The children headed down the hall and Victoria spoke before he could broach the subject she knew was on his mind.
“I spoke to Sharyah today. She says the Racklers, the family from just east of town, would like to adopt the girls.”
Rocky swallowed and the pained look that crossed his face surprised her.
He balanced his coffee cup on his knee and toyed with it, twisting it around and around. “What do you know about them?” He glanced up at her.
She shrugged. “Not much. They recently lost two of their girls to a fever. They have two other children at the school, but I think they’ve only lived here about a year and they mostly keep to themselves.” She took Rocky’s empty plate and stacked it on the pile before her. “Sharyah says their children are always well fed and groomed. And they are good, hard working folks.”
“But I’ve never seen them at church.”
That had been one of her concerns, as well. “Sharyah says they attend in Salem. Mrs. Rackler has a sister there. So they make the drive each week.”
He cleared his throat and twisted the cup some more. “Well, it sounds like they will be a good family for them. I know Sharyah would never recommend them if they were questionable.”
Victoria released a puff of air. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“What about Jimmy?”
She blinked hard. “Hannah says that she should be able to squeeze another cot into one of the boys’ rooms at the orphanage and Jimmy could come if it’s just him.”
He rubbed a hand across his face. “We’ll have to tell them.”
She nodded. “I thought we might give them one more day? Tell them tomorrow night at dinner?”
“Sounds fine. Now…,” he set his cup on the table and leaned forward looking up at her, “let’s talk about earlier this afternoon….”
She’d rather do just about anything than listen to his excuses for admitting his unhappiness to Julia. She thumped two plates together and scooped the silverware into one hand.
The room filled with stiff silence broken only by the clanking dishes. Rocky cleared his throat as though waiting for her to say something, but Victoria made no reply.
Rocky’s chair scraped across the floor as he pushed away from the table. “Ria—”
She fled to the kitchen and set the stack of dishes into the sink. She worked the pump handle furiously. The rest of the dishes on the table could wait until Rocky headed to the parlor to read the paper. She wasn’t about to go back while he was still there. Alone. And wanting to talk. She had no idea what to say to him. She huffed. Somehow, Why did you make me care so much for you, only to break my heart? sounded too pitiful.
She heard a noise behind her and froze for just a moment.
Rocky set the leftover potatoes and the platter of meat on the sideboard next to her. “I’ll get the rest,” he said, and headed back to the table.
Victoria suppressed a groan and poured the hot water from the stove into the sink, ignoring the temptation to escape out the back door. Instead, she immersed her hands in the warm soapy water. Why couldn’t he be like other men and go read the paper after dinner?
Rocky set another stack of dirty plates next to her and picked up a dish towel.
Panic sent her heart to racing. Surely he didn’t plan to stay in the kitchen and help with the dishes. “Newspaper’s on the end table by the settee. It won’t take me long to get these done.”
“I’ll dry.”
She sighed and didn’t meet his gaze. Merely wiped down a plate and dropped it into the rinse water, jaw set. She wished he would just get on with what he had to say as long as he insisted on staying. What was he going to tell her? Maybe Julia had been right. Had that been frustration with Julia, or guilt over getting caught, on his face when he’d first spotted her on the boardwalk this afternoon? What if he and Julia were an item? She cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye. Was he that foolish? To get involved with the likes of Julia Nickerson? She rolled her lips into a pressed line. She didn’t think he was, but her eyes certainly hadn’t deceived her. Or her ears either.
He didn’t say a word the whole time they worked side by side to get the dishes done. But as she drained the water and wiped down the sink, she felt him come to a stop directly behind her. A tremor tightened her shoulders and she swallowed.
“Ria,” he whispered into her hair, “you misunderstood what you saw today.”
He was so close she could smell the masculine scent of soap and saddle leather that always accompanied him.
“Did I?” The words came out on a tiny squeak and frustration coursed through her. Why couldn’t she at least sound self-assured around him?
She pinched her lips together and tried to step away, but he used the movement to catch her elbow and move her into the corner of the kitchen cabinets; then had the audacity to settle one arm against each cupboard.
He leaned in. “Yes, you did.” There was an intensity on his face that she didn’t ever remember seeing before.
She swallowed. “Everything I saw and heard seemed pretty clear. You don’t have to lie to me just to make me feel better.”
His brows lowered and a muscle along his jaw tightened as he stepped a little closer. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you just called me a liar, for a moment.” A softness crept into his expression. “What did you hear exactly?” He lifted one hand to push back an escaped curl, his touch whisper-soft against her cheek.
Tremulous quivering burst to life in the pit of her stomach. She willed it away and opened her mouth to tell him exactly what it was that she had heard….
What had she heard, again?
“Um…” She took in the day-old stubble that dusted his firm jaw, the small white scar that peeked out from under the dark curl drooping over his forehead, and the way he worked one side of his lower lip with his teeth, and couldn’t quite remember what it was she wanted to say.
A crinkle appeared at the corners of his deep brown eyes and his fingers caressed her cheek more firmly as he bent even closer. “Having a hard time thinking, Ria?”
She put her hands out to push him back, but her traitorous arms stopped short and her palms just rested there against his broad chest feeling the heat of him through his shirt. She closed her eyes briefly and worked the dryness out of her mouth. Focus. “You said you weren’t happy here with me and the children.”
A knock sounded at the front door.
Ignoring it, he took her face in both his hands, “That’s not what you heard. You came up in the middle of a conversation.”
The remembrance of Julia clinging to him sent a surge of pain through her belly. She pierced him with a glare. “I’m not deaf. Or blind.”
“Ria—”
The knock sounded again, more firmly this time and a low growl of frustration escaped Rocky’s throat.
He sighed. “Really, it wasn’t what it sounded like.” He gestured for her to wait. “I’ll be right back, just… I’ll be right back.” He stalked off to see who was at the door.
Victoria’s knees went to mush as Rocky stepped out of sight and she grabbed at the sideboard and hung on for dear life. She couldn’t suppress a sigh of exasperation. That man just might be the death of her.
She only had a moment to collect herself before Rocky came back with an odd look on his face. “There is a parson at the front door? Claims he needs to talk to you?”
“Pastor Hollybough?”
He shook his head. “No. Says his name is Cane. Baxter Cane.”
Victoria frowned. “I don’t know a Baxter Cane.”
Rocky shrugged. “I showed him to the living room. I bumped into him in town earlier today.”
“Oh?”
“He told me he’d recently lost his wife and needed some time away from his church.”
“What does he want with me?”
Rocky shrugged again. “Not sure. He just said it was important that he be allowed a few minutes of your time.”
She swallowed. S
he didn’t want to sit in there alone with a stranger. “Will you come with me?”
His face softened. “Sure.”
“Just let me put together a tray.”
Rocky waited while she gathered coffee, cream, sugar and a plate of cookies, then led the way back to the living room.
The man waiting there was of medium height and heavy build. He paced the room, hands clasped behind his back, a Bible tucked under one arm. His thin gray hair, slicked back with pomade, stuck to his head like so many pieces of yarn and the flesh at his neck drooped over his clerical collar, but there was a quietness in his expression. When he looked up and saw her he took in a sharp breath and froze.
A tremor of unease pulsed and then stilled. He looked harmless enough. She set the tray on the side table and curtsied. “Hello, I’m Victoria. Roc—, ah, my husband tells me you wanted to see me?”
The parson stared at her, his jaw slightly slack, and Rocky took a step closer to her side. She felt his hand come to rest low on her back and wondered briefly at the comfort it gave her. She stretched her hand from the Parson to the tray. “May I offer you some refreshments?”
“Uh,” the man seemed to give himself a mental shake, “certainly, yes. That would be fine, thank you.”
“Cream? Sugar?”
He nodded. “Both, please. And thank you.”
Victoria turned to fix the coffee as Rocky said, “Please, have a seat, Parson.”
The settee springs protested as the man settled his bulk.
Victoria handed him a cup and saucer with a cookie on it and pretended not to notice the trembling in his hands. “Rocky?” She tipped her head in the direction of the coffee service.
He nodded. “Sure. Just black.”
Finally, Victoria eased herself into a chair and cupped her palms against the warmth of her own cup.
The parson stirred his coffee and slurped noisily, then picked up the cookie and nibbled on the corner before he tossed it back down. He stirred his coffee again, fidgeted, opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and stirred some more.
Victoria glanced over at Rocky, who cocked an eyebrow and shrugged.
Finally, Victoria took pity on him. “How may I help you, Reverend?”
“Well, ah, you see…” He glanced up. “I’m sorry. You just look so much like her. I’m not handling this very well.” The coffee cup rattled against the saucer as he set it on the table next to him.
Victoria frowned. “Look like who, Reverend?”
The man glanced back and forth between her and Rocky and then sighed. “My late wife. You are, or were, our daughter.” He paused. “No, not ‘were’. Are. You are our daughter.”
9
The room tilted and went dark around the edges. It was as if she was seeing things from the end of a long tunnel and everything in the room grew fuzzy except the man’s face and fidgety hands.
“Excuse me?” Rocky reached over and took her coffee, setting it on the table between them.
“What?” Her voice sounded thin, breathy, far away.
The parson cleared his throat. “I know it must be hard to take in.” He glanced at Victoria with pain-filled eyes. “You see before your mother and I came into the church, we were…, er, living in sin. And when we found out Millie was expecting you, well, we did get married, but we didn’t have any money and we just didn’t feel we were ready for children – didn’t feel we could provide for you yet, so we gave you up for adoption.”
Victoria blinked and picked up her cup, gulping a large unladylike swallow.
“Several years later when we, uh, came into the church, we realized what a mistake we had made. Well actually, even before that we knew it was a mistake. But we’ve searched for you since that time.” He picked up the coffee cup and looked into the bottom of it. “It wasn’t until just recently, when I saw your announcement in the paper about getting married, that I found you. I knew it had to be you. You look so much like my Mimi.”
Rocky leaned forward. “Mimi?” he asked, skepticism lacing his tone. “A moment ago you said Millie.”
Victoria frowned. Why was he speaking to the man like that?
Unruffled by Rocky’s manner, the parson stared at a spot on the wall, smiling fondly as though he could see someone there. “Millicent, her name was. Most folks called her Millie. But a little tyke in our church couldn’t pronounce her name right. He started calling her Miz Mimi. And it sorta stuck with me. I called her that once in awhile. My Mimi.” He sighed and drained his cup then let it dangle between his knees as he turned his gaze back on Victoria. “How I wish she could be here to see you, child. You are beautiful. And, from what I read in the paper of your helping orphans, everything we hoped you would be.”
Warmth enveloped Victoria and she smiled. Her father. Her real father. Sitting here in the same room with her. She could hardly take it in. She glanced at Rocky. He did not return her smile, but looked back seriously, his lips pressed into a hard line.
Her joy stuttered and she cocked her head. “What?” she asked softly.
Instead of responding to her, Rocky turned to the man. “What do you want?”
Victoria gasped. “Rocky!”
The parson stood to his feet with a sad smile. “Not a thing, young man. Not a thing but to be allowed to spend time with my daughter and get to know her a little.” He turned to look at her. “As long as that is okay with her.”
Victoria stood up. “Of course. I would like that.” She narrowed her eyes at Rocky. How could he treat this poor old man so callously?
The parson smiled largely and patted a hand over his shirt pocket. “I’m so thankful. I only wish your mother could be here to meet you too.”
Rocky made no comment, just folded his arms, his jaw jutting off to one side.
Pinching her lips together Victoria decided to ignore him for a moment. She couldn’t suppress the joy, elation even, welling up inside her. After all these years, she would finally have some answers about her real family. And she didn’t come from trash, as she’d been accused as a child. Her daddy was a minister. Relief swelled until it filled her chest.
“Well, then…” He turned and set his cup on the saucer and retrieved his Bible from its spot on the settee next to where he’d been sitting. “I’ll be on my way. I’m staying down at the boarding house in town, and I’ll be seeing you at services on Sundays.” He tucked the book under his arm in a gesture that said the book was as at-home there as it was on his pulpit. He smiled at her, a full smile that allowed the joy to spill out of his eyes. “I’m looking forward to it, child.”
She couldn’t just let him leave without an invitation back. “Ah, can you come to dinner… say Wednesday evening? We’d love to have you.” Her gesture included Rocky, even though the look on his face said he’d be less than welcoming of the man’s return. Brushing aside his apparent concern, she waited for the minister’s reply.
“Of course, child. I’d be more than happy to join you for dinner on Wednesday. What time should I come by?”
“How about six?”
“Six it is.” His smile stretched again. “See you then, child.”
Rocky stepped back into the room after seeing the parson to the door and watched Victoria straighten the parlor. He folded his arms and waited, feeling uneasy with the lightness in her step and the spark of life in her countenance that he hadn’t seen for days.
Humming, she gathered the coffee cups and leftover cookies and placed them on the tray. She paused when she noticed his watchful gaze. “I can’t believe you treated him like that!”
He rubbed his jaw as he debated the best way to caution her. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up about this man.”
“What do you mean?” The light in her expression faded slightly and he hated that he had caused that.
Reaching out, he took the tray and preceded her into the kitchen. “We just don’t know anything about him. He could be who he says he is, then again, he could be someone else. All I’m asking is that you pl
ay it cautiously until we can find out a little more.”
He didn’t add that the man had “con” written all over him, but he couldn’t disguise the implication in his tone.
She snatched up a cloth and furiously swiped the top of the side board. “He’s a minister! Surely you aren’t saying he’s lying?”
The edge of hurt and defeat in her voice was like a knife in his chest.
“Ria.” He reached out and stilled her hands, folding them snugly within his own.
She turned her face away, and tilted her chin up.
He refused to give in to the grin that wanted to escape at her little-girl-stubbornness. “All I’m asking is that you don’t give your trust to this man all at once. If he is who he says he is, I’ll be the first one to be happy for you, you know that. But if he isn’t, I’ll be the first to put a fist down his throat, too. And I don’t want you getting hurt. So just be cautious, alright?” He reached out and touched the mulish point of her chin.
She glanced up at him and he held his breath, hoping she would see reason. Finally her stance softened. “You’re probably right. I’ll try and be careful.”
He allowed the grin to come then. “Of course, I’m right, Mrs. Jordan.” Any remaining spark in her eyes dimmed at the reminder of their marriage and earlier unfinished conversation. He could have kicked himself but he needed her to know his side of things.
She rolled her lips in and pressed them together, stepping back.
He tightened his hold on her hand. “So we’re back to that?”
She sighed. “I just don’t want you to be unhappy. I know you were practically forced into marrying me.”
“Ria,” he stepped toward her. “That’s not—”
“Mrs. Jordan!” ChristyAnne stormed into the room. “That ol’ Jimmy keeps tossing dirt clods into Mera’s an’ my room!”
Victoria jerked back. “Oh my!” Pressing one hand to her forehead, she glanced at him. “The children’ first day of school is tomorrow, we really need to get them settled down and in bed. Could you see to Jimmy, please?”
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