by Dorothy Love
Sophie nodded and stirred milk into her tea. Very soon she would have to gather her courage and make a choice. But not yet. “We saw Sheriff McCracken at Miss Hattie’s last night. He says Mr. Crocker’s trial is scheduled for the end of January. Both Ethan and Julian will need to be here for that.”
“Will you have to testify too?”
“I’m not sure. Ethan says it’s possible Mr. Crocker could admit to everything and avoid a trial altogether. Supposedly Mr. Crocker has a lawyer, a cousin from Birmingham, coming from Alabama to talk to the judge next week.”
“My stars. I hadn’t heard a word of this. That’s why I love having a newspaper reporter under my roof. Keeps me up-to-date on all the goings-on around here.”
The parlor clock chimed. Lucy got up and bustled about the kitchen. “It’s ten o’clock already, and I still have a ton of things to do. I need to bring that box of decorations down from the attic and wash my good cider glasses and find Aunt Maisie’s crystal candle-holders. I use them only for special occasions.”
“I’ll help you.” Sophie finished her tea and brushed cookie crumbs from her fingers.
“No, you won’t. You’re a paying guest—the only one until spring. I don’t want to run you off.”
“I don’t mind. I’d rather keep busy doing something useful so I won’t miss my family quite so much.”
A wagon rattled along the street and drew up outside the Verandah. Lucy parted the curtain and peered out. “It’s Mr. Heyward with a load of planks. I didn’t expect to see him here so close to Christmas. That man sure does love his work.”
She poured a cup of tea and handed it to Sophie. “Take this out to him. It’s cold as a banker’s heart this morning.” She winked. “Unless you can think of some other way to warm him up.”
Sophie blushed and took her coat from the hall tree in the parlor. “The tea will do nicely, thank you.”
Lucy laughed and propelled Sophie out the door.
Ethan looked up, his handsome face lit with pleasure. “Good morning. I figured you’d be out shopping for Christmas like the rest of Hickory Ridge.”
She shook her head and handed him the steaming cup of tea. “I had to ship presents home to Texas anyway, so I took care of everything all at once.”
He took the tea and sipped it gratefully. “Makes sense.”
“What are you doing here this morning? Lucy wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I know it, but I got to thinking about the rotten boards on the back porch and figured I’d replace them before somebody falls through and breaks a leg.” He gestured toward the wagon that was piled high with new boards and a box of carved posts. “Then I figured as long as I was replacing the boards, I might as well build a new railing too.”
Ethan drained his cup and handed it back to her. He picked up one of the delicately carved rail posts. “I borrowed Sage Whiting’s shop, and we made these. I think Sage enjoyed the chance to escape his desk for a while.”
“I’m sure he did.” Sophie ran her fingers over the satiny wood. “They’re beautiful. Lucy will love them. But, Ethan, I’m not sure she can afford this—not after all the other repairs she’s already made. And not when she still has the roof to replace.”
“I don’t expect payment. It’s my present to her. She’s my first customer since I left Blue Smoke, and I’d like to do something to show my appreciation. Besides, it’s good advertising for my new company.”
“Well, it’s very generous. She’ll be thrilled.”
“I hope so.” He pulled on his heavy gloves and began unloading the wagon, sliding the new boards onto the frosty ground. “I brought you a present too.” His blue eyes caught hers and held. “I know it’s still a week until Christmas, but I couldn’t wait.”
He looked so hopeful and so earnest, like a young boy smitten for the first time. Her heart expanded with love for him. How could any woman resist such a sweet show of affection? “If you chose it, I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”
He left his task, clasped her hand, and led her to the rear garden where a tiny gazebo stood amid a tangle of winter vines. He took a small, elaborately wrapped package from his coat pocket and pressed it into her hands. “Happy Christmas, my love.”
She placed a hand on his sleeve. “I have something for you too. Wait just a minute. I’ll go get it.”
He drew her close, his arms solid and strong around her, his breath warm against her cheek. “Later, Sophie. Stay right here with me. It’s the only present I really want.”
She stepped into his embrace and lifted her face for his kiss, oblivious to the cold mist that began to fall. He settled his lips on hers in a tender, lingering kiss that left her breathless and wanting more.
At last they drew apart, and he smiled down at her. “Open your present.”
She fumbled with the paper and ribbon. Inside a small velvet box, a fine gold locket on a matching chain winked in the dull light. “Oh, Ethan, it’s exquisite.”
“I had it made for you in Baltimore.” He took it from her and turned it over. On the back, their initials were engraved, entwined among delicately carved flowers and vines. “You know my heart. I hope this will turn out to be an engagement present—something you will wear every day of our life together and pass along to our granddaughter someday. But even if you decide not to marry me, I want you to keep it as a reminder of how much I love you. How much I will always love you.”
Her eyes and her heart too full for words, she turned her back to him and lifted her hair. He fastened the locket around her neck, his gloved fingers lightly brushing against her skin. She released a long sigh.
“You do love me?” he asked. “You haven’t changed your mind?”
“Of course I haven’t,” she whispered.
“Just don’t keep me waiting too much longer,” he said, drawing her close again. “The suspense is killing me.”
THIRTY-TWO
“Sophie. Wake up. It’s Christmas Eve.”
Sophie burrowed further into the feather mattress and willed herself to stay inside this beautiful dream where Ada was calling to her, gently rousing her from sleep. Ten minutes more beneath the warm covers and she would rise to help Lucy finish her holiday preparations. Later they would dress for the evening service at church. Sophie was looking forward to it.
“Sophie?”
Sighing, she opened one eye and looked out the window at a leaden sky. The icy rain that had lashed the Verandah all night had turned to snow. Soft flakes drifted past the window and formed lacy patterns on the windowpane.
She threw back the covers and felt around on the floor with her feet, searching for her shoes as the last vestiges of her dream dissipated, leaving her feeling melancholy. How she missed home. Ada’s voice had seemed so real it was almost as if she were standing right there beside the bed.
She found her shoes and shoved her arms into the sleeves of her woolen dressing gown.
A knock sounded at her door.
“In a minute, Lucy.” She reached for her hairbrush and gave her hair a couple of hasty strokes. “I’m barely awake.”
The door opened. She looked up. Her hairbrush slipped from her fingers and clattered onto her dressing table. “Ada?”
“Darling.” Ada Wentworth Caldwell rushed across the room and embraced her. “Happy Christmas.”
Sophie blinked, overcome with happiness and astonishment. “You’re here? I was . . . I thought . . .”
“Lucy let me come up to wake you.” Ada’s wide gray eyes shone with love and amusement. “Apparently you were sleeping quite soundly.”
“I heard your voice, but I thought it was just a wishful dream.” She clasped both Ada’s hands, her questions tumbling out. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? When did you get here? Did Wyatt come? How are Wade and Lilly?”
“Wyatt saw how much I was missing you, and he gave me this trip as a Christmas present. We’ve only just arrived. He and the children are still at the depot collecting our baggage, but I could n
ot wait another moment to set my eyes on you.” Ada laughed and drew back, eyes appraising Sophie. “You look wonderful. Being in love agrees with you.”
Sophie felt for the gold locket resting beneath her gown. She hadn’t taken it off, even to sleep. Maybe she never would. “Ethan is a wonderful man. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
“From the descriptions in your letters and Carrie’s, I feel I already know him.” Ada perched on the edge of Sophie’s rumpled bed. “Wyatt approves as well. He says Ethan sounds like a man who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants.”
“That’s true.” Sophie bent to the fireplace, lit the kindling, and blew on it until the flame caught. The wood hissed and crackled in the grate, chasing away the early morning chill.
Ada folded her hands, her expression expectant. One brow arched. “But?”
“He’s working on the Verandah and a few other things right now. But eventually he wants to marry me, leave Hickory Ridge, and build a new house on his family’s land in Georgia. He plans to open an architectural office in Savannah.”
“Which means you’d have to let go of the Gazette.”
“Yes.” Sophie drew her dressing gown tightly about her shoulders.
“And you aren’t sure you want to give up something you’ve worked so hard to earn, not even for love.” Ada smiled. “It’s my story all over again, isn’t it? When Wyatt proposed, I was certain I never wanted to depend upon a man for my well-being.”
Sophie nodded. “That’s what my mother—Rosaleen—said when she showed up here last fall.”
“Was it too awful for you, my dear, seeing her at last? You didn’t say very much in your letter.”
“It was unsettling. All those years at the orphanage when I dreamed she’d find me, I expected to feel overwhelming love for her. But looking into her eyes was like looking at a stranger.” Sophie shrugged. “It was a big letdown.”
Ada rose and embraced Sophie. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad to put the mystery to rest.”
“Anyway, it’s wise to remember that there are good men and not-so-good ones in the world. Wyatt is the good kind, and so, I’ve been told, is Ethan.” She patted Sophie’s hand. “And the world is changing, you know. Just look at how the suffrage movement is growing.”
Sophie nodded. Here lately, newspapers and magazines from everywhere had published pieces about it. Many people were convinced women soon would have the vote.
“A woman who is determined and resourceful can always open another hat shop or another newspaper office,” Ada said. “But finding the one man who wants to cherish and protect her, to love her and build a life with her, is a gift from God that can never be replaced.”
“I know that.”
“Well then?”
“I’m worried about what would happen down there if anyone found out I’m of mixed blood.”
“That was never a problem in Texas.”
“Because we kept everything a secret. I don’t want to live like that anymore.” She touched the locket at her throat. “You know how it is. A person with even a drop of African blood is considered a Negro. It’s a cruel alchemy, and I don’t want Ethan to suffer because of it.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, then Lucy peeked through the open doorway holding a laden tray. She grinned at Sophie. “Surprise.”
“You knew about this?”
“Not until an hour or so ago. But I think it’s the most wonderful thing ever—right up there with Mr. Heyward’s marriage proposal.” She set the tray on the small table next to the fireplace, rattling the china cups in their saucers. “Brought you two some breakfast.”
“Thank you.” Sophie took a wrapped package from the walnut wardrobe in the corner and pressed it into Lucy’s hands. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”
Lucy opened the package, unfolded the red woolen shawl, and wrapped herself in it. She checked her reflection in the mirror. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Sophie. But honestly, I wasn’t expecting anything.”
“Sometimes the most perfect gifts are the ones we aren’t expecting,” Ada said.
Lucy left, closing the door behind her. The fire danced in the grate, sending out warmth and the smell of hickory wood. Sophie offered Ada the only chair in the room and poured coffee for them both. Then she piled her pillows on the floor and lounged at Ada’s feet, balancing her plate on her lap. While they made short work of flapjacks with maple syrup, sausages, and fried eggs, Ada brought Sophie up-to-date on their train trip from Texas and everything going on back at the Rocking C Ranch, including the new ponies Wyatt had recently bought for Wade and Lilly.
“I do miss the ranch, especially the horses,” Sophie said. “And especially dear old Cherokee. Robbie Whiting mentioned her to me after church one day. He loved that mare as much as I did.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing Robbie,” Ada said. “He was away at school when Wyatt and I came back here for poor Henry Bell’s wedding.” She took a last bite of flapjack and poured more tea. “I still can’t quite believe Henry came to such a tragic end.”
Sophie nodded. “Caleb Stanhope was talking about it just the other day—about how Griff and Carrie and his mother waited until after Christmas to tell him and his brother that Mr. Bell had died.”
Ada added sugar to her tea and stirred. “Tell me, how are things at the paper since the fire? You haven’t written much since Thanksgiving.”
“I meant to write more often, but I’ve been so busy.”
For the next hour, Sophie told Ada about Gillie’s infirmary and the Gilmans’ efforts to marry her off. She showed Ada her great-grandmother’s journal and told Ada about Julian’s arrival in Hickory Ridge, the shooting, Mr. Crocker’s impending trial, and Ethan’s Thanksgiving Day marriage proposal.
Ada laughed. “Heavenly days. No wonder your letters have been scarce lately. Whoever says nothing ever happens in a small town ought to spend a few weeks in Hickory Ridge. Now, you should get dressed, because Wyatt and the children are dying to see you.”
It didn’t take long. Within minutes, Sophie and Ada set off for the Hickory Ridge Inn. Sophie spotted Wyatt the minute she walked through the door of the inn. He was standing in the lobby with Wade and Lilly, his dark head bent to theirs, his expression grave as he listened to their excited chatter. Her heart lifted. Wyatt Caldwell was as dear and as handsome as ever, his eyes very blue in his tanned face, his grin when he saw her as wide as the Texas prairie. He crossed the lobby in long strides, lifted her off her feet, and twirled her around just as he had when she was ten years old and in the throes of an enormous crush on him.
“Well, darlin’,” he said, setting her on her feet again, “I reckon newspaperin’ agrees with you. You are one sight for sore eyes. Isn’t she, son?”
Wade ducked his head and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Lilly pulled a rumpled package from her pocket and handed it to Sophie. “I brought you a present.”
Sophie bent to the little girl and gave the package a gentle shake. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Goodness, I wonder what it could be?”
“Open it and find out.”
Sophie unwrapped a small glass vial filled with dirt. “Well. This is certainly—”
“It’s some dirt,” Lilly said, gray eyes shining, “from our ranch. I brought it all the way on the train, didn’t I, Daddy? So you can keep a piece of Texas with you wherever you go and you won’t be homesick. Or much, anyway.”
Sophie swallowed the tears building in her throat and hugged Lilly tight. “It’s the best present ever, and I will keep it until I come back to the Rocking C.”
“When are you coming? Daddy said you won’t ever live with us again because you’re a grown-up now.”
“Sometimes I don’t feel very grown up. But I’ll come back to the ranch to visit, because the people I love are there.”
Wyatt shepherded them all toward the door. “I don’t know about you ladies, but Wade and I are starving for a platter
of biscuits and Miss Hattie’s fried chicken.”
Ada linked her arm through his. “Fried chicken for breakfast?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Ada smiled up at her husband. “You and Miss Hattie’s. Some things never change.”
“More coffee, Mr. Heyward?”
The waiter hovered at Ethan’s shoulder, his silver coffeepot gleaming beneath the crystal chandelier. The dining room was filled to capacity with the inn’s regular guests, farm families in town for an early supper before tonight’s church service, a few nattily dressed salesmen eating alone, their newspapers and dime novels propped against bread plates and water glasses.
“Yes, please.” Ethan waited until his cup was full again before turning back to his notebook, which he’d left on a vacant chair during dinner. He took out his pencil and flipped to the drawings of the house he planned to build in Georgia. Now that the idea had captured his imagination, an intense longing for home gripped his heart and refused to let go.
Last night, unable to sleep in the room he’d rented just down the hall from Julian’s, he had thought long and hard about his future—and about the unwelcome possibility that Sophie, despite her great affection for him, might refuse his marriage proposal. Maybe the thought of giving up the only thing that was truly hers was holding her back. Having grown up an orphan himself, he understood the need to achieve something important, to be noticed, to matter. And to cast off the feeling, however unwarranted, that having no parents made a person somehow inferior. Regardless of where one came from.
He had loved her at first sight, loved her even when she admitted she’d kept the truth from him. And it grieved him that she thought keeping her family history hidden was the only way to win his heart. Had he really seemed that hard and unforgiving? Probably.