Love for All Seasons

by Stacy Henrie

  Before she knew what he was doing, Bram scooped her up into his arms. “You don’t have to,” he said, carrying her toward the stairs.

  Her head felt so heavy, she gave into the urge to rest it against his shoulder. “But I have to, Bram. I have to.”

  “All you have to do today is rest,” he soothed in her ear. “Because I’m going to manage your store today.”

  Tempest jerked her head up, then bit her lip against the ache such a motion caused. “B-but you can’t do that. Who will watch your store?”

  He slowed to navigate the stairs, making sure to keep her feet from bumping into the wall. “No one. Mine is new enough that I can afford to close it for one day.”

  She wanted to protest further, and yet she had no energy to do so, and the fog in her head made thinking up more arguments difficult.

  When he reached her rooms at the top of the stairs, he carried her into the second and set her on her bed. “Get some more rest. I’ll send a message to Lydia to come check on you.”

  He’d never looked more handsome to her than he did in this moment, even with the worry etched on his face. She ought to feel mortified at him seeing her in her nightclothes and with her wild, curly hair untamed. But she couldn’t muster up any embarrassment. Instead, she felt only gratitude and an irrational hope that she might one day be cradled in his arms again.

  Her cheeks flushed at her errant thoughts, but she hoped Bram would think it was her fever instead. “The ledger to note purchases and orders is under the counter.”

  He nodded and moved back through the doorway into her tiny parlor and kitchen. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Bram?” she called.

  Turning, he waited for her to speak.

  “I don’t know what to say other than thank you for your help.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, his mouth hiking up in a smile. And Tempest couldn’t help thinking that smile might be the best medicine of all.

  • • •

  Bram snagged another bite of the sandwich Lydia had given him and recorded the purchases of the man who’d just exited the store. The last few hours had been rather busy, and he guessed some of that had to do with his store being closed. Anyone who wanted things from a mercantile had to get them from Tempest’s today. It made him wonder how well she had done since he’d set up shop four weeks earlier.

  Pushing the question aside, he dusted the counter and straightened the candy jars. Finally his curiosity got the better of him. He opened the ledger again and flipped through several of the pages, noting the daily and weekly totals before his store had opened. Then he carefully reviewed the numbers for the weeks since he’d come to town.

  He frowned when he reached the page for the day before and closed the ledger. The numbers told the truth he’d been ignoring since taking Tempest to the opera a week ago. His store was mining profits from hers, and the longer his stayed open, the more hers dropped in income.

  The sound of someone coming down the stairs reached his ears. It was too sure-footed to be Tempest, so he suspected it must be Lydia, who’d gone up an hour earlier.

  Sure enough Tempest’s best friend descended the stairs. She offered him the same kind smile she had when she’d come into the store.

  “How is she?” Bram asked.

  “She’s resting again.” Lydia came to stand opposite the counter from him, setting her gloves and hat on its smooth surface. “She did eat well just now and managed to drink some herbal tea for her sore throat. I think she’ll be on the mend tonight or tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “She was fretting about the store, but I told her it was in good hands.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lydia put on her hat. “It’s me who must thank you. I misjudged you and I apologize.” She pulled on her gloves. “What you’re doing today for Tempest goes beyond gentlemanly behavior or neighborly kindness.”

  He chose not to respond to the not-so-subtle hint behind her words. His feelings for Tempest had grown immensely the last week, as they’d taken their evening walks and talked, but he needed to sort out those emotions before he voiced them to anyone else. “I gave you reason to misjudge me by not being honest with Tempest that first day, and for that, I am sorry.”

  “I’ll check on her again at supper,” she said, stepping toward the door.

  “Has she told you how her store is really doing?”

  Lydia turned back, her mouth turned down in a frown. “Not really. Why do you ask?”

  “I looked through her ledger just now,” he confessed, tapping a knuckle against the book. “There seemed to be a greater number of customers in here today and I wanted to confirm a hunch I had regarding the reason.”

  Her gaze widened in understanding. “It’s because your store is closed today, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he answered simply and truthfully.

  Bram wished it wasn’t so. He was also grateful that Tempest’s friend studied him with no condemnation in her expression. Neither Tempest nor Lydia nor her husband judged him for his minor role in the war. Instead they took his measure from his character, his honesty, and his actions. The realization poured through him with force and thankfulness, soothing his troubled heart. Was this why he’d felt the Lord nudging him to build a new life here? Not to find success solely in his store, but more importantly, in his relationships?

  “I’m going to tell her I looked through her ledger.”

  Lydia dipped her head in a nod. “I think that’s wise and truthful of you. What will you do now?”

  He sensed she meant much more in the question than merely relaying information to Tempest. “I’m not sure exactly,” he said with a chuckle. “And that’s rather new for me.”

  Her smile buoyed him up as a sister’s would. “You’ll figure it out, Mr. Wakeman. As we all must.” She moved toward the door, where she paused to add, “And for me that usually starts on my knees.”

  • • •

  Brushing a curl from her eyes, Tempest eyed the numbers in her ledger once more before setting her pencil down. Things didn’t look good. With a weary sigh, she sat on her stool. She’d been well for four days, though she still felt tired after a whole day on her feet. The darkness outside the store and the shadows within pushed at her small circle of lamplight. The rest of the town was likely sleeping.

  Bram had confessed to looking at her ledger, and she didn’t blame him. She didn’t think she could work in his store and record numbers in his log without taking a peek at some of the other pages. But she hadn’t quite believed what he’d told her about his store stripping profits from hers. Now, after having his store open again for a few days, she’d seen what she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Her mercantile was, indeed, on a steady decline. She could likely eek by for another few months, but there was no guarantee she would last that long. The newness of Bram’s store would wear off completely, and yet she didn’t know if she would be able to sustain business until then.

  She offered the same prayer she had so often over the last five weeks. What should I do, Lord? She propped her arm on the counter and rested her forehead in her palm. An image of Bram’s warm hazel eyes and genuine smile filled her thoughts. I meant about the store. Tempest chuckled, the sound echoing in the silence. Though I suppose I need to know what do regarding him too.

  Something had shifted between her and Bram since he’d come to her aid when she was sick. She felt it in her renewed energy when she saw him crossing the street to join her for their evening stroll. She felt it in the way her heart pulsed faster when their hands brushed as they walked. She felt it in the way her soul stirred at their shared conversations and mutual regard for the other’s thoughts and perceptions. The one topic they largely avoided was about their respective stores.

  Tempest lifted her head to gaze at the familiar, organized chaos around her. This place symbolized more than her livelihood—it represented her independence and her ability to make a life for herself. And
she’d certainly accomplished that, whether her brothers recognized that or not. She, a woman all on her own, had opened and successfully operated a mercantile for more than a year. She’d also come to love this town and its people.

  Including Bram?

  “No,” she told herself aloud as she shot to her feet and grabbed the lamp. She couldn’t love him . . . could she? They’d known each other less than two months, and half that time they’d spent competing against each other.

  She started up the stairs, turning the question over in her mind. There was so much she did love about him though—his kindness, his humility, his bursts of humor. Did that mean she loved him?

  The answer came as softly as a kitten nudging at her heels. I do love him.

  Tempest stopped halfway up the stairs and leaned back against the wall—the very one Bram had worked so hard not to bump her feet against when he’d gently carried her. She probably ought to sell her store, and soon, if she hoped to get a decent price for it. And yet, she couldn’t imagine not seeing Bram anymore, of not living across the street from him. She wanted him in her life tomorrow and the day after that and on and on through the years.

  “Is there a way to have both?” she half prayed, half hoped.

  If she sold her goods to Bram and the building to someone else, she would have enough to stay in town for a time. Surely long enough to see if he felt more than friendship for her, especially once her store ceased to be a deterrent to a long-term relationship between them.

  Determined to move forward with her plan, she continued up the stairs. She set her lamp down and readied for bed. Right before climbing beneath the covers, she caught the distinct smell of smoke. Perhaps she hadn’t properly stoked the fire from supper.

  She checked the stove in her kitchen area, but there was nothing inside except cold ashes. Perhaps it was the downstairs stove. Not bothering with the lamp, she descended the stairs to check the stove inside her store. It appeared as cold and lifeless as the other one. And yet, she could still smell smoke.

  The muffled sound of shouting reached her ears and Tempest hurried to peer out the display window. Her shocked cry shattered the quiet of the empty store, and for a moment she couldn’t move as she stared in horror at the scene before her. Fire rose from the roofs of several of the buildings down the street, including the post office. In the reddish glow, she could see people doing what they could to fight the blaze. Surely Lydia and Calvin were among them, and that was where she would be.

  Tempest rushed back upstairs and changed from her nightgown into an old work dress. She exited her store, sucking in a sharp gasp as a wave of heat engulfed her. Would they be able to stop the angry beast before it devoured most of the town? She’d heard Lydia, Calvin and other townspeople talk about the fire two years earlier that had consumed so many buildings.

  “Tempest!”

  She looked toward Bram’s store to find him approaching her at a run. The sight of him brought an instant measure of courage. “It’s already spread to the post office,” she exclaimed.

  “Then let’s see what we can do.”

  Giving him a grim smile of gratitude, Tempest matched his racing footsteps down the street. The fire brigade was already on hand, but the post office’s roof was still ablaze.

  “Lydia,” she cried out when she and Bram found her friend among those passing buckets of water up the line of people to the burning building. “What can we do?”

  Her friend’s blackened cheeks were streaked with what Tempest guessed were tears. Farther up the line Calvin dumped water onto the fire. “We’re doing everything we can, but it might not . . .” She visibly swallowed. “It might not be enough. What about your stores?”

  Bram answered, “Neither one has caught fire yet.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She took the next full bucket, tipping her head in the direction they’d just come. “Go keep them that way.”

  “Are you sure?” Tempest wanted to stay and offer comfort somehow. But Bram gently guided her back up the street.

  “She’s right,” he said kindly. “We’ve got to take precautions.”

  “How?”

  “Get every sheet and blanket and sack that you have, and meet me out front of your store.”

  Tempest ground her feet to a stop. “What about your roof?”

  “We’ll get to it second.”

  “Bram?” she protested. She appreciated his help but he would need some too.

  He urged her forward again, his expression full of resolve. “We’ve got to hurry, before it’s too late for either one.”

  Chapter 6

  He’d never felt so warm. Sweat dripped into Bram’s eyes and down his neck as he placed another wet sack on his store’s roof. In the light from the nearby fire, he could see Tempest’s damp hair clinging to her temples. Across the street her roof resembled a patchwork quilt with its hodgepodge of color and cloth.

  “That’s the last one,” she announced, resting back on her heels. “Do you think it will do the trick?”

  “I hope so.” Bram pushed out a sigh. His muscles felt cramped and sore from kneeling on a second rooftop, but he didn’t regret his decision to help Tempest with her store first. The thought of her losing her mercantile and disappearing from his life had prompted his decision earlier. If he lost his store, so be it. He wouldn’t stand by and see Tempest lose hers too.

  “What do we do now, Bram?”

  He eyed the blazing rooftops down the street. “We wait . . . and we pray.”

  A hint of a smile lifted her lips. “I’ve been doing the second one already.”

  “Me too,” he admitted with a half smile of his own. “We probably ought to get down.” Offering her his hand, he guided her to the edge of the roof, where he’d placed his ladder in the alley beside his store.

  Tempest climbed down first and he followed. “I think we work quite well together.” She gestured to the roof above.

  Her words matched the thoughts he’d had since she’d been sick. “We do.”

  Bram reached out and rubbed a smudge of ash from her cheek. There was no one else he preferred working beside like this. Or talking to. Or laughing with. No other woman he loved like this.

  He’d come to a decision just the day before to ask Tempest to partner with him and join their stores. If she didn’t love him as he did her, then he would accept a marriage of convenience with her and hope in time his feelings would be shared.

  “What is it?” She studied him, her head cocked to the side.

  Lifting his hand to cup her neck, he tugged her gently forward. “You are beautiful, Tempest,” he murmured, “inside and out. And I would very much like to kiss you.”

  “Then I think you should,” she murmured.

  His timing might be off, given the fire and the fact that their stores might not survive, but he didn’t want to wait another moment without giving her a glimpse into his feelings. He captured her lips and poured his gratitude and love into the kiss. And Tempest ardently kissed him back.

  A cry from beyond the alley had him stepping back. Bram saw a man gesturing toward the fire. Was it in relief or terror?

  “Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand again. “Let’s see what else we can do to help.”

  They emerged onto the street to see the fire’s greediness had slowed, though not stopped altogether. “We can assist with one of the bucket brigades,” Tempest said. Bram nodded agreement.

  For what felt like several more hours, they passed buckets up the line. At last, flames no longer rose to the sky. Now there was only smoke and ash and the blackened shells of several buildings, including the post office.

  Bram joined Tempest where she sat beside Lydia at the edge of the boardwalk, both women’s faces streaked with soot.

  “I’m so sorry we couldn’t save it, Lydia.” Tempest placed her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “How are you and Calvin holding up?”

  Lydia sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “We’ll be all
right. Especially once we build a new building.”

  “You won’t have to build a new building,” Tempest said, her voice full of conviction.

  “Why ever not?” Lydia asked, voicing the same question running through Bram’s head.

  Tempest lowered her arm to face Lydia directly. “Because I’m giving you my building.”

  “What?” he and Lydia exclaimed at the same time.

  Looking a little less sure of herself, Tempest glanced down. “I want you and Calvin to have it. I was planning on giving it away or selling it, along with . . .” She looked toward Bram. “Along with selling my goods to you, Bram.”

  Did that mean she was leaving? He wasn’t ready for that, would never be ready for that. “Why?” he asked.

  She sighed. “I can’t hold out much longer, but I am hoping to stay in town . . .” Her voice trailed off. There was clearly more she wished to say.

  Climbing to her feet, Lydia smiled kindly at them both. “I believe there are some things you need to discuss, in my absence.” She reached for Tempest’s hand and squeezed it. “Bless you for your offer, my dear friend. I’m going to talk to Calvin about it right now and we’ll let you know if we accept.”

  As Lydia walked away, Bram scooted closer to Tempest. “How come you want to sell me your goods but still stay in town?”

  “Because I have some unfinished business,” she said in a soft voice. “Regarding us.”

  Bram scooped up her hands, his heart drumming faster with hope. “You don’t have to sell them to me, Tempest. I’d already decided tonight to ask you to partner with me, to join stores.” Her eyes widened and he hurried to add, “In a marriage of convenience, if necessary.”

  She frowned and cocked her head, her lovely, wild curls framing her face. “Only a marriage of convenience?”

  • • •

  Tempest watched Bram carefully. Did he love her as much as she loved him? She wanted to believe it, given his wonderful kiss earlier, and yet, he was talking about marrying for convenience only.