Wishing on Buttercups

by Miralee Ferrell

  Beth plopped it down on his knees. “It’s your story, and it’s only right you open it.”

  “What?” He stared at her, not certain he’d heard correctly. “You waited long enough.” He placed it back in her hands and leaned over the parcel. He inhaled the scent of jasmine, and his heart turned over. Her hair brushed his cheek, sending a ripple of desire through his body. Right now he’d give anything to take this woman in his arms and kiss her. “Please go ahead. Besides, I’m guessing the illustrations you drew are what will make my story shine.”

  Beth searched his face, then nodded. “All right.” Slowly she peeled back the wrapper and revealed the front cover of The Women’s Eastern Magazine. She gasped.

  Jeffery leaned closer. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Beth held out the magazine with shaking hands. “My picture.” She stared at the illustration of the boardinghouse set in a grove of trees.

  His brows hunched together. “What?”

  “This.” She held it up. “It’s mine.” Never had she dreamed they’d use her picture on the cover of this prestigious magazine. “And both of our names are at the bottom.”

  Jeffery took it and gazed at the drawing. Long seconds ticked by. Finally, he raised his head, and deep admiration shone from his eyes. “Amazing. Your work will sell out this issue.”

  Beth exhaled in relief. “You really think so?”

  “Yes.” He placed the periodical back on her lap. “Let’s see if there’s more.”

  Realization tempered the joy dancing inside. “I’m so sorry. I was caught up in the excitement of seeing the cover and forgot to look for your story. If it weren’t for your book, my art wouldn’t have been so prominently displayed.”

  “Not true. Your work will stand the test of time, whether it is attached to a book or on its own. Never doubt that, Beth.”

  Warmth stole into her cheeks, and she ducked her head.

  He placed a finger under her chin, tipping it up. “I am very serious. You are a talented woman.”

  The touch of his hand sent shivers running through her body. Was it right to feel this way? She hadn’t seen Brent the past couple of days and had come away from their last meeting more confused than ever. He’d sworn he’d been ill the day she’d waited at the restaurant and hadn’t been able to send word. She didn’t know what to think, and now Jeffery’s touch and nearness created a response she’d never thought she’d feel again.

  “What’s wrong, Beth?” He released her chin. “You look so sad. Can I help?”

  Beth started and pulled back. Those were the exact words she had said to Brent. He had denied anything was wrong, but the comments about his finances belied his adamant words. Why did she have to compare everything Jeffery did to Brent?

  “Nothing,” she managed. “I’m sorry. I guess I felt bad that we haven’t looked at your story yet.”

  It wasn’t a lie, but Jeffery frowned. An ache filled her chest, but there was no turning back time. Moving forward was best. The last thing she cared to do was let him know she’d been thinking of Brent, even if the comparison had leaned in Jeffery’s favor. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

  Beth thumbed through the pages until a bold heading caught her eye: “Frontier Friendships.”

  “Jeffery.” She breathed the word and ran her fingertips over the paper. “Look.” Awe filled her at the sight of his words in print. Having her illustration on the front was a thrill, but seeing the opening lines of Jeffery’s work was something more. Honored and privileged were the two words that came to mind—especially having her art woven together with his story. It really was true that things happened in real life that almost seemed too far-fetched to put in a story. Who would believe that two people would end up living in the same house and be hired by the same magazine located two thousand miles away? And, on top of that, to put the two together, each to complement the other? It was almost unbelievable.

  Jeffery hadn’t moved since she’d placed the double-page spreads in his hands. He looked up, wonder shining from his dark eyes. “They put it in the center.” He flipped to the next page. “Five pages in all. Amazing. The first three chapters are here, along with two of your drawings.”

  She squinted and looked closer. “Two? I sent them four.”

  He swiveled the magazine so she could see it better. “They repeated the one of the house from the cover and this one of the valley, town, and mountains in the distance. You did a wonderful representation of Baker City. Anyone living here would recognize it.”

  Her heart sank. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Do you think readers will assume I live here?”

  He frowned. “Not necessarily. Would it bother you if they did?”

  Beth shrugged. “I suppose it wouldn’t be terrible, but I’ve tried to stay anonymous. That’s why I use a pen name.”

  “I still don’t quite understand that. Aren’t you proud of what you do? You’re so talented. I’d think you’d want everyone to know what you are capable of.”

  She pulled away and settled against the sofa. Since meeting Jeffery, her confidence had risen, but she’d never told him her full story. He didn’t know about the ugly scars she still carried. She rubbed her forearm, feeling the raised flesh through the fabric, and ducked her head. “It’s … complicated, Jeffery.”

  A gentle touch on her hair turned her around. Jeffery smiled. “Why don’t you believe in yourself, Beth? What are you so afraid of?” He took the hand that covered the hideous spot on her arm. “Won’t you let me help?”

  The silence stretched out, and Beth forgot to breathe.

  Jeffery leaned closer, his gaze capturing her own. “I care about you, Beth.”

  She closed her eyes and felt his lips brush hers, ever so gently. She swayed toward him, suddenly longing to be held in his arms. His care ignited a smoldering fire that all of her months of caring for Brent had never stirred.

  The front door banged open, and Aunt Wilma strode into the foyer. “Hello, anyone home?”

  Warmth rushed into Beth’s face. “I’m sorry—so sorry.” She stood with effort. “I’m not what you think. Forgive me.” She felt as though hounds nipped at her skirt, snapping with sharp fangs at her tender flesh. Almost running, she dashed up the stairs and into her room, leaving Jeffery to deal with the rash of questions her aunt was certain to have.

  “But I thought you didn’t have to go back to Baker City until the new bank is finished?” Isabelle hated the way her body shook and tried to steady her voice. She wasn’t ready for Steven to leave yet. Her strength ebbed and flowed like the tides she’d read about in a book but had never been privileged to see. Only one of the many regrets of her life.

  Steven kissed her forehead, then straightened with a weary sigh. “I know, but we need a place to live if we’re going to move there. The bank doesn’t provide housing, and the town is growing faster than the buildings can be erected. We may have to stay in a hotel until we find something better.”

  “Then why go now? Can’t we load the wagon and arrive before your job starts, and find something then?” She settled deeper into her rocker and tucked the lap robe around her waist. It seemed she was always cold nowadays, as they were well into fall with winter fast approaching in this high mountain valley.

  Her son eased onto the only other chair in the living area of the cramped cabin. “I don’t want to put you through that, Ma. And it wouldn’t make sense to take all our belongings if we don’t know where we’ll live when we arrive. I need to do this. I’m sorry.”

  Isabelle nodded. “I suppose you’re right. How long do you reckon you’ll be gone this time?”

  “They want me to look over the progress at the bank, so I’ll be tied up two or three days with that, plus travel. No more than a week, at worst.”

  “All right. Karen and Ina promised to stop in and keep me company. I wish I could go with you and see
what it’s like. Get prepared, if you know what I mean?”

  “I do, but you’re not strong enough. The move will be hard. We’ll camp on the trail one night if the travel wears you out.” He sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t take this job. La Grande is growing too. I’m sure I can find something better here if I try.”

  “No.” Isabelle said the word with more force than she’d planned, but if she hadn’t done so, she’d have grabbed on to his offer and not let go. She didn’t want to leave her home, even though it wasn’t large or fancy. Her friends were here, and leaving the farm a few years ago when her second husband died had almost done her in. The grief of his loss, leaving the land they both loved and couldn’t afford to hold on to, along with her ongoing illness, had almost put her into an early grave. “I won’t have you give up your opportunity for me. There’s no telling how many more months or years I have on this earth, and it’s not going to be wasted holding you back from your chosen career.”

  “Don’t talk that way, Ma. You’re going to get well, and you aren’t holding me back. We’ll keep this cabin, and if you’re not happy in Baker City, we’ll return. I won’t stay any longer than I have to, and we’ll talk it over again next week.” He pushed to his feet. “I love you and want what’s best for you too.”

  “Thank you, Son. I’m so blessed God didn’t take you when your father died.”

  “I wish I could remember him better.” Steven straightened. “Most of my memories are with Papa Garvey instead of Father.”

  “He would have been proud of you, as am I.” She waved her hand toward the door. “Now, get along with you so you don’t miss the stage, and I’ll see you when you come back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Beth had to make a decision; she could wait no longer. After her talk with Jeffery, she’d left a note at the hotel desk telling Brent that she’d meet him this morning. She’d thought she’d loved Brent for so long that she wasn’t sure what to do with the growing affection for Jeffery. The memory of Jeffery’s tender kiss created an ache that extended clear to the tips of her toes.

  They had more in common than she’d realized when they’d first met. She had thought him a stuffy, self-absorbed man with his head always in a book but had come to recognize a tender, humorous side. But that kiss put expectations and desires on the table that she didn’t care to face at the moment.

  She gazed across the restaurant at the doorway, wondering if Brent would come. A number of things he’d said and done didn’t add up, and over the past few days her misgivings had grown. She was tired of sneaking around and keeping things from her aunt, and the thought that Jeffery might stumble on her and Brent again convulsed her stomach.

  Brent wove his way through the tables and stopped beside her. He doffed his hat, then slipped into his chair. “You look lovely. I’m sorry I’m late. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”

  “Not at all. Only five minutes or so.”

  “Good.” He picked up a menu card and scanned it. “What would you like?”

  She lifted a brow. “I’m not terribly hungry, and I know you need to save your money to pay your mother’s debts.”

  A smile emerged. “Nonsense. If we can’t enjoy money occasionally, what good is it?”

  “You seem in an exceptional mood today. Has something happened?”

  He placed the card on the table. “I have a wonderful business opportunity that could get me out of debt and put me in very good shape financially.”

  A waitress stopped by their table. “What can I get for you folks?”

  Beth touched the rim of the cup sitting on a saucer. “Tea, please.”

  Brent nodded. “I’ll have black coffee and a slice of your rhubarb pie. How about you, Beth? Something sweet to go with your tea?”

  “No, but thank you just the same.”

  The waitress returned and set the coffee and pie in front of Brent, then filled Beth’s cup with tea.

  As the woman walked away, Beth took a sip of her tea. “Tell me about this new business venture.”

  “It’s a chance to invest in a new mine. I stand to make a large sum of money. In fact, it would give me the start I’ve needed and enable me to take care of you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I wasn’t going to do this yet, Beth, but I can’t help myself.” He gripped her hand across the table. “I love you and want to marry you. I want to care for you the rest of our lives.” He hesitated and dipped his head. “There’s one small problem.”

  She withdrew her hand and sat back, tucking it in her lap. Apprehension jolted her at Brent’s declaration. “And what problem would that be?”

  He mustered a smile. “Is something wrong?”

  Everything stilled inside her.

  “Wait.”

  For what? She wasn’t sure, but she remained quiet, trying to listen for that familiar inner voice.

  “Beth?” Urgency filled his voice.

  Glasses clinked at a nearby table, reminding her they weren’t alone. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I would like to understand what you are saying. It didn’t quite sound like a proposal, somehow. Not if there’s a problem attached.”

  His mouth drew down in a frown. “Of course it’s a proposal. I said I love you. Don’t you believe me?”

  In the past Beth would have nodded and given her heartfelt assurance, but not today. There was a distinct hesitation inside and that continuing sense she needed to wait. “Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you first?”

  Brent leaned back with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I suppose I understand your caution, since I hinted at a problem. I should have left that until later and simply asked you to marry me.”

  She gave a short nod. “Now go ahead and explain.”

  “This investment is a once-in-a-lifetime prospect, and the owner is pressing me to put the money down fast, or he’ll move on to the next investor.”

  “How fast does he expect it?”

  “In two weeks.” His gaze dropped.

  “I see.”

  “Beth?” His lips thinned. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  Beth narrowed her eyes. Discouragement and shame covered Brent’s face. Was it possible she’d misjudged him? “Please go ahead.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want anything to come between us.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t want to lose you. No amount of money is worth that to me.”

  A chair scraped across the wood floor at the nearby table, and a man rose, helping a woman to her feet. Beth focused back on the matter at hand. “I don’t understand.”

  He sat back and stroked his chin. “I don’t have enough money. I poured everything into my mother’s debts. It’s only a matter of time until I am back on my feet. If this offer had come six months from now, it wouldn’t be a problem. As it is …” He shrugged and spread his hands.

  “You don’t have enough.” Beth nodded, understanding dawning. He hoped she could help. Or maybe her aunt. “Were you expecting me to ask Aunt Wilma for a loan?”

  He winced. “Never. But I thought … never mind.”

  “What? Brent, be honest with me. Quit talking in circles.”

  “Fine.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re twenty years old. I assume you’ll come into money when you turn twenty-one. I hoped you might borrow against that and loan me the money. It wouldn’t take long for me to pay you back.” Brent paused. “And, of course, if we marry soon, it wouldn’t matter.”

  “I see.” A chill descended over her, and she shivered.

  “Wait.”

  There was that internal caution again. She wasn’t any closer to understanding than she had been the first time she’d heard it, but heeding it would be wise. “You said you have two weeks?”

  “Yes. I need to give t
he man an answer.”

  “I will pray about it.” Beth reached for her reticule and slipped the loop over her wrist. “It’s getting late. I should be going.”

  His face fell. “Pray about it? Why?”

  Surprise encompassed her. Why had she never realized they hadn’t discussed God or Brent’s relationship with Him? She’d assumed he was a Christian, as he’d attended a church in Topeka. But the more she saw of life, the more she realized church attendance meant little. Brent had never talked about faith in God. “It will help me decide the right path to take. Don’t you ever pray?”

  Annoyance darkened his countenance. “I’ve never seen it do much good or why it matters. When you marry me, I’d think you’d want me to succeed.”

  Beth lifted her chin. “I beg your pardon, but it matters very much to me. And I didn’t say I would marry you.”

  Contrition softened his features, and he reached for her hand again, but she yanked it away. “I spoke without thinking. Take all the time you need. I understand if you want to pray about it.” His eyes searched hers. “But you can trust me. I love you, and I’d never do anything to harm you.”

  “I didn’t say you would. I’m not sure why you’d speak so, Brent.” The root of suspicion expanded.

  His attention darted around the room. “No reason at all. I suppose I’m nervous, wanting you to say yes to my proposal. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Which proposal? For my hand in marriage, or for my money?” She leveled him with a steady gaze. He had no way of knowing she had no inheritance, but she did have a tidy amount put away from the sale of her illustrations, with more coming. “What if I were to tell you I have no inheritance? Would you still want to marry me?”

  His face paled. “I told you the money doesn’t matter.”

  Beth plucked her shawl off the back of her chair. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at the same time. Good day, Brent.” She didn’t look back as she walked from the room.