Make You Feel My Love

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Funny, isn’t it?” she asked after a while. “The way we try to hide so much about ourselves from the people around us, but we hope we can uncover the truth about people who lived a hundred years ago.”

  There was a lengthy silence before Liam asked, “What do you try to hide from others, Chelsea?”

  The tenderness she heard in his voice made her eyes water.

  “Never mind. You don’t have to answer me. I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

  She blinked, then looked over at him. “No. I’d like to answer. But not right now.” She straightened from the railing. “Right now, I want to show you Cora’s song.”

  “All right.” He smiled. “Let’s go.”

  As they turned toward Alexander Road, she caught a glimpse of a pale-green sedan as it passed out of view. Her heart hiccupped. It was a common reaction to pale-green cars, but not one she’d experienced since coming to Chickadee Creek.

  Liam’s voice intruded on her thoughts. “Did you check the internet to see if Cora published any other songs?”

  “What?” She looked at him. “No. No, I didn’t. I should have done that first thing. Now that we know she published something, maybe we’ll discover more. We’ll do that now.”

  She quickened her steps. When they reached Alexander Road, she glanced left before turning to her right. There were no cars in sight, in either direction, green or otherwise.

  She drew in a quick breath. What a crazy day! She’d fretted over Liam’s leaving town. She’d talked to a chipmunk. She’d let panic overtake her because of a dark fruit cellar. And now she was seeing cars where there weren’t any.

  When they entered the antique store minutes later, Aunt Rosemary was ringing up a sale on the ancient cash register. Her great-aunt glanced their way, then turned her attention back to the couple—tourists, by the look of them—on the opposite side of the counter. “I hope you’ll enjoy your purchase,” she said to the woman.

  “I know I will. I’ve been looking for the perfect pie safe for more than a year, but everything I’ve found has been far too expensive.”

  “A little love and a bit of polish, and it’ll be beautiful again.” Aunt Rosemary showed the couple a bright smile.

  They turned and left the shop, the pie safe carried between them, the bell ringing as the door closed again.

  “You sold the pie safe?” Chelsea asked.

  Aunt Rosemary nodded. “Three hundred and fifty dollars. I may just close up shop and relax for the rest of the day.” Her gaze took in Liam. “What about you two?”

  “Liam’s come to see Cora’s sheet music.” Chelsea started toward the back of the shop.

  “Of course he has.” Aunt Rosemary laughed softly.

  Chelsea was tempted to glance back to see what was funny but decided against it. She suspected her great-aunt might have winked at Liam as he passed by.

  Oh, please, no. Not that.

  She took a key from behind an unabridged dictionary with a tattered paper cover and unlocked a cabinet that held items not for sale or too valuable to be left out in the open. From a manila folder, she withdrew the four-page sheet music and held it out to Liam, who was by this time standing at her side.

  He took it from her, his gaze moving over the artwork on the front. “Looks like one of the forest trails around here.”

  “I thought the same thing.” She pointed. “When I was walking this morning, I sat on a log like that one. Who knows? Maybe the same one.”

  Liam looked at her, amusement in his eyes. “You know better than that.”

  “Yes, I know better than that. They decay over time. Weather and termites and all. But it’s fun to imagine it could be the same log on the same trail.”

  Liam’s expression changed, the amusement gone in an instant. Slowly, he leaned closer. Chelsea’s breath caught when she realized what he was about to do. The touch of his lips upon hers was light, almost imperceptible . . . and yet gloriously real. Her heart fluttered as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. She couldn’t tell if seconds or minutes passed before he drew his head back from hers.

  A smile returned to the corners of his mouth. “Were we talking about logs?”

  “Or maybe sheet music,” she answered in a whisper, her brain struggling to work again.

  Silly, really, to feel that way. It wasn’t as if she’d never been kissed before. And more than kissed, before she gave her heart to the Lord. Remembering her former way of life, she drew away from Liam.

  He gave her a puzzled look.

  She took a quick breath, then pointed at the sheet music in his hand, wanting to distract him. “You haven’t even looked beyond the cover.”

  “No.” His gaze didn’t waver from hers. “I haven’t.”

  She turned her head slightly, glancing toward the counter. Aunt Rosemary had her back toward them, and Chelsea suspected the woman wouldn’t have turned around even if a bomb exploded.

  “Okay,” Liam said. “I’ll look.” He opened the sheet music. “Lots of notes on a page. I can see why you’re excited. No wonder it was published.”

  She heard both teasing and encouragement in his voice. And it worked. But it also reminded her that she’d promised to open up to him, to share with him the hidden things in her life. That wouldn’t be easy, no matter how much she liked him.

  * * *

  It took all of Liam’s resolve not to pull Chelsea into his arms and kiss her again. He wanted to prevent her from drawing farther away from him. He wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her, and she hadn’t resisted him, so he didn’t think she objected. But something changed soon after the kiss ended. He didn’t know what or why.

  Pretending a real interest in the music, he said, “Let’s check for more information on the internet.”

  “Yes. Let’s.”

  When they walked by the counter, Rosemary kept her eyes locked on an open book. Liam suspected her goal was to avoid looking up at either of them. Somehow he knew she was rooting for him to win over her great-niece’s heart, and he loved her for it. Someday, if things went well between him and Chelsea, he would tell Rosemary Townsend how he felt at this moment.

  The desktop computer was old and ran like a tortoise. It made Liam itch for his top-of-the-line laptop back at his house. But the computer finally managed to connect to the internet, and they were able to browse for more information regarding Cora Anderson Chandler. They didn’t find a great deal. Mostly references to books they’d already seen. And they found nothing about her composing music for the violin.

  Chelsea released a sigh as she leaned back in the desk chair. “I hoped we’d find something of more interest.”

  “Not everything makes it onto the internet, I guess.”

  “Maybe you should write something. She’s your great-great-grandmother. You should combine everything you’ve learned and write a book.”

  He grinned at the suggestion, especially since it was the very thing he’d told Grace Witherstone he didn’t plan to do. “Maybe I will. And maybe you can help me do it. I never claimed to be a writer.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Hey, you two,” Rosemary called to them. “I’m hungry. Why don’t you go get us some hamburgers and fries from the Hillside Cafe? You can be there and back before you know it.”

  Chelsea swiveled the chair toward her great-aunt. “We don’t need to do that. I can fix something at the house. I was thinking green salads and grilled cheese sandwiches. Liam, would you like to join us?”

  He didn’t have a chance to answer.

  “But what I want is a hamburger and fries,” Rosemary insisted, a little louder this time. “And one of their yummy chocolate milkshakes.” As she finished, her gaze shifted to Liam, and once again he felt the older woman encouraging him. “You can leave Chipper with me.”

  He stood. “Hamburgers, fries, and a shake. Coming up.” He looked at Chelsea. “Ready?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  He stilled. “Seriously, yes. You do have a choice.” He wasn’t sure
why he felt the need to tell her that, but he did. “You always have a choice, Chelsea.”

  Appreciation filled her eyes. Thank you, she mouthed as she rose from the chair.

  “We’ll take my truck. Want to wait here for me to get it?”

  “No. I’ll walk with you.”

  “Bye!” Aunt Rosemary called after them.

  “I’m sorry you got roped into this,” Chelsea said after a short silence.

  “There wasn’t any roping involved. I’m hungry too.”

  “For burgers we have to drive miles to get?”

  He gave her a quick smile. “It was the milkshake that caught my interest.”

  “I’ll admit, ice cream sounds good on a hot day.”

  The silence that accompanied the remainder of the walk to his truck was a comfortable one. More like they’d enjoyed before he kissed her. Liam was glad of that, although he still didn’t regret the kiss. In fact, he hoped to do it again in the not too distant future.

  Chickadee Creek remained quiet. A lazy kind of Saturday. He supposed the temperature was too high for most residents to want to wander far from their homes or businesses. As hot as it was in the mountains, it must be sweltering down in Boise.

  When they reached the truck, Liam opened the passenger door for Chelsea, then hurried around to the driver’s side and got in. The cab was stifling, and he wasted no time in starting the engine so he could crank up the air conditioner. It didn’t take long for the cab to cool off enough that they could close the doors and start on their way.

  They met no oncoming traffic as they followed Alexander Road out to the highway, but they did see a couple of young kids playing in the creek, their parents seated on a blanket nearby. The dad waved, and Liam waved back, despite not knowing who it was. It made him feel like he belonged.

  At the highway, he made a left and, at fifty miles an hour, arrived at the Hillside Cafe in about ten minutes. Half a dozen cars were in the parking lot, and the outside dining area that overlooked Mores Creek was filled with customers.

  “Looks like Aunt Rosemary wasn’t the only one with this idea.” Laughter filled Chelsea’s voice.

  “My thoughts exactly.” He pulled the truck into a parking spot and turned off the engine.

  Chelsea reached for the door handle, then stopped and looked over at him. “What’s happening between us, Liam?”

  His heart kerthumped.

  “Are you leaving Chickadee Creek? You haven’t told me what happened with the director yesterday.”

  “I was going to. I meant to.” Liam restarted the engine before the cab got too hot. “I got distracted by the crates in the cellar. Stupid, I guess, since I don’t have a clue what’s in them. And then we started talking about the sheet music.”

  She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Are you going to make the movie?” Her voice dropped a little. “Are you going away?”

  “Yes, it looks like I’ve got the part, although there are still negotiations to be done. And yes, I’ll have to go away during filming.” He leaned a little to his right, forcing her to meet his gaze. “But I won’t be gone for long. I won’t be gone forever.”

  She watched him with a look that said she wanted to have hope, that she wanted to believe him but was afraid. After what she’d told him about her dad, he could understand why, at least partly. She’d been betrayed by someone she should have been able to trust. Her father had failed her. Liam didn’t want to do the same.

  Slowly, he lifted his left hand to cup the side of her face, keeping his touch light. “Chelsea, this is my home now. I’m coming back. I promise.” He smiled to lighten the moment. “After all, you’ll have my dog.”

  She attempted a laugh but failed.

  What could he do besides kiss her again?

  For a time, the hamburgers, fries, and milkshakes were forgotten.

  Cora

  March 1897

  “Miss Anderson.”

  Emitting a small gasp, Cora turned from the stove, a chunk of wood still in her hand.

  Preston closed the door behind him, deepening the shadows within the schoolroom despite all of the uncovered windows attempting to let in light. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s all right.” She felt flustered. Of late, she always felt flustered around him. She didn’t know why. Or didn’t want to know why.

  He took a step forward, at the same time sweeping his hat from his head. The gesture left his dark hair mussed. “There is something of some importance I would like to say to you.”

  “Yes?” The word sounded paper thin in her ears.

  He covered the remaining distance that separated them and took the wood from her hand. After shoving it into the stove, he closed the door, then turned to face her once again. “Perhaps you know what I want to say.”

  She shook her head. The truth or a lie? She wasn’t certain.

  “Your friendship means a great deal to me, Cora.”

  And yours to me, she thought above the rapid beating of her heart.

  “And I was wondering . . .” He let his words trail into silence.

  She couldn’t breathe. She felt her eyes widen. The world seemed to tip beneath her, and she wondered if she would lose her balance.

  He smoothed his hair with one hand. “You’ve told me you left the East because you chose not to marry.”

  Had she told him that? She’d forgotten. She’d forgotten everything except the way his dark eyes looked at her now and that intriguing lock of hair falling across his forehead above his right eye.

  “But I wondered if I might change your mind about that.”

  Could he change her mind? She was free now. Free to make her own choices. Free to come and go as she pleased. Despite that piece about her in the newspaper in December, no one had come looking for her. No one had found her. She remained free to live her life as she wanted. Whyever would she want to give up her hard-won freedom?

  “Because, Miss Anderson, I find that I would very much like to be married to you. It seems you have taken my heart captive, and I cannot imagine a future without you at my side.”

  In all of the months of their acquaintance, he’d acted the gentleman when with her. But he’d never sounded as stiff and formal as he did now. He was nervous, she realized. As nervous as she was. The discovery allowed her to breathe again, and a smile crept into the corners of her mouth.

  Preston cleared his throat. “Did I sound like a fool just then?”

  She shook her head, her smile growing.

  “Ethan tried to tell me what to say.”

  That explained a lot.

  “Cora.” Preston placed his fingertips on her shoulders. “I love you. I adore you. It’s as simple as that. Will you marry me?”

  Her breath caught again. But this time it wasn’t his words that caused it. It was the answer rising in her own heart, a word insisting upon being spoken. “Yes,” she whispered.

  He drew her into his arms. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know what sort of husband I’ll be. I’m not cultured. I’m not educated. But I’ll never mistreat you. I’ll never let you be in want. I’ll always treasure you.”

  “I know that, Preston.”

  He stilled. “Cora. May I kiss you?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  He held her chin in the fingers of one hand, tilting her head just enough to give him access to her mouth. When his lips pressed against hers, she felt the world tip on its axis once again, and this time she let herself fall.

  Chapter 19

  The next day, Chelsea glanced at Liam as he drove north along the highway. “I know a spot,” was all he’d told her about their destination. A picnic basket and a cooler rested behind them in the rear seat of the truck, along with Chipper, who had his head poked out a partially open window. Lauren Daigle sang softly through the speakers. It was a favorite song of Chelsea’s, one she listened to often.

  “Great sermon this morning,” Liam said abo
ve the music. “I like what Reverend Oswald had to say about old normals being like a tractor beam we need to pull free of.”

  “‘Don’t rush back to the old normal.’” As she quoted the pastor’s words, she recalled the patterns in her own life, the times she’d returned to the familiar, even when it was bad for her and others, rather than going forward to something new, something that promised to be better. “It’s good advice.”

  It had seemed to Chelsea, when seated in the pew between Aunt Rosemary and Liam, that Vincent Oswald prepared his sermon for her alone, because this was the day she meant to tell Liam her history. She wanted him to know her. Truly know her. She wanted him to understand who she was and the mistakes she’d made. If she was going to love him—and she thought she was—and if he was going to love her—as she hoped he might—then she couldn’t keep secrets from him.

  Liam continued, “But not everything old should be jettisoned for the new. When I first went to LA, I didn’t hold tight to good things like reading my Bible or being faithful in worship. I didn’t act like a Christian in more obvious ways, so it’s no surprise that many don’t know I’m a believer. Makes me ashamed now. Anyway, I plan to hold those good and important things in a closed hand from now on.”

  Chelsea hadn’t been a follower of Jesus for long. Everything still felt new to her. But she thought she understood what he meant.

  “Before he died, Jacob reminded me that nothing we go through is wasted in God’s economy. Our hurts. Our mistakes. Even our own stupidity.” He released a soft chuckle. “My own stupidity. The Lord uses it for my good when I trust Him with it.”

  “Romans,” she said, although she couldn’t remember the chapter and verse.

  “Eight twenty-eight,” he supplied, at the same time pressing on the brake to slow the vehicle.

  Chelsea looked out the window as Liam turned the truck onto a one-lane dirt road. It was not much more than a deer track, and the rough going put an end to their conversation. Chelsea reached up to hold the grip, bracing herself to keep from bouncing around like a rag doll.