“Tell me where you’re from while we ride.” His breath warmed the back of her neck and a chill raced through her. “If you wish to, that is.”
Did she hear a quaver in his voice? Was he uncomfortable too?
“I’m from DC, but my mother just moved north of there to Philadelphia to live with her brother, so I suppose that is my home now. Or most likely will be shortly.” She paused, trying to relax enough so that she could breathe. “I have some decisions to make.”
“You’re from DC?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
She looked over her shoulder to see his face so she could understand what he meant by that. “Do you know someone from there?” Then she laughed. “I suppose that’s a silly question. Azure Springs is so far from there.”
“It is far.” He pointed then. “Oh, look.” She felt him shake with laughter. “Isn’t that your fur ball?”
Honey was rolling on her back in the mud. She barked when they got closer. It was her excited, happy bark, the one Penny normally loved to hear. This time it only made her want to tan Honey’s hide.
“Honey!” Penny shouted. “Get over here.”
The man stopped his horse and helped her slide down from the saddle. “Do you need help?”
“No. I’ve a leash. I’ll walk her back and see if Margaret will let me clean her with the wash water again.” Penny groaned. “This will be her second bath of the day.”
“Margaret has a sense of humor. I think she’ll forgive you.”
“Do you know her well?” Penny asked while trying to step as carefully as possible into the mud. With one hand she held up her skirts and with the other she reached for her filthy dog. “Stay,” she said to Honey as she approached. “Stay there. I’m coming.”
“I lived at Margaret’s for several weeks before I bought the old Dawson—”
“What?” Penny turned quickly—too quickly—and lost her footing, slipping into the mud and landing on her backside. Honey ran to her, barking and yapping. She planted her front paws on Penny’s chest, pushing her flat on her back in the mud. For a moment, Penny did not move. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she simply lay there, refusing to face the embarrassment. If she waited long enough, maybe he would go away and she could meet him some other time, in some other way.
When the ridiculousness of the situation dawned on her, she opened her eyes a crack, only to find him standing above her with his hand out. “Help up?”
“What’s your name?” Penny asked from her bed of mud. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Thomas Conner.”
She pulled a muddy hand up from the ground and placed it in his outstretched one. “Penelope Ercanbeck,” she said while watching the mud drip from their hands. She pushed her hair out of her face with her other hand, then pulled herself to standing. This man, this was her Thomas. She put a muddy hand to her heart and pressed against it. Gawking at him in mud-soaked clothes would do no good. It would only add to her humiliation. “I best get back. It appears my dog isn’t the only one who needs bathing.” She tried to stand tall and proud, but everything in her wanted to collapse into a pile of mush and shame.
“Do you want me to walk you back?” He looked as though he was fighting to keep a straight face.
“No. I’ve already taken up too much of your time.” She wiped her hands on her dress, but there was no getting rid of the mud. “I do appreciate you helping me.”
She yanked on Honey’s leash, urging her toward the boardinghouse. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, Penny raced away from Thomas, all the while knowing that now she had one more shocking tale to write to Dinah about. How would she phrase it?
I met a handsome man while I sat bathing in the mud, only to learn the man was the Thomas Conner I have dreamed so many nights of meeting.
Or perhaps something more specific and honest would be appropriate.
I have officially humiliated myself. If I had ever been foolish enough to imagine that Thomas Conner could think me charming, I have dashed that dream to pieces. I now know Thomas Conner will never see me as anything but a clumsy girl.
13
I’ve walked the streets but haven’t noticed the post office,” Penny said when she came down the stairs of the boardinghouse, her hair braided but still damp from being scrubbed, and walked into the kitchen.
“We do have one. It’s not its own building though. It’s the other half of the land office.” Margaret pointed down the street. “It’s that way. The sign for it is very small. No doubt that’s why you missed it.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m glad you’ve someone to write to.” Margaret stirred a giant pot of soup.
“It’s a friend. We used to work together. She will enjoy hearing about Honey’s mischief.”
“Have you any family to write to?”
Penny knew from a previous conversation that Margaret was a mother. She’d told her about a daughter named Scarlett who was married and living several towns away. “Did you ever feel like you and your daughter were very different?”
“Of course I did. And we are. She’s skittish and bashful. Two traits I’ve never been able to claim.” Margaret’s eyes twinkled as she spoke. “I sometimes wonder how it is I created a child so wholly different from myself.”
Penny fiddled with the letter to Dinah that she held in her hand. “I feel very different from my mother too. When I left, we were barely speaking to each other. She didn’t approve of this trip.” Her shoulders drooped. “It’s been years since we’ve agreed on much of anything. I hated leaving her that way.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” Margaret added more salt to the pot. “I hope that’s not always the case. But it may be. You still ought to write her. A mother’s heart is always warmed by news of her children’s good fortune. You’ve been smiling since you came, so I’d say things are going well enough for you.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell her I’m safe. I’m not sure she’d care for the particulars, as she despises mud and Honey.”
“Even a small note is better than nothing. Then you’ll know you’ve tried. Does your mother want what is best for you?” Margaret stirred her soup with a large wooden spoon.
“In a way, I believe she does. But I don’t think she knows who I am well enough to know what’s best for me. She only knows what she had dreamed of for me when I was little, before life changed and I changed.”
“So, you’ve run away because you don’t agree with her?”
Penny pushed a stray hair from her face. “That was part of it. I didn’t run exactly.” She looked down at her boots. “Leaving was more than me being an angry child trying to get away. I assure you of that. I plan to face my problems, but first I needed some space so I could decide which cage to accept when I return. It’s complicated.”
“Cage? You’ve come with more troubles than I believed when I first met you.” Margaret looked up from her cooking. “Picking a cage sounds frightful.”
“It is.” Penny moved toward the door. “But I vowed to think of pleasant things while I’m away. At least as often as I can.”
“It’s a nice day for a walk. That’s always a fine way to think of pleasant things. Enjoy yourself and don’t rush back.”
“I will. Come, Honey,” Penny called. The dog didn’t rise from her spot near the cooking stove. Instead, she lifted her head and then turned it away from Penny. “Come.”
“She can stay with me if you’d like.”
Penny stared at the dog. “Behave,” she said in her firmest voice. Then to Margaret she said, “Thank you.”
Once her letter was posted, she again found herself with nothing pressing to do. To fill her time, she stepped inside the town store with the intention of buying paper. If she were to write a book, she would need something to write upon. The prospect of writing did excite a desire within her that she hadn’t known before.
“You must be the author,” the man behind the counter said. “My d
aughters devour everything they can get their hands on. I’ll wire an order today if you’ll tell me the titles of your books.”
“I’m not actually published yet. I’m more of an aspiring author.” Her eyes roamed over the shelf of books behind the man. Their gold lettering and smooth spines were enticing, and the idea of a story she’d written sitting among them made her heart race. “Big dreams and all that.”
“We all begin as dreamers.” His voice was slow and kind. “When your book is in print, I’ll make a display for it. What can I help you find?”
“I’m looking for paper and ink. I didn’t bring nearly enough with me.” She looked around the store. “I see it. I can fetch it.”
At the stationery display, she ran her hands over the smooth paper. Every day at the dead letter office she’d touched paper, smelled it. She’d devoured the written word. And now she would write. The dream was new, but the seed was already sprouting.
The bell above the door jingled. A man approached the counter. From the corner of her eye, she saw him. A small groan escaped her lips. It was Thomas! She lowered her head and pretended to busy herself with the paper.
“I went to make a biscuit last night and the book said I needed baking powder. I didn’t have any, so I went ahead and made them without it.” He smiled as he spoke. It was evident these two were on friendly terms.
“It didn’t go so well, did it?” the man asked.
Both men laughed. The man behind the counter was older, with plump cheeks, a slow, easy voice, and a ready smile. She surveyed Thomas’s tall frame and dark hair, which hung in his face as he shifted his weight from side to side. Underneath a beard and mustache in desperate need of a trim was a smile more reserved than the man’s behind the counter. But small as it was, she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.
“You’ve got to come to the social. It will be a welcome change,” the older man said. “I don’t know how you’re managing out there. A light, soft biscuit will do you a world of good.”
“After last night, any reservations I had about coming have faded. I’ll be there, and if you come looking for me, just follow the scent of food. I’ll be eating more than my share. Besides, I’m still needing that farm help.” He reached for a tin of baking powder and placed it on the counter. “You suppose I’ll have better luck with my next batch? I’m liable to lose a tooth if I keep eating the rocks I made last night.”
Eavesdropping was not something Penny normally did. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She never listened in on conversations, but she was forever reading mail that was not hers. This wasn’t so different. And this was Thomas. He may never be able to look her in the face without picturing her sprawled out in the mud, but she wanted to see him and hear him and know him so badly that she couldn’t turn away.
“I think that’s all I need,” Thomas said. “Actually, I’ll grab a bit of paper. I’m also about out of ink.”
Panic seized her. She looked to her left and her right. There was nowhere to run and no place to hide. She pivoted and there he was, only feet away from her. She jumped and the stack of paper she was holding leapt from her arms. The thin sheets floated in the air before scattering across the floor.
She groaned.
Bending quickly, she began gathering the papers. Heat rose to her face. This is not happening. It can’t be. Her eyes darted to the door. She could push past him and run back to Margaret’s, but that would only add to her list of humiliations. There was no undoing the situation.
“Let me help you.” Thomas closed the distance between them.
“I can manage.” She stood quickly, knocking into the stationery table and shaking its contents to the floor. “Oh! How clumsy!”
He laughed. Not a menacing laugh but a good-natured one. Penny’s eyes found his.
“The dog,” he said.
She grimaced. “That was me. I’ve had a run of misfortunes today.”
“I thought you handled your fall in the mud quite gracefully.”
Penny pointed toward the mess of papers. “And this? Was this graceful as well?”
His eyes twinkled, and despite her present predicament she smiled at him.
“I’ll help you clean it up,” he offered again.
The older man approached. “It’s not the first time something’s been knocked over. We’ll set it right. No harm done.”
“If anything is broken, I’ll pay. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed large handfuls of paper and put the sheets on the table. “I’m not sure why I’m so clumsy today.”
Moments that felt much too long passed before the floor was clear of debris.
When at last Penny stood, she looked at the table she’d bumped. The display wasn’t nearly as aesthetic as it had been before, but she felt better knowing she wasn’t leaving a pile on the ground.
“Thomas, I’d like you to meet the town’s own budding author.” The older gentleman nodded at her. Then to her, he said, “I’m Abraham Howell. I own this store. You let me know if you need anything while you’re in town and I’ll find a way to get it here. I didn’t catch your name earlier.”
“Penelope.” Her voice came out as a mere squeak. She cleared her throat. “Penelope Ercanbeck, but most everyone calls me Penny. Except my mother.” Mustering the smidgen of courage she had left, she held out her hand first to Abraham and then to Thomas. “It’s a pleasure to properly meet you both.”
Thomas took her hand. She could feel the roughness of his palm against her skin. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m pretty new here myself. I suppose you could call me a budding farmer.” Underneath his unruly beard, she saw what could only be described as an amused smile. “I’m glad you’ve come to town. Now there’s someone in town newer than me. Maybe the gossip will shift.”
“If I continue to swim in the mud and throw things around in the store, I think it’s safe to assume the wagging tongues will be busy keeping up with me.” Penny tried not to stare, but despite her best efforts her eyes lingered on him. His eyes, his face. All of him was real. This was the man she’d prayed for. The man she’d thought about and wondered over. The man whose loss she’d felt so deeply. He wasn’t an old codger, and he didn’t look like a drunk or a villain. He was young, mid- to late twenties perhaps, with so much future ahead of him.
Only when the bell above the door rang did she pull her gaze away. She focused then on the space beside him. Where Clara should have been. Would he smile broader if she were there, standing near him? That thought sent a stray tear running down her face. This poor man. How his heart must ache.
“The paper didn’t matter. No one minds.” Thomas took a step toward Abraham. “Did we say something wrong?”
“No,” she answered in as calm a voice as she could muster. “I must have gotten something in my eye when I was crawling around on the floor.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at the traitorous tear. “A bit of dust, I think. Oh, I didn’t mean to be rude. Your store is not dirty. It’s my fault.” She bit her lip and forced her breath to come slower. “It’s a pleasure meeting both of you.”
“How long you planning on staying?” Abraham asked before she could leave.
She fidgeted with the worn piece of lace that adorned the cuff of her sleeve. “Three weeks. Or maybe two. It depends.”
“Depends?”
“It depends . . . on . . . on the writing. How fast it goes. I don’t have a solid plan.”
“It’ll be right nice having you. I’m not sure if we should hope your book goes quickly or drags on. The town’s buzzing with excitement having you here. In fact, my girls were convinced you’d come all this way to see Thomas. Imagine that.” Abraham moved back toward the counter. “At the social, you’ll have to share a dance. You must have a great deal in common. Both of you being new in town and all.” He waved as he stepped away. “I’ve a ledger to balance. I’ll let you two get better acquainted.”
Thomas bent closer to her and spoke softly. “You’d think we go way back with the way he me
ddles. His daughters, charming things, are just as bad. Maybe worse.”
“I believe I’ve met them already. They greeted me on my way into town,” she whispered back. “They seemed disappointed by my reasons for being in Azure Springs.”
“Abraham told me it’s a small town with a big heart. I think it might be a small town with a big imagination.” Thomas stepped out of someone’s way. “I’m still getting used to it.”
“I’ve only been here just over a day and everyone I’ve met wants to know everything. I’m not used to the way small towns work. In DC—”
“I’m from Alexandria.” He moved closer and she felt his eyes studying her. “We lived so close, but I don’t recognize you.” He paused. “I wouldn’t though. I . . .” His jaw flexed. “I didn’t take the time to meet all the people I should have.”
“Of course you didn’t know me.” She wished she could ask him why he seemed so upset. “DC is large and I was not social. At least I hadn’t been in a long time.” She smiled, hoping it would ease his tension. “But here it seems everyone knows everyone. It’s very charming. Although today it might have been nice to have gone unnoticed.”
He raised a brow.
“Then no one would have seen me in the mud or disrupting Abraham’s displays. I do seem to find myself in the worst predicaments.”
At last his face seemed relaxed again. She could see the corners of his mouth raised. “It’s true. In the city, we all tried not to see one another, but even there I believe I would have noticed a woman in the mud. Tell me, how is the boardinghouse?”
“Margaret is a dear, but she’s already bossing me around. I’ve been wrangled into going to the social. And she’s doing her best to pry every secret I’ve got from me. I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed when she realizes how terribly ordinary I am.”
“I stayed there for a few weeks. I admit she crowded me.” He ran a hand over his beard. “I’ve nothing but admiration for her though. I think she kept me from falling into a deep pit.”
Yours Truly, Thomas Page 11