by Indiana Wake
Still, that was the past and this was now and, as far as Honey could tell, things might really work out for the best after all.
Chapter 13
The following day, Trinity Goodman announced at the breakfast table that she was heading into town to buy the fabric to make one or two new dresses for both herself and Honey. The whole thing seemed to come out of the blue and, when her mother asked her father if he could manage alone that day in the warehouse, Honey knew that there was more to it. Her mother wanted a little time alone with her, no doubt to speak to her and, most likely, question her a little.
Honey didn’t mind at all; they were like two peas in a pod and she would have done exactly the same thing herself. The only person who hadn’t seen through any of it was, of course, her father. As always, he accepted things as they were and went about his day, pleased that his wife and daughter seemed to be happy at the prospect of an excursion into town.
Mother and daughter took the family’s small wagon into town, Trinity Goodman keeping up a very good pretense by talking about fabric all the way there. Honey, holding the reins and trying not to laugh, stayed quiet for the majority of the journey.
“Well, shall we start with some coffee in the diner?” her mother said the moment they had tethered the horse.
“The fabric merchant is right here, Mama,” Honey said, biting her bottom lip with amusement. “And the diner is all the way down there. Don’t you want to get your fabric first?”
“I’m thirsty,” Trinity Goodman said and narrowed her eyes; she knew her daughter was being mischievous.
Honey took her mother’s arm and the two walked down to the diner. Her mother ordered coffee and pie, even though their breakfast still sat heavy in their stomachs, and then seemed to wait for Honey to begin the conversation.
“Is something worrying you, Mama?” Honey asked, giving in to her mother and giving her some way of starting things.
“I was going to ask you the same thing, Honey.”
“I’m not really worrying about anything.”
“Well, that’s good, sweetie. And how about Marshall? He’s a nice young man, isn’t he?”
“He is a nice young man, but I don’t know if he’s worrying about anything. You’d have to ask him, Mama.” Honey bit back a laugh.
“Now you know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know, I just don’t see why you can’t get straight to it. You had something you wanted to say, something you wanted to ask ever since breakfast and it would be so much simpler, Mama, if you just got on with it.” Honey was laughing hard now, causing the waitress to look at her quizzically as she set down their coffee and pie.
“I suppose I do want to say something to you, and it is this,” her mother said the moment the waitress had sauntered away. “You don’t need to hide your friendship with Marshall Thornhill. Your daddy and I like him, and we’ve never said who you may or may not be friends with, have we?”
“I know and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Mama,” Honey said, realizing that her mother knew fine well that she and Marshall had been meeting up for weeks.
Trinity Goodman was a shrewd lady and very warm-hearted. She would have recognized the signs of her daughter’s excitement and distraction and easily identified the handsome son of the local big wig as its cause. Honey realized immediately how foolish she had been in trying to hide anything from a woman who was just like her.
“You haven’t hurt my feelings; I just want you to know that you can trust me.”
“I do trust you, and I trust Daddy too. I just didn’t want to do anything to make you worried. But even then, I like Marshall, I wanted to spend time with him.”
“And your spending time with him doesn’t cause any problems for me. I’m not worried about it; I have no need to worry about it. I know that his father isn’t the kindest of men and I know that he has long since held a grudge against your father. Well, me, really. But that isn’t Marshall’s fault and it most certainly isn’t yours. Whatever happens in one generation doesn’t need to continue to the next. In the end, we love who we love, we don’t always have a say in it.”
“That sure is nice of you, Mama, real understanding, but I think love is a little bit premature, don’t you?”
“If not full love, then you’ve certainly fallen in love.” Trinity Goodman smiled in a wonderfully warm and self-satisfied way, a beautiful cat who had found a dish of cream. “And don’t you try to deny it to me, Honey Goodman, I can read you like a book. Not only that, but I could sense it in Marshall too. But he’s a handsome young man of good sense, and what man of good sense wouldn’t fall in love with my beautiful daughter?”
“That’s very sweet, Mama,” Honey said and blinked rapidly.
Her mother’s ever present and obvious love for her had caught her off-guard when it ought not to have done, and it had made her suddenly emotional. But perhaps that was not all; perhaps the relief of knowing that she could tell her mother the secrets of her heart had been enough to bring little tears of happiness into her eyes.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“But do you really think that Marshall has fallen for me too?” Honey asked, keen to hear more about her mother’s perception of it all.
“He couldn’t take his eyes off you at the kitchen table yesterday; even your daddy commented on it later and you know he’s not one to pick up on such things. And you make such a lovely couple, him so tall and his hair so dark, and you so small and neat with your big blonde curls. I can only imagine how beautiful your children are going to be.”
“Mama!” Honey said, her eyes wide. “You really are putting the cart before the horse now. And in any case, just because you’re happy about the whole thing doesn’t mean that Marshall’s mama and daddy are going to be.”
“Has he spoken to them about you?”
“Not about our friendship, no. I think my name is like a red rag to a bull in that house. Not as far as his mother is concerned; I don’t really think Tessa Thornhill cares one way or the other what it is that her son chooses to do with his life. But as for Kirby Thornhill, I don’t think he’ll ever take to me, do you? He was so down on me when I walked up to the house to give Marshall that apple pie. He could barely hide his contempt, Mama, and he all but suggested that it was my fault that Marshall got hurt in the first place.”
“Oh no,” her mother said and looked upset.
“I think he assumed that I had been teasing the cowboys, that I had been leading them on, and that I should have got what I deserved.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised; Kirby has never been any different. So, you haven’t been up to the house again since?”
“No, we usually meet down by the lake or Marshall comes into the warehouse to see me. He’s never asked me to go to his house again and I’ve never said anything about it. I don’t think Marshall has an easy time of it at home and I’m certain that his own wants in the world are neither here nor there to his father. If he doesn’t care to let his son do what he wants to do for a living, he sure isn’t going to accept me as Marshall’s girl without a fight.”
“Marshall doesn’t want to be an attorney then?” Trinity asked, taking a bite of pie; the ease was back, and their conversation was as open now as it was about anything.
“In his heart, he wants to be a rancher.” Honey paused to see if her mother would react to the statement.
“Good for him. We only get one life and its ours to lead as each of us sees fit, you tell him that.”
“Oh, Mama, I think I have already told him that word for word. I must be my mother’s daughter, mustn’t I?”
“I think you must,” her mother said and reached across the table to squeeze her daughter’s hand.
Honey knew then exactly what she had been missing for weeks; it was nice to speak to her mother about Marshall and the complications of his world. If only she had trusted her from the very beginning.
Chapter 14
“It must be nice for you no
w that your mama and daddy know about Marshall. It’s not in your nature to keep a secret, is it?” Suki said as the two women settled down on a haybale in the town barn.
“Are you meaning to say I can’t hold my tongue?” Honey raised one eyebrow and Suki let out a loud laugh.
“That is exactly what I’m meaning to say.”
“I’d argue, but it’s true.” Honey held her hands up in surrender. “As soon as I admitted my feelings to Mama, I couldn’t keep quiet about him. She said that’s a sure sign you’ve fallen in love, when you talk about someone all the time.”
“I think she’s right,” Suki said and subconsciously peered over to her husband, who was conversing happily with his own friend, Brad Lowry. “They’re still congratulating each other on taming that horse for Felton Lowry. Brad spent the whole day with Sonny and old Felton is so pleased he’s telling the whole town.”
“That’ll be good for business,” Honey said and smiled broadly; she loved nothing better than to see her friends doing well.
She studied Suki for a moment; she looked so proud as she stared over at her husband. So proud and so in love. Honey realized she was joining the same club, although she knew that marriage was a far off and not necessarily assured prospect.
“Here he comes,” Suki said, tearing her gaze from her husband to watch Marshall walk into the town barn. “Just remember when we first saw him come in here. He was a mystery man whom neither of us recognized.”
“I know! And now everything about him is familiar to me; even the way he limps.”
“It’s getting better though, isn’t it?”
“Sure is, although he’s not letting his father know that just yet.” Honey chuckled and waved over at him.
“My word,” Suki said under her breath and Honey turned to look at her.
“What?”
“His face when he saw you! Your mama is right, that young man is in love and no mistake!”
“I sure do hope so.”
“Go on, leave me here. Sonny and Brad will wander over soon enough,” Suki said and began to gently push her friend off the hay bale.
“No, I can’t leave you here,” Honey said incredulously.
“Yes, you can. Trust me, you’d have done the same for me. You have, actually. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be married to that fine man of mine. Now get! It’s time to make your own world, Honey.” And with one last shove, Honey was off the haybale and on her feet.
Honey smiled as she approached him. He looked so attractive in dark brown trousers and a plaid shirt. Even when he wore an outfit suitable for a rancher, he looked smart and handsome. As always, he wore a knotted neckerchief, roughly tied. His dark hair was in need of a cut, but the unruliness suited him.
“That sure is a pretty dress, Honey,” he said, smiling slowly as he admired her.
“Thank you. It’s a new one my mama made for me. She only finished it yesterday.”
It was made in a lovely pale blue cotton with embroidered silk dots all over it. Honey had picked the fabric without really paying attention; her talk with her mother had made her a little dreamy and distracted. However, the fabric turned out to be just perfect for her, and her mama, so pleased to have her daughter confiding in her once more, had been inspired to get cutting and sewing that very day when they returned home from town.
Honey had tied up her golden curls with a dark blue ribbon to match the silk of the little dots on her dress, her thick ponytail swaying as she walked. With her brilliant white petticoats, Honey had to admit that she felt like the cat’s whiskers that night. She had never been anywhere like this with Marshall before and, when he suggested it, she jumped at the chance. Now that her parents knew of the relationship, Honey had a great sense of wanting to be at Marshall’s side somewhere other than just down by the lake or leaning against the counter in the warehouse. She just hoped that nobody there in the town barn would run back to Marshall’s father with news of their suspicions.
Sooner or later he would have to tell his father all about it, but she was determined to leave him to do that in his own time. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the excitement of everything they had so far.
“Well, she sure did a good job with it. But you’d look beautiful in anything, even your daddy’s work shirt,” he said and took her hand.
“You’ll make me blush,” Honey said and laughed; she really was blushing.
“And now you look more beautiful still,” he said, turning her so that she was facing him and laying his free hand on the side of her face.
“I sure am glad you asked me to come tonight.”
“Me too. Come on, let’s dance,” he said and began to draw her towards the dance floor.
“But your knee!” she objected, realizing just how many overenthusiastic dancers there were that night, no doubt most of them having already attacked the liquor-laced fruit punch.
“My knee’s more or less back to normal. Well, it’s certainly a lot better than it was. And anyway, we’ll just stick to the edges of the dance floor, what do you say?” he said and slid one arm around her waist as he held her other hand high and against his chest to begin their dance. “Just us, that’s all.”
“Just us,” she said and stared up into his shining blue eyes.
Despite the wild playing of the fiddlers and the foot stomping and shouts of the other revelers, Marshall moved her slowly about the dance floor as if another tune entirely was playing in his head. But it felt so right that it did not matter; even the occasional inquisitive glance from one of the other tipsy dancers could do nothing to spoil it for her.
Honey moved her hand from his shoulder, sliding it towards his neck so that she could allow the tips of her fingers to run backwards and forwards through the thick hair at the back of his head. He smiled at her and his eyes narrowed, almost as if he was about to go to sleep; he looked as content as she felt in that moment.
Honey closed her own eyes and let her head fall forward, her face leaning gently against his broad chest. Their slow dancing made her feel as if she was being gently rocked from side to side and it was the most wonderful, comforting feeling in the world. Nothing mattered, nothing at all. She could not even draw Marshall’s father to mind, nor any of the problems the man would undoubtedly cause for his son if he could see him dancing with the daughter of his greatest enemy. It was as if none of that existed in that moment; it really was just Honey and Marshall.
Marshall tipped his head forward and Honey thought that he had been about to kiss her. Instead, however, he let his lips rest near her ear as he drew enough breath to speak.
“You might think this kind of sudden, but it is the truth,” he began, and Honey felt her blood racing through her veins. “I love you, Honey.”
There and then, Honey knew that she had longed to hear those very words from him, and she knew better still that she loved him too. He was the man for her, the one she had waited for so restlessly and for so long. In her wildest dreams, she would never have realized that the love of her life would be none other than Marshall Thornhill. If someone had told her as much all those years ago at school, little Honey Goodman would have rolled up her sleeves and got ready to defend her own good taste and common sense. But now, as she looked up into the eyes she knew so well, Honey knew she would never, ever love anybody else as long as she lived.
“Sudden or not, Marshall, I love you too,” she replied, and Marshall grinned so wide that she laughed.
“I sure am relieved to hear that,” he said and dipped his head once again, this time to kiss her long and slow on the lips.
Chapter 15
Still in his nightshirt, Marshall wandered across the floor of his room and pulled back the heavy drapes. He blinked when the bright sunshine streamed in, raising a flat hand to shield his eyes and looking for all the world as if he was saluting the new day.
He could see his mother being helped up into their best carriage by the stable master. Heaven forbid she let Jimmy or one of the other stable hands help
her. Nothing but the best for Tessa Thornhill. He snorted and sneered and suddenly the day seemed a little less bright.
Marshall shook his head; why spoil the day for himself with such thoughts? What did it matter who helped his mother into the carriage or where she was going or why she was dressed so immaculately? Surely, that would be to spend more thought on her in a matter of minutes than she had spent on him his entire life.
His happiness was in his own hands. It was his to make and take, nobody else’s. He smiled then, his mind filling with thoughts of Honey. Never would he have imagined being so happy to have been on the wrong end of a savage beating meted out by two hateful and drunk cowboys. But everything happened for a reason, he reckoned, and he knew he would never have got close to Honey without it.
He doubted that the old animosity of their childhood would have continued for either one of them, but the chances of them becoming better acquainted in the ordinary way would have been slim to non-existent. They might have nodded and smiled at one another from time to time when they passed in the street or saw one another at the barn dance, but that would have been it. They would both have been too controlled by their own actions, the actions of the past, to have been able to carve out a new and better relationship.
As he put all his weight on his knee, he smiled. He didn’t only have his new-found love with Honey Goodman to be grateful to that knee for; it sure had come in handy in putting his father off propelling him towards Garrett Cleaver’s law practice before he was ready.
With any other person, Marshall would have felt guilty about the continued deception. Of course, it was not a complete deception; the knee still did give him a little pain now and again and he was certain that it would not do him any good to bend it too often just yet. But it had been two weeks since he realized that he was certainly well enough to take up the job with Cleaver that his father had gone to such pains to find for him.
