Tomorrow's Garden

by Amanda Cabot

  Pleasure rushed through Lawrence. Was this how knights of yore felt when they’d slain a dragon? “I was only doing my job.”

  Harriet wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you were giving a fatherless boy a bit of parental guidance.”

  “Jake doesn’t want a father.” And Lawrence didn’t want a nearly grown son. “I’d like to think I was serving as an older brother.”

  “Whatever you call it, you’ve set a good example and taught him some valuable lessons. I don’t know what we’ll do when you leave. I know your contract ends in January.”

  “That’s true.” Oddly, Lawrence hadn’t thought about the end of his term recently. At one point, he had been counting the weeks until his contract was over. Now he found himself thinking about the construction of the bridge and the speech he knew he’d have to deliver at the Independence Day celebration. He’d even wondered whether Harriet would change the format of the Christmas pageant next year.

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “I won’t leave until Jake has paid for Karl’s buggy and I’ve caught Zach Webster’s rustlers. I owe you both that much.”

  “Thank you.” Harriet’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “My grandmother taught me not to pry, but one question’s been bothering me ever since my family and I arrived here, and only you can answer it.”

  Lawrence slowed their pace, not wanting to arrive at the carpentry shop until they’d finished this discussion. He wasn’t certain what surprised him most, the fact that something had perplexed Harriet or that she had waited so long to ask. “What is it?”

  “Your contract.” Color rose to her cheeks, as if the question embarrassed her. “Why is it so short? I thought most contracts were like mine, for at least a year.”

  He should have known that she’d recognize the discrepancy. Lawrence was silent for a moment, debating what to tell her. “I insisted on the short time frame,” he told her. Deciding that she deserved the whole truth, he added, “I didn’t want to come to Ladreville, because it reminded me of a downright embarrassing time in my life.” When she said nothing, simply looked up at him with those big gray eyes, he said, “I had been infatuated with a woman, and I didn’t want to have to face her again.”

  “Priscilla.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “How did you know?”

  “Things were awkward between you two the night we all had supper at the Canfields’ ranch. Ruth thought you were in love with her.”

  Lawrence shook his head, determined that Harriet understand. “Never. I confused sympathy with love, but I was never in love with Priscilla. It was like a schoolboy’s infatuation, nothing more serious. For a while, though, the very thought of how I’d acted made me cringe.”

  He’d expected her to murmur something sympathetic. What he didn’t expect was Harriet’s saying, “I know. I made the same mistake myself. At first I believed I was in love, but then I realized how mistaken I’d been, and I felt like a fool.”

  “You could never be a fool.”

  She chuckled. “I hope to never repeat the experience, but, yes, Lawrence, I was a fool. I thought he loved me.”

  Though she laughed again, this time it was a brittle laugh, and Lawrence heard the undercurrent of pain. They had reached the end of rue du Marché and turned right onto Potomac, leaving only a hundred yards to William Goetz’s shop. Though Lawrence wanted to say something, anything, so that Harriet knew she was loveable, the timing was all wrong. This was neither the time nor the place for a declaration of his feelings.

  As his eyes adjusted to the comparative darkness, Lawrence heard Jake’s voice. “Harriet, what are you doing here?” Surprise mingled with what sounded like annoyance. Did Jake find his sister’s visit an intrusion? Though the carpenter’s shop was open to the public, and members of the community would wander in to view William’s projects, Lawrence hadn’t considered the possibility that Jake might not want Harriet to see him at work.

  “I thought she should see what you’ve done.” Lawrence emphasized the first word, trying to ensure that Jake knew Harriet was not to blame. Though she was smiling again, he did not want to be responsible for causing her any more pain.

  “All right.” Though Jake’s voice sounded grudging, Lawrence heard the undercurrent of fear and realized that he was nervous. He wanted Harriet’s approval but wasn’t certain he would receive it.

  “Back here.” Jake led the way to the rear of the shop. As they passed him, the town’s carpenter looked up and nodded briefly, then returned his attention to the chest he was constructing. “Here it is.” Casually, as if Harriet’s opinion mattered not a whit, Jake gestured toward the stable he’d built.

  His sister’s response was instantaneous. “Oh, Jake!” Harriet ran her hand over one side of the small building. “This is so much more than I expected.” Though the shape was unmistakable, instead of the crudely hewn planks that might have formed a working stable, this one boasted finely finished wood. Ducking her head as she entered the child-sized building, Harriet crouched down to touch the manger. “It’s beautiful.”

  William Goetz laid down his plane and joined the others. Of medium height with light brown hair and eyes, the carpenter had no distinctive features, and yet when he smiled, a man knew he could trust him. That was one of the reasons Lawrence had asked him to employ Jake.

  “This young man shows promise,” William told Harriet, placing a proprietary hand on her brother’s shoulder. “If he wants to become a carpenter, I would be willing to have him apprentice with me.”

  Jake’s intake of breath told Lawrence this was the first he’d heard of the offer. It was a generous one, for William had been one of the citizens who hadn’t wanted Jake inside his shop for fear the boy would destroy it. It had taken Lawrence’s personal pledge of restitution before William agreed to train Jake.

  Harriet gave the carpenter a warm smile before flashing another at Lawrence. “Thank you both,” she said, her expression lighter than Lawrence had seen it in weeks.

  “What about me? Don’t I deserve some thanks?” The boy in question put his hands on his hips and glared at his sister. “I did the work.”

  “Yes, you did. Thank you, Jake.” She gave the manger another soft pat before she left the stable. “This will make the pageant extra special. What a talented brother I have.”

  A flush colored Jake’s face, and he dipped his head in embarrassment. “So, Mr. Wood,” he said in an obvious attempt to deflect the attention from himself, “are you looking forward to Christmas at our house? Ruth’s mincemeat pie is the best.”

  Christmas at the Kirk house? What was Jake talking about? Lawrence turned toward Harriet, his raised eyebrows telegraphing his questions.

  She shrugged. “I had planned to invite you, but Jake has beaten me to it.” Harriet gave her brother a fond look before her gaze settled back on Lawrence. “My family and I request the pleasure of your company on Christmas Day.” She delivered the invitation with admirable formality, her diction reminding Lawrence of the descriptions of town criers in several of the books she’d lent him. Before he could reply, she added, “As Jake said, Ruth’s pies are delicious, and so is the rest of her meal.”

  Lawrence swallowed deeply as he considered the generosity of Harriet’s offer. Other than the day when he’d ordered the surprise for Harriet, deciding it would be an ideal Christmas gift, he hadn’t thought much about the holiday. It was true it would be his first in Ladreville, his first as the town’s mayor and sheriff, but he had assumed he would spend it as he had the past three or four Christmases: alone. Thanks to Harriet, he would not. Perhaps she was only being neighborly. Perhaps this was her way of thanking him for helping Jake. Then again, perhaps the invitation meant that she enjoyed his company as much as he did hers. Lawrence could only hope that was the case.

  “Are you certain?”

  Harriet nodded. “Yes. We all want you to come. Isn’t that right, Jake?”

  The boy scuffed the floor with his toe, releasing the pungent smell
of freshly cut wood as his boot crushed some shavings. “Yeah. I mean, yes, ma’am.” Confused, Jake added, “Yes, sir.” When no one spoke, he blurted out, “Yes, somebody.” Laughter met his words.

  “Thank you. I’d be honored.” Lawrence felt his spirits rise. The Ladreville grapevine, which prided itself on its accuracy, must be wrong. It appeared that Karl was not courting Harriet, for if he were, surely they would spend Christmas Day together.

  Lawrence grinned.

  “Oh, Miss Kirk, the pageant was wonderful,” Madame Seurat gushed. The first performance had ended, and the parents gathered in the back of the French church to congratulate the players.

  Though she knew they would be tempted to rush toward their parents, Harriet had insisted that the children leave single file, starting with the youngest members of the cast.

  “But this isn’t school,” Eva had wailed, obviously anxious for Isabelle and Gunther’s praise.

  “It’s important to have an orderly exit, no matter where you are,” Harriet had explained. As more groans ensued, she relented and allowed them to leave in pairs. She waited until the children had had some time for felicitations before she walked toward the narthex, where she was soon surrounded by adults.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Madame Seurat continued. “Marie was thrilled to be one of the angels. Her papa and I call her our little angel, but seeing her in that costume . . .” Her voice broke. “Why, it brought tears to my eyes. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Half an hour later, when the Frenchwoman’s praise had been repeated dozens of times and the church was beginning to empty, Lawrence made his way to Harriet’s side. “Everyone seems to think this was the best idea since Ladreville was founded,” he said softly.

  Though she felt as limp as a wet rag, Harriet managed a smile. The performance had gone well. The French church had been packed with proud parents and curious townspeople, none of whom seemed to notice the mistakes. It had been good that Ruth was seated behind the pulpit to prompt the children, because, as Harriet had predicted, a number forgot their lines. One shepherd dropped his crook, and a wise man carried his gift upside down. But those were minor imperfections, and no one minded. What mattered was that Ladreville’s children had taken part in a story of timeless beauty.

  Harriet looked up at Lawrence and smiled. Dressed in his Sunday finery, he was by far the most handsome man in town. Of course, it didn’t matter what he wore. Even in workday clothes, he was the most handsome man in town. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Jake did the work.”

  Harriet disagreed. “I wasn’t simply referring to the stable and the manger.” Although they had been widely admired after the performance. She had watched her brother preen when several of the men had clapped him on the shoulder in approbation. “I heard how you convinced the townspeople to create a pageant fund so that Isabelle’s parents were repaid for their goods and William didn’t have to donate the wood. That was very kind of you, Lawrence.”

  “The pageant is for everyone in Ladreville. I thought everyone should have a chance to be part of it.” He shrugged as if the task of convincing the town to loosen their purse strings had been insignificant. Harriet was certain it had not been easy, particularly this year when they’d already agreed to an extra assessment to construct the bridge and when stories of the Panic made people more cautious than normal. The country’s widespread financial worries were part of the reason Harriet was grateful that the Rousseaus and William Goetz would be reimbursed for their costs.

  “Once again, I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “I’m your friend,” Lawrence said, looking down at the petite woman who figured in so many of his dreams. “Friends help friends.”

  “Then thank you, friend.”

  Harriet extended her hand. Though he knew she meant for him to shake it, Lawrence raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss on the back. It wasn’t what he wanted to do. What he wanted was to draw her into his arms and hold her close; what he wanted was to kiss her lips and caress her soft skin, but this was not the time or place.

  18

  Thomas frowned at the sound of church bells. It was all her fault. Here it was, Christmas Eve. He should have been home, sleeping in a warm bed. Instead he was halfway between Ladreville and Fortune in a town so small he didn’t bother to learn its name, watching people stream into the church. He knew what the minister would say, for he’d heard Uncle Abe recite the story so often he had it memorized. They’d all smile at the story of a babe in Bethlehem, and then they’d sing hymns, praising the infant Jesus. And when it was over, they’d go home to succulent feasts, while he was stuck out here, facing another night of sleeping on the cold ground.

  Thomas slowed his horse as he considered his actions. What he needed was money, but it didn’t look like anyone in this miserable town had much. Oh, he could search a few houses, looking for a hidden stash, but there was no point in risking being caught, not when it seemed there wasn’t enough silver here to matter. Still, there was no reason to sleep outdoors tonight. If he played his cards right, he could get a hot meal and a soft bed. Christmas made folks generous. When they learned his plight, the tale of a man with no place to sleep would remind them of the story they’d just heard, the one about a family forced to stay in a stable because there was no room at the inn. He nodded. That’s what he’d do. Hitching his horse, he made his way into the crowded church.

  An hour later, Thomas grinned. The ploy had worked exactly as he’d expected. In truth, it had worked far better than he’d expected. He’d chosen a seat next to a couple with graying hair and no children nearby. Experience told him they’d be the easiest marks. When they’d introduced themselves after the service, he’d let slip the fact that he was passing through, embellishing the story with the tale of his horse’s injury keeping him from spending this holy night with his invalid uncle. They’d believed it, lock, stock, and barrel. Before he could say “Merry Christmas,” they’d invited him to follow them home. That was what he’d hoped for. But they had given him something else—something far more important than a night’s rest. As they’d left the church, the woman had murmured to her husband.

  “We need to stop at the school,” the old man, who turned out to be the schoolmaster, explained. “My wife wants to be sure we have enough candles.” The words were innocent. The schoolmaster and his wife had no way of knowing that they’d triggered new thoughts in Thomas’s mind. The school. Things stored there. Of course. That was where Harriet had hid her money. He’d been looking in the wrong place. Exultation raced through his veins. Tomorrow morning he’d head back to Ladreville, and this time he wouldn’t be leaving empty-handed. No, sirree.

  Thomas grinned. You couldn’t ask for a better Christmas gift than that.

  “I’ll get it.” The excitement in Ruth’s voice when she heard the knock on the door made Harriet turn from the table she was arranging and study her sister. Today Ruth looked prettier than ever, but that, Harriet suspected, was not because of her new dress, nor did the flush that colored her face owe much to the heat of the oven. Ever since they’d decided to invite Lawrence and Sterling to spend Christmas Day with them, Ruth had seemed more animated than Harriet could remember. Today, she was practically sparkling as she tossed her pinafore aside and rushed to the front door.

  She was too slow.

  “Merry Christmas!” Mary tugged the door open and greeted the family’s guests. The gust of cool air mingled with the heady scents of pine and candle wax. Though Harriet would not allow the candles on the tree to burn all night, as Isabelle had said was the custom in Ladreville, she had agreed that they could be lighted during the day, so long as someone was nearby.

  “Merry Christmas.” Sterling and Lawrence formed a duet as Ruth ushered them into the parlor.

  Harriet laid the last plate on the table and joined the rest of the family in time to hear Mary shriek. “Presents! You brought presents!” She pointed toward the bulging sack that Lawr
ence carried.

  Harriet stared at the tall, handsome man who was grinning like a schoolboy. When she’d seen him earlier today at the Christmas morning service, he had said nothing about presents. “Oh, Lawrence, you shouldn’t have.” While it was true that she had wrapped a gift for him, suspecting it might be the only one he would receive, she had not expected him to bring anything.

  Unexpected tears pricked her eyelids, and her heart warmed at the thought that Lawrence had taken the time to choose items for her family. His gifts would help make the day special.

  Lawrence shrugged, the action emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders. Though his frock coat was not the latest style, a point Isabelle had made the first time she had seen him in church, Harriet thought it suited him. Lawrence did not need fashion to enhance his rugged good looks.

  He gave Harriet a quick smile. “Sterling and I wanted to express our gratitude for being included in your holiday.” When the expression on the minister’s face said he knew nothing about the packages Lawrence had deposited near the tree, the warmth that had gathered in Harriet’s heart spread throughout her body. How kind it was for Lawrence to pretend that Sterling had been part of the gift-buying process. Though others might consider him brusque and intimidating, this was the true Lawrence: thoughtful and generous. This was the same man who’d sent tingles all the way to her shoulder when he’d pressed his lips to the back of her hand. Harriet had lain awake most of that night reliving not the pageant but Lawrence’s kiss. Now he was here in her home, sharing this special day. Truly, it was good that she’d brought her family to Ladreville, for how else would she have met this wonderful man?