Parker laughed. “You’re both a sight.”
She felt like dancing, but instead concentrated on scrubbing an old work shirt against the washboard. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if feeling like this could go on and on?” she mused. “It’s like being lost in a good story—only it’s real.”
He stretched out his legs, leaned back, and gazed at her long and hard. “You mean you don’t think your story will have a happy ending?”
“Oh, it’s not that!” She shook her head, chuckling. As long as she could share her life with Roy, she would be happy. “It’s just that there are always a few bad days, little bumps on the road, trials no one foresees.”
He nodded. “Sometimes we create those bumps ourselves.”
Some brittle undertone in his words made her straighten up warily. His blue eyes pierced right through her, right down to her soul, and she felt her stomach flop. “What do you mean?”
He cleared his throat. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, seeing how happy you two were, but before Roy gets back, I wanted to ask you.”
Liz Ireland Page 17
