by Karen Kirst
“Thank you for your business.” She smiled and waved at the single mother who was her last customer of the day.
Hazel cradled her sack of cornmeal to her chest. “I’ll see you this time next week.”
“Take care.”
Reentering the mill, she grabbed the broom in the corner and started the tedious job of sweeping the floorboards. The spot between her shoulder blades ached from hefting countless bundles of corn into the hopper. Her arms were sore, and her lower back muscles were stiff. Her fatigue couldn’t detract from a solid day of business, though. Impatient to see Eli, she pushed herself to work faster. He’d spent an hour with her before and after lunch. She smiled, remembering his enthusiasm as he’d explored the mill. The gears beneath this floor, visible through gaps in the platform, had mesmerized him.
“What are you smiling about?”
Isabel yelped and almost dropped her broom. “Ben. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Plunging his hands in his pockets, he sauntered to the platform and peered at the gears like Eli had. His profile revealed his subdued mood lingered.
“I didn’t see the Closed sign, and the door was unlocked…” He turned to face her, his gaze hooded. “Was business steady today?”
“Busier than usual, actually.”
He glanced at the high ceiling, the hopper, the even stack of empty sacks. “Does the mill bring in enough income to provide for your family’s needs?”
“That’s a personal matter.”
“I’m not asking for an amount,” he said evenly. “I’m just curious if it’s profitable and if you sell your knives because you have to supplement.”
“You’re meddling, and I don’t like it.” Isabel had no intention of supplying him with answers. “You’re in a strange mood. You have been since our shopping excursion. Care to explain why?”
Ben pulled his hands from his pockets. He walked to where she stood in the far corner and curved his hands around hers where she held the broom handle. Her pulse became erratic. His heat seeped into her skin, and she found she liked the contact.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I’m going to finish sweeping while you go and change.” His husky voice enveloped her like a quilted blanket on a wintry night.
Isabel’s thoughts were muddled by his nearness and the ever-expanding circle of warm tingles his hands on hers generated. She wiggled free of his hold.
“Why should I?” She noticed the stiff white collar at his neck, the black silk puff tie with minute red stripes and the straight line of his suit jacket lapels disappearing beneath the buttons of his overcoat. “Why are you dressed up?” A suspicion hit her. “I hope you don’t think I’m cooking for you tonight because of your prior engagement tomorrow. Your mix-up with Veronica has nothing to do with me.”
His auburn brows wrinkled. “That’s not why I’m here. Isabel, I am sorry I ruined our plans. I would much rather spend the evening with you.”
Isabel hardened her heart against the earnest appeal in his eyes. “Veronica would be crushed to hear you say that.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” he admitted sheepishly. “To be honest, I was preoccupied with locating you during the serenade when she issued the invitation. I didn’t wish to be rude, so I accepted without realizing the nature of her question. I’ve come to grips with a hard truth, thanks to you.” Gripping the broom handle, he became fixated on the floor beneath their feet. The tips of his ears burned red. “You were right. I arrogantly assumed the ladies I spent time with wanted the same thing as me—simple companionship.”
Speechless, she stood rooted to the floor. He had as good as admitted he’d been wrong. What did that mean for the Debonair Deputy?
What does it mean for you?
Nothing. It means nothing. Didn’t you hear him? You can’t be like the others and disregard his bulldog adherence to single life.
“I don’t know what to say.”
Lifting one shoulder in a partial shrug, he began sweeping in short, jerky strokes. “I don’t expect you to say anything. I wanted you to know that now I’ve seen my error, I’m going to fix things.”
Wonderment burgeoned in her chest, along with a heady wave of respect. Admitting mistakes, humbling oneself, wasn’t easy.
“We’re going to be late if you don’t change soon,” he said without looking up.
“Late for what?”
“We agreed to take Eli to Megan’s story time.”
She’d completely forgotten Megan’s invitation. “You could take him yourself.”
He slowly lifted those piercing eyes to hers. “I could, but I don’t think he’d have as good a time without you there. He’s still reticent with me.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Ben was right. “I think his mother instilled fear of authorities in him. We have no way of knowing what type of person she was, especially if his father lives outside the law, as he’s suggested.”
His handsome face revealed nothing of his thoughts. “Could be.”
Isabel considered suggesting Carmen accompany him, but she didn’t want to miss out on this experience with Eli. As she hurried into the cold evening alone, she acknowledged that, despite her best efforts to the contrary, she was starting to care about the deputy. A most unfortunate development.
At the cabin, she asked Honor to help Eli put on clean clothes while she changed into the green dress she’d worn to the serenade. She would’ve left her hair in a braid, but Carmen insisted on brushing out her long locks and arranging it in a more sophisticated upswept style.
“Let’s hope they have mistletoe there.” She winked at Isabel’s reflection in the mirror.
“If they do, I’ll stay clear of it,” she stated with emphasis. “I haven’t been to the Beaumont house before.”
Carmen didn’t blink at the change in subject. “I’ve heard it’s lovely. They apparently have papered walls and crystal chandeliers.” She chose a pair of earrings from the jewelry box and handed them to Isabel. “The gardens are rumored to be the finest in the area.”
Isabel studied her reflection, her fingers trembling as she smoothed a hand over her middle, the stiff bodice stifling her ability to breathe. Or maybe it was the sound of the cabin door opening and closing and the rich tones of Ben’s voice as he greeted Honor and Eli.
“Time for Cinderella to go to the ball,” Carmen declared, enjoying this way too much.
“This isn’t a ball,” Isabel reminded her sister pertly. “This event is for the children.”
“Relax, hermana. You do know it’s okay to have fun once in a while, right?”
Isabel had forgotten what it was like to be lighthearted and free the day she’d learned what her papa was truly like.
They joined the others. Ben rose from where he’d crouched before Eli and scanned her from head to toe, his expression like a closed book. Was he feeling awkward after his admission? Ignoring the nervousness in the pit of her stomach, she went to gather her cloak. She struggling with a pair of older, smaller gloves she’d unearthed in her dresser when a small package appeared in her line of vision.
“Maybe this will help.”
Isabel studied the plain wrapping before angling toward Ben. His gaze unreadable, he motioned for her to take it.
Her pulse tripped. “What’s this?”
“Open it and see.”
Isabel peeled the paper away and uttered a surprised sigh. He’d gotten her gloves. Not just any pair, either. She tested the supple leather and soft wool lining.
“I used your ruined ones to gauge the size,” he explained. “They should fit.”
Eli bounced on his toes. “Mr. Ben brought you an early Christmas present, too.”
“You’re right, he did.”
She didn’t have to look at her sister to see her reac
tion. Carmen would read this as a romantic gesture. It was hardly that, she reassured herself. He felt bad about the ruined gloves and, even though it hadn’t been his fault, had decided to be practical and replace them. She tried them on, inwardly groaning at the comfort and warmth they imparted. Every time she put them on, she’d think of him. And their charged exchange beneath the evergreen trees…the embrace that never was and never could be.
“I’m not sure I should accept them,” she murmured, waggling her fingers. “They couldn’t have been cheap.”
Carmen marched over and patted Ben’s arm. “You’ll have to forgive my sister’s awkward social graces. What she really means to say is you have wonderful taste and your thoughtfulness has scattered her wits.”
Isabel felt heat climbing into her cheeks. Shooting a glare at her impertinent sibling, she forced herself to look at Ben and smile, although it was surely a discomfited one. “She’s right, of course. Your gift was well chosen. Thank you.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
When they’d said goodbye to her sisters and it was just the three of them in the yard, Eli hopped between brown patches of grass. “Will there be a Christmas tree like the one in the mercantile?”
He looked spiffy in his borrowed clothes, his curls somewhat tamed and his face shiny from a recent washing. His eyes got big as Ben boosted him atop Blaze.
“There might be,” Isabel told him. “I know for a fact there will be refreshments.”
“What are refwesh—” He gripped the saddle horn, his nose scrunching. “Refwesh—”
“Refreshments?” Ben said, a smile in his voice. “It’s a fancy word for good food.”
“Oh.”
Isabel approached Honey. Ben had already saddled her. He hauled himself up behind Eli in one graceful move.
“Did you see the decorations?” Eli pointed to the wreaths on the door and windows. “I got to put the ribbons on.”
As he got comfortable in the saddle, Ben admired the greenery. “You did a fine job, little man.”
“I thought you were gonna help, but Isabel said you were too busy.”
Her face felt hot as the deputy’s gaze settled on her. “I would’ve liked to pitch in,” he said slowly, “but she’s right. I have been occupied this week with town business.”
Nudging his horse into a walk, Ben regaled Eli with a few funny accounts of his law-keeping adventures. Isabel held her horse to a slower pace. No reason to feel bad for excluding him. You have to protect yourself. He’s well versed in male-female relationships and proficient at keeping his heart indifferent. You aren’t.
She was a spinster by choice. Her reasoning was sound. Logical. She couldn’t allow this time with Ben to make her forget, even for a second, that marriage wasn’t in her future.
CHAPTER TWELVE
He hadn’t told Isabel the whole truth. Admitting he’d been careless and self-absorbed had been difficult, the decision to do so born of the moment and the need to quell an extraordinary attraction. Alone with her in the mill, Ben had been tempted to kiss her. Since that would’ve been crossing a line he himself had drawn, he’d confessed to the error of his ways.
However, what he hadn’t divulged was the deeper reason he couldn’t continue spending time with Veronica or anyone else—that Isabel had encroached upon his fortified heart to the point he dreamed about surrender. Surrendering his secrets and his pride didn’t strike him as quite so daunting when he considered the possibility of a future with Isabel.
Old hurts stood in his way. The memory of Marianne’s scorn, the shock of her ready dismissal of him and their future, was never far from his thoughts. He’d believed she loved him enough to stick by him no matter what. He’d been a fool. The scandal she’d incited, the one that had provided the impetus for his ultimate move to Gatlinburg, had only added to his despair.
Glancing over at Isabel, Ben accepted that telling her wasn’t an option. Not now, at least, when the matter of Eli’s living arrangements demanded attention. Maybe not ever.
Eli squirmed and fidgeted in the saddle. Ben kept a firm hold on the boy as the horses traveled the winding tree-edged lanes. Dull orange leaves littered the uneven forest floor, an autumn carpet from which thick gray trees grew, their wispy branches like spindly broom ends framed by the off-white sky.
After riding in silence for many minutes, they rounded a bend and the grand yellow Victorian planted atop a rise came into view. The spacious home had once belonged to Lucian Beaumont’s grandfather, who’d been a close friend of Megan’s before his death. Both avid readers, they’d utilized the ample space and vast assortment of books to entertain the local children. Shane had conveyed to Ben that Lucian had arrived in Gatlinburg ready to sell the house, but that he’d wound up falling for Megan before he could. “Is that a castle?” Eli twisted his head to peer up at Ben. “Happy told me about dragons and castles.”
The boy had a bright, active mind. “To my knowledge, castles are made of stone and have turrets and drawbridges. Our nation is too young, but there are many in Europe.”
“Are we going to hear a story about a castle?”
Ben maneuvered his horse past multiple conveyances lining the drive. He glanced over at Isabel, whose smile was solely for Eli’s sake. “I’d guess Miss Megan is planning to read a book about Christmas.”
Eli’s shoulders sagged. Ben patted his knee. “Maybe she has a book about knights and castles she’d let you borrow.”
The boy’s excitement lit up his face. His resiliency amazed Ben. Here he was, without parents or home, and he was doing okay. He was interacting with them and his surroundings with the natural curiosity of any boy his age.
“Will you read it to me?” Eli asked Isabel.
“I’d love to.”
The fondness stamped on her face pricked Ben’s conscience. A knot of dread formed behind his sternum. He couldn’t delay another day. Claude Jenkins hadn’t been the only one to express his thoughts on the subject of Eli’s placement. Reluctant to hurt Isabel, not to mention upset the boy, he’d postponed the conversation. A cowardly act unbecoming of an experienced lawman.
They left the animals with the stable boy and climbed the wide white steps to the door inlaid with fancy scrolled glass. Eli stayed between them, clutching both their hands…like they were a genuine family unit. Yearning for the impossible robbed Ben of breath.
As they were relieved of their coats and ushered into the lushly appointed parlor where mothers and fathers gathered with their children, Ben realized that attending a children’s event hadn’t been his wisest idea. He didn’t belong here.
“Ben. Isabel. I’m so glad you came.” Megan greeted them with a bright smile. Arrayed in an ice-blue ball gown shot through with silver threads, her moonlight curls piled atop her head and adorned with sparkling jewels, she looked like a fairy-tale character come to life. Eli’s mouth was agape as he stared at her in wonder.
“Well, hello, Eli,” she said cheerfully. “We’re about to start. Would you like to come and sit with the other children?”
Instead of answering, he inched closer to Isabel.
A slim, delicate young woman with hair almost the same color as Megan’s crossed the room to join them. Lillian and her brother Patrick had been living with the Beaumonts for five years, ever since they’d fled from their cruel stepfather and hidden in an abandoned shack for many weeks. A temporary stay with the Beaumonts had become permanent.
Pretty and shy, Lillian was a natural with kids of any age. On her hip, she carried the Beaumonts’ latest addition, a two-year-old boy whose parents had dumped him on their town’s church steps when they’d learned he was deaf. Anger burned inside Ben every time he thought about the heartless act. What he wouldn’t give for a child, no matter what challenges he or she faced.
“Eli, this is my daughter Lillian.”
Megan bussed the blond boy’s cheek. “And this is my son Arthur. We call him Artie for short.” Glancing over her shoulder, she pointed to a young girl arrayed in a blue confection similar to Megan’s. “And that’s Rose, our other daughter.”
Lillian greeted Eli, a kind light in her eyes. “Do you like gingerbread men, Eli?”
He nodded.
“My mother’s going to read a book about gingerbread soldiers who defend the candy castle from gumdrop wolves. And afterward, we’re going to eat gingerbread-man cookies that my aunt Jessica baked. How does that sound?”
“I like castles,” he said in a small voice.
A husky laugh slipped out of Isabel, and she lovingly smoothed his curls. Did she realize how often she did that? “I suppose I was wrong,” she told him, her brown eyes dancing. “You will get to hear about castles, after all.”
Lillian gestured toward the large printed rug where children of all ages had found spots. “Would you like to sit with me and Artie?”
Eli considered her offer, then he released his death grip on Isabel and went with Lillian, glancing back over his shoulder to be sure they hadn’t moved from beside the fireplace.
“Deputy, it’s good to have you here. And you as well, Miss Flores.” Lucian greeted Ben and Isabel with a firm handshake. The New Orleans native spoke with a slight French accent. His inky gaze was friendly as he took up position on Isabel’s other side. “Good-looking boy.” He indicated Eli. “It’s a kind thing you’re doing for him.”
“He’s a precious child,” Isabel said quietly. “We’re the ones who’ve been blessed by his presence in our home.”
Lucian’s gaze strayed to his wife and children. “I understand exactly what you mean. I can give you the name of my lawyer when you’re ready. He’s handled our adoptions.”
The start of surprise Ben felt mirrored Isabel’s.
“I didn’t say anything about adopting Eli,” she said.
Lucian’s expression turned knowing. “You didn’t have to.”
Another gentleman waved Lucian over. Once he’d excused himself, Ben touched Isabel’s sleeve. “Is he correct? Are you considering making Eli a permanent part of your family?”