A Reluctant Melody - Will she risk losing everything … including her heart?

by Ardoin, Sandra

  After Annie skipped out of the room, Joanna packed the rest of her belongings. She smoothed the folds in the drawing and laid the sheet flat inside the trunk, picture side up, on top of Ben’s Bible. She closed the lid and locked it. In an hour, Perry would send one of his men to cart her things to the railroad station.

  With nothing left to do, she slogged down the stairs to the music room and settled on the piano stool for the final time.

  No one had responded to the advertisement she had placed in the newspaper. She ran a light hand over the polished and sleek surface of the Honduras mahogany cabinet. No one wanted her beloved instrument. She had no choice but to leave the piano in this room for Kit to possess, contrary to her claim never to do so.

  Everything Joanna held dear would remain with Kit, including Rose and Annie.

  After placing unsteady fingers on the cool ivory, she waited, but no melody flowed through them to the keyboard. It was probably best. Why upset Rose and Annie with what could only be a dirge?

  What would become of them after Liam re-entered their lives?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Kit opened the door of the office and backed into the second-floor hallway while bidding the attorney farewell. “Thank you, Mr. Elliott.”

  He bumped into a soft, but solid object, spun around, and reached out to steady the woman who winced when he stepped on her foot. “I apologize, Joanna. I didn’t see you.”

  “Hard to do without eyes in the back of your head.” She shook off his hold and assessed him with a cool detachment. “Mr. Elliott has the money?”

  “Not even a ‘Hello, Kit, how are you?’” He cracked a smile and earned a glare in return. “Yes. He has the money.”

  She stepped forward, ready to enter the attorney’s office.

  Kit leaned against the door frame. With his feet crossed and his body diagonal in the doorway, he blocked her entrance.

  “Excuse me. I’d like to go inside.” When he remained in her path, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot—the same one he’d stepped on—in an agitated rhythm. Her chest rose and fell with impatience. “What are you doing?”

  Good question. If hiring Rose hadn’t influenced Joanna to remain in Banesville once she signed the papers, she would board a train and depart from his life. “You never told me where you’ll go from here.”

  “I wasn’t aware that was a requirement of the sale.”

  What was wrong with her this morning? The air swirling around her threatened a late June blizzard. “Give me a few minutes of your time first. Please.”

  She leaned back, and her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Well …”

  In a nearby office, someone whistled a tune, and the answer hit him. Without stopping to reason through his plan, Kit reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She sputtered a protest as he propelled her to an alcove at the end of the hall and gently pushed her into a chair. “Did you sell your piano?”

  A spark of pain tightened her jaw before she relaxed it and regained her cool distance. “I’m sure you’ll discover a use for it.”

  Kit crouched in front of her and grasped her hand. Her back stiffened, but to his amazement, she didn’t pull away.

  The warmth from her palm and long fingers seeped through the lacy material of the glove she wore and worked on his emotions like a match put to kerosene. Memories exploded in his head, creating fireworks in the form of moments they had spent together in Philadelphia, both alone and in the company of others—the looks that passed between them, the subtle flirtations, the jealousy when he watched her with Hugh—all feelings he’d deliberately suppressed over the years. Ben was right. He had cared more than he ever let on … more than his guilt ever allowed him to admit.

  The tug of her hand snapped him back to the present. “I remember how much music means to you, Joanna.”

  “I doubt you remember anything about me.” Her voice reached barely above a whisper. “Nothing good, anyway.”

  If she’d had the power to see into his mind a moment ago, she would realize the truth. How could he ever make up for the way he’d mistreated her? He exhaled a long, low sigh. Apologizing for his most recent insult was a start.

  “Joanna, about the other day … I’m sorry if I suggested—”

  “Please, release my hand.”

  He should, shouldn’t he? Then why did his fingers remain wrapped around hers, unable to move? His pulse drummed in his ears. If he let go, she would bolt. The lines around her pinched mouth and between her eyes shouted the fact. “Just give me another minute.”

  After a momentary pause, her head bobbed, giving guarded consent. He figured curiosity overcame the desire to quit his company.

  “Several nights a week, Ben holds after-supper talks. They’re informal, but include the singing of hymns. Have you ever heard a group of off-key male voices croaking out “Amazing Grace” without any accompaniment?”

  She ignored the weak attempt to lighten the mood between them and glanced over his shoulder. “Mr. Elliott is waiting for me.”

  Kit ground his teeth. Impatience was not a shortcoming he remembered. “My musical abilities can’t match yours. Will you consider playing your piano for us during those times?” He dangled the pronoun like bait on a hook.

  After a brief silence, her lips parted and her expression grew pensive. Confidence surged inside him. “The men would even enjoy an occasional evening of entertainment, Joanna. Beautiful music will take their minds off their struggles.” As a final incentive, he added, “You’ll be paid, of course.”

  “You mean I’ll be an employee?” Her wide smile indicated genuine interest in his offer, but her voice held a false note that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “Like Liam and Rose?”

  Uh-oh. “Yes.”

  The smile mutated into a sneer. “Absolutely not.” Crimson stained her cheeks and fire lit her eyes. She worked to pry her hand loose, jabbing his skin with knife-like fingernails. He thanked God she had no axe to do the job.

  Kit tightened his hold. “Why not?”

  “As soon as I sign the papers and Mr. Elliott hands me your check, I’m boarding the first train chugging away from Banesville’s station.”

  “You’re determined to leave knowing Annie will remain here with Rose and Liam?”

  She broke eye contact and mumbled, “As she should.”

  What was she hiding? “Joanna—”

  She recovered her obstinacy and swatted his hand. “Let go of me.”

  A portly gentleman paused on the landing, panting and trying to catch his breath. He eyed them, tipped his hat, and grinned as if amused by what he perceived as a lover’s quarrel taking place in the alcove. He continued down the hall, his shoulders bouncing on a chuckle.

  “Kit,” she leaned close enough to tickle his ear with the breath of her whisper, “let go of my hand, or I’ll scream until they hear it inside the sheriff’s office in the next block.”

  What else could he do other than kidnap her? He dropped her hand, stood, and swept his arm out. “All right, go. I won’t stop you. But the piano belongs to you. Whenever you want it, it will be there.”

  “All I want is a new life.”

  “Running won’t provide it, Joanna. That new life isn’t fifty, a hundred, or a thousand miles away from Banesville.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “It’s in here.”

  Joanna gazed at him and opened her mouth as if to reply, then closed it and walked away. She stopped outside the law office and looked back, her brow crinkled. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  Before he marshaled a response to the vague question, she entered the attorney’s office. The door closed behind her with a click that hit Kit’s ears like a gunshot.

  ***

  Joanna walked out of the attorney’s office, clutching her purse in a tight grip. Stuffed inside was the largest check she had held in her lifetime. The largest check she’d probably ever hold, and one that tempted her to hold it again.

  Af
ter drawing it from her purse, she removed her glove and rubbed the smooth paper between her fingers. She breathed in the scent of it—the scent of freedom and a new beginning.

  Her name, written in flowing script by Kit, was at the same time satisfying and heartbreaking to see. Part of her believed the amount he paid above the property’s worth had been her due—a pittance in comparison to the agony she’d experienced at his hand. Yet, after falling so far, she still had a conscience that nagged her over her failure to tell him the truth.

  Joanna shook away the guilt. Kit owed her so much more than mere money. He owed her respect. He owed her the safety of Rose and Annie. She wanted to believe that if he’d known of Liam’s tendencies to violence, he wouldn’t have hired the man, but her trust in him didn’t rise that high.

  She should have told him, but even if Kit fired Liam, what good would it do? Rose had made her decision and deserved the opportunity to try to save her marriage. If Joanna had possessed half the determination of her friend, perhaps she would have found a way to save her own.

  Drawing to a halt at the top of the staircase, she saw herself descending the steps and walking out the front door, straight to the railroad station. With a fortune in her purse, she’d take the first train leaving the depot. Whether it went north, south, east, or west, she wouldn’t care as long as it carried her far from Banesville—away from the people who looked at her with disdain and away from any further connection with Kit.

  Once she reached the outer door, Joanna glanced up and down the street, expecting Liam to be waiting for her. She ignored the strong instinct to run and turned in the direction of the Farmer’s Bank.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am.” The teller punctuated his greeting with a genuine smile that spread under an ample mustache. Joanna supposed he grew it to disguise an otherwise youthful face. He was a stranger to her, but not necessarily a new employee of the bank. She hadn’t stepped inside the building in at least two years. “What may I do for you?”

  She pulled the check from her purse and slid it across the marble surface, under the iron bars that separated the teller from the customer. “I’d like to cash this.”

  His eyes widened. He leaned forward to whisper, “Cash? Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to deposit at least a portion of it?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll also be closing my account.”

  “I’ll need to speak with the manager. Excuse me.”

  The young teller walked away from his cage and into a room off the lobby. When he marched back out, David Murray, a vice president of the bank, beckoned her inside his office with the crook of his finger. He held her check in his other hand and produced a smile that barely made a dent on either side of his mouth.

  The banker was the closest her husband came to having a best friend and confidant. He’d taken Clayton’s death harder than most, certainly harder than she had. It only added fuel to his dislike, one stoked, no doubt, by whatever her husband told him. Like the Weedons, he had either sensed a problem in their marriage or Clayton had lied to her about keeping their business private.

  Once the rumors surrounding her husband’s death began to swirl, Joanna had suspected David Murray as the source. By that time, Clayton had been in the ground for three weeks. She had been questioned, but after a session with Perry, the sheriff refused to proceed further on such insignificant evidence as disapproval of the widow.

  Rather than being a blessing, it turned into a curse, as nothing could be proved one way or the other. People in Clayton’s circle believed what they wanted—that she had hastened his death in an undetectable manner, most likely poison. After all, she grew numerous resources in her garden. And they wanted to believe the well-respected banker over the “greedy, too-young, Yankee” wife.

  Joanna raised her chin and followed Mr. Murray inside the room. He snapped the door shut, and she flinched with the ludicrous notion that the door of a prison locked behind her.

  After gesturing for her to sit, he eased into the chair behind his desk. “I understand you’ve sold your house, Mrs. Stewart.”

  It came as no surprise to her that he was privy to that tidbit of information. “Yes. Now I would like to exchange that check in your hand for cash.”

  He laid the paper on his desk. “I also hear you want to withdraw the rest of the funds in your account. May I ask if you’ve found our services lacking?”

  “No. I find your services no longer needed.” At his raised eyebrows, she said, “You’ll be happy to know I’m leaving town shortly.”

  “Is that so?” With his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, he leaned back and tapped his fingers together. “That’s a great deal of money for a woman to carry on her person while traveling. Perhaps you’ll consider waiting to cash it until you reach wherever you’re going, or is Perry accompanying you to act as bodyguard?”

  Joanna pointed to the check. “After you cash that and close my account, I won’t trouble you again.”

  A smug grin lined his face. “If Clayton still lived, you wouldn’t go anywhere with any of his money.”

  Heat flooded Joanna’s cheeks. Anger and humiliation coursed through her like rotting debris carried along by swift waters. “Mr. Murray, either cash my check or I’ll take it straight to your employer.”

  He lowered his arms and pinned her with a harsh stare. “As you wish. Frankly, I’m happy to know the property will benefit by your absence.”

  After their meeting, Joanna rushed from the bank with her head down and her hands crushing the purse to her chest. She couldn’t leave this town fast enough.

  ***

  Joanna exited the bank across the street and rushed down the steps. Kit pushed away from the brick wall at the side of the butcher’s where he’d waited for fifteen minutes.

  He had credited her with more sense than to travel hours or days on a train with thousands of dollars in cash. But when he saw her enter the bank, he suspected he had been wrong, a suspicion proved correct based on the bulge in the handbag pressed against her body.

  Telling himself his objective was to be sure she remained safe, Kit dodged a carriage and crossed the street. He followed at a discreet distance. As long as she kept her head bent and shoulders hunched, he needn’t worry about being spotted by her. The only time he ducked out of sight was when she looked up and down the street before crossing it.

  Joanna employed long strides in her haste to reach the railroad station. She passed the businesses along Fourth Street. In case she decided to look back, Kit expanded the distance between them and dipped his head in an imitation of her own walk.

  They entered the stark warehouse district near the depot. Wagons rolled up and down the street, pulled by plodding horses and mules. Their heads drooped and hooves kicked up dust.

  Kit’s hope of exploring these feelings that churned inside dwindled with each yard that brought them closer to the depot.

  After Joanna walked inside the long, wooden, one-story building that housed the ticket counter and waiting room, he leaned against a telegraph pole several yards away. As time passed, defeat hovered over him like the black cloud drifting over the train chugging through the rail yard. He peered through the windows of the cars, but couldn’t see her. He inhaled the smell of machine oil and hot steam and winced at the whistle that blasted his ears as the cars picked up speed.

  Where was she headed? He had studied the departure schedule in the newspaper. The next train didn’t leave until late afternoon. There were too many stops and points at which she could change trains for him to determine her destination. The one place he felt certain she would not go was Philadelphia.

  Kit could ask Joanna outright to stay, but why should she? He had nothing more to propose than paying her to do what she most enjoyed and a desire to know if his feelings for her were based on more than a guilty conscience. The former offer she soundly rejected. He had no doubt the latter would produce either a slap to his face or hearty laughter.

  Nonetheless, how could he let her leave witho
ut one more try? Kit approached the building without a hint of what he might say to convince her. He pulled on the lapels of his coat and straightened his tie.

  “Are you here for the same reason I am?”

  Kit released a frustrated sigh and turned to address Perry. “I want to be sure she knows what she’s doing.”

  “I want to keep her from leaving.”

  Of course he did.

  Perry opened the door. “After you.”

  Both of them stepped inside. They were too late. The room was empty. Perry marched to the ticket clerk. “Was there a young woman in here earlier?”

  “I’ve seen several. They’re all gone.”

  Kit walked back out the door. Joanna had boarded the train heading south while he’d stood by the telegraph pole and watched it roll away from the depot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Rather than wait tedious hours on a bench inside the ticket office, Joanna had slipped out a side door. As she strolled down residential streets, she passed homes where children of various ages played in the yards or ran up and down the dirt lane. Their laughter competed with her heavy heart.

  For weeks, leaving Banesville had been uppermost in her mind. Now, a dread of returning to board the train destined for Chicago’s Union Depot weighted her shoes until she dragged them down the dirt path running alongside the street.

  Joanna’s index finger rose to touch the side of her mouth, the area on Rose’s face marred by Liam. Was it only two weeks ago? Her qualms about the man multiplied with each thought of the damage he was capable of doing. Once she reached her journey’s end, would she sleep at night knowing she had deserted Rose and Annie when they needed her, as Joanna’s mother had deserted her?

  A familiar fear clutched her in its icy grip. How could she stay here? Even in her anger over his hiring of Liam, she had nearly come undone when Kit reached for her hand that morning and stared at her as if he saw her for the first time.

  And nothing had changed with Clayton’s friends. The sooner she left, the sooner Perry would look elsewhere for love, and no one would think poorly of him. He’d be considered another unfortunate victim of a Delilah.