by Karen Kirst
She laughed. “Do you really expect me to believe that you didn’t have any romantic feelings for her while you were doing all of that?”
“Believe what you want. The truth won’t change. I only had friendly feelings for her until I needed…”
“Until you needed…?”
“To get over you,” he finally admitted lowly.
Drawn in by his appearance of sincerity, she caught herself swaying toward him. She swallowed and forced herself to take a step back. Oh, he is good.
“Wait a minute.” He searched her face. “Are you saying—is that why you broke our engagement? Because you thought something was going on between me and Amy?”
She clasped her hands behind her back, then lifted her chin. “Amy and I wrote to each other for a while after I moved to Houston. Like everyone else in Peppin, she didn’t know about our engagement. I suppose that was why she had no qualms about sending me a detailed account of every indication you gave her of your romantic feelings for her.”
He shook his head, a wry smile tilting his lips. “That sounds like Amy, all right. She was always pretty quick to believe every fellow was in love with her. Well, no matter. She liked being admired, but had no intention of marrying me. Turned me down flat when I proposed.”
“You…proposed to her, too?”
“Who haven’t I proposed to at this point?” Frustration filled his voice as he turned away to pace. That was probably a good thing since it took her a moment or two to close her gaping mouth. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I suppose Ruth. She’s the seamstress in town now, but she’s all business. How can you court a woman when you can’t even get a smile out of her?”
Adelaide held up a stilling hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t help being curious. Exactly who else have you proposed to besides me and Amy?”
“Let’s see. There was Amy’s younger sister Isabelle. You remember her, don’t you? Before that, I proposed to Maddie, sort of in jest. She nearly dumped a coffeepot in my lap at the mere suggestion. Ellie didn’t let me get as far as a proposal. Helen…you don’t know her, but she married Quinn before I had a chance to ask her.”
Adelaide shook her head in disbelief. “I thought your proposal to me was sincere.”
“It was!”
“So were your proposals to all of these other women, I suppose.”
“I told you I have to find a wife. I honestly don’t understand why you seem so upset about this. Like I said, if you didn’t want me wooing other women—”
“I should have married you?” She gave a mirthless laugh. “No, thank you.”
His jaw tightened. “Yeah, you said that…once before, in a letter. I think I’m clear on that. I also think it was a mistake for me to agree to pre—”
Seeing a flash of movement near the door of the room, she caught the lapels of Chris’s coat and tugged him closer for a silencing kiss. He stiffened slightly before hesitantly kissing her back. She released him at the sound of a throat clearing behind them.
Her stepfather glanced back and forth between them with his arms crossed. “I’m not a man who enjoys keeping secrets from his wife. She trusts me to tell her the truth. It took me a long time to build that trust, and I don’t intend to lose it. If I find out the relationship between you is not what you’ve presented it to be, I will tell her. So…” A hint of a sparkle lit his otherwise stern gaze. “You’d better not let me find out, and you sure better not tell me anything you don’t want her to know. Furthermore, this conversation never happened. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they replied together.
He gave them a firm nod before leaving the room. Chris sank onto a nearby chair, then met Adelaide’s gaze with a mix of uncertainty and amusement. “Our parents…”
She perched on the arm of the settee. “They are something else.”
“For sure.”
“I mean, I love them.”
“Of course!”
“But…”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
She shook her head, then reached across the expanse to place a hand on his arm. “We can handle this, though, if we work together. Are we? Working together, I mean.”
He glanced from her hand to her eyes. “As far as I can see, I’m not getting much out of this agreement. However, I’ll go through with it on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We have got to come up with a better signal to tell each other to stop talking.”
She laughed. “Deal.”
They shook on it, and, in that moment, the years seemed to melt away. She had her best friend back, her study partner, perhaps even her champion. One fateful kiss all those years ago had changed him into her fiancé and, subsequently, something that never should have been. Yes, kisses were powerful things when it came to Chris Johansen. She just had to remember that they were nothing uncommon. Even proposals from him were a dime a dozen. The only thing special about any of it was the heartache that came with it. She’d made it through their last courtship without experiencing too much of that. Next time, she might not be so fortunate. That was why there wouldn’t be a next time—not for her, and definitely not with Chris.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hours later, Chris still couldn’t understand what Adelaide had gotten so upset about. Why did it matter to her whom he wooed or courted or proposed to after their engagement was over? She’d given up her claim on him long ago and obviously hadn’t changed her mind about that. And he was glad of that. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to start softening toward the other romantically. He’d been down that path once before and had no intention of venturing there again.
Of course, he’d also had no intention of accepting her mother’s invitation for him and his father to stay at the Holdens’ house while they were in Houston, either. Now here he was lugging suitcases up to the rooms she’d assigned to them. Chris paused at the top of the stairs to glance down at Olan, who was only a few steps behind him. Keeping his voice to a low whisper, Chris asked, “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that Mrs. Holden is being so nice about all of this?”
“Who can understand the workings of a woman’s mind?” Olan passed him to open the door to the first bedroom. “She seemed so insulted by my initial refusal to stay here that I thought it prudent to agree. It probably worked out for the best, since this will give you plenty of time to spend with Adelaide and a chance to get to know her again.”
Chris gave a reluctant nod, not altogether sure that spending more time with Adelaide was such a good idea. They seemed to have a talent for getting each other into trouble whenever they were together. As far as getting to know her better…there was already so much about her he hadn’t forgotten that he wasn’t entirely sure that was necessary or wise.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he deposited his father’s suitcase on the bed, then turned a concerned gaze to Olan, noticing that the man seemed a bit out of breath. “How are you feeling, Pa?”
Olan waved aside Chris’s concern and sat on the bed to open his suitcase. “I’m a little tired from our travels, but I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”
“All right. If you start feeling poorly or need anything at all during the night, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Don’t be afraid to wake me.”
“Fine. Fine. Now, off you go. Have a good night.”
Chris wished his father the same, but soon found himself tossing and turning in a comfortable yet unfamiliar bed. He turned the gas-lit sconce beside the bed on low and reached for one of the books he’d placed on the nightstand. Of course it turned out to be one written by Joe Flanders—hardly the distraction he was looking for. His stomach provided that with a rumble that reminded him of how little he’d eaten at the Holden’s party earlier. He’d been too busy being introduced to all of Adelaide’s lady friends, then joining them all in what had seemed to be a never-ending game of croquet. The Holdens had encouraged them to feel right at home so Chris tossed aside his covers,
grabbed a robe and went in search of the kitchen. Once he found it, he hesitated at the sight of Everett standing at the counter near the ice box. The man glanced up from the plate of food he was making. “Hungry?”
“Yes, sir.”
Everett nodded to a large oak kitchen table that was probably where the Holdens’ staff took their meals. “Have a seat. There are plenty of leftovers for the both of us. I never do manage to eat much at those parties. Too busy socializing with advertisers, I suppose.”
“Adelaide told me you run a newspaper here in Houston.”
“Yes, I’m the owner and editor of the Houston Gazette. I was in Peppin to do a little research for a story I’m working on. I was surprised to find a town of that size didn’t have a newspaper of its own.”
“I guess most folks get their news at the café in town. Of course, a good portion of that is just gossip. We do have a bulletin board in the mercantile for people to put up—well, I guess you’d call them classifieds.” Chris took the plate Everett offered him with a quick word of thanks before continuing. “If there is anything major going on in town, I put up a little notice about it for folks and try to spread the news through word of mouth. That usually works pretty well because most folks have to stop in at the mercantile at some point.”
Everett lifted a brow and took a seat across the table. “So, you’re a bit of newsman yourself.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“Why not? It sounds like you’re disseminating facts to the masses in writing and by word of mouth. That isn’t any different than what I do every day. What’s the most exciting thing you’ve told people about in the last few months?”
Chris bit his lip thoughtfully. “We had a fire in town on New Year’s Eve. Afterward, some folks decided to hold a benefit concert to raise money to buy the town a new fire engine. I helped spread the word about that. Pretty much the whole town showed up. We raised enough money for the fire engine. It was great.”
Everett smiled a faraway look in his eyes. “That would have made an interesting news story.”
“It might have, at that, but who would read it? Pretty much everyone in town was there. They already know what happened.”
“There’s little that people like more than seeing their own names in print. Better yet, the story would serve as a record keeper for the town so that future generations could look back and see how their parents and grandparents came together to do something positive in the face of tragedy. You could even do a follow-up story that answers some of the unresolved questions. For instance, what kind of fire engine is the town going to purchase? Why was that model chosen? When is it going to be purchased? When will it arrive? Who is going to be responsible for its upkeep and use? Where will it be stored? Don’t you think the public deserves to know the answer to those questions since they are the ones paying for it?”
Obviously, the answer was yes, but Chris couldn’t seem to form the word. His mind was too busy grappling with all of the questions Everett had just asked. Chris realized that he wanted to know the answers. What’s more, he wanted to be the one doing the asking. He leaned forward. “How did you come up with all of those questions so quickly?”
“I’ve had a lot of practice at this.” Everett paused to give him a gentle yet measuring look before leaning forward, as well. “I think you could come up with a few questions yourself. Tap into your own curiosity. What concerns you or interests you about this topic?”
Chris thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess the main thing I’ve been wondering about is how the new fire engine will affect the volunteer firefighters. How is it going to change the protocols they already have? Who is going to train them to use the engine? That sort of thing.”
Everett grinned. “You’re a natural. I’d like you to come by my newspaper on Monday to take a look around. While you’re here, let’s see if we can teach you the basics of the trade and send you back to Peppin as a reporter equipped to write the next big story. Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll be the one to start your town’s first newspaper.”
“Mr. Holden, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because…” Chris was going to run Johansen’s Mercantile one day. That was the plan. It had been the plan for nearly a decade. While he was still trying to find a way out of marrying a mail-order bride, he knew that taking over the mercantile was nonnegotiable. Olan’s health was questionable at best and his brothers were too young to shoulder the responsibility of running the store, so Chris needed to be ready to take over if or when the doctors advised his father to stop working. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by an outside interest like newspaper reporting. Not when his family’s main source of income was at stake.
Everett stood and clasped Chris’s shoulder. “Just go for a tour. Anything you decide to do or not do after that is up to you. I won’t pressure you. I simply like to encourage talent when I see it. I’d better get back to my room now. When you’re finished eating, simply leave your plate in the sink and someone will take care of it. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast, then church.”
Chris offered a parting smile and a nod. Talent. No one had ever used that word in regard to him except when it came to his fiddle. That was a safe talent—something encouraged by his parents. He couldn’t see them approving of him becoming a newspaperman. The idea was completely impractical. He knew nothing about newspapers and even if he learned something while he was here, it didn’t mean he’d ever be able to start a newspaper in Peppin. No, it’d be far more worthwhile to focus on the slightly more attainable goal of finding himself a wife. In all the hoopla surrounding Adelaide’s return, he’d managed to forget something. He was still running out of options and time. The Bachelor List had been no help. Neither had its matchmaking author. Who else was there to appeal to?
The answer that arose within him seemed to resound in the stillness. God. He could appeal to God. That was the one thing he hadn’t done, the one Person he hadn’t talked to about this. Why? Because he was more than a little afraid that God was on his parents’ side in this. The Bible did say that Chris should honor his father and mother. What if marriage to Brigitte Salomon—or whatever her name might be—really was God’s plan for him and for her?
Chris shook his head, unable to even consider that. Perhaps he’d wait awhile and exhaust what few possibilities were left for him. Then, if he was truly desperate, he’d take the chance of asking God for help in finding a wife. First he had to make it through the rest of his stay in Houston. That was a situation Chris didn’t mind bringing to God because he had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.
*
Morning fog still clung to the ground when Adelaide stepped onto the veranda after an early breakfast with her family and the Johansens. She eased her shawl closer around her shoulders while waiting for the carriage to be brought around to take them all to church. The front door opened behind her. She turned, only realizing when she saw Olan that she’d hoped it would be Chris. Olan caught sight of her and offered her a smile. “A little chillier than normal for Texas, isn’t it?”
“Hopefully the sun will come out and warm things up.” She paused for a second. Then, because Everett had long since taught her the value of being direct, she addressed something that had been bothering her since the so-called family meeting yesterday. “Mr. Johansen, you asked my mother to be honest about the misgivings she had about Chris. I’d like you to extend the same courtesy to me. Why did you encourage Chris to fight for me if you don’t think we’re a good match?”
After a long, quiet moment, he finally shrugged. “You asked for honesty, so I’ll give it to you. I can tell him until I’m blue in the face that the two of you aren’t suited, but he won’t believe it until he discovers it himself. The more time y’all spend with each other, the faster he’ll figure it out. Once he does, he’ll be able to move on and find happiness with someone else.”
She longed to ask him why he thought Chris hadn’t moved on, but she had little doubt that Olan was using what he’d seen in Peppin and Houston as his evidence—evidence she knew was false. Surely Chris couldn’t still have feelings for her when he’d pursued so many women in her absence. He’d been trying to find a bride of his own choosing so she had to grant that he hadn’t done anything dishonorable—once their engagement was over. However, all that meant was that he’d been prepared to marry another woman multiple times. Those weren’t exactly the actions of a man pining for a lost love. Perhaps that simply meant her mother had been right all along, and whatever emotions Adelaide and Chris had felt for each other had been immature and underdeveloped. A childish infatuation rather than love.
As though conjured by her thoughts, Chris stepped onto the porch looking debonair in a Sunday-go-to-meeting suit. His vibrant, navy blue eyes glanced black and forth between her and his father as he picked up on the tension in the air. “What are y’all talking about?”
“You, of course,” she said, not even realizing she was reaching for his hand until he caught her hand in his. Chris’s inquiring look went unanswered, for Rose stepped onto the porch, still putting on her gloves. Her gaze immediately settled on their joined hands. Adelaide battled the urge to remove her hand from Chris’s gentle hold. That would, after all, defeat the entire purpose of the exhibition. However, she couldn’t help feeling the uncomfortable prickles of warmth that spread across her cheeks until Rose focused on something over Adelaide’s shoulder.
“Ah, here comes the carriage. It’s right on time…and so is the buggy.” Rose turned to look at her husband as he stepped through the door. “You don’t think we’ll all fit in the carriage?”
“I thought Chris and Adelaide might want to do a little courting.”