Eden Creek

by Lisa Bingham

  “What do you want to do?”

  Ginny shook her head. “I don’t know. But I can’t go back.”

  “You wouldn’t be spinning me a pretty story, would you?”

  “No. I swear to you, I thought he knew about the baby. I wouldn’t do anything in the world to hurt Orrin Ghant.”

  Ida’s jaw grew firm. “But he’s going to be hurt when he finds out. And angry.”

  “I know.”

  “He doesn’t deserve that, you know. That boy’s already been through a world of hurt, what with his pa dying in the war. Then his wife…” Her lips pursed. “He’s got enough burdens to bear as it is.” She studied the young woman long and hard, measuring her with a power to strip Ginny to the soul. Then Ida shook her head, her eyes filling with silent pity. “But I suppose you’ve got your own crosses to carry, and they aren’t any prettier than Orrin’s.”

  The older woman took a few steps away. “A baby. If that don’t beat all.”

  Ginny waited, wondering what Ida was thinking—about the situation, about her—and whether this woman was wise enough to find a solution.

  “You can’t tell a living soul. You realize that, don’t you?”

  “But—”

  “If word of this ever got out … he’s got his pride. And pride’s an important thing to a man.”

  Ginny rubbed her palms over her forearms, but the chill that gathered beneath her flesh would not go away. “I know.”

  “And you’re going to have to see to it that Orrin doesn’t find out either.”

  “But I have to tell him the baby isn’t his!”

  Ida turned to face Ginny, her dark eyes snapping. “Why?”

  “It would be dishonest not to.”

  “And what possible purpose could telling the truth serve? It might ease your guilt, but it would leave him with a lifetime of regrets and anger. Orrin is the innocent in all of this. He doesn’t deserve a wagonful of remorse.”

  “But I can’t possibly let him think he fathered this child.”

  “You’d darn well better. For his sake as well as your own. This isn’t some big eastern city, Ginny. People here are kind and good, but they’ve got a rigid sense of what’s right and what’s wrong. They wouldn’t understand your situation or what’s happened. All they would see is that you had a child by another man and that your husband was taken for a fool.

  “Orrin has a business here. A business that depends on his good name and character. If the people of Eden found out, he would never be able to hold his head up high and proud like he does now.”

  “I could tell them the truth.”

  “And what can the truth do to soften the fact that you married Orrin—whatever your intentions—while another man’s child was growing inside you?” Ida made a tsking sound. “Even if Orrin escaped unscathed, the child wouldn’t have an easy time of it.” She shook her head again. “No. You’ve got to see to it that Orrin thinks that baby is his.”

  “How?” Ginny stared at her in desperation, seeing the validity in the grim picture Ida painted.

  “Hold your tongue. Share his bed when he asks. And pray long and hard that your baby comes late enough to convince him it’s his.”

  “Perhaps I should just go.”

  “Run away? Hide?” Some of the sternness left Ida’s tone, and she reached out to hold Ginny’s chin. “Something tells me you’re already running away. Maybe from your past, maybe from that baby’s father. But you won’t ever escape yourself, so there’s no sense in trying. Maybe it’s best that you stopped running and made a life for yourself. Here. With Orrin Ghant.”

  “I never meant to hurt him.”

  “He’d be just as hurt if you left him. More.” Her eyes seemed to burn with a secret knowledge. “Orrin’s the kind of man that grows possessive of a woman. Protective. To up and leave him would be like shoving a knife in his heart.”

  “I never dreamed things could get so muddled.”

  “What’s past is past. Best look to the future.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You’ve got no choice. You can learn to live with your secrets, push them way down deep where no one can find them. Or you can ease your guilt and let Orrin and the child pay the price.”

  “I wish I knew what was right, what I should do.”

  Ida drew Ginny into her arms, pressing the young woman against her ample bosom until the scents of baking and lye soap filled Ginny’s senses. “I think you already know what to do. Your heart has already told you. Now you’ve just got to pray that you can find the strength to carry out your plan. A secret’s a weighty thing to carry. A weighty thing indeed.”

  Ginny had to agree. Because she could already feel her guilt pressing heavily against her heart.

  An hour later a revived Ginny was helping to wash the breakfast dishes when Orrin lightly kissed the curve of her shoulder. She settled back into his embrace, giving in to the flood of warmth that seeped through her veins.

  And ignoring the guilt.

  “Feeling better?”

  Before she could wonder how he’d guessed her disappearance at the table had been a bout of morning sickness and not the need to wash, Orrin kissed her. At first Ginny was hesitant beneath his touch, then relaxed, then responsive.

  He drew back, smiling.

  She nervously licked her lips.

  Immediately she regretted the action after seeing his amusement grow.

  “A wagon just pulled into the yard. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a piano aboard.”

  A threatening blackness swirled around Ginny. She heard Orrin’s voice from far away, but she couldn’t respond.

  “Come on.”

  In a daze she let Orrin draw her outside into the sunshine.

  Automatically she scanned the yard. She recognized Bud Campbell’s stocky figure; he was the man who’d brought the first load of trunks to Eden. But she caught no glimpse of Billy Wicks.

  She stepped forward, forcing herself to move toward the crates piled on the ground around the wagons.

  Maybe he’d gone, she thought. Maybe it hadn’t been Billy after all.

  The air came a little more easily to her lungs, and her fear was slowly edged aside by anticipation of the cargo sent to her by her mother. Ginny wandered from crate to crate, trunk to trunk, imagining each item stored within. Her name and the contents had been stenciled on the boxes in a neat, delicate hand, the script unique. That hand could belong only to Miriam Parker.

  For a moment she felt the sweet taste of home.

  “Hello, Virginia.”

  Ginny nearly staggered at the sound of the voice.

  Dreading what she would find, but knowing she had to see, she turned.

  Billy Wicks stepped from the shadows of the barn and swept his hat from his head. The sunlight gleamed in his golden hair, making him appear angelic and boyish. “Fancy meeting you here,” he drawled, and she stiffened, remembering Billy’s charm all too well. Remembering the perfidy it disguised.

  She looked behind her, but Orrin was busy helping unload crates from Bud’s wagon.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Billy’s mouth lifted in a careless smile. “Searching for you.”

  “Go away.”

  “Ginny, sweetheart, what a way to talk.” He stepped closer, reaching out to lift her knuckles to his lips.

  Ginny tried to snatch her hand away, but he held it tightly until he had managed to plant a kiss on her cool skin.

  “Why did you go away, Ginny?”

  She bristled at the little-boy-lost tone he employed, knowing that his facade of hurt hid a heart of stone. “Why do you care? The last time I saw you, Billy, you were quite busy.”

  “With business.”

  “With another woman.”

  Billy jerked away in surprise. “Who’s been lying to you?”

  “I saw you,” she hissed. “I saw you in bed together.”

  Billy’s eyes took on a brittle cast hardened with a hint of panic.
“It was a mistake. It only happened once. I swear.”

  “I want you to go away.”

  “Ginny—”

  “Now.”

  “But dear heart,” he drawled, “how can I leave … when you carry my child?”

  “I see you’re already acquainted with my wife.”

  When Orrin approached Billy’s smile became as smooth as a mountain lake and twice as warm. Months before such charm would have caused Ginny’s pulse to flutter. Now she could only fight the roiling of her stomach.

  “Yes. I’ve … known Ginny for quite some time.” Billy held out his hand, waiting until Orrin reached out to shake it. “Ginny and I are cousins,” he said pointedly, “kissing cousins. Miriam asked me to come to Utah and see if Ginny was settled. And happy.”

  “I’m very happy,” Ginny insisted proudly. “You may tell my mother that Orrin is a wonderful man. The most wonderful man it has ever been my pleasure to meet.”

  Billy’s smile faltered at the obvious barb, but he let it pass. “Even so, Miriam will be eager for a personal report. I’ll be sure to tell her you’re happy”—his eyes flicked to her stomach—“and healthy. In fact, I’ll be spending some time in Ogden on business. But I’ll pass this way again come … October?”

  “When you come you’ll have to stay here at the house,” Orrin offered.

  Ginny fought the panic coming on, wondering how much longer she would have to pay for her sins.

  “If you insist. How could I refuse?” After a long, tension-charged silence Billy added, “But now I’m afraid I simply must go. As I said, Miriam Parker will be eager for my report.” He stepped forward, dipping his head to kiss Ginny on both cheeks.

  She steeled herself to keep from recoiling.

  “Good-bye, Ginny.” He backed away, adding, “I will be back. Then you and I will settle our little arrangement once and for all.”

  Ginny couldn’t speak. She could only cling to Orrin’s arm and pray that she could find a way to keep Billy from ruining her life with this man she’d grown to love so much.

  “What did he mean by an arrangement?” Orrin asked as they watched Billy climb aboard the now-empty wagon and drive it from the yard.

  “It isn’t important,” she whispered past the tightness of her throat. “Nothing you should worry about, anyway.”

  Chapter 15

  To Orrin’s infinite dismay there would be no more romantic evenings in the cabin on the hill. Only a portion of Ginny’s belongings could be moved into the house; the rest had to be stored in the barn and the other outbuildings. And since Ida Carrigan had decided that Ginny needed someone to help with the task, she’d left Tilly behind when she and her other daughters went home. Tilly slept on the bunk in the cabin during the night and trailed Ginny like a living shadow during the day—as if she thought Ginny was the only thing that prevented her from losing the rest of her hair to the Ghant children.

  In truth, Orrin couldn’t blame the girl. His children, he knew, could be a trifle high-spirited at times. And if he’d had his druthers, he would have stayed with Ginny, too. Would have stayed as close as two bodies could get.

  It was for that very reason that Orrin decided he needed more than a stopgap solution to his dilemma. He needed privacy.

  One morning he hitched the team to the wagon and drove into Ogden. By nightfall he had returned with a pile of planks and a new brass bed.

  The addition was built onto the side of the house in record time. Orrin barely paused for meals or household chores. As soon as he came in from the fields he began hammering on the adjoining room and continued far into the night, working from the light of a single lantern. Then he rose long before dawn to pound and saw.

  Orrin didn’t even notice Tilly’s return to the Carrigan household a few weeks later. The skeletal shape of walls began to take form. Soon the sides had been covered and a roof built.

  Despite the onset of the Sabbath Orrin persuaded Ginny and the children to daub the walls before going on a picnic with the Carrigans. When they returned, he was hammering the last of the shingles into place.

  The next afternoon Orrin returned from the fields long before dark, and Ginny watched as he disappeared into the house. An hour passed, two. Then he emerged and came toward the huge pot where Ginny was boiling the last batch of wash.

  “You about done?”

  “Yes.” She bent to heft a huge basket of wet clothing.

  Orrin frowned and took the container from her, carrying it to the wash line he’d strung between the chicken coop and the smokehouse.

  Ginny began to unclip the clothes that had already dried, growing self-conscious when Orrin watched every move she made, his eyes filled with a disturbing intensity. A gust of wind whipped through the grass around them, flapping the laundry and pressing her skirts against her legs.

  “The room is finished.”

  When he saw that she’d understood his meaning, he set the basket on the ground and smiled. A slow, masculine smile. Before she realized what he meant to do, he unpinned one of his nightshirts from the line. A blast of wind caught the garment, and it fluttered into the air, dancing across the yard.

  “Orrin!”

  When she picked up her skirts to chase it, he grabbed her arm, pulling her against him and bending low. “I don’t think we’ll be needing that anymore,” he stated. Then he brushed his lips against the tip of her ear and sauntered back into the house.

  A few minutes later Ginny entered with the folded laundry. She stepped inside to see that the door to the new room was open, proudly displaying the addition.

  Ginny could see that the bed had already been assembled, along with a trunk and a dresser. Pegs had been pounded into the wall, and they held an untidy assortment of Orrin’s clothes. The room still carried the fresh scent of wood shavings and pitch.

  She jumped when Orrin appeared at her side.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s lovely.”

  “Kinda makes you tired just looking at it, doesn’t it?”

  She huffed in mock irritation and continued into the room, setting the clean clothes on the bed.

  Orrin followed. When he saw his nightshirt on the top of the stack he scowled and reached to take it. But Ginny slapped him, snatched the shirt away from him, and hid it behind her back.

  “The washing is my affair, and I won’t have you throwing things all over the yard.” She gave him a pointed glance, hoping she appeared as stern as a schoolmarm. “Don’t you have some work to do—”

  “The room is finished.”

  “—outside?”

  He shrugged and turned to leave, then stopped. Returning, he kissed her long and hard. “Just a little something to keep me going until nightfall,” he stated, then he sauntered out of the room.

  Ginny sank onto the bed. It hadn’t been like this with Billy. He’d been charming and tender and witty. After her suffering in the lonely Parker household, Billy had been like a balm to her soul. But most of all, he’d professed to love her. Adore her. Need her.

  Ginny would have given him anything—had given him everything. Her love. Her virtue.

  Then she’d found herself alone.

  Except for the baby.

  Now she was beginning to see that by running away from Billy, she’d discovered the love and adoration she’d always sought. But more than that, she’d found a man she could respect.

  A man she could love.

  But she couldn’t escape the fact that one day soon she would have to tell him the truth.

  Because Billy Wicks would return to claim his child. And her.

  Billy leaned back in his chair and surveyed the dining room of the Cheshire Hotel. Things were going very well. Very well indeed. Just as he had surmised, an informative telegram sent to Miriam Parker had resulted in a hefty sum of money being wired to Billy’s account in Utah. He had no fears that Miriam would tell her husband. She knew the baby was Billy’s. And judging by the swift dispatch of the funds, she didn’t want Herber
t Parker to know about it.

  Now, with five thousand dollars to his credit, Billy had nothing better to do than wait for Ginny’s brat to be born so that he could prove it was his own. Then he would see her marriage dissolved and take her back to Missouri, where he could stake his claim to the Parker fortune.

  Settling his chair on the floor, he sighed. That still left several months of waiting in this godforsaken town.

  “Would you like some pie, Mr. Wicks?”

  Billy’s eyes lifted, then clung to the feminine figure standing beside his table. He’d eaten at the hotel enough to know the girl’s name. Abbie. Abbie Biddell.

  “We’ve still got some apple left, and some cherry. Or there’s a blueberry custard if you’d like.”

  Billy barely heard her. He’d eaten more than a dozen meals in this hotel, and each time he’d been aware of the way this naive young girl had stared at him. She must have been some love-starved farmer’s daughter, because she had been trying to capture his attention. He’d seen her covert looks and the exaggerated sway of her hips.

  Up to now he hadn’t allowed himself to return her interest. She was pretty enough, with big hazel eyes and lush feminine curves. But he’d been waiting for his money while he kept tabs on Ginny.

  However, he presently found himself five thousand dollars richer, with time to burn. So why not indulge himself? She was just the kind of woman who intrigued him. Shy, innocent, and desperately lonely, as Ginny had been.

  Billy fixed her with a heated gaze, one that proclaimed his consideration. Her hands shook visibly, and a menu from her tray dropped to the ground. Immobile, she watched as Billy retrieved it. Then he deliberately reached out to stroke the inside of her ankle.

  He thought for a moment that Abbie Biddell would jump from her skin. But after glancing around to make sure no one was looking, she knelt beside him and reached for the menu.

  Billy grinned at her with just enough boyish charm to make a flush rise to her cheeks. The scoop neck of her dress gaped to reveal that she wore a simple muslin camisole beneath a sturdy black corset. Billy bet he’d have her out of both within a week.