Mr. Brody laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I think it’s absolutely perfect.”
Nathan had put in several hours of overtime on the piano, staying up working on it until nearly midnight. Ori hadn’t complained—in fact, she said it gave her time to mend some things she’d been putting off. She’d made a charming companion while he worked.
Now early the next afternoon, the instrument was finished. He took a soft cloth and a little bottle of polishing oil from his bag and wiped down every inch of wood, rubbing it until it shone and bore no more fingerprints. Then he stepped back and admired it.
“Oh, it looks so beautiful,” Ori said as she came into the room with a tray of sandwiches. “Nathan, thank you so much.”
“Well, don’t thank me just yet. We need to test it out.” He sat down on the bench and began to play. The rich sound filled the parlor, every note on pitch. This was why he did what he did—this moment of satisfaction, knowing that he helped create something so meaningful.
“Just lovely,” Isabel said from the doorway. “You do excellent work.”
“I’m glad you think so because I intend to do a lot more of it.” Nathan stood from the bench and gently lowered the lid over the keys.
“Does that mean you’re leaving soon?” Ori said.
He could tell that she was trying to sound casual, but he caught the expression of dismay in her eyes, and it made him smile. Then he felt guilty that her distress made him happy. Then he felt foolish for feeling guilty. Gracious—he’d better explain himself soon before he became even more confused.
He picked up a sandwich and took a seat. “Actually, I have a bit of news to share.”
“Oh?” Isabel sat down as well. “What is it?”
Nathan was enjoying this moment of suspense perhaps a bit too much. “Yesterday afternoon, I took a little stroll with Adam Brody. You know, of the Brody Hotel. He introduced me to a man who owns a vacant building right here in Topeka, and I signed a lease on that building.”
Ori looked at him in shock. “A building? Here in Topeka?”
“That’s right. I’m going to build pianos. And because there may not be much call for pianos here in such a small town, I’m also going to teach music. Violin, clarinet—I can teach most things that would be called for.”
Ori set down her sandwich with trembling fingers. Nathan noticed that she hadn’t yet taken a bite. “So you’re staying in Topeka?” she asked, sounding as though she didn’t dare to believe it.
“I’m staying right here.” He settled back and gave her a smug grin.
“I . . .” Ori didn’t say more. She just stood and left the room, and seconds later, he heard the back door slam.
“I didn’t meant to upset her,” Nathan said, looking at Isabel.
“I don’t think she’s upset. Go after her.”
“But if she wants to be alone . . .”
“Nathan, for someone who can give relationship advice, you sure can’t take it. Now go after her.”
He didn’t need to be scolded a third time. He set down his remaining sandwich crust and headed for the back door.
Ori was standing in the middle of her garden, quite the picture with the yellow of her dress contrasting against the greens of the plants that surrounded her. Nathan paused for a moment to appreciate the scene, and then he walked up behind her. “Ori?”
She turned, and he saw tears on her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, reaching out to catch one of her tears on his thumb. “Aren’t you happy that I’m staying?”
“Of course I’m happy! Why wouldn’t you think I’m happy?”
“Because you ran out of the room and now you’re crying in your garden?”
She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes people run out of rooms and cry because they’re happy.”
“Not anyone I know.”
“Well, you know me, and I do.”
This conversation wasn’t going anywhere. He’d do better to change the subject to what he really wanted to say. He slid his hand down her arm and took her fingers in his. “And would you like to know why I’m staying, Ori?”
“Because you enjoyed the fine welcome our local marshal gave you on your arrival in town?”
“No, I’m staying despite all that. It’s you, Ori. Thoughts of you are what kept me going during my year of jail—that’s why this is the first place I came when I was released. And thoughts of you kept me going last weekend when I was behind bars yet again. You inspire me, bring me peace, make me laugh, and you create the oddest sensation right here in the middle of my stomach.”
“I do?”
“Yes. I know it’s not a stomachache because it’s pleasant. It’s fluttery and jittery and it gets worse when you come in the room.”
“Hmm. You might want to see Dr. Wayment about that.”
“I just might, but I have a suspicion about what he’d say.”
She looked up at him with those eyes that had the power to captivate him so. “And what would he say?”
“He would say that I’m in love. And that it’s completely incurable, and that the symptoms can only be managed by marrying the object of that love.”
“The object? I’m an object, am I?”
Nathan chuckled. “You have to understand, that’s purely medical terminology. Scientists aren’t as personal as say, a musician might be.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “How would a musician put it?”
He brushed his lips across her knuckles. “He would say that you are the other half of his heart, and that he’s been walking around incomplete since he came into this world. And he would ask if you would please complete him and become his wife.”
She seemed to contemplate. “That is better.”
“And?”
“And what?”
He groaned and shook his head. “Will you marry me, Miss Orinda Lou Britt?”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Nathan Perry, I will.”
He laughed, picked her up and spun her around, then set her on the ground and kissed her like he’d been longing to do for years.
Chapter 14
Could this be real? Ori clutched the lapels of Nathan’s coat as he kissed her, feeling the strong warmth of his arms around her. After so much time spend daydreaming about this moment, it seemed incredible that it was finally happening, and so much more wonderful than even her most wonderful daydream.
When he finally let her go, they were both breathless, but she didn’t care. Breathing was nice, but she did it all the time—she could do without a little bit if it meant being kissed like that.
“I’m guessing the fact that you let her go means it’s safe to talk now?”
Ori looked around Nathan’s shoulder to see Kristin out hanging wash on her line. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Oh, about ten minutes, but I hid behind the shirts when you came out because I didn’t want you to be embarrassed. But now I have a problem—I need to go take the bread out of the oven, so you need to know I’m here so I can leave.”
Ori laughed. “All right. Go ahead.”
Kristin turned and went back into her house, her cheeks red.
“Well, so much for a private proposal,” Nathan said.
“That’s what we get for having conversations outside. It’s practically public.”
“In your own yard?”
“In my own yard where I have neighbors.”
Nathan chuckled and took her hand. “Shall we go in and tell Isabel?”
“Yes, I think we should.”
Epilogue
After delaying their courtship for so many years, Nathan and Ori decided they didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary for the actual wedding. Ori was overwhelmed by all the little details and would much rather have walked over to the church and gotten married in whatever she happened to be wearing at the time, but Isabel insisted on a dress and flowers, and because Ori knew that planning this wedding was good for keeping Isabel distracted from her o
wn woes, she allowed her to have her way.
“Three days, Isabel,” she told her sister. “You can arrange whatever you want as long as you can have it ready in three days.”
Isabel took that challenge to heart.
Nathan, of course, left the wedding planning to the women and spent his three days setting up his new shop. He’d managed to tuck away just enough for the basics, and over time, he’d be able to add more equipment. He would teach piano out of Ori’s parlor and hopefully, his students would become inspired to have pianos of their own . . . which he would sell to them.
The night before the wedding, Ori was startled by a knock on her front door. She smiled when she opened it, stepped back, and called out, “Isabel? Someone’s here to see you.”
Her sister gasped as she came down the hall. “Ronald?”
Ronald Andrews, dressed in a gray suit and with his equally gray hair slicked back, held out a posy of flowers. “I’ve come courting, Isabel.” And then of course it was Ori’s turn to make herself scarce.
The sun couldn’t possibly have shone any brighter the next day—or maybe Ori just felt that way because she was so incredibly happy. She’d once believed that only performing would bring her that joy, but she’d learned that she could be even happier when loved by the right man, and now she could have love and music both. She’d decided that Nathan needed to add vocal lessons to his repertoire, and she was more than happy to volunteer to teach. They would run the business together, doing what they loved, being together—nothing could be more blissful.
And when she took Nathan’s hands in front of Pastor Osbourne and pledged her love, her heart soared as high as any of her notes ever had. This was true. This was right. This was exactly where she belonged—by Nathan Perry’s side.
About the Author
About Amelia C. Adams
Amelia C. Adams is a wife, a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels.
She loves all things historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born more recently (she won't say how recently or not recently) because the Internet is awesome, and she's glad she doesn't have to wash her clothes by hand in a galvanized tub. She has hit Amazon bestseller status three times.
You can reach Amelia at [email protected].
Please join Amelia on her website to learn more about her, sign up for her newsletter, stay on top of news and upcoming releases, and follow her on Facebook.
Also by Amelia C. Adams
The Kansas Crossroads Series:
A New Beginning (free!)
A Free Heart
The Dark and the Dawn
A Clean Slate
A Clear Hope
The Whisper of Morning
A Careless Wind
A Narrow Road
The Bitter and the Sweet
The Calm of Night
A Begrudging Bride
A Broken Wing (A Kansas Crossroads novella)
The Nurses of New York series:
Sea of Strangers (free!)
Cause of Conflict
Touch of Tenderness
Heart of Hearts
Test of Time
The American Mail-Order Brides series:
Hope: Bride of New Jersey
Tabitha: Bride of Missouri
The Hearts of Nashville series:
Whiskey and Women
As part of the Brides of Beckham series by Kirsten Osbourne:
Mail Order Molly
As part of the River’s End Ranch series:
Accidental Agent
Rugged Rockclimber
As part of the Grandma’s Wedding Quilts series:
Meredith’s Mistake
Teton Season of Promise
(Teton Romance Series Novella)
Peggy L Henderson
Copyright © 2017 by Peggy L. Henderson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter 1
St. Louis, Missouri April 1870
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. Maybe run away?”
Livy blew air from her mouth to part the wisps of hair that fell over her face and obstructed her view. The effort was short-lived, so she hastily swiped at her forehead, pushing the offending strands back under the kerchief she’d tied around her head.
Steam from one of the pots on the stove rose in a thick mist, dampening her flushed face. Grabbing another carrot from the long workbench in front of her, she attacked it with the paring knife in her hand, peeling the skin off the root.
She whipped her head around at the deep chuckle next to her.
“And what do you have in mind, Miss Olivia Barkley?”
The large woman standing next to Livy wiped her hands on her apron, then held one to her hip. A wide smile spread across her face.
“Where do you think you’re going to run off to in this city? Be glad you’ve got a job. You said yourself you were nearly out on the street before Mrs. Finch hired you.”
Livy cut the carrot into small pieces, the sound of her knife on the wooden cutting board sounding more like a hatchet on a chopping block. Too bad the carrot wasn’t his head. She shifted her eyes to meet the other woman’s gaze.
“Weren’t you listening, Jenny? I told you what he did . . . what he tried to do.”
Jenny Washington smirked, then nodded. Her facial features softened to a sympathetic look.
“Old Horace Laslow’s got a reputation around town, I’ll admit, but I’ve never heard that he’s propositioned any of the household staff before.”
Livy tossed the carrot pieces into a bowl filled with water and reached for another one. If she didn’t keep her hands busy, they’d betray her inner anger and turmoil.
“Maybe no one’s ever come forward and said anything,” she mumbled, her eyes on the shavings of carrot skins she flicked through the air.
“You just started this job, Livy.” Jenny placed a hand on her shoulder. “It won’t look good if you up and quit. Mrs. Finch won’t give you a good reference.”
Livy scraped at the carrot with more vigor. She flinched when the knife slipped and sliced her finger instead.
“Ouch.” Both the knife and carrot fell to the floor. Livy quickly stuck her finger in her mouth as the cut assaulted the nerves in her hand.
“Now look what you done,” Jenny scolded. She reached for a kitchen cloth and grabbed for Livy’s hand. “Got yourself all worked up.”
The kind-hearted cook tore a strip from the cloth and wrapped it securely around Livy’s finger. The pressure of the bandage eased the burning sensation.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, then bent to pick up the knife and carrot, resuming her work. She glanced sideways when Jenny didn’t move, but instead stood next to her with an observant eye.
“How come you don’t have a husband, Livy?” the older woman finally blurted. “A pretty thing like you ought to be married, or at least have a beau.”
Livy scoffed. “I’ve never had time for a beau. Who’d want to marry me, anyway? I’ve got nothing to offer.” The carrot in front of her became blurry. She laughed a little too forcefully, and blinked to clear her vision.
“What’s so funny?” Jenny huffed. “Just because you work as a cook’s helper doesn’t mean you can’t take care of a husband and family of your own. Haven’t you ever wanted a man? Fancied yourself in love?”
Livy laughed again. The idea of love was as foreign as being mistress of a grand house, such as the one in which her current employer resided. A slow smile spread across her lips. She set her knife on the counter, then leaned forward and rested her chin in her hand.
“I was in love
once.” She stared out the window at the clouds that drifted through the sky without a care. A sigh escaped her lips.
“Well? What happened?” Jenny prodded.
Livy straightened, and stared at her friend. “He disappeared,” she whispered. “He promised to always take care of me.” She dropped her eyes to the counter. “One day he disappeared, and I never saw him again.”
“What a scoundrel.” Anger flashed in Jenny’s eyes. “Breaking your heart like that.”
Livy laughed. “At the time, I thought I would die.”
Jenny glared at her, no doubt thinking she’d lost her mind for laughing at having a man break her heart and leave her. Time to put the cook’s worries to rest. She smiled as long-forgotten memories surfaced, and the serious look on a young boy’s face flashed in her mind.
“I was five years old at the time. He might have been a few years older.”
Jenny’s forehead scrunched and her lips turned downward in a displeased frown.
“We were both at an orphanage in Ohio,” Livy continued. “My parents died in a house fire when I was five. No one wanted to take me in, so I was sent to Cincinnati.” She glanced at her hands, the memories fuzzy at best. A soft laugh escaped her lips. “I was scared to death. I’d never known anything but life on my parents’ farm.”
A sympathetic shadow passed through Jenny’s eyes. The usually outspoken cook stood still, an expectant look on her face as she clearly waited for Livy to continue.
“The orphanage was a scary place. The girls slept in one large, cold room and the boys in another. I kept to myself and didn’t speak to anyone. Some of the other girls - and some of the boys - thought I was easy to push around because I was the least-likely one to tattle.”
Gunsmoke and Gingham Page 8
