Or… an artist who made wainscoting and rocking chairs and carved trinkets his daughters enjoyed and bas reliefs that captured her imagination. The empty shop would be perfect for Nicolas.
If he didn’t want to return to the mine. If he was interested in making a business out of his whittling. He was a courageous man. Something she’d seen in those first several visits in his home.
Darla shook her head. She probably needed to see to her own business before sticking her nose into someone else’s. Someone who had dismissed her. Her diary wasn’t where she’d left it, and the contents could turn up when and where she least expected, claiming her job and the place she was building for herself in Cripple Creek.
While her thoughts collided with one another, she stepped away from the building and turned to continue on her way.
“Miss Taggart!”
She turned back toward the center of town, where a young man waved from the corner. It was the postmaster’s son, Archie. Perhaps a letter from Mother or Aunt Cora awaited her? The teenage boy rushed toward her with one hand hidden behind him.
“My father said he’d seen you walking west on Bennett.”
Cripple Creek was still a small town if the postmaster could track one’s moves on a busy street. “You were looking for me?”
“Yes, ma’am. My father received a message for you. And a gift.”
“He did?”
A grin bunched the freckles across his cheeks as he presented his other hand like a platform, holding a small cloth sack and a folded slip of paper.
Who would be sending her a gift? Perhaps Zachary had second thoughts about his behavior in Hattie’s parlor.
“They came from Nicolas Zanzucchi.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name. “They did?”
“Well, his girl Jocelyn delivered them to the post office. But she made us promise to make sure you understood the note and the present were from her papa.”
Darla squeezed her eyes shut for a second to reject unbidden tears, then leaned over his hand and pulled the drawstring sack open. Her breath caught, a breath sweetened by the scent of several chocolates. Creams. Truffles. Mint patties. The teenager appeared as light-headed over the gesture as she felt. “These are from Rosa’s Confectionary. You’re sure they’re meant for me? From Mr. Zanzucchi?”
Archie nodded, slowly and deliberately. “I think he’s sweet on you.”
She might have used the note to fan herself except that she wanted to maintain the appearance of composure, even though her insides were doing flips. Smiling, Darla reached into her leather pocketbook for a coin for Archie and tucked the sack of candy into her skirt pocket. “I suppose I should read the note and see what is necessary.” She unfolded the page and began reading, silently:
Dear Miss Taggart,
Should you refuse my request, I would not hold it against you. I have done nothing to deserve your audience. But I would ask for another chance to earn that right.
If you see fit to allow me to redeem myself, please come to see us at your earliest convenience.
No matter your decision, please accept this sweet token of my remorse.
Nicolas was sorry for thinking the worst of her… for sending her away. No, he was remorseful. He’d missed her, too, she was sure of it.
Darla blinked. Two words had been erased from the end of the sentence. She held up the paper for a closer look. “And affection.”
“Yep, he’s sweet on you, all right,” Archie said.
Oh dear, she’d read that last part aloud.
She nodded, then pressed her lips together and returned her gaze to the page.
With all sincerity,
Nicolas Zanzucchi
When she heard herself sigh, she folded the note and pressed it into her pocketbook. She handed the coin to Archie.
“Thank you.” He reached up and slid it into his shirt pocket. “Did you need me to deliver a response to Mr. Zanzucchi?”
“No. Thank you.” She’d see to it herself.
The boardinghouse could wait. She needed to return to Russell’s Grocery and Produce.
Chapter Twelve
Papa, do you think Miss Darla will come?”
Nicolas crowned his first king, then looked across the checkerboard at Jaya. “I hope so.”
Julia bounced onto her tiptoes beside the table where he and Jaya played checkers. “We really want her to come.”
He’d wanted to deliver the note and sweets to Darla personally but thought it best to leave the choice to see him up to her.
“She will come. You’ll see.” If only he shared Jaya’s childhood confidence.
“If she does come, who is going to open the door?” he asked.
“You are.” Julia pointed at him.
“That’s right.” He captured her finger, rewarded with a little-girl giggle.
“We won’t forget.” Broom in hand, Jocelyn bent and pressed the dustpan to the floor.
“We’ll wait in our bedroom until you say to come out.” Jaya jumped two of his game pieces, then looked up at him. “I know she’ll come because she really likes us.”
Sighing, Jocelyn stepped out onto the stoop and emptied the dustpan onto the ground below. She practically floated through the door with a grin brightening her face. “Miss Darla will come because she really likes Papa.”
Embarrassment warmed his neck. When had his daughters become matchmakers? “I don’t want you girls to be too disappointed if things don’t turn out the way you want them to.”
“She’ll come. You’ll see.” Jocelyn returned the broom and pan to the corner. “A girl just knows these things.”
“A ten-year-old girl?”
“I turn eleven in two months.”
Nicolas sighed. He had allowed himself to believe that Darla might be developing an affection for him. When he’d learned that she’d stayed at his bedside until she was sure he was on the path to recovery, he’d found it even easier to imagine.
He and his girls were all hopeless romantics. And he couldn’t help but pray that Darla was, too. And that she liked chocolate.
When Nicolas swung the door open, Darla nearly lost her footing and dropped her packages. He’d shaved and trimmed his mustache. Dressed in fresh trousers and a forest-green shirt, he also wore a smile that could melt the truffles in her pocket.
“You came!” His enthusiasm matched that she had received from his girls on previous visits. Girls she didn’t see or hear. “Where are the girls?”
“They’re in their room doing schoolwork. I arranged for us to have some privacy.”
Darla let a few seconds pass before breaking the silence. “Thank you for the chocolates and the note.”
“You’re welcome.” He looked down at the two sacks. “You brought groceries?”
“I promised Jocelyn a French cooking lesson.”
“Ah, yes. Please come in.” When he reached for the sacks, his thumb brushed her wrist, sending a warming tingle up her arm.
She set her bundle of fabric on the chair near the door, then followed him to the kitchen table, where he set the sacks.
“Are these favorable to sitting for a few minutes?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
It was good. Because the last thing she wanted to do was to deal with groceries, cook a meal, or even turn her gaze from this brown-eyed man who had invited her back into his life. Nicolas had a healthy glow about him, and his eyes sparkled with vitality.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing well,” Darla said.
“I am. Thank you.” He glanced at the kettle on the stove. “I brewed some mint tea. Would you like a cup?”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
He carried a steaming teacup and saucer to the sitting room and set it on a small table beside the rocker she’d sat in the night she’d kept watch over him. When she seated herself, Nicolas went to the spindle chair across from her.
“Thank you for this chance to rede
em myself, to tell you why I so abruptly asked Dr. Cutshaw for a replacement.” He reached up and brushed his hand through the rich brown curls cascading over his forehead. “When you showed up here for the first time, I was hesitant to accept the arrangement for you to be my nurse.”
Darla nodded. She started to reach for her teacup but decided against it. “You said I was too young. But I thought you’d moved past that hesitation.”
“I had.” He drew in a deep breath. “Until Zach arrived and your breath caught at the mention of his name.”
Her mouth suddenly dry, Darla moistened her lips.
“Despite my best efforts, I had begun to care for you. But you were my nurse, and you’d only seen me injured, sick, lying on a cot. Not nearly as appealing as a man who is strong and runs his own business.”
Darla leaned forward. “Admittedly, there was a time when my interest in a man ran shallow, but that is no longer the case.”
“I know that now.” He blew out a deep breath. “But that day, I could tell from your reaction to him and his to you that the two of you were, or had been, close. I assumed you were interested in pursuing a future with him. I didn’t want to interfere, so I thought it best to let you go.”
A noble gesture that had caused her to lose sleep. “I was at supper with Zachary that night to sort out and resolve my feelings. Any closeness he and I shared was in the past.”
“So Zach informed me.”
“You spoke with him about this?”
“He delivered coal earlier today, and your name came up in conversation.” A sweet grin tipped Nicolas’s mouth. “He said that anything you two once had got lost in the growing up.”
Darla wasn’t sure how much growing up Zachary had done, but she breathed a sigh of relief anyway. She apparently didn’t have to concern herself with him causing a scene.
“That’s not all he said.”
Her neck warmed, and she braced herself to hear the worst of it.
“Zach said if I was willing to let you get away, I wasn’t as smart as he thought I was, and that if given a choice, you’d choose me.” He leaned forward. His forearms resting on his knees, he looked her in the eye. “Is that true?”
“I did choose you.” Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I’m here.”
The chocolate-melting smile returned to his face. Nicolas did truly care for her. But he didn’t know all he needed to know about her.
“In my note, I asked you to accept the candy as a token of my remorse,” he said.
“Yes. And affection.”
His eyes widened, and he nodded. “I didn’t erase it because it wasn’t true. It is true. I tried to erase it because I wasn’t sure how my apology would be accepted. And I didn’t want to narrow my chances by laying bare my deeper feelings. I—”
She raised her hand to stop him. “There’s more you need to know before you can allow yourself to have true affection for me.”
“Darla, the past doesn’t matter to me. Like Paul said in his letter to the Philippians, I want to forget about those things that are behind us and reach for what lies ahead of us.”
“Please. Let me tell you.”
He relaxed against the back of the chair.
She took a deep breath. “I was a snappish teenager who didn’t appreciate being the parson’s daughter. I didn’t like the way some people watched me and seemed always ready for me to step out of line, a line they had drawn. I grew tired of their lofty expectations.”
“That sounds understandable.”
“Yes, well.” She lifted the teacup to her dry mouth and took a sip. “Unfortunately, my rebellion led me to seek male attention. Yes, Zachary. But first was a doctor who had just arrived in town from Boston.”
“Morgan Cutshaw?”
“Yes, and he’s now my boss. That’s one of the many strange turns of events I’ve experienced since my return to Cripple Creek. Another being Miss Hattie having married Kat Sinclair Cutshaw’s father. My landlady is now the stepmother of the woman I wronged.”
Nicolas stood. “I think I will grab a cup, if you don’t mind.”
She motioned toward the kitchen, grateful for a short break before telling the worst of it.
Nicolas returned to his chair with a steaming mug of tea. “Sorry for the interruption. You were saying?”
“Yes.” Darla set her saucer on the table beside her. “Dr. Cutshaw had grown fond of Miss Kat Sinclair, but his lack of interest in me didn’t stop me from pursuing him. To the point of being deceitful and intentionally trying to come between them. I really was terrible to Kat.”
“You were yet a child, just becoming a woman. We’ve all done things in our youth we’re ashamed of. Have you seen her since you’ve been back?”
“I have. At church.”
“And does she hold the past against you?”
Darla shook her head. “She said the trouble between us was old news.”
“Well, then. I don’t see—”
“I kept a diary about that shameful time in my life. I buried it under a floorboard in the parsonage just days before my father sent me to Philadelphia to live with my aunt and go to nurse’s training.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’d found Zachary and I in the church basement. We were… uh, kissing.”
His gentle nod told her she needn’t say any more about that.
“Part of the reason I came back was to retrieve the diary and a pendant that had belonged to my grandmother.”
“And have you?”
“No.” More tears stung her eyes. “I should’ve told the parson and his wife about it, but I didn’t.” She sniffed and blotted her eyes. “Instead, I snuck in while they were away, and Ida returned to the parsonage for her parasol while I was trying to pull up the board.”
“What did she do?”
“After my confession, she grabbed a pry bar and helped me. But my things were no longer there.” Darla bit her bottom lip. “So you see, it was me all along who needed redemption. Not you.”
“We all need redemption.” Nicolas rose from his chair and walked toward her, knelt in front of her, and took her hands in his. “You seem to be the only one in town who can’t accept the fact that you’ve changed. Everyone else you’ve mentioned seems to have extended grace. Isn’t it time you accept God’s forgiveness, forgive yourself, and reach for those things in front of you?”
Darla nodded, glancing down at their joined hands. Yes. It was time.
The aroma of a simmering creamy chicken stew and a fresh loaf of French bread perfumed the house. The woman he loved wore the faded gingham apron again, this time over a pink dress with lace and black-and-pink trim. Knowing how she’d struggled then and now had endeared her to him all the more.
Darla sat in the rocker in front of the open trunk while the girls took turns unwrapping his carvings and handing them to her. He couldn’t help but stare as she examined each one, admiring the detail.
“I like this one a lot.” Julia held up a playful kitten, stroking its wooden fur.
Darla added a miniature stallion to the collection on her lap and took the kitten. “I can see why you like it. She’s cute—like you.” She poked Julia in the belly. When giggles spilled out, tears filled Darla’s eyes again, but he could tell they were joyful tears.
She may have thought God had brought her back to resolve her past with Zach and to retrieve her belongings from the parsonage, but he believed God had brought her to Cripple Creek to rescue him and his family.
Jaya lifted a small shelf from the trunk. “Did Papa tell you he has to go back to work?”
Darla looked to where he knelt on the floor at the end of the trunk, a frown narrowing her green eyes. “At the mine?”
He nodded. “Yes. According to Mrs. Alexander, the doctor’s release is for this Thursday.”
A deep sigh rounded her shoulders. “What if you didn’t return to the mine?”
“I have thought about it, but—”
“I’m sure the
re are many other things you could do.”
“I suppose with all the new buildings going up, if I’m healed enough, I could hire on as brick layer. But those crews tend to travel from town to town.”
Her eyes widening, she glanced down at the carvings on her lap then up to the phoenix. “What about your woodworking? I saw that the watchmaker’s building is empty. You could open a shop.”
“My own shop for whittling?”
“It looks to me like woodworking means more to you than a mere hobby might.”
“Papa did the wainscoting at the church,” Jocelyn said. “And Miss Hattie’s, too.”
Jaya set the shelf on the floor. “And that bench in the foyer. You made that, too, Papa.”
Darla nodded. “I think you’d have more work than time to do it.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Jocelyn looked at him, her eyebrows raised. So did Darla and the little ones, as if waiting for his response.
Of course he liked the idea, but he couldn’t say it would be realistic for him to think he could quit the mine and start a business. “I appreciate the votes of confidence.” He met Darla’s gaze and smiled. “We’ll see. I’ll think about it.”
Jocelyn pressed her hand to Darla’s knee. “I’m so glad you came back, Miss Darla.”
“I’m glad I did, too.” She patted Jocelyn’s hand.
“Me, too.” Julia leaned against Darla’s other leg, and she stroked the little one’s curls. Like a mother would.
“That makes five of us,” Jaya said.
Nicolas nodded, tears pooling his eyes. Five of us. He liked the sound of that.
Chapter Thirteen
Hattie’s modern stove was far newer and bigger than the one in the company house. But Darla couldn’t imagine being happier than she had been yesterday, cooking for the Zanzucchi family with Jocelyn at her side. Never had she laughed so hard as when Nicolas and his girls decided eating a French meal required using a French accent. Her time with them made her miss her brother, Peter, and Mother and Father. But she couldn’t fathom making the long train ride to New York any time soon, and she doubted they had any notion to come clear across the country.
The Heirloom Brides Collection Page 40
