The trees opened up where she stopped, and one of the most beautiful views she’d ever seen lay before her. The rocky cliffs were being kissed by the breaking waves of the Pacific, the sheer contrast of earth and water was breathtaking, and the fresh sea air was perfectly refreshing. She decided to dismount and tie up William’s horse so she could spend awhile taking in her new surroundings and really deciding what she would do when summer came to an end. Again, the question of whether William’s offer was out of guilt or if it showed that he still wanted to give them a chance came into her mind, but no matter how long she pondered it, she simply couldn’t say what the meaning behind his kindness was.
As Tillie stared out across the blue ocean water, she thought about her friends and wondered how Sally, Rebecca, and Uma were faring. She hadn’t received any letters from them so far, but she was sure that they had been just as busy trying to settle in to their new lives as she was. Hopefully they were all having more luck with the men they chose. She wished for nothing but the greatest happiness for each of them, and she hoped they were out there, somewhere, wishing the same for her.
A loud crack of thunder made Tillie jump and caused the horse to rear up and neigh loudly in protest. The sky was mostly clear, but when Tillie walked back into the woods to the trail, she looked up and saw that the sky behind her was extremely cloudy and growing darker by the second.
There had been a light wind blowing all day, but all of a sudden, there was a huge gust that lasted far too long, and Tillie was afraid of what that meant. She’d heard of summer thunderstorms rolling in quickly on the coast—and had experienced it quite a few times in New York City—but she’d never been alone on a mountainside during an Oregon rainstorm, and she wondered what to expect.
Another clap of thunder sounded, and William’s horse had the same reaction as before. Tillie tried to pull the horse down by the reins, tried talking to it to get it to settle down, but nothing she tried worked. The animal kept shifting skittishly, lifting its front feet up slightly, then dropping them down like it was stomping to show its fury. She knew she had to get on the horse to make it out of the mountains before it started raining, but the poor animal was so spooked, she didn’t know how to make that happen.
As if on cue, Tillie started to feel drops of water falling on her nose, cheeks, and hands. Within minutes, the light sprinkling started to increase so rapidly that her hair became soaked with water running down her bangs and into her eyes. The sky was starting to get very dark with the thick rain clouds rolling in, and Tillie was scared of how this storm could evolve into something worse. Knowing she had to get off the mountain, Tillie untied the horse—that had since calmed down—and prayed that another crack of thunder wouldn’t come until after she’d mounted. Hopefully she could stay on.
Tillie’s bottom wasn’t in the saddle for more than a minute when the thunder sounded again. She squeezed her eyes shut and held on for dear life when she felt the horse go up on its hind legs again—this time, while she was on its back. It seemed to calm down quicker, though, and they were able to start navigating the steep trail back down the mountain.
Rain continued to pour down on Tillie, and the drops seemed to be getting bigger and falling faster. By the time Tillie was halfway down the trail, her dress was so saturated with water that every inch of it was plastered to her skin, making it extremely difficult to move. The trail was slick with mud, and she could feel William’s horse slipping with every step.
“It’s all right, girl. That’s it. Easy does it.” Tillie had no idea if this horse was a girl or a boy, or if her talking was helping the animal at all, but something about speaking to the horse out loud was helping her forget what a horrible situation they were in, so she kept doing it.
Where’s the bottom of this blasted mountain? It seemed as if it had been forever since they’d left the top, and the trail was getting slicker by the second. “Come on, girl. You can do—”
Another loud crack of thunder drowned out Tillie’s voice, and this time, William’s horse was even more spooked than the last. It reared up not once, but twice, and the second time caught Tillie off guard. She let out a shriek that spooked her mount again, and as it went to rear up a third time, its back hooves slid off the muddy trail. The horse struggled to right itself, and Tillie thought she’d survived the worst of it, but the horse bucked as soon as its front hooves came back to the ground, and despite her best efforts, Tillie was flung off.
Tillie lay on the ground, gasping for air, and before she even realized what had just happened, William’s horse took off down the trail at a full run. The sound of its fading neighs echoed in Tillie’s mind, and long after the horse was out of sight, continued to drive in the fact that she was now alone on the side of a mountain in what seemed to be turning into a flood. Water rushed down the side of the hill in tiny rivers that ran over the trail and continued on down the mountain.
She wanted to jump up and start walking toward town, but she had an awful pain in her right ankle, and her breaths were still ragged from the impact of her fall. So, there Tillie lay in the middle of a mountain trail, muddy water soaking into her dress, and tears streaming down her face. Why in the world had she ever come to Oregon? She was having a worse experience that she could have even dreamed up when she’d agreed to come out west, and no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that nothing was impossible, as Rebecca would say, in that moment, it all felt very impossible. Teaching, marrying William, staying in Marshfield—none of it felt right anymore.
* * *
William was sure his heart had never raced this fast. He was riding his horse, Bud, in the direction Mr. Jones said Tillie had gone that afternoon, and was getting incredibly frustrated that he had no way to tell which trail she’d taken. The rain had washed away any trace of Clover’s hoof prints, and there was no sign of a rider in any direction. William was starting to lose hope that he’d be able to locate either Tillie or Clover.
He was about to turn around and head back into town to gather a search party when Clover burst through the trees on one of the trails. Thank the Lord. The horse looked spooked, but when she saw Bud, the mount he’d chosen to come searching, she immediately came over to him.
William dismounted Bud and tied both horses to a tree at the base of the trail. As he climbed the steep, slick hill, William’s breathing grew heavier, and he slipped a few times as he tried to put one foot in front of the other. His heart hammered in his chest so violently that he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. He was so worried about Tillie. Finding a horse with no rider in these conditions wasn’t usually a good sign, but he silently prayed that Tillie was all right. He felt like such a fool for allowing her unrestricted access to his horses. He couldn’t have had any idea that she’d be caught in a storm this way, but he should have thought about the possibility.
The longer he hiked, the muddier William’s pants grew from slipping and sliding up the wet trail, and the more concerned he became that something terrible had happened to Tillie. He was rounding a slight curve when up ahead, he finally saw something that indicated Tillie may be nearby. He couldn’t quite make out what it was, but the blue color was definitely not part of the natural landscape of the mountain. William rushed forward, cursing how much his feet were sliding back with each step, and having to take three steps to cover the distance he usually would in one. After a few more moments of struggle, William was close enough to see that the blue color he’d seen was a large patch of Tillie’s dress that wasn’t completely covered in mud.
“Tillie! Tillie!” As soon as he realized what he was seeing, he called out to her, hopeful that she was conscious. Relief flooded him when Tillie rolled over to try to see him. At least she could move.
“William? What—how did you find me?”
When William finally made it to Tillie’s side, the fear he saw on her face caused his heart to clench in his chest. Had she always looked so fragile? Her helpless state seemed to accentuate her tiny frame, and W
illiam realized that despite what she portrayed on the outside, Tillie wasn’t as tough as she made herself seem.
Staring down at her shivering body gave William an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and carry her back down the trail, but his medical training told him otherwise.
“Do you have any pain in your neck or back?” He didn’t want to overwhelm Tillie with questions before he comforted her, but he had to know what they could possibly be dealing with before he took her home.
“No. Just in my ankle.”
“Which one?”
“The right.”
William crawled down to Tillie’s right ankle so he could examine it. “Does this hurt?” he asked, pushing up on her foot lightly.
Tillie let out a howl. “Yes! Oh, please stop!”
William glanced up at Tillie and saw that tears were pooling in her eyes. “I don’t think it’s broken, but you seem to have a really bad sprain. You shouldn’t put any weight on it right now. How’s your left ankle?”
“It’s fine. I think I landed on my right foot and my ankle twisted as I fell.”
“That would make sense. Is anything else hurting?”
William’s heart felt like it was breaking in two when Tillie’s chin started quivering and she said, “Just my heart.”
Chapter 9
Back at William’s house, Mrs. Jones had made a roaring fire in the parlor, and Tillie was sitting next to it in a cozy stuffed chair with a mug of warm tea in her lap.
Mrs. Jones stoked the fire, then headed back toward the kitchen. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can get for you?” she asked before exiting the room.
“No, thank you. I’ll be comfortable waiting here until my clothes are dry.”
Upon Tillie and William’s arrival at his home, Mrs. Jones had completely taken over caring for Tillie, and she hadn’t seen William since. She wondered where he’d gone, and if he would come keep her company in the parlor now that she was in dry clothes, or if he would stay away as he’d been doing for the past couple of weeks.
She felt like such a fool now after telling him how much her heart was aching. He’d only said her name with pity in his eyes in response to her admission, and then picked her up in his arms and trudged down the mountain with her. She’d been too embarrassed to try to strike up a conversation after that, and they’d rode home in silence. She had enjoyed wrapping her arms around his waist on the ride back, though. Warmth filled her chest as she remembered how good his muscular body had felt underneath her hands. Tillie closed her eyes and tried to envision William, soaking wet, his shirt clinging to his strong chest and shoulders.
“Tillie?”
William’s voice made her jump, and tea sloshed out of her full cup onto the blanket. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. Here, let me clean this up,” she said as she stood, letting the blanket fall into the chair. She set her cup down on the side table and turned to go find a towel, but instead ran right into William, who must have stepped closer to the chair when she was looking down.
“Just leave it,” he said, his voice gravelly.
When she tried to take a step back and put more space between them, William grabbed her hand and held her close. Tillie’s legs instantly felt like they were filled with warm honey, and it was a good thing she could lean against the chair because she was sure her knees were about to buckle.
“I never got a chance to thank you out there, but thank you for rescuing me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.” Tillie stared right into William’s warm amber eyes and tried to discern what he was feeling. He’d come close, and pulled her in. Certainly that meant something.
“I’m sure you would have figured something out. You always do.”
Tillie nodded. “I should be able to go home soon. Mrs. Jones put my clothes by the big fire in the kitchen so they’d dry quicker. I’ll be out of your way in no time.”
“There’s no rush for you to leave, Tillie. This could be your home too, you know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I want to marry you, Tillie. That never changed.” William reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from Tillie’s face, sending an ache for more into her belly.
“No, it hasn’t been obvious at all. You haven’t spoken a word to me in weeks.”
“I didn’t feel like it would do any good. I tried to explain the situation with Samantha, but you were so angry, you didn’t care what I said. I didn’t want to make things worse. I was giving you time.”
Tillie looked away. Could this be true? “Well, whatever your reasons were, all your silence has done is cause me to question if you even see a future with me anymore. I’ve been kicking myself for coming here, wondering what I’m going to do when the summer ends, and you’re telling me that all this time, you’ve still planned on us getting married?”
William smiled, and Tillie had the sudden urge to slap him. He didn’t seem to care that she’d been beside herself for weeks.
“I would like to point out that you haven’t tried to talk to me either, but I’m not mad. I knew you were confused and hurt, and I was giving you space to calm down so you could listen to what I had to say with a clear mind.”
“Well, it’s pretty clear now. So, what do you have to say for yourself?” Tillie pulled her hand out of his grip and flopped back down into the chair, crossing her arms.
“First of all, I wanted to explain about Samantha. Like I said that day, she’s a troublemaker. We went on one date ages ago, and though I made it clear I had no interest in her, she insisted on continuing to wiggle her way back into my life. Before the other day, I hadn’t seen her in months, but she’d heard from someone that I’d sent for you, and so she had to come sniff things out. That’s just the way she is. Trust me—I didn’t invite her into my office, and I was trying to get her to leave when you showed up. She's conniving and manipulative, but you shouldn’t worry about her, or any other woman in town. There’s a reason I placed that ad, Tillie. There’s not a soul here who strikes my fancy.”
Tillie found herself nodding along to what William was saying. Had she really been so blinded by insecurity that she’d immediately suspected the worst of him? She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain things, and now she’d paid for it. They could have been getting to know each other, and instead, they’d barely seen one another.
William's voice cut into her thoughts. “And besides, after I saw you, I knew there would never be another woman here, or anywhere, who could compare. I want you, Tillie.”
"You don’t even know me.”
“Sure I do. I may not know everything about you, but I know who you are. You’re passionate, and smart, and caring. You’re clever, driven, adventurous, and brave. Not to mention beautiful.” William turned his back to her and walked over to the windows that looked out on the bay. “You may be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, but you bring out a side of me I never knew was there. I’ve had more fun with you than I thought possible, and I want to experience what life can be like with you by my side.”
Tillie felt her heart turn in her chest, and a soft spot that she’d been trying to cover was suddenly bare. She felt more vulnerable than she had in her entire life. She wanted so desperately to believe all the sweet things William was saying to her, but he didn’t even know she was an orphan. She couldn’t help but think that as he found out more about her, his opinion might change.
“That may all be true, but I have a whole life and a whole history you know nothing about. I—"
William interrupted her before she could finish. “Tillie, I want to know everything about you, I do. But before you start, I need you to know that nothing you could tell me would change how I feel. I want you to be my wife. I love you.”
Tillie’s heart felt like it was pressing against her throat, and she swallowed hard before she started to speak.
* * *
“My parent’s died when I was nine years old. I’m an orphan.” Til
lie’s voice cracked as she spoke, and William wanted nothing more than to hold her close.
“Goodness. I had no idea. I’m so sorry, Tillie.”
Tillie tried to stifle her quivering bottom lip with her teeth, but all it did was make her chin quiver too. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened? Did you know your parents, or were you orphaned as a baby?” William hated to ask such tender questions, but he wanted to give Tillie a chance to tell him her entire history.
“I don’t mind. I actually like to talk about them. It helps me remember that I wasn’t always alone. I knew my parents. I was nine when they died. My father was a playwright and director, and my mother was an actress. My entire childhood consisted of reading and writing in the balcony seats, and begrudgingly completing my daily arithmetic problems. During breaks from my schoolwork, I’d watch my mother rehearse and my father critique all the other cast members. I spent a great deal of my early years dreaming of the day when I would take the stage, but those dreams turned to ash in one tragic night.”
“Oh, Tillie. I’m so sorry. How did they die? Was there a fire? Is that why you said your dreams turned to ash?” William regretted his comments about theatre now more than ever. Why did he have to be so dense?
“The Baldwin Theatre—where my parents were performing at the time—was infamous for catching fire. It had already done so a handful of times in its history before that night. However, in all the previous fires, my mother hadn’t been backstage getting ready for a big premier, and my father hadn’t been training a new crew member. For a long time, all I could remember from that night was the smoke, but eventually bits and pieces of the man who rescued me began to surface. I remember the way he hoisted me over his shoulder, and how my body banged up against his back as he ran down the narrow staircase from the balcony seats. He carried me out to the concession area, and finally outside to the fresh air.” Tillie sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Tillie’s Theatre: The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 20 Page 9