“Mrs. Franklin,” Rosemary called just as the doctor was about to help her into the buggy. “Will you come and have lunch with us? Finn can bring out a chair for you from the hall so you don’t have to sit on the ground.”
The elderly woman’s face lit up. “If you’re sure there’s room.”
“Of course there’s room. You can meet Agnes and the rest of the children.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble, now,” she said, taking Finn’s proffered arm.
“Trouble? I’ll be surrounded by the most beautiful women of every age at this shindig.” He grinned, turning on that Finn-charm Rosemary had first spied back in Kansas…the charm that still had the ability to make her heart race.
Mrs. Franklin cackled and nudged him with her elbow. “I still think you and that one ought to be speaking to the preacher today.”
“That one” could only mean her, Rosemary knew. Her face grew warm under the scrutiny, and she didn’t even bother to look at them.
They found Agnes seated on the blanket, leaning against a tree with a beautiful view of the lake and the grandstand, where musicians were beginning to tune up their banjos and guitars. In the large open space beyond the grandstand, the older boys and men were setting up bases for baseball, and off to the side, sack races were already underway.
Rosemary couldn’t help but be surprised that no one objected to such fanfare on the Lord’s Day. She said as much to Mrs. Franklin.
“Oh,” the woman said with a dismissive wave, “no one’s working, so what’s wrong with a little bit of merriment?”
“No one has ever given you trouble about it?”
“Only one preacher, and we told him not to come back if he didn’t like it.”
“And did he return?” she asked.
The old woman’s eyes sparkled with a merriment of her own. “He liked the generous offerings.” Mrs. Franklin looked at Agnes. “You’re the woman who got snookered out of her land?”
Agnes lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “You haf heard of such?”
“The bank’s been having a field day since Clayton bought up the lion’s share. I’d lay odds he snatched up your property at pennies on the dollar.”
Indignation shot through Rosemary. “Is he trying to be the only human being left in these parts? If he pushes everyone out, there’ll be no one left but the cows.”
“Some people are only fit to associate with animals,” Mrs. Franklin said.
Agnes nodded. “He is one bad fella, that Mr. Clayton. I do not haf no respect for him.”
“You’re not alone, Mrs. Fischer.”
“Please, call me Agnes.” Agnes reached up and pressed the woman’s wrinkled hand. “Ve shall be goot friends, Frau Franklin.”
“Oh, well, then call me Dottie.”
Rosemary started at the woman’s first name. “Mrs. Franklin, I had no idea your name was Dottie. That’s a very fun name.”
“Land sakes, girl, if it brings you such pleasure, you can call me Dottie too.”
The boys wolfed down their food and ran off to play ball. Finn turned to Rosemary. “Do you want to help me carry the baskets back to the wagon?”
“Certainly.”
Finn stood as she gathered the food left on the blankets and slipped it into the baskets. He reached down and offered her a hand up then took both baskets. “What are you doing?” she asked. “You didn’t really want my help?”
He shook his head. “Not really, just your company.”
“Oh.”
“I thought you might like to take a walk down the shore, away from the crowd a bit.”
“I’d love to, but I hate to leave Agnes and Mrs. Franklin—Dottie, that is—with the children.”
“Marta’s there to help. I think they’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Agnes hasn’t been feeling well all day.”
His eyebrows rose. “She seems fine.”
Admittedly, Agnes had been showing a bit more color, but that could have been the result of the heat flushing her skin or the sun burning it. Finn must not have noticed the number of times Agnes had excused herself and walked toward the privy, and of course Rosemary would rather die than mention such a thing. Come to think of it, though, Agnes had seemed happier and more like herself during the past hour. “All right, Finn. A walk down the shore would be nice.”
“Good.”
They didn’t have to go too far before they were clear of the crowd. Most of the townsfolk were enjoying their lunches and listening to the music beginning to play from the grandstand. The sounds of games and laughter filled the town, and it was difficult not to love the atmosphere such joy brought.
She didn’t object when Finn snatched up her hand and held it as they walked. She told him about the incident between Rolf and Marta before service. “And the truth is, Marta would have married him for Agnes’s sake,” she said. “Some days I think I know Agnes as I know myself. Other days I wonder how on earth she can believe certain things.”
“Certain things like a girl should get married and let a man take care of her?”
Rosemary blushed. “Certain things like a girl of fifteen should have the opportunity to go to school and become a teacher like Marta wishes to. And for your information, Peter also wants to go to school and become a teacher.”
She couldn’t resist sending him a triumphant grin. “So you see? Those two are perfect for one another. And Peter isn’t pushing her to get married today, for mercy’s sake.”
“Like I’m pushing you?”
“No. I mean the way Rolf is pushing Marta. As a matter of fact, we should probably try to keep an eye on Marta today. I don’t want Rolf cornering her alone again and bullying her into doing something she doesn’t want to do.”
“I will. But I’m more concerned with keeping an eye on you so that Clayton or his men don’t try to bully you.”
She gave him a dismissive wave. “He doesn’t scare me.” Rosemary hoped she sounded braver than she felt.
Before she had time to think, Finn caught her wrist mid-wave and gently spun her to face him. His hand wasn’t tight on her wrist, and he did nothing sudden that would frighten her—but when his eyes caught hers, she knew he was angry.
“Wh–what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.
“You should be afraid of Clayton, Rosemary.” He pulled her closer until she could feel his breath fluffing the ever-present loose tendrils about her face. “Clayton has no scruples. He threw a woman and her children out. If you hadn’t taken Agnes in, where would she have gone? What would she have done? I’ll tell you. She would have ended up in a city somewhere, and she and all her children, including little Elsa, would be working in some hot factory, half starving and living in God-knows-what.”
Rosemary drew in a quick breath. “Or she would have entered into marriage with a man who didn’t love her just so she had someone to care for her and her children.”
She pulled her fingers from his and turned to face the river. The sun glistened off the ripples, and a soft breeze fanned her face.
“You’re comparing the idea of Agnes marrying a complete stranger to your marrying me?”
Something in Finn’s tone, more than the words he spoke, caused Rosemary to turn to him. A muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes narrowed dangerously, at least enough to make Rosemary relent just a bit.
“Maybe it isn’t exactly the same, but…”
He reached over and buried his fingers deep in her thick tresses until the pins popped from her hair and it tumbled down her back. He cupped the back of her head.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered, unable to find her voice.
“I’m going to kiss you unless you tell me to stop.”
Rosemary’s brain screamed, Stop! You know I’m not the one you want. But she couldn’t force the words from her throat. His other arm curled around her waist, his palm flat against the small of her back, drawing her closer still, until Rosemary could feel his breath
against her cheek. He trailed kisses along her jawline. He pulled back and kissed her forehead. A sigh escaped her lips, and Finn drew a sharp breath. In the next instant, she felt his lips, warm and soft, against hers. Rosemary matched him kiss for kiss and prayed she was the only woman he held in that moment. She protested when he pulled back, and he tightened his arm around her waist and kissed her again until she could hardly breathe. Only then did he pull back and stare into her eyes, deeply and earnestly, the fire still burning as he fought for his own breath. “Her marrying a stranger is nothing like me marrying you. Admit it.”
If only she could be sure of what he felt, that he wasn’t staring into her eyes and remembering Rachel or kissing her lips and holding her sister. But she took too long to answer and Finn dropped his arms, shaking his head. Despite her lack of breath, lack of experience, and suspicion that she wasn’t the only woman Finn had been kissing in his heart, she desperately resented the loneliness she felt when he released her.
Her hands trembled as she reached back and realized that her hair had fallen and all the pins must be on the ground. She stooped and searched the gravelly bank.
“What are you looking for?” Finn asked.
She expelled a heavy breath. “My hair pins, obviously. Thanks to you, my hair is all over the place and I have no way to put it up. The pins are nowhere.”
“Rachel used to put hers up without pins. Just tuck it.”
Stabbing pain nearly doubled her over. His words were so casual and thoughtless. “Rachel had more talent when it came to primping. She didn’t work on the ranch. All she had to do was read and play with her hair. I never learned how. That’s why it never stays put.”
Finn’s eyes darkened. Fine, let him get defensive about Rachel. If anyone understood unconditional and never-ending love of her twin, it was Rosemary.
“Did it bother you that Rachel didn’t help work the ranch?”
“Just let it go, Finn.”
“I don’t want to.” He moved in front of her again and tipped her chin to look at him. “I wonder if you’re still bitter that you did all the work while she was the one who got married and had a child.”
“And died? No, I’m not bitter that I’m alive.” Then she could have bitten her tongue in half for saying those words. Guilt filled her, and fresh pain over the loss of Rachel sliced into her.
“That was cruel.”
Quick tears burned her eyes. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. But it was also cruel for you to kiss me like that to try to make me love you a–and marry you today when you still love her. It was just plain mean, Finn, and you know it.” She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “It’s not that I begrudge her your love. I miss her too, Finn. So much that it steals my breath sometimes. When I look at Sarah nursing with Agnes, I want to scream how unfair it is that Rachel isn’t here with us, raising her baby next to you inside her little sod house that she absolutely adored.” She paused a moment and regained her composure. “But I saw you first in that way. Rachel didn’t know, and I didn’t fight for you. And if I wasn’t willing to fight for you when she was alive and could fight back, why would I try to gain your love now?”
“That’s… I had no idea you had any interest in me at all.”
“Of course you didn’t. Why would you? Now you know just how truly laughable I was.” She gave a short laugh to prove the point. “And I’m even more so because I gave myself to those kisses and allowed you to hold me and make my mouth look kissed for everyone at the picnic to see and criticize. And I don’t even care.” She stepped back just as she read his intention in his eyes. He was about to take her into his arms again. “It’s too late. I have enough self-respect that, even though I still want your arms around me and I still want you kissing me until I can’t think and can’t breathe, I know how ridiculous I am.”
“Why do you say you’re ridiculous?” Finn stepped closer again, this time closing the gap. He took her hands in his. “Rosemary, look at me.”
She didn’t have the strength it would take to resist, so she angled her head and met his gaze.
“Why do you say you’re ridiculous because you want me to be close to you? It’s what I want too. If you’re ridiculous, so am I.”
“I don’t want to discuss it anymore.” She had to get away. “You can’t marry Rachel twice this way.” A sob caught in Rosemary’s throat. “Let me go.”
“Have it your way, Rosemary.” He paused then dropped her hands. “I reckon we should get back to the picnic.”
“Yes, I think we should.”
They remained silent as they walked back to the group. Finn escorted her to Agnes and Mrs. Franklin and mumbled something about going to play ball with the other men.
“Vhy is Herr Tate angry?” Agnes asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Hogwash.” Dottie Franklin sniffed. “Something happened while you two went walking down the way, hand in hand.”
“For mercy’s sake,” Rosemary said, scowling.
“Marta,” Agnes said, “please go and bring Mama some of that lemonade. I am very thirsty.”
“Yes, Mama.” She rose from the blanket and walked toward the booth that was giving out lemonade.
“You tell me.” Agnes peered at Rosemary’s face, and her gaze rested on her mouth. “You haf been kissing?”
“How could you possibly know?”
She pointed to Rosemary’s mouth. “There is a shine to your face that vas not there this morning. Does this mean you vill marry Herr Tate?”
“ ’Course it does,” Dottie said. “Those two belong together.”
Rosemary shook her head. “Finn wants my sister back, and that can’t happen. I can’t pretend to be my dead sister just because we both want her back so badly. And if you want to know the truth, Agnes, I don’t want to stand in another woman’s shadow for the rest of my life. I want a man of my own.”
“Really? Does it matter whether he has hair?”
Rosemary spun around and found herself facing a broad chest covered with a white button-down shirt. Lifting her chin, she looked up into the face of a handsome man with laughing green eyes and a beautiful smile to match. He held out his hand. “I trust you remember me? Dennis Mayfield.”
“Of course I remember you.” She accepted his proffered hand, her cheeks burning. “I apologize that you had to witness my little show of temper, Sheriff Mayfield.”
“Don’t be. It’s rare to find a woman who speaks her mind. And I’ve seen you do that twice now.” He still held her hand but didn’t seem a bit embarrassed that it had been too long for propriety. “I don’t like guessing games. I like knowing exactly where I stand.”
Dottie gave a humph that left no room for doubt as to her opinion of the conversation.
Rosemary felt the impropriety of this conversation down to her core, but after those few moments by the creek with Finn, she suddenly didn’t care. “Mr. Mayfield, you can be sure I prefer to know exactly where I stand as well.”
A shadow fell across their still-clasped hands, and Rosemary knew it belonged to Finn. “Right now, Miss Jackson,” he said with a sharp edge to his voice that made her shudder, “you’re standing in the middle of a picnic holding hands with a stranger.”
Chapter Twenty
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Didn’t the fact that she had accepted his kisses and kissed him back mean anything to Rosemary? Finn glared as Rosemary sat on the other end of the blanket with the interloper who had swooped in. He especially hated the way the other women were taking on so over the new sheriff—except for Dottie, who had excused herself and requested an escort back to her home.
He supposed the lady was exhausted after a full day. The afternoon service had begun at three, and now at six o’clock it had finally ended and the festivities were starting up again. Sheriff Mayfield had not attended the service but had shown right back up once the music began. Finn bristled at the way Rosemary smiled and laughed. The man was bald, for mercy’s sake.
Yet Agnes, Marta, and even little Elsa couldn’t get enough of his stories. Stories—ha. Lies was more like it.
And where was Agnes, anyway? Shouldn’t she be chaperoning over there on the blanket? Even Marta and Peter were sitting together. Marta’s face had lit up when Peter arrived and stated that Rolf had offered to take his place with the sheep, since Marta clearly preferred Peter to Rolf. Unmarried couples on a blanket at night? They definitely needed a chaperone.
“Herr Tate?” The sound of Agnes’s strained voice caught his attention, and he turned to find her holding a drowsy Sarah against her shoulder. There was no doubt that the baby had flourished under Agnes’s care and nourishment. For that reason, he would forever be in her debt.
“Are you as bothered by that sheriff as I am?” he asked. “Something isn’t right about him.”
Her smile seemed forced. “It is only because you are jealous.”
“Jealous?” He gave a short laugh. “I’m not jealous.” At the sound of his voice, Sarah perked up. She leaned over for him to take her.
“It would be goot if you take.”
Reaching out for Sarah, Finn peered closely at Agnes. In the lantern light near the booths where they stood, her eyes seemed dull and her face pale. “Are you ill, Agnes?”
She gave a rueful smile. “I haf ate too much. I vill be fine.”
“I don’t think so.” He took her arm. “Let me take you to the wagon. You can lie down in the back.”
“Ja, I do that, Herr Tate.”
He settled Agnes in the wagon and went back to find someone to help Agnes. She needed Marta or Rosemary. She didn’t need to be alone when she was so ill. Finally, the glow of a lantern illuminated Marta and Peter walking hand in hand around the corner of a building. When he reached them, he hesitated, as their shadow showed the couple embracing. He cleared his throat, and Marta gave a little gasp. “Marta? It’s Finn. I need to speak with you.”
Marta’s chin was lowered, and she refused to look up as she stepped into the light. Peter followed, looking every bit as guilty.
Love Finds You in Wildrose, North Dakota Page 19