No Greater Treasure

by Amy Lillard

  “Not always. I haven’t had a bath in years.”

  “But you pray every day.”

  “That’s right.” She waited for him to say something more about prayer or God. She knew he had lost his way. Maybe that’s what God wanted from her. He had delivered Jed to her to help them get safely down the mountain, but perhaps He had delivered her to Jed to put his feet back on the path of righteousness.

  The thought was staggering.

  “Thank you for the room,” he was saying. “And the bath.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “You’ve earned it.” She wondered if he had changed the subject on purpose.

  “And the clothes,” he continued. “That was unnecessary. I could have just washed my own.”

  “Completely necessary. You have to have something to wear while the laundry is going.”

  He chuckled and the sound warmed her even more than the thought of him on the other side of the wood soaking in a copper tub full of warm water.

  “What’s next?” he asked. “That cup of tea?” Did he remember every word she had ever uttered?

  “Tea would be lovely,” she replied.

  “Or we could go get some of that chicken you were talking about.” He did remember everything. Amazing. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “Did I over-step? I apologize. I meant no disrespect.”

  “No,” she said hurriedly. “None taken.”

  “Chicken or tea?” he asked.

  She smiled to herself as she gathered the soap and dunked it into the water. “Why not both?”

  Birdie smoothed her hands down the front of her new dress. The bright blue material with its tiny white flowers was both sweet and flattering. She knew it made her eyes look impossibly blue—she had been told that countless times while growing up—but that was not the reason she had chosen it for tonight. It was the least fancy of the three garments she had decided to keep. The emerald green silk with touches of black lace she had reserved for her trip to see Nelson on the morrow.

  But that was tomorrow. For tonight, she was fulfilling the rest of her “coming to town” dreams of fried chicken, yeast rolls, and a cup of hot tea. Not necessarily in that order.

  She had managed to pull her hair into a reasonable style. She couldn’t say she looked like the other women wandering in and out of the hotel. But she felt satisfied with the result.

  But she was still anxious as she walked down the stairs to meet up with Jed. Which was preposterous. She didn’t have a reason to be nervous. It was Jed.

  Her foot touched the bottom step and she looked around for him. They had agreed to meet in the lobby of the hotel, but it seemed that she had made it downstairs before him. A couple of men were in the lobby, all smartly dressed in their trousers and checkered vests. Most wore top hats, but some had left their heads bare. All wore long coats with big sleeves and large lapels. None looked familiar.

  She smoothed her hands down her dress again. She would wait a few more minutes, then she would leave word at the front desk that she had gone ahead into the restaurant. It was close enough that she could smell the wonderful meals being prepared and since she had returned to the city, she could almost taste the cup of tea she had been dreaming about for so long.

  “B—Cora Mae?”

  At first she didn’t respond to the name, she had almost forgotten she had given it to the hotel manager when she had checked in. As Jed liked to say, a body couldn’t be too careful.

  “Yes?” she fully faced the man who had called her false moniker, then sucked in a breath. “Jed?”

  He was a different person. Almost. He still had those beautiful sparkling eyes and dark dark hair, but the beard was gone and its disappearance had revealed two handsome slashing dimples on either side of his mouth. His lips were still as full as they had been, his nose the same. How could a shave and a fresh set of clothes change a man so? It was baffling.

  He held out his elbow toward her. “Are you ready for some fried chicken?”

  She returned his smile, her nervousness leaving, only to be replaced with a light as air feeling in her stomach that she couldn’t name. “You know I am.”

  Jed felt on top of the world as he escorted Birdie into Nellie’s Restaurant next door to the hotel. Soon his time with Birdie would come to an end, and he wanted to soak up every moment to savor after that time came. He wouldn’t have her, but he would have her memory.

  He had been speechless when he saw her come down the stairs in her new blue dress. She looked so different, but he would have known her anywhere. Not because of her limp or even that gorgeous mane of golden hair. No, it was her spirit, that inner beauty and love that she wore around her like a shroud.

  That’s God, a voice inside him said. He pushed it aside. Now was not the time for soul searching.

  If not now, when?

  “It smells good in here,” she said.

  “Yes, it does,” he replied, thankful that she had saved him from his own thoughts.

  They wound their way through the many tables to find a seat near the back. One of the waitresses waved to let them know that she had seen them and would be right over.

  “Nice place,” Birdie said, looking around.

  Nice wasn’t the word he would have used. Homey was more like it. There were blue-checkered tablecloths, white napkins, and a large framed chalkboard where someone had written the day’s specials.

  “What can I get you folks?” The waitress bustled up, her cheeks pink and glistening. The place was full, and she had obviously been working hard.

  He turned to Birdie, then back to the waitress. “Two cups of hot tea and fried chicken with all the trimmings.”

  She gave a nod and headed back toward the kitchen.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said. She shifted in her seat in a gesture he considered to be discomfort. Maybe because they were in a restaurant together, like a couple. Had she even seen O’Neil yet? She had said that she wanted her bath and plate of chicken before seeking him out. Had she stayed with that plan?

  “My mama always says I clean up good.” He smiled. His mother. She was the one person he was going back to. And he had to face her after failing her. He longed to hug her, hold her close, and tell her how sorry he was, but he was ashamed all the same.

  “Your mama is right, sir.” She smiled in return, though his had frozen on his face. Nothing took the joy out of a moment like thinking about home. Returning home. But where else would he go?

  “What about you?” he asked. “You look very nice.”

  Her cheeks colored pink as she nodded her head at him. “Thank you.”

  “Nelson O’Neil is a lucky man.”

  She shifted again. She was definitely uncomfortable. But why?

  He opened his mouth to ask her, though he had no words formed that would do the job. Thankfully he was interrupted before he even got started.

  “Take a photograph for you?” A young man in a brown suit had stopped at their table. He held what appeared to be a camera in one hand, a three-legged stand sticking out from under the black cloth covering the apparatus.

  “A photograph?” she asked. “Here?”

  Jed had seen some photographers when he had come into town with Toby, but they had been out on the main thoroughfare not in a crowded restaurant.

  “It’s the latest development.” He laughed. “Get it? Development?” He sobered a bit when neither of them echoed his laugh. Jed had no idea what was so funny about that word.

  “Photographs are developed. That’s the process we use to get the picture out of the camera and onto the paper.”

  “Really?” Birdie asked. Her eyes were wide with interest.

  The young man shrugged. “Close enough. So would you like for me to take your photograph today?”

  “Of course.” Birdie didn’t hesitate. But he supposed that’s what happened when a person had money to spare. They didn’t need to ask the price of new developments in the world of photography.

  “Turn to th
e side,” the young man said. He set the camera contraption on the floor and disappeared under the black covering. “Don’t move,” his muffled voice came.

  Birdie smiled and remained completely still. “Are you finished?” she asked, her lips barely moving from their happy smile.

  “Almost,” came his muffled reply. Then there was a flash of light that made Jed see spots, and the young man came out from under the sheet of black fabric. “Now the two of you move together. You make such a wonderful couple.”

  The waitress, who happened to be walking by at the time nodded. “Such a lovely pair.”

  “But we’re—” Jed started. He wanted to say that they weren’t a couple. And they didn’t need a photograph of the two of them close. He didn’t need a photograph of them at all. He barely had enough money to pay for the meal much less photographs with new developments.

  Birdie took ahold of his lapel and pulled him close. “Just for fun.”

  He couldn’t refuse without looking like a fool. So he faced the camera and smiled.

  They weren’t touching anywhere, merely sitting side by side, the corner of the table between them. But he was so very aware of her presence that he nearly ached with it.

  And that’s when he knew: He had fallen in love with Birdie Banks.

  Birdie held her smile until the photographer told her that she could move. As soon as she could, she scooted her chair away from Jed’s. Being so close to him was a little unnerving. But being referred to as a couple...well, that was very unnerving.

  “My shop is just down the way,” the young man was saying. “I work with my father. Paisley’s Photography and Mining Supplies. You can’t miss it if you go straight down. The photographs should be ready tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Birdie said. “And we’re not a couple.” Now why had she added that last bit? It was unnecessary and seemed defensive. It was defensive and she had no idea why. Having her picture taken with Jed Evans, the man she had hired to help her down from the mountain mining camp, was not a crime. It wasn’t even undignified. But it was worrisome all the same.

  The young man nodded and moved on to the next table.

  “That was fun.” She shifted in her seat and rearranged her napkin in her lap. Where was their dinner?

  “Fun,” Jed agreed. Though his voice sounded a little strained. That closeness she felt when she was around him, could Jed feel it too? And she really should revert back to calling him Mr. Evans. Even in her thoughts. Jed was simply too...familiar.

  “Here you are,” the waitress said. “Fried chicken with all the trimmings.” She sat the plates down in front of them. Sometime while they were having their photograph taken, she had brought their tea. And sometime when they were having their photograph taken Birdie had forgotten all about it.

  But the smell of the chicken quickly brought her back to her senses. Mostly. She still found herself wanting to refer to J—Mr. Evans by his Christian name.

  She should have taken her meal in her room, but she hadn’t thought about it until now. She was starved for good food and wanted to savor each bite in a most unladylike fashion. Instead she stuffed a bite into her mouth that should have been cut into two.

  “Is it everything you’ve been dreaming about?” Mr. Evans’s voice was teasing.

  “More,” she said after swallowing the too-large mouthful. “I’m going to have to watch it though. If I keep eating like this, I’ll be big as a house.”

  “I doubt that.” He smiled, and she loved the way his dimples winked at her.

  “I’m not willing to give it a go,” she said with a small laugh.

  “I suppose O’Neil has a domestic staff,” Mr. Evans mused.

  Birdie had no idea. “That’s not something we normally talk about.” But somehow it felt like they should have. They were getting married after all.

  She supposed he had a person or two to help. He was planning on building them a house when they moved to San Francisco, but currently he lived in a two-room apartment above the mercantile.

  “Are you going to see him after this?” Mr. Evans asked.

  Birdie swallowed another bite of the delicious chicken and nodded. “Tomorrow.” But her heart squeezed at the thought. Surely that was excitement making her feel that way, sort of jittery and nervous and...sad. No, she wasn’t sad. She was going to meet Nelson again. The man who had started loving her long before she found any gold and would love her long after she signed the deed over to the church. “What are your plans?”

  He gave a little shrug and burrowed a hole in his potatoes. “Send word back home. Find a job.”

  “Are you staying here?” she frowned. She hadn’t thought those were his plans.

  “I have to make money to get home.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll pay your way.”

  “No.” He said the word before she even finished offering.

  “Don’t be silly.” She lowered her voice where no one could overhear. Not that anyone in the restaurant was paying them any mind. They were just any old ordinary couple sharing an evening meal. “I have plenty of money.”

  “That’s your money. Not mine.”

  “But—”

  He held up one hand to stay her protest. “I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. I’ll get a job and pay my own way home.”

  Home. The word held such different meanings for each person. For him it was Texas. For her it would be a house at the edge of San Francisco.

  “Where’s Lin Sing?” Jed asked. “What are his plans since he’s back in the city?”

  Birdie sighed, thankful for the change in subject but vexed by the new topic. “He’s gone to the other side of town. He says he has family there, but I’m not sure.” She supposed that he might be happier among his own people, but she missed him all the same. He had been her constant companion for the last five years, and she wasn’t used to him being more than a stone’s throw away.

  “You’re worried about him.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “What about when you...marry Nelson?” Jed asked. She really needed to start referring to him as Mr. Evans, even in her thoughts. Especially in her thoughts. She had allowed herself to be too familiar with him by far. She supposed the blame for some of that laid at her father’s feet for dragging her up a mountain when she should have been learning more about being a lady. But if she was truly being honest with herself it had more to do with the man before her than the one who raised her. There was just something about Jed Evans. Something special. She didn’t know what it was, couldn’t name it.

  “Birdie.” Je—Mr. Evans laid one hand on top of hers, and she almost jumped from her skin.

  “Y-yes?” She gently, slowly pulled her hand away though she wondered if it would even work correctly. It was tingling, hot and cold in the exact spot he had touched.

  “Are you all right?”

  She flashed him a smile, but it felt shaky upon her lips. “Yes. Of course.” She shifted in her chair. “What were we talking about?” she asked brightly. A little too brightly.

  “Lin Sing,” Mr. Evans said.

  See? That wasn’t so hard.

  She and Mr. Evans had been talking about what would happen to Lin Sing when she married Nelson.

  “Yes. Right.” She shifted again, but only because the waitress had come by with fresh hot water for their tea. She had to move to one side so the woman could pour the water. Not because she, Birdie, was uncomfortable or anything.

  “Will there be a place for him in the household staff?”

  Again, this wasn’t something she and Nelson had ever talked about and more and more she was beginning to think that maybe they should have. Lin Sing had been with Birdie since he had first arrived in California. He might have started out being hired help, but he had grown into so much more. As far as Birdie was concerned, he was one of the family. But things had changed since they had arrived back in the city. Changed for the both of them. Lin Sing had taken off to the spot in the town wher
e the Orientals all lived, and she had been focusing on all the luxuries and amenities she had been dreaming about since she first set foot in the mountains. But what would happen to him now was something she should think about. “I don’t know.”

  She didn’t add that she and Nelson hadn’t talked about it, but Mr. Evans knew. She could see it in his eyes.

  He thought she was making a mistake in marrying Nelson, and she was starting to have her own doubts. Not because of anything that had happened or hadn’t happened between her and Nelson, but because of her growing feelings for the man sitting across from her.

  Suddenly she needed to get away. She shouldn’t be there anyway, lollygagging around in the hotel’s restaurant with a man who wasn’t her intended.

  She was on her feet in an instant, standing so fast that she almost toppled her chair over behind her. “Thank you for your lovely company, Mr. Evans.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out the money to pay for their meal—both of them. Then she thrust the bills at the passing waitress. “Here, miss,” she hurried said. “Keep the change as the tip. I appreciate your kind service today.”

  The waitress’s eyes widened. “Thank you, ma’am. That is very generous.”

  Birdie had the money, and she didn’t mind sharing it. And she would continue to share it right up until the time she signed the claim over to the church.

  “Wait,” Mr. Evans said.

  But she couldn’t stop. She had to get on her way. Pick up her life, the life she had been planning on. The life that didn’t include a certain dark-haired man with beautiful blue eyes.

  But she stopped anyway. “Yes?”

  “I can’t allow you to pay for my meal.”

  She smiled sweetly at him hoping her gesture looked kind but distant. “But I just did.”

  “I don’t take charity.” Those beautiful blue eyes had suddenly turned a bit hard.

  “It’s not charity,” she explained, looking back at the table covered with dirty dishes. “Consider it a bonus. Good day, Mr. Evans.”