When I Fall in Love

by Wendy Lindstrom

  His frown deepened. “I can assure you I dealt fairly with his father. That young man better not have filled your ears with half-truths or hurt you in any way.”

  “Of course he didn’t, Daddy. It was I who hurt him. And that is precisely why he was so hurt and angry. I’m not sure he can forgive me.” Saying the words aloud made them more real. To her horror, her eyes welled up and she clamped her teeth down on her lip. “I… I’m giving him some time to accept the truth of our situation and think things through. But I need to go home... back to Fredonia and try to fix this mess I’ve created. I need you to go with me, Daddy. You and Hal need to talk about your dealings with his father.”

  “Of course I’ll take you back. Because if you can’t get that husband of yours to come around, I will. You’re responsible for your lies, Nancy, and for rebuilding trust in your marriage. But getting your heart broken or your pride hurt doesn’t mean you walk away from a commitment. Whether that young man likes me or not, he married my daughter and I’ll see that he stands by his promise to you.” Her father patted her hand. “Where’s my girl who could out-fox this old fox?” he asked, chucking her beneath the chin as he’d done numerous times. “You can work this out.”

  “Maybe. But one thing I’ve learned is that Hal isn’t a man to be out-foxed or coerced into anything.”

  “Well, the two of you have a mess on your hands that needs to be resolved. If you can’t set things right, I’ll be having a talk with the boy.”

  Nancy didn’t want her father’s intervention or to out-fox her husband to get him back. She wanted their love to be enough.

  * * *

  Hal had prepared himself to feel emotional at John Radford’s gravesite. He hadn’t, however, expected the sight of his brother’s name carved on a small wooden cross to take him to his knees.

  On the day they buried John, there had been no marker with a name to identify a body or to remind loved ones who they’d lost. It was just a dirt-filled hole covered with wood shavings.

  Today, however, the name John Radford Grayson was etched into a thick piece of oak that stood at the head of the grave. This is where John’s body was. John was here, in this spot right beneath Hal’s knees. Hal’s beloved brother was here.

  But he shouldn’t be!

  Hal’s gut cramped. John shouldn’t be here. Searing emotions whipped wildly through Hal, stinging like a lash. He clenched his fists, trying to hold onto his composure.

  John had loved this place. He’d wanted to grow old here, and when he died, he wanted to be buried at the mill, beneath a mountainous pile of pine shavings. No one could have imagined they would be faced with the painful task of carrying out John’s wishes. And yet here they were, only weeks after John’s death, still shocked and disbelieving that he was really gone.

  As John had wanted, Hal and his family buried John at the farthest edge of the sawmill. They filled his coffin with pine shavings and laid him to rest on a grassy knoll overlooking the small pond where Hal and John and their siblings swam as kids. They’d had family picnics beneath the maple trees and had played numerous games in the surrounding fields and woods. Ever present in the background of their lives had been the whining sound of their father’s mill and the fragrant scent of fresh-cut pine and oak and walnut.

  John had been happiest here. For John, this fifty-acre parcel of land was home. Hal had been selfish and shortsighted in asking John to leave a place he loved so deeply. Now it was little comfort to know John would never leave home again.

  Regret and wrenching sorrow surged through Hal, closing his throat, stinging his eyes. The leafy trees and grassy fields of his childhood blurred, his vision flooded by tears and images of his past. Memories flashed through his mind like lightening bugs, illuminating moments for a fraction of a second... Hal and John nailing boards in a tree, lying on the wooden platform on their stomachs to spy on the world around them, John throwing a stick in anger and clocking Hal in the head, hunting field hen with their father in the woods, hot summer days of rushing to the pond for a cool dip during their short breaks at the mill, John eager to return to work, Hal wanting to linger and whittle his next piece of art. So many moments. So little time.

  Hal buried his face in his hands. If only he’d have known.

  He wanted to apologize to his brother, to sling his arm around John Radford’s shoulders and continue their adventures in life together. But John was gone. Forever.

  Crouched at his brother’s grave, the sound of his own wracking sobs sliced through Hal, a painful confirmation that his beloved brother was dead.

  “Come on, son.”

  Hal felt himself being raised up and pulled into his father’s arms, a place he hadn’t been in years.

  His father’s presence momentarily stunned him. For an instant Hal thought to pull away, to straighten his shoulders and act a man as he’d been taught. But intense love and sorrow surged through his heart and Hal fell into his father’s arms and sobbed like a child.

  In that moment of overwhelming emotion Hal clung to his father. He wanted to say, I’m sorry, father… Please forgive me… Oh, God, I miss my brother... But words were impossible.

  In their fierce grip, father and son supported each other, two men wounded to their soul giving what they had left. Apologies and memories and healing mingled in that brief moment. Hal recalled the numerous times he’d been lifted in his father’s strong arms or carried on his wide shoulders. And it seemed Daniel Grayson was still a robust, strong man capable of holding and comforting his son. His wide palm thumped Hal’s back as if to say it’s all right... we’ll get through this... time to pull on our boots and keep moving...

  Hal stepped back and backhanded his eyes, feeling weak and ridiculous, like a boy instead of a man.

  But his father stood unashamed of his own tears. His broad shoulders, the home of so many heavy burdens of which Hal had added his share, were beginning to round now. But there was fierce resolve and deep love in his father’s eyes. “There’s no shame in loving or grieving, son.”

  Hal nodded, but he did feel shame for thinking only of himself. He could only imagine the pain his father felt over losing a child. “I’ve been unforgivably selfish, Dad. I should have never asked John to come to Fredonia. He’d still be alive if... if he had stayed here with you.”

  “You can’t know that, Hal. And if I recall properly, it was John Radford who encouraged you to take the job with Edwards and move to Fredonia. You might have asked him to come later on, but it was John who started you on that path and who made the decision to join you there.”

  “But I knew the wagon he was driving wasn’t safe.” Hal kicked a cluster of grass, furious with himself. “I knew we should have left the wretched thing sitting in the field.”

  “I suspect your brother knew that as well,” his father said. “If anyone is guilty or responsible for John’s death, it’s me. I lost the mill and that forced John to make other decisions that took him to Fredonia.” Releasing a weary sigh, he dragged a worn handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose, then stuffed the red square in his shirt pocket. “Give your brother more credit, Hal. John was a smart man capable of making his own decisions. You aren’t responsible for his decisions or his death, even if you feel otherwise. Your brother loved you and wouldn’t want you to carry this burden of guilt on your heart any more than you’d want him to if the circumstances were reversed. It was just a tragic, heartbreaking accident. Don’t make me lose two sons over it.”

  Hal cast a sweeping glance around him, seeing fields and woods and the sawmill with long timbers lying on the hard packed ground waiting for the saw, stacks of lumber ready to ship, and mountains of sawdust that would be sold for insulation around homes when the weather turned colder. Beyond the mill, nestled in a copse of towering white pines, sat his childhood home. His mother and father now lived there with four of their children... and one son buried on the hill.

  Hal shook his head, weary and heart sore.

  �
��What’s on your mind, son? I suspect you didn’t come back just to visit John’s grave?”

  Hal had come back for Nancy, for answers, and now it seemed he’d come back seeking forgiveness. Releasing a hard sigh, he spoke to his father man-to-man. “I need to understand what happened with the mill. Why did you buy it when you knew you couldn’t pay for it?”

  “I was foolish.” His father reached down and plucked a long blade of grass. He stuck one end in the side of his mouth as if clamping a cigar in his teeth, a habit of his when mulling over difficult task or situation. Finally, he said, “I anticipated getting the steamer contract again. We’ve had it for five years and I had no reason to suspect we wouldn’t win the next bid. My mistake was in purchasing the mill before I had the new contract in hand. It was a foolish thing to do, Hal.”

  “Why’d you do it then?”

  “I wanted to provide you and John with your own business.”

  “Owning a sawmill was John’s dream, not mine,” Hal said.

  Their eyes locked and his father nodded. “I know, but I hoped owning your own mill would be tempting enough to keep you here. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my boys. Unfortunately, that’s happened despite my efforts.”

  Hal shook his head, a rock of regret in his gut. “I’ve been so foolish. I should have stayed and run the mill for you.”

  “I’d have still lost it, Hal. Without the contract I couldn’t earn enough to pay for it.”

  “Lloyd Tremont shouldn’t have been such a heartless businessman and given us a chance to work things out and save the mill. John and I might have found more work for the mill.”

  “You’re using your talents exactly as you should be, Hal. And my failure here has nothing to do with Lloyd Tremont. He suggested I wait to purchase the new mill until I had the contract in hand, but I assured him I’d win the bid. By all rights he shouldn’t have given me that loan until I could prove myself capable of paying for it. But he took me at my word, and I let him down.”

  “Then he should have trusted you to make things right.”

  “No, Hal.” His father shook his head. “Lloyd knew I couldn’t make things right. Not without the contract, which I won’t get another shot at for a year. He did the right thing.”

  “The right thing? He sold the mill to our competitor!”

  “He auctioned the mill. Our competitor had the contract and could afford to make the highest bid. Lloyd couldn’t control that. I tried to tell you that before you stormed into his office.”

  Hal’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He told you I called on him?”

  A half-smile tilted his father’s mouth, a sign he was amused. “He did. I confess I was right proud of you for looking after your family, Hal, but you made unfair accusations to a man who has helped us on a number of occasions. Lloyd Tremont is the reason I’m still able to operate my mill at all. He could have taken both saws and everything we’ve got. Instead he wrote off the loss on my unpaid loan and that enabled me to keep the other saw operating. You should have thanked the man instead of condemning him.”

  It was as if his father punched Hal in the gut. His breath sailed out and he stared in disbelief. “All this time I thought he was a heartless blackguard and...” Hal raked his hands through his hair and stared at his father. “I’ve been such a fool.”

  A grin tipped his father’s mouth. “Welcome to adulthood, Hal.”

  The idea that Hal had unfairly accused a man who had gone out of his way to help his family burned like acid in Hal’s gut. But knowing he’d wounded Nancy with his cruel and unfair words about her father was a thought too painful to bear.

  “Come on, son.” His father clapped his strong, work-roughened hand over Hal’s shoulder and turned him toward the mill. “Your mother will singe our ears if we’re late for supper.”

  They had walked three paces when Hal suddenly stopped.

  His father took another step and then looked back. Their eyes met and Hal could see the question in his father’s dark gaze.

  “Dad, you aren’t responsible for John’s death or for driving me away. We both made our choices because that’s what we wanted to do. You need to know that. And you need to know that there’s not a man in this world I respect or love more than you.”

  Chapter 26

  Tuesday morning, Nancy and her father were playing chess in the library. Her father chided her for letting him win, but Nancy assured him she was simply being kind in consideration of his infirmary. He laughed and said he was glad to see her getting back to her old self.

  But Nancy wasn’t her old self at all. She was no longer a willful girl chasing every challenge. She was a married woman who was growing increasingly heartbroken and missing her husband. She couldn’t sleep. She could barely tolerate food. She couldn’t think of anything but Hal and the fact that it had been nearly a month since she’d left him. She knew she’d hurt him, but she thought she might at least receive a letter from him. She had heard nothing but silence.

  “Shall we put the game aside and go to the music room?” her father asked. “It would make me happy to hear you play again.”

  “Perhaps Elizabeth will play for you, Daddy. I don’t feel like playing today.” Nancy couldn’t bring herself to touch the ivory keys of the beautiful instrument because it reminded her of her old out-of-tune pianoforte and her big love for her small home back in Fredonia.

  “Your melancholy is wringing this old heart. I want back my sassy, willful daughter, not this quiet and weepy woman you’ve become.”

  “Weepy?” Nancy met her father’s eyes in surprise. “When have you known me to be quiet and weepy, Father?” She pushed to her feet and paced to the window. “I’m quiet because I’m growing impatient to return to my husband. I know you’re not yet well enough to travel, but I intend to return to Fredonia this week.” She folded her arms across her chest and faced her father. “When you’re fully back on your feet, Father, I want you to come to Fredonia and talk with my husband. He needs to know what really happened between you and his father.”

  “I wish you’d wait then,” he said leaning back in his chair. “I think another day or two of rest should see me well enough to travel.”

  “All right, Daddy, because the two of you need a proper introduction and to settle whatever issue stands between you.”

  With or without her father, Nancy was going back to Fredonia this week. To her home. To her husband. And he was going to listen to her apology and realize he has more to think about than his own feelings. If it wasn’t just emotional upset delaying Nancy’s monthly, then Hal Grayson had a child on the way.

  * * *

  At the Tremont estate, Hal took a moment to admire the intricate crest that he and his father had carved in the heavy oak door. He had learned a lot from his father during that project, and Hal gave himself a minute to appreciate their work, and the irony, before he lifted the metal knocker and gave a sharp rap on the door.

  A manservant approximately twice Hal’s age, dressed in a black suit and black tie, answered the door with great flourish. He introduced himself as Bramwell and invited Hal inside to wait in the ornate foyer. It was a grand home with open hallways leading to many rooms from what Hal could see from the open foyer and recall from his conversations with Nancy.

  Bramwell tipped his haughty head. “Miss Tremont is — correction, sir, Mrs. Grayson — is in the library with her father. I’ll let them know that Mr. Hal Grayson is calling.”

  Hal found the formality silly, but merely nodded his understanding as he watched the man stride from the foyer with an air of importance. Nancy had told Hal bits and pieces of her life and about the home in which she’d lived. She’d spoken about the expansive ballroom that could hold Hal’s small house, and of morning and sitting rooms, of which he had no clue as to the difference in their function. She’d mentioned the family library and the music room and numerous other rooms that made Hal wonder how one family could possibly make use of such space.

  This expla
ined why Nancy had expected a household staff to be part of her marriage agreement. Being raised in such luxury, she wouldn’t have known any other way of living. What a shock it must have been for her when Hal picked her up at the station. And yet rather than complain or condemn Hal for failing so miserably at providing for them, she’d rolled up her sleeves and created a warm and loving home. For him. For them. Without asking for anything but his love. She’d even taken in a stray cat and befriended the wildlife living around their home. She’d traded in her expensive baubles to purchase food for their table and given herself to him with warmth and passion.

  Bramwell seemed to appear silently out of nowhere, startling Hal from his thoughts. With a crook of his gloved fingers, the butler gestured for Hal to follow along. Hat in hand, Hal was taken to the library where Nancy and her father sat with a magnificently carved chess set between them. Nancy rose to her feet and stepped to the far side of her father’s chair, as if placing the man between them. Hal’s first thought was that her father had already come between them, but it wasn’t true. Hal’s foolish misunderstanding was what stood between them, and he meant to clear that up posthaste.

  The interior felt dark after spending the morning outside at his father’s mill. Heavy drapes hung over tall windows, dark wood bookshelves and gray patterned wallpaper covered the walls. Two ornate tabletop lanterns illuminated the space around Nancy and her father and cast a warm golden glow across hard wood flooring.

  Nancy’s pearly skin and gorgeous red hair were beacons in the dark, her eyes full of emotion as she gazed across the room at him. Hal ached to pull her into his arms, but etiquette — and unanswered questions — held him back.

  Tremont sat in a high-backed padded chair, a woven blanket across his legs, but his power and wealth were undeniable. “The last time I saw you, young man, you were shaking your fist and telling me that I am a ruthless man who doesn’t care about crippling businesses or destroying families.” Although Tremont’s words were blunt, his eyes seemed to hold amusement instead of anger. “I suspect this visit may be more difficult than you anticipated.”