by Jody Hedlund
“She’s been badly abused.”
“Did she talk to you?”
Mrs. Gray shook her head as she poured herself a cup of coffee, unable to hide the tremor in her hand. “Do you have any idea who’s responsible?”
“My first guess is her employer, Mr. Kraus, the tailor.” Elise thought back to all the times that autumn when Fanny returned to the dormer with one new bruise after another. Fanny had complained about his brutality, and Elise had no doubt Fanny’s stubborn personality had only escalated the situation. She’d likely resorted to passive measures that had incited Mr. Kraus further. Elise knew firsthand how irritating Fanny could be when she set her mind to it.
“Sadly I think you’re right.” Mrs. Gray took a sip of her coffee, without adding her usual teaspoon of sugar and cream, almost as if the occasion were too severe. Only bitterness would suffice. “I’ve seen the bruises he leaves on his wife and child, which shows him for the twisted soul he is.”
“I don’t know for sure,” Elise hastened to explain. She didn’t want to spread false rumors and jeopardize Fanny’s chances of returning to her seamstress work.
“Mr. Quincy is already investigating,” Mrs. Gray said. “I’m sure we’ll know soon enough.”
Throughout the rest of the evening, Elise took turns with Mrs. Gray in sitting with Fanny. Later, Thornton came in wearing a grim expression, yet he didn’t make mention of what he’d discovered, and Elise was too busy to attempt to corner him and ask about it.
She tried to coax Fanny into eating or drinking something, but Fanny only shook her head and turned away from her to stare at the wall. Once the light was out, the embers burning in the stove cast a warm glow over the room. Elise stood at the edge of the bed, debating whether to sleep on the floor or crawl in next to Fanny.
A real bed with a real mattress. The idea of spending just one night in comfort was more than tempting. She pressed her hand against it, feeling it mold to her weight.
“Sleep with me” came Fanny’s plea, barely audible. “Please.”
Elise’s chest constricted with the need to cry for this beautiful woman who lay broken and used and defeated. Fanny hadn’t deserved any of the heartache she’d faced in her life, not one bit of it. Not any more than Elise had deserved her heartache. They were the kind of women who were dispensable, easy to use up and cast off when the last amount of worth had been sucked out of them.
Tentatively, Elise sat down on the mattress, allowing herself a moment of pleasure. Then she swung her legs up, tucked them under the soft down comforter, and lay on her back. She stared up at the ceiling.
Thornton’s masculine scent lingered in the fibers of the comforter and mattress, and for a brief instant she imagined him lying next to her, his body brushing hers, his warm breath on her neck as it had been that day in the pantry when he’d come up behind her and held her. Her heart pattered faster at the memory.
Beneath the cover, Fanny’s hand touched Elise’s. At first Elise thought it was an accident. But when Fanny’s cold fingers gripped hers, Elise realized Fanny was holding on to her in more than one way.
Tears sprang to Elise’s eyes. “I won’t let you go,” she whispered, turning toward Fanny. Though Fanny was facing the wall, she’d reached out to Elise and there was hope in that. Perhaps Fanny was telling her she needed her, that with Elise by her side she’d be able to make it. Yes, it would be a dark and difficult journey ahead, but they’d walk it together.
“I won’t let you go,” Elise whispered again.
Fanny squeezed her hand in reply. And that was all Elise needed.
Was that the way it was with God too? When she was hurting and crushed by the weight of heartache, was God there holding on to her hand, telling her He’d never let her go?
Elise rested her hand on the ring necklace that lay against her chest, feeling the little cross through her nightgown. I won’t let you go. This time the whisper was God’s, and it came from deep in her soul, reassuring her and also warning her. Although she’d faced trials before, darker days loomed ahead, perhaps the darkest yet.
She needed to hang on to Him the same way Fanny clung to her. Maybe this time she’d be able to face the storms with courage and become the kind of woman her Mutti always believed she could be.
Shouts woke Elise out of a dream where she’d been floating in warm sunshine on feathers and fluffy cotton and soft down. She sat up with a gasp and for a moment tried to remember where she was. The warmth and comfort surrounding her was foreign, almost surreal.
The slamming of a door made her jump, causing the bedsprings to squeak. She blinked, combed her hair out of her eyes, and at the sight of the corner stove and its orange glow, she remembered. She was in the depot, sleeping in Thornton’s bed with Fanny.
Fanny? Elise patted the bed next to her and exhaled a relieved breath at the feel of Fanny’s warm body near hers.
Outside the depot came more shouts, even some cries.
“What’s all the noise?” Fanny asked sleepily.
Elise slid to the edge of the bed, letting the down comforter fall away. Immediately the chill of the room crawled over her skin, making her shudder. “Don’t worry,” Elise whispered. “You stay here and I’ll go see what’s wrong.”
Elise stuffed her bare feet into her boots and grabbed her coat from a hook on the wall. Slithering into the worn garment, she opened the door. Across the dark hallway, Mrs. Gray stood in her bedroom doorway in a robe, her hair plaited in a single braid that fell over her shoulder and hung down in front. She held a lantern, which illuminated the fear radiating from her eyes and turned her skin to a waxy yellow.
“What’s happening?” Elise asked.
“The new feed store is on fire.”
“Oh no!” The chill on her skin turned icy. “Thornton? Did anyone tell him?”
“He’s already out with the rest of the men attempting to keep it from spreading to the nearby houses and businesses.”
An awful dread thumped against Elise’s chest, and she started down the steps. She could imagine how discouraged and frantic Thornton would be. He’d already made so many sacrifices for the town and the people who lived here. In doing so, he’d jeopardized his ability to win the competition with his brother. Of course, he hadn’t come out and said so, but she understood it nevertheless. Now with a fire about to destroy the little chance he had left of staying in the challenge, he might grow desperate. What if he did something stupid in his attempt to save the building?
“You can’t go out there,” Mrs. Gray called after her. “It’s much too dangerous for a young woman.”
“I need to make sure Thornton’s safe,” she said over her shoulder.
“Please be careful.” Mrs. Gray’s admonition trailed after her. Even after Elise stepped outside, the dear woman’s motherly concern followed her and warmed her against the frigid cold of the night. The shouts and calls from the far end of Main Street drew her attention, as did the bright flames leaping out of the shingled roof, darting into the starless night sky.
Her heart sank at the realization the building was already engulfed. The brigade of men lined up from the well to the fire, passing buckets along from one hand to the next. But they wouldn’t be able to combat the serpent of fire winding through new pine, greedily licking and consuming everything in its path.
Sparks and small flames tossed by the never-ending prairie breeze had landed upon a nearby residence. The outline of one man in particular on the roof made Elise’s stomach churn. Thornton’s lean but muscular frame wasn’t hard to miss, especially because he was still attired in his business clothes. Almost as if he’d never gone to bed.
Elise couldn’t be sure of the time, but she guessed it was well after midnight. She didn’t want to think about the fact that after giving his room up to her and Fanny, maybe he hadn’t found a new place to stay.
Regardless of the cold that numbed her fingers and toes, she hurried down the street toward him, slipping and sliding on the ice the same wa
y she had earlier in the day. When she arrived at the residence, she took a place in one of the bucket lines. As she worked, more people, including women, joined in the effort.
The fire at the feed store blazed higher and crackled louder. Soon it became apparent they wouldn’t be able to save it. So their efforts shifted to the buildings surrounding it. They doused them with water, and more men gathered with Thornton on the rooftops wielding wet blankets and beating out sparks before they could ignite.
The hungry flames feasted on the feed store until they consumed everything, leaving only a black skeleton in its place. When the last of the flames on the surrounding buildings was extinguished, Elise collapsed to the ground with some of the other women, her gaze straying once again to the rooftop where Thornton had tirelessly worked and still stood watching the last of the flames devour the feed store.
“Elise.” At the gentle voice next to her, she tore her attention away from Thornton to find Reinhold kneeling beside her. “You need to get out of the cold.”
He wrapped his coat about her shoulders over her own, which was now damp and cold from the icy water splashing her in the haste of passing the buckets. He slipped his arm around her and began to raise her to her feet.
“I want to help,” she protested.
“There’s nothing more to do,” Reinhold said, gathering her frozen fingers into his warm ones and blowing on them.
The heat of his mouth against her flesh awoke her to the ache in not only her fingers but also her toes. Reinhold was right. She’d likely develop frostbite if she didn’t get warmth back into her body soon. But she also wasn’t ready to leave Thornton. Yes, he was safe. But for a reason she couldn’t explain, she wanted to be near him, talk to him, comfort him.
“You’re freezing.” Reinhold blew against her fingers again. At the painful pricking, she cried out before she could stop herself.
Without waiting for her permission, he scooped her up into his arms and began striding toward the depot.
Elise glanced over Reinhold’s shoulder at the rooftop where Thornton was standing. She caught a final glimpse of him and realized he was staring after her. She wanted to demand Reinhold put her down so she could race back to Thornton, climb up onto the roof with him, and hug him. She could only imagine how discouraged he was at that moment. But it was unrealistic to think about going to him now in front of everyone.
Instead she relaxed in Reinhold’s arms and allowed him to carry her to the dining room. He deposited her in one of the chairs and ordered her not to move. He went into the kitchen, where she could hear him banging around. Mrs. Gray joined him and soon appeared with a basin of warm water and a hot cup of coffee. Not long after that, Mr. Gray returned, his face and clothes covered in soot, his hands raw and red.
The news he carried was dismal. The feed store was completely destroyed, and several of the surrounding businesses had been damaged. They sat and talked for a while and tried to warm themselves, until finally dawn began to light the sky.
All Elise wanted to do was go and find Thornton, but instead she trudged back upstairs and readied herself for the day, moving soundlessly so she didn’t awaken Fanny.
As she stepped into the deserted dining room, her heart leaped in her chest at the sight of Thornton talking to Mr. Gray. His back was facing her, but she could see the singe marks all across his coat and shirtsleeves where flying sparks had landed and burned through his clothes. His hair was disheveled and gray in places from ash. At Mr. Gray’s glance her way, Thornton spun as though he’d been waiting for her. His face, like Mr. Gray’s, was smudged with soot and bronzed from the wind and cold. But thankfully he didn’t have any evident burn marks.
His dark eyes drank her in like a man dying of thirst.
Mr. Gray cleared his throat. “I think I’ll go wash up and change clothes.”
Thornton didn’t acknowledge Mr. Gray’s statement, but instead continued to stare intently at Elise. Feeling overwhelmed by what she saw in his expression, she only nodded at Mr. Gray as he passed her. When they were alone in the dining room with only the occasional noises coming from the kitchen that told her Mrs. Gray was busy with breakfast preparations, she cocked her head at Thornton and attempted a smile. But it came out weak and wobbly.
“How are you?” she managed to ask.
He shook his head and dropped his eyes, but not before she saw the defeat there.
She crossed to him, wanting to comfort him but unsure how. “Thornton . . . I’m so sorry.” Even though she knew she shouldn’t, even though she was crossing the boundary between them again, she reached up and pressed a hand against his cheek.
He leaned into it and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them again, he whispered, “Elise, I’ve failed. The challenge is over. I might as well send word to Bradford tomorrow that I’m withdrawing. When I return home next week, I’ll tell my father I’m done. Bradford can have leadership of the company.”
She pushed down her hesitancy and brought her other hand to his face so she was cupping both cheeks. “You haven’t failed. Maybe on paper you’ll fall short of Bradford, but what you’ve accomplished here in Quincy can’t ever be taken away from you. Look at all the people you’ve helped and all the lives you’ve changed. That’s not failure. That’s success.”
He studied her face. “I’ve always wanted to prove to my father I could do anything Bradford could. I wanted to show him he has every reason to be as proud of me as he is of my brother.”
“He should be proud of you. I’ve never known a better man than you.”
His arms moved to her waist, and he pulled her toward him, causing her to wrap her arms around his neck—not that she minded. In fact, she found herself relieved, finally where she’d longed to be all night.
She buried her face into his neck, savoring the day-old stubble on his chin scraping against her temple and cheek. She had the sudden urge to whisper the words I love you. The strong urge took her completely by surprise.
Did she love this man? Or did she only mean to comfort him with the words?
She squeezed him tighter. It didn’t matter right now how she felt. His feelings were all that counted. He was hurt and frustrated and discouraged.
“Maybe you won’t be the leader of your father’s company,” she murmured against his neck, “but you’ve earned the respect and leadership of this town, of these people. And that makes you a good man. Actually a great one.”
His hands splayed across her lower back, and one of them slid up her spine, making a trail until he reached her shoulder. Then his fingers encircled the back of her neck and turned her head slightly, enough for his breath to caress her lips.
Sweet warmth swirled inside her as his mouth brushed lightly against hers. But it was enough to stir a desire for more. She grazed her lips back against his, relishing the soft texture and curves.
Then with a groan his mouth captured hers fully, with an urgent, almost demanding pressure. There was nothing sweet about his touch anymore. Instead it was powerful and full of needing her. He’d lost a building tonight. Maybe even lost the competition and his father’s company. And now he needed her to be there for him, to care about him anyway, regardless of who he was and what he stood for.
She rose on tiptoes to show him she did care. She cared about him and wanted him to know what an honorable and worthy man he was. She molded her lips to his and met his passion with her own—a passion she hadn’t known existed in her. But as she pressed herself against him with both her body and soul, all the things she loved about him suddenly overwhelmed her until she was breathless.
She loved him. She couldn’t deny it any longer. She loved him more than anyone or anything. And because she loved him, she wanted him to be happy. To succeed. To win.
He needed to win. If he became the leader of his family’s company, he would have the power to make even more changes, to do even greater good. With his combination of sharpness and sensitivity, he’d be the better man to take over.
Yet
how could he win if he held on to her? She wasn’t a wealthy lady of his social class who could bring a large dowry and help increase his status in society. He required someone elegant, refined, and graceful. Someone who was familiar with his world, who would be able to live in New York City and fit into the lifestyle he was accustomed to. Someone like she imagined Rosalind to be.
All Elise wanted was a quiet life with her family here in Quincy. She wanted to work hard, live simply, and carve out a new future. In the most secret of places, she’d allowed herself to fantasize about expanding the dining room to include a bakery.
Reality tapped on her shoulder with its hard bony finger, and she broke her connection with Thornton’s kiss and buried her face into his shirt. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession, and she could hear the thudding of his heartbeat. His breathing by her ear was ragged, making her pinch her eyes closed and fight the urge to lift her mouth to his again.
For a long moment they stood there, arms wrapped around each other, neither of them wanting to let go. But the more she lingered in his strong embrace, the guiltier she felt. She would only hold him back from all he was destined to do. A man of his position and wealth could do great things if given the chance. And she wanted him to have that chance. She could help give him that chance.
But she’d have to let go of him. At the same time she’d have to convince him to let go of her. And she knew he wouldn’t do that easily. After kissing her so passionately, his honor and sense of integrity would prompt him to offer courtship. She could no longer ignore the fact that he liked her, thought she was attractive. The jealousy with Reinhold had already shown her that.
“Elise?” he said in a low tone.
She fought back her longing to throw caution aside and be with him no matter what would come of it. She had to stay strong. For him. She would have to make him understand how much he needed to win the contest. She’d have to show him why it was so important to the people in this town that he end up their leader and not Bradford. And she’d have to do it quickly.