by Karen Kirst
“We can talk to Grant together. Get his advice.” He noticed her sideways glance. “Eli’s invited, too, Isabel. You’re a pair. A package.”
Because she was hungry for answers, she found herself in the Parkers’ home a half an hour later. Jessica made Isabel and Eli feel welcome, treating them as if they were frequent guests. While the men situated the horses in the barn, Jessica enlisted Eli’s help in preparing the table. Isabel set to work, as well, slicing up the roast while her hostess transferred vegetables and rolls to serving dishes.
When they were in place around the table and enjoying the delicious meal, Grant proved a competent host, keeping the conversation light and interesting. He was a considerate man, as astute as he was handsome. That he included Eli when many adults would’ve ignored him sealed Isabel’s high opinion of Ben’s closest friend. His obvious devotion to his wife filled Isabel with a curious yearning for something she’d long spurned…a loving husband of her own.
She’d known that not every family was as miserable as hers had been. She’d seen evidence that some marriages thrived. Being in Grant and Jessica’s home, talking with them, witnessing their happiness up close, pierced her already thin armor.
Ben caught her staring at the couple—how could she not, when their love and devotion practically permeated the air around them—and lifted his brows in question.
Isabel dropped her gaze to her plate. How embarrassing if he guessed the truth. She struggled to combat the intimacy of the situation, the false sense of connectedness she felt with him. They weren’t here together because they were courting. They were here on official business. She’d do well to remember that.
* * *
He’d never held a sleeping child.
Ben shifted to a more comfortable position on the cushions, one arm anchored around Eli. The ladies had insisted on clearing off the table and suggested they retire to the living room to wait for dessert and coffee. Almost as soon as Ben had claimed a spot on one end of the delicate new settee, the boy had climbed onto his lap and laid his head on his chest. For a split second, Ben had gone still, his breath frozen in his lungs. Eli’s initial reticence had waned, but he hadn’t exhibited this level of trust before. It hadn’t taken him long to doze off. The simple act had humbled Ben, and his protective instincts had intensified.
“You’re a natural with him, you know.”
Seated on one of two matching chairs angled toward the settee, Grant crossed his arms over his chest, stretched out his legs and hooked one ankle over the other.
Ben leveled him a warning glare, but he wasn’t deterred.
“It’s the truth,” he said innocently. “Anyone can see that a bond has formed between you.”
“I have a responsibility to see that he’s taken care of.”
Grant narrowed his gaze. “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
Eli’s soft curls tickled the underside of Ben’s chin, and he released a heavy sigh. “You’re right, he’s more than that.”
The ladies’ muted chatter filtered in from the kitchen. Satisfied he wouldn’t be overheard, he said, “I care about what happens to him.”
“You care about him,” Grant countered. “And he’s not the only one you care about.”
Ben had no way of escape, not without disturbing Eli. “You can stop now.”
“Ben, listen to me—”
“This subject isn’t up for discussion. Nothing has changed.”
Ben studied their decorated tree in the corner. The edges of the gold foil ornaments faded, the colors blurring together. He had developed feelings for Isabel. But he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t recover what ground he’d lost. Someday he’d settle Eli’s guardianship and he’d walk away. He’d adjust to seeing Isabel and the boy on Sundays and occasionally in town. He’d watch over them from afar. And if Shane came back before this case was solved, then Ben would hand it over to him.
“You’re the most hardheaded person I know,” Grant said, his frustration unmistakable.
Footsteps announced the ladies’ approach. Jessica bore a tray with a tea service and cups. Behind her, Isabel balanced a stack of plates and handful of forks. Her dark eyes soaked in the sight of Eli asleep on his lap and softened with unnamable emotion.
“Who’s hardheaded?” Jessica inquired as Grant leaped up to assist her. “Surely you weren’t talking about Ben. That would’ve been like the pot calling the kettle black.”
Chuckling, Grant centered the tray on the low table. Jessica retrieved the dessert.
Catching Ben’s wide-eyed gaze, Isabel said, “Looks like a work of art, doesn’t it? Jessica called it a coconut flummery.”
Jessica’s smile was modest. “It’s an old recipe that dates to the War Between the States. Sponge cake on the bottom, topped with custard and then meringue mixed with coconut shreds. Time-consuming, but not difficult.”
Ben shook his head. “You spoil him, you know that?”
Instead of refuting it, the couple grinned at each other.
“Would you like me to take him so you can eat?” Isabel said, gesturing to Eli.
“I don’t mind waiting. Besides, he’s comfortable where he is.”
“Yes, he certainly seems so.” She looked thoughtful.
Jessica doled out the pieces, setting aside one for Ben. They discussed the upcoming Christmas play and the celebrations the O’Malleys had planned. Halfway through her dessert, Jessica got a strange look and covered her mouth.
Grant shifted forward to place his cup on the table. “What’s the matter?”
“I—” She abruptly shot to her feet. “Excuse me.”
She rushed to the kitchen and out the back door. Grant cast them a worried look. “I’ll go check on her.”
“Yes, of course, go.”
Seated on the sofa with at least a foot of space between them, Isabel radiated confusion. “I wonder what’s wrong. She seemed fine. In good spirits, even.”
Ben knew the reason for Jessica’s hasty dash outdoors…plenty of expectant women suffered from queasy constitutions. He looked over at Isabel, the urge to smooth the pleat marring her brow difficult to resist. She was wearing another somber blouse with matching drop earrings. She looked crisp, neat and schoolmarm prim. That was a veneer she wore to deter men’s attentions. Ben had experienced firsthand the warm, ardent, at times spirited woman she truly was.
“I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”
She angled toward him. “Do you think it was something we ate?” Her raven brows dipped low. “I feel fine. Do you feel all right?”
He nodded. “There was nothing wrong with the food, Isa.”
Grant reentered the house and poked his head into the living room. “She wanted me to tell you she got a bit overheated. I’m going to take her a damp cloth.”
He bustled about the kitchen. When the door closed again, Isabel didn’t attempt to hide her bafflement. “Overheated? It’s forty degrees outside.”
“Maybe she’s hot natured?” He winced at the rise in his voice.
Isabel cocked her head to one side, her heavy black braid sliding across the cotton material. “You know something, don’t you?”
He swallowed hard and smoothed a gentle hand over Eli’s curls.
She rested her hand over her heart. “Please tell me there’s nothing seriously wrong with her.”
“Isabel—”
“Jessica’s young and healthy. And Grant adores her. If anything were to happen to her—”
“She’s pregnant.”
The words spilled out of his mouth in a bald statement.
“Oh.” Her eyes went wide.
Ben watched the news sink in. Wonder and surprise shifted to wistfulness. His throat constricted. She shared the same aspirations as almost every other woman on the pl
anet.
* * *
“Tell me something. If you were to find a man who was able to meet your lofty standards, how many would you want?”
Something painful shadowed her face. “I’m not getting married, remember?”
“Humor me.”
“Three,” she said shyly, her focus on Eli. “Maybe four.”
Ben nodded as if her admission hadn’t gutted him.
“What about you?”
Me? Oh, I can’t have children. I’m sterile.
“I’m in the same boat at you. I’m a bachelor for life.”
“But if you were to meet a woman worth giving up your freedom for?”
I already have. She deserves a whole man, one who can give her what I can’t.
Since his reality was zero, he threw out an unlikely answer. “Six. Eight. Ten. The more the merrier.”
Isabel went still. “You’re serious?”
The problem was he could picture a life with her. Him, Isabel and Eli. A houseful of fat babies, chubby-cheeked toddlers and attention-hungry kids. Ben’s arm tightened around Eli. Or not. For a man who couldn’t have any children, one would be a precious gift.
“You want the honest truth? I’d be grateful for any God chose to give me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“This is interesting.” Carmen waved the letter to get their attention. “Ethel’s sister, Hazel, is questioning her about the lad she hired to help around the farm. Seems Ethel doesn’t trust him and is worried about his blossoming interest in her granddaughter.”
Isabel’s gaze clashed with Ben’s. He and Honor were seated on the opposite side of the table from her and Carmen. While the adults pored through Ethel’s belongings—mostly letters from relatives and official documents—Eli drew pictures of stick figures and hummed the carols they’d sung in church that morning. He seemed to like music. If he expressed interest in learning to play an instrument, who would she get to teach him? Would she have enough money to purchase said instrument and pay for lessons? Questions like these were popping into her mind with increasing frequency. She tried to combat the doubts. While she might not be able to provide him with every opportunity, she would love and guide him to the best of her ability.
“We’ve established that his name is Wesley, right?” Honor paused in the reading of a different letter. “But we don’t have a last name.”
Ben drummed his fingers on the smooth wood. “The neighbors we spoke with indicated he turned out to be less than honorable.”
“What confuses me is the sheriff indicated Ethel didn’t have family in the area,” Isabel said. “When and how did Annie and Harry come to be in Pigeon Forge? Were their parents with them?”
Honor sighed and refolded the paper. “This one doesn’t have any pertinent information.”
“On to the next.” Ben handed her another from the pile, an air of determination shimmering about him. He’d shed his suit coat and tie, leaving his pin-striped shirt open at the throat. He’d rolled his sleeves up almost to his elbow. Isabel’s gaze kept returning to his exposed neck, smooth and sun kissed. Below the open collar, in the V of his shirt, his skin was paler. Like flawless, sculpted marble, except his flesh wasn’t cold and unforgiving. He was incandescent heat and suppressed strength. Sunlight slanting through the window picked up the mahogany tint of his forearm hairs. Isabel’s fingers itched to touch the corded muscle, test the width of his wrists, trace the outline of his square hands. He was mere inches away in physical terms, but there was a chasm she couldn’t cross.
Talking to Ben about fictional children hadn’t been wise. He’d meant to shock her with his outrageous answer. Instead, he’d blasted open a cavern of curiosity and deep-seated longing. Why would he feel the need to do such a thing? More than ever before, she was certain she’d misjudged him and was only now unveiling layers of the Debonair Deputy he’d prefer to keep hidden. They weren’t so very different, after all. They both projected personas that didn’t reflect their true hearts. She knew her reasons. What were his? He’d rejected the suggestion it had anything to do with his former fiancée. Maybe he wasn’t being forthcoming. Perhaps he’d been hurt so badly he couldn’t bring himself to speak of it. Because what else could it be?
He noticed her staring and frowned, twin lines carved on either side of his mouth. The gathering at the Parkers’ had put a strain on him as well, it appeared. When they’d left Grant and Jessica’s two hours ago, she’d craved a break from the confusing emotions Ben evoked. And he’d been quieter than usual. Instead of retreating to his cabin, however, he’d suggested they search for answers. Having her sisters assisting them made the work go faster. More importantly, they weren’t alone.
Seated beside her at the table’s end, Eli stopped coloring. “When do I get to read?”
Isabel smiled. “After Christmas, I’d be happy to teach you letters and numbers. Would you like that?”
He nodded and went back to drawing. Although she sensed Ben’s perusal, she didn’t meet his gaze. Silence descended as they resumed reading. The occasional crumbling of a log in the fireplace mingled with the clock ticking and the scrape of Eli’s pencils across the tabletop.
A low whistle escaped Ben’s lips. “Ethel had a propensity to vent her frustrations with friends and family across the south. Listen to this from Corrinne Johnson in Georgia. ‘I’m as appalled as you are by young people’s easy dismissal of moral codes, not to mention the Lord’s commandments. To think your own granddaughter was duped by a charming liar is unbearable. Whatever will you do?’”
Carmen snatched the letter from his hand and skimmed the contents. “Wesley was successful in pursuing Annie.” Her brown eyes danced with the thrill of discovery. “He’s got to be you-know-who’s father.”
“Certainly sounds plausible.” Honor glanced at Eli. “A last name would be useful.”
Ben agreed. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll send a telegram to the sheriff and ask him to do some further digging for us. There are neighbors we didn’t talk to.”
“It’s a starting point.”
Isabel had received a reply yesterday from the lawyer Lucian had recommended. As expected, he’d advised her to gather as much information on Eli’s parentage and his guardian as possible before pursuing legal guardianship.
They pored through the rest of Ethel’s things but found no further clues. There was no way to know if Wesley married Annie or whether or not he was the father of her second child. Ben was disappointed but undeterred. He planned to ride into the more isolated coves the next day. To Isabel’s annoyance, he refused to allow her to accompany him.
On the matter of his staying the night, he heeded her wishes and went home. Theron was miles away. Weeks had passed since their run-in, and he hadn’t sought her out as they’d both feared. She was safe. Ben’s guard services were no longer necessary.
The moment he’d gone, Isabel sagged against the door, a combination of relief and melancholy washing over her. He wasn’t supposed to have this effect on her. He wasn’t supposed to have single-handedly dismantled her solid stance against marriage, replacing cynicism and bitterness with brilliant, tantalizing hope.
Her sisters left Eli playing on the rug to interrogate her.
“What’s going on between you two?” Honor looked concerned.
“I don’t know.” The state of her heart was a mystery. Her life’s course, which had been pretty much set since her father’s scandalous death, had veered into dangerous territory.
“You both need to cease being stubborn and confess your love. Then you can marry him, move into his cabin and leave the family farm to me.” Wearing a triumphant grin, Carmen fluttered her hands to encompass their surroundings.
Isabel’s jaw sagged. “You’re eighteen. What makes you think you can run this farm and gristmill by yourself?”
Honor gave a disbelieving laugh. “That’s the part you’re protesting, Isa?”
Carmen’s expression turned smug. “Good point. Why aren’t you denying you love the deputy?”
Panic seized her. She couldn’t have been so imprudent as to have developed feelings for Ben. Pushing past them, she said, “This is a ridiculous conversation.”
“She’s retreating,” Carmen said in a dramatic whisper, “which means we’ve hit the nail on the head.”
“Isa, wait. Hear me out.” Honor caught her elbow. “There’s no shame in admitting you were mistaken.”
“Mistaken about what?” she huffed.
“Many things. Life. Marriage. What it means to care about someone, to be committed to that person’s happiness.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“That you’ve fallen for Ben and the prospect of being his wife both thrills and frightens you.”
“His wife?” Pulse racing, her heart rejecting Honor’s claims, she shook her head. “You’re wrong, hermana. The happiness you’ve found with John is coloring your thinking. I’m not dreaming about wedded bliss with the Debonair Deputy!”
“Perhaps not with the Debonair Deputy,” she agreed. “But what about Ben MacGregor?”
Carmen’s nose scrunched up. “You’re not making any sense.”
Honor made a dismissive gesture. “Isa understands what I’m saying, don’t you?”
She sagged against the sofa, unable to meet her sisters’ gazes. Honor was right. She might not have been in danger of falling for the suave charmer, but the thoughtful, caring, valiant white knight who epitomized service to others? That man, the one behind the badge, was impossible to disregard.
“He’s not interested in marriage or family,” she said quietly.
Honor rubbed Isabel’s arm. “Take heart, dear sister. You’re proof that stubbornness doesn’t have to be a lifelong ailment.”
* * *
He’d never taken a child to get a haircut before.
Eli was introducing him to a whole new world of firsts.