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

by Ardoin, Sandra

  “For the first time, I can say with confidence that I won’t.” He wrapped her in a tight embrace. “How did you find me?”

  “I saw you leave the house.”

  “You followed? I didn’t notice.”

  “You weren’t noticing much.” Her heart knocked against his ribs. “You don’t hate me?”

  “Hate you? For being concerned?”

  “No. For not telling you sooner about the baby.”

  He sighed and hugged her closer. “All I care about is keeping my promise, Jo.”

  “What promise?” The words came out muffled.

  “To run to you and not from you.” Gently, he separated from her. “I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll spend the rest of our days atoning for all the hurt I caused you.”

  “Oh, Kit, please don’t even try.” He started to reply, but she placed a finger to his lips. “We can’t change the past. We can’t bring back our son. We’ve both made mistakes, but not long ago, you told me God forgets our transgressions when we seek His forgiveness. Neither of us will ever forget, and we can’t waste our lives focused on the attempt. All we can do is forgive one another and build on what we have now.”

  She withdrew her finger. “Is that what you want for the two of us?”

  “I want even more.”

  Joanna visibly relaxed. “I’m listening.”

  “I want a lifetime of happiness and contentment knowing I’m with the woman I love. I want us to reach our nineties and still totter around the house together.” Her demure grin encouraged him to add, “I want to marry you and have another child.”

  “Only one?”

  “Let’s say one at a time.” He laughed and stole another kiss. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”

  As they strolled down the street, Joanna said, “Helping Darcy has given me a sense of fulfillment. If God decides I should do the same for other women, would you think it foolish?”

  Her question deserved a well-thought-out and honest answer. His first inclination, based on self-interest, was to say he’d hoped she’d help him in his ministry. But the more he considered it, the more he saw her in the role of helping unfortunate women and their newborns. “When God leads His children to action, Jo, it’s never foolish.”

  “But how would that affect our future?”

  “I’m proud of what you’ve done for Darcy, and it’s not my place to dissuade you from obeying God’s call. I’ll stand by your side in whatever you’re led to do.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s get you home.” Kit’s pace picked up.

  “You’re in a sudden hurry.”

  “I have an errand after I leave you.”

  “Oh?”

  Perhaps he shouldn’t tell her, but if his reasoning were correct, she would hear soon enough. Kit explained about the letter to Mrs. Brockhurst, including the portion about the child.

  “That’s how you knew I hadn’t told you the truth.”

  “Yes.” He paused and then added, “I think I know who sent it, Jo.”

  “Who?”

  “Perry.”

  ***

  Joanna stumbled to a halt. “You’re wrong, Kit. How could Perry provide Mrs. Brockhurst with information about me he doesn’t know?” Unless Clayton told him.

  “I’m not sure how he found out, but the stationer’s mark on the paper was familiar. I think it’s the same as on the notes I received from him on two other occasions.”

  “Surely, he’s not the only person to use such paper.” Even as she spoke, Joanna doubted her argument. Perry ordered his stationery from a Washington, D. C. bookstore and prided himself on the quality. He said he couldn’t buy its equal in Banesville. “What about the handwriting?”

  “It was somewhat different. He probably tried to disguise it. I’ll find out when I talk to him.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re going home.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. This involves me, too, Kit.” She spun on her heel and headed in the direction of Perry’s house.

  After knocking on the door of the large two-story Greek Revival structure, they were told by the housekeeper that Perry hadn’t arrived home from work, so they walked another quarter mile to the Stewart Broom Factory.

  Joanna pointed to a window on the second floor. “There’s a light in his office.”

  “Let’s go.” Kit followed her into the building at the front of the factory and up the stairs to Perry’s office.

  Joanna looked around. “He’s not here, but he wouldn’t leave a lamp burning if he weren’t close by.” She crossed the room to Perry’s desk and began to rifle through the papers on the top.

  Kit came alongside. “What are you doing?”

  “There must be a sample of his stationery. If we find it, you’ll know for sure whether or not the paper came from Perry.” She gestured to the door. “Let me know if you see him coming. I’d hate for him to find me going through his things.”

  Finding nothing on the surface of the desk, Joanna opened the top left drawer, then the middle. After opening the bottom drawer, her heart plunged to her knees. She pulled the top paper out. “Kit.”

  He glanced at her from near the door. “You found it?”

  “No.” She held up the paper. “I found this.”

  Kit stepped closer. “A drawing?”

  “Annie’s drawing. I haven’t seen it since before the housebreaking.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  To Kit’s thinking, there was only one reason Perry Stewart had possession of Annie’s drawing. “We were wrong about Liam.” Joanna rubbed the area above her right eyebrow. “Perry could have taken this any time.”

  Kit had his doubts. “He has a habit of barging in without knocking. Do you know if he was ever alone in your house?”

  “If he was, I’m not aware of it.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. What would he want with a child’s drawing?”

  The vertical lines between Joanna’s eyes deepened, and she turned the drawing over. Kit saw immediately when an answer struck her. “Unless it was to retrieve this. It’s a letter his father wrote. I told him about it a month ago.”

  Kit read of Clayton Stewart’s decision to sell the factory. He didn’t like where his thoughts took him. It was a conclusion Joanna would fight with everything in her. “You stay here.”

  “Kit—”

  “Stay, Joanna.”

  Kit rushed from the office, down the stairs, and out the back door. As he trekked across the yard to the large building where the brooms were made, he went over everything he knew about the housebreaking and the rumors surrounding Joanna. What if there was more truth to the story of her husband’s death than spiteful gossip?

  A light shone through a window at one end of the broom factory. When Kit entered the building, the main room was dark with the exception of a soft moon glow and the brighter light that spilled across the floor from a doorway to his left. “Perry?”

  The sound of Kit walking across the room broke the silence around him. He reached the doorway of a machine shop with its lathes, a band saw, and circular saw. A workbench extended across the opposite wall, interrupted by a door leading outside. Various hand tools hung from the walls.

  “Are you in here, Perry?”

  He heard the creak of a floorboard behind him a heartbeat before his mind registered a presence. He started to turn. A shove sent him sprawling into the room, and his head smacked the wooden frame of the circular saw. Pain ricocheted throughout his skull.

  “Mrs. Brockhurst should have sent you packing. You aren’t wanted in Banesville.”

  The words jumped in Kit’s brain and his scalp stung. His arms were jerked behind him and a thin wire bit into his wrists. The room tilted from one side to the other as if he stood on the deck of a storm-tossed boat. His stomach lurched in protest. He focused on the bottom edges of brown-striped trousers and dusty, brown shoes.

  “Joanna deserves more than a man
who seduces then deserts her.”

  Perry’s kick to Kit’s ribs set them afire. His breaths came in quick and shallow gasps.

  “Do you think I’ll give you the chance to hurt her again?” The leg kicked out. This time the blow caught Kit in the gut and stole the rest of his air. “No one takes what I want. Not you. Not my father.”

  “Your father want …” Kit drew in as much air between words as possible. He grimaced with the pain that ran from the back of his head to his waist. “He wanted to sell … this business. … Did … did you kill him?”

  As an answer, Perry growled and jammed an oily rag in Kit’s mouth. Then the light vanished, and the door slammed shut. Kit was left alone in the dark, convinced he’d been attacked by a man who committed patricide.

  He prayed Joanna would go undiscovered in Perry’s office.

  ***

  Questions whirred in Joanna’s brain, always settling on the same answer. She refused to believe Perry entered her house at night, stole the letter, and struck Darcy. He must have taken it another time.

  But why? When she mentioned the letter, he dismissed it as inconsequential. If he’d asked for it, she would have given it to him.

  Joanna glanced at the clock. Kit must have found Perry by now. She stuffed the letter in the waistband of her skirt and headed for the factory for answers.

  As she approached the building, someone doused the light shining from the window of the machine shop, and a door slammed.

  Joanna stepped inside the building and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness before she crossed the room. With the help of dim moonlight, she avoided the iron vises used to stitch the brooms. “Perry? Kit?”

  “What are you doing here, Joanna?”

  Her hand flew to her heart. She could make out Perry’s shape, but not much more. He stood between her and the door leading outside. “You startled me. Where is Kit?”

  “Why would you think I know where he is?”

  “Because he came in here looking for you.”

  “You’re mistaken. He hasn’t been here.”

  Joanna’s heart thumped a warning. He lied. From Perry’s office window, she had watched Kit cross the yard and enter the building. She sidestepped, but Perry did the same and blocked her path to the door.

  “Where are you going?” He took a step forward.

  Joanna backed a step. Ben told her all men would disappoint her. She’d never included Perry in that caution.

  “Why did you steal the letter?”

  “Because it was dangerous to me.” He answered as though she should have understood. She was far from understanding.

  “You don’t deny it?”

  “Would you like me to lie? I guess that’s the type of man who sets your heart aflutter.” Perry took another step forward, but Joanna was too shocked to move. “All right. No, I did not steal the letter. No, I did not slap the harlot living in your house—the one who took advantage of your kindness while she ruined your reputation.”

  Joanna groaned over his admission. She glanced toward the side door, but Perry must have guessed her intention to flee and closed the distance between them. She shuffled backward. Her foot hit the broad stairs leading to the loft, and restraint deserted her. She reeled and pounded up the steps. It was a stupid move. Now he had her trapped.

  Where was Kit?

  ***

  The room finally stopped rolling, and Kit inched upright. Pain wracked him with every breath and movement, especially when he struggled to free his hands. Voices stilled his effort. Though indistinct, he was sure one belonged to Joanna. A rush of panic seized him. The wire tore into his skin as he fought even harder to release his wrists.

  The door leading into the machine shop from outside opened. Kit ceased his struggle and waited. The new arrival drew closer. Whether friend or foe, Kit tried to stand. His fruitless labor created a scuffle on the floor. The next thing he knew, Donovan bent over him and yanked the rag free. Kit spit out the foul taste that sullied his mouth.

  “Looks like you got yourself in a pickle.” The whispered words held no humor.

  “Can you … cut the wire around my hands?”

  Donovan walked away and returned a moment later with a pair of wire cutters.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Saw you come out of the saloon. I don’t like hypocrites, so I figured I’d see what you were up to.”

  In two snips, Kit was free. “Thanks. Help me up.” He threw his arm around Donovan’s shoulder. His other hand pressed against the tenderness in his chest. “I heard Joanna in the next room with Perry. She’s in trouble.”

  Determined to move under his own power, Kit straightened and scuffled into the main room of the factory. She should have stayed put as he’d told her.

  ***

  Perry followed Joanna up the stairs to the loft. She backed along the edge, past stacked bales of broom corn and wood-slatted crates holding thick dowels destined to become handles.

  “Why run from me, Jo?”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “You’ve no reason to be afraid. Everything I’ve done was for your protection and mine. Don’t you understand? I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you—not my father, not McCall, and not Barnes.”

  Joanna froze at the mention of the name McCall. “You protected me from Liam?”

  He reached toward her. She leaned away, and he dropped his arm to his side. “I paid him well to watch over you, but—”

  “You paid him to spy on me?”

  “To watch over you.” Perry backed her against the right-side wall. “McCall had no scruples. When my father was alive, he was like a fly on the wall—rarely seen, but always watching and listening. The fool took pleasure in tarnishing your reputation and admitted to blackmailing you over an illegitimate child. When you told me of his actions on the Fourth, I decided he must be dealt with before he hurt you.”

  She’d walked into a nightmare. “You … you killed Liam?”

  “Your precious Rose should thank me. He deserved his end. After you refused to pay him, he tried to bleed me over my father’s death. It’s why I needed that letter, Jo. It would be his word against mine.”

  “Clayton died from pneumonia.”

  “He died because he couldn’t breathe past ticking and feathers. Somehow, McCall discovered the truth.”

  “You suffocated my husband?”

  “What choice did I have? I did it for you, Jo … for us. That old man made both of us miserable. When he told me he planned to sell the factory, the business I’d worked so hard to build, I saw a solution and took it. I’ve never regretted my actions.”

  “Oh, Perry.” How could she have known him so well and, yet, never comprehended that he possessed no conscience? She had to get away before his impassive reasoning convinced her that his deeds were justified. “What have you done to Kit?”

  Perry swung a fist backward. Joanna jumped as it slammed against the thin slat of a crate holding the broom handles. The punch cracked the top one. Several of the dowels tumbled out and rolled across the floor. “Did you think I wouldn’t employ a detective to investigate him? I know the sorrow he caused you.”

  Her temper rose to overcome her terror. “Where is Kit?”

  “Do not worry about Barnes!”

  “He’s right. Don’t worry about me, Jo.”

  Joanna’s glance shot to the ground floor where two men stood in the darkness. Her breath stuttered with relief. She tried to push past Perry, but he knocked her against the wall.

  Kit held his side as he climbed the stairs. “Donovan, wait here, in case he gets past me.”

  Once Kit reached the loft, Perry grabbed a dowel from the nearest crate and swung it, hitting him on the side and sending him to the floor. Perry raised the broom handle again, ready to bring it down on Kit’s head.

  “Stop!” Joanna grabbed Perry’s arm, and Kit rolled out of the way.

  Perry swiveled and snatched Joanna’s right wrist. She squealed with the pressur
e and pinch of her skin.

  “Remember, Mrs. Stewart.” Mr. O’Connor’s calm voice reached past her distress.

  She did a ninety-degree turn and raised her left arm above her head. Before Perry could react, she crooked her left elbow and slammed it down on his forearm. He lost his grip on her wrist. With her fingers bent, she smashed her knuckles into his throat.

  Holding his neck, Perry stumbled backward into the crate filled with broom handles. More dowels fell to the floor. Kit grabbed one and swept it out, catching Perry’s legs and tripping him. As Perry fought to remain upright, his foot rolled on a loose dowel. His arms flailed and his body tipped sideways.

  Joanna lunged, but Kit grabbed her around the waist to keep her from going over the edge of the loft with Perry and several of the dowels. He landed with a heartrending thud on the floor below as the wood pieces thumped around him.

  She threw her arms around Kit. He grunted and hunched his back. When she let go, a wet stickiness clung to her fingertips. “Blood.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “And the flinch?”

  “Just a bruise to the ribs.”

  A quick, yet tender kiss and then a whispered, “Thank you, God,” relayed his relief over their safety. When her gaze drifted to Perry, Kit said, “Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have prevented any of it.”

  “I know.” If Kit and Mr. O’Connor weren’t present, Joanna might convince herself she had imagined Perry’s confession to two murders.

  With slow and cautious movements, she assisted Kit down the stairs. Donovan stood over Perry, who had landed on his side. “Looks like a break to his shoulder and leg. Guess I’ll fetch Sheriff Myers and a doctor.”

  Joanna knelt beside Perry. His breath hissed with the feeble shift of his body to touch her hand. His face crumpled in pain.

  No, his deeds weren’t her fault, but the result hurt just as much.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Joanna pulled aside the sheer curtain covering one of the front windows of her house as Kit guided the carriage horse to a stop at the curb. The fit of the well-tailored gray suit and the confident stride of his walk up the front path created a flurry of anticipation in her stomach.