Dreaming on Daisies: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series Book 3)

by Miralee Ferrell

  She turned and looked him directly in the eyes. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Your kindness. Your silence. For taking the time to care and sit with me.”

  He gave a slow nod. “It’s the least I can do. But if you want to talk …”

  Leah smiled, but her eyes were like dark pools, reflecting her sorrow. “It’s not like you came to listen to my troubles.”

  Steven squared his shoulders. “Actually, I did.”

  Her fingers went to her throat. “Excuse me?”

  “Millie told me you’ve been dealing with a lot lately, between the problems with your pa and Tom and things needing to be done on the ranch. I thought you might appreciate a sympathetic ear.”

  He held up a hand, suddenly aware she might not understand. “Not that you have to share anything, mind you. I can continue to sit quietly, if that’s what you prefer. Sometimes having a friend nearby who cares is enough.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Leah could only stare, not sure she’d heard correctly. She’d never known a man this sensitive, who could feel her mood and be willing to do what was best for her. Even on his good days before Ma left, Pa hadn’t known how to deal with Leah’s emotions or outbursts. “Thank you for that sweet offer. But if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to talk.”

  Steven silently gave a nod of assent, his gaze trained on her.

  Leah tried to think. Where to begin? How much should she tell this man? She felt that she’d only scratched the surface on getting to know him, but what she’d seen so far she liked—and trusted. Would he understand the tug-of-war she felt concerning her mother and father, and all the inner turmoil this letter had stirred? There was only one way to find out.

  She slipped the letter from under the box and handed it to Steven. “I think this will explain better than anything I can say. Would you mind reading it?”

  He took it reverently but didn’t open it. “Are you sure?”

  Again amazement quieted her thoughts. Most people would be more than willing to read a private letter and possibly discover some secret they could pass along to their friends. “If you don’t mind.”

  He opened the letter and bent over it, taking his time and perusing each page carefully, before moving on to the next. After several minutes, and returning at least once to a page, he folded it and placed it back in Leah’s hands. “That must have been very hard for you to read.”

  Leah closed her eyes, only now realizing how much she’d hoped for such a response. “Yes.”

  “I’m so sorry, Leah. Sorry that your father put you in this position, and that your mother didn’t tell you the truth before she left.”

  His words soothed the turmoil inside. The confusion and anger began to subside, and calm took their place. “That’s the thing I find the hardest to understand. Why didn’t she tell me herself? Why leave a letter and hope that I’d find it?” She turned to face him, searching deep within his expression, praying he’d have the answers she so desperately sought.

  “You feel that she deserted you.” Steven didn’t ask, he stated it as a fact. “And I suppose to some degree, she did.” He plucked a blade of grass and examined it, then tossed it aside. “May I speak plainly?”

  The question took her by surprise, but she nodded. “Of course.”

  His eyes met hers. “Parents can desert you even if they never leave.”

  She frowned, not certain what he was saying. She flicked a finger against the letter. “I beg your pardon? My mother left.”

  “I know. But do you think she’d have been the kind of mother you needed if she had stayed?” He waited a moment, then plunged forward. “Let me explain by giving you an example. My father died, and at the same time, my little sister, Beth, disappeared. The grief almost killed Ma. I knew, deep in my heart, that I wasn’t enough to keep her going. She pushed through and lived because of her determination to find Beth—not because I needed her.

  “I lost both my parents that day. Ma withdrew inside herself for years. I became the caretaker in some respects, even though she married again a few years later. When my stepfather died, she crawled back into the black hole of despair.”

  Leah mulled over his words, then leaned forward. “But she didn’t leave you. She stayed. She didn’t run off trying to find Beth.”

  “She would have if she’d known where to go and if we’d have had the funds to travel. Please don’t misunderstand. I love my mother, but as surely as if she had run down the trail after Beth or curled up in the grave beside my pa, I lost her. I didn’t get her back until the day we found Beth.” He hesitated and turned his eyes away.

  Leah touched his fingers, sensing his unease. “But you’re still not happy. There’s more?” She withdrew her hand, longing to keep it there to comfort him, but afraid if she grasped it, she’d not let go.

  “Yes.” He gave a harsh laugh. “It sounds weak, coming from a grown man. I got her back, only to lose her again. To Beth.”

  Leah gasped. “But you love your sister! I thought you were happy to find her. Are you bitter she came back into your life?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I do love her, very much. God worked a miracle when He returned her to our family, and I’m grateful. But it’s like Ma is almost afraid to let her out of her sight for fear she’ll disappear again.

  “Maybe I should be grateful that I no longer have to care for Ma all the time, or be responsible to rouse her from her melancholy moods. But somehow I thought once we found Beth, life would become normal for all of us.”

  He grimaced and gave a wry chuckle. “I’m not so sure I know what normal is anymore.” He turned toward Leah. “I didn’t mean to talk about myself. I told you that to say, although you have a parent in the house, it doesn’t mean they aren’t absent in other ways. Your ma left you behind, but the words she wrote tell me she did it because she thought it was best for you—she truly loved you.”

  “Then why didn’t she take me with her?” Leah whispered the words.

  “Could you have been happy living in Portland, away from the ranch and the life that you loved? Even if you were with your mother, wouldn’t you have resented her for taking you away?”

  Surprise coursed through Leah. Would she have come to resent Ma if she’d forced her to move? “But what if she hadn’t made me go—if she’d let me make the choice?”

  “You were fourteen. Could you have chosen between your mother, and the ranch, and your pa? And if you’d gone with her, how long would it have been before you begged to come home, then grew bitter if she refused to come with you?”

  Leah scooted back against the tree trunk, stunned. Was it possible her mother had understood her that well, had known that the choice would have cut her heart in half? “But what about Pa? He lied. He should have told me Ma was alive, not let me think she’d died.

  “That was wrong. It was cruel! He could have at least told me after the two years were up. There’s no excuse for him to keep the knowledge to himself, and then to start drinking and abandon me as well.”

  “I agree. He shouldn’t have lied, as your mother shouldn’t have. But do you think it’s possible that both of them were trying to protect you in their own way?”

  She stared at him, not quite taking in his words. “No, that doesn’t make sense. Lying doesn’t protect someone. It hurts them.”

  “It does, but that’s not always the way our minds work.” Steven reached out an inch or two and touched her, then withdrew, resting his hand on the grass near hers.

  It took all of Leah’s willpower to sit still and not move her hand sideways. When he’d released his hold earlier, she’d wanted to snatch it back and never let go. This time Steven’s slight movement had seemed involuntary, but was it really an accident that his fingers were so close she could feel sparks jumping between them?

 
Almost as though he sensed her thoughts, Steven enclosed her hand in his again.

  Warmth coursed through Leah, and she closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. Oh, to feel like this all the time. To have the comfort of a man’s touch … no, not any man. Steven. She didn’t want this to end. Not ever.

  Steven gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, then released her, placing his elbows in the grass and leaning back. “Your pa might have understood how much it would hurt you to know your ma left. I’m sure he worried that you’d want to run after her and knew how unhappy you’d be if you did. And I’m guessing his own heart was hurting from his wife leaving him. He might have been afraid of losing his entire family.”

  Leah blinked a couple of times, her own sense of loss accentuated by the emptiness she felt as she linked her fingers together in her lap. Had Steven once again held her hand only to bring comfort? Did it not mean anything more to him?

  She worked to remember what he’d said. Pa afraid? Pa hurting and unhappy? Sure, she’d seen him drunk plenty of times. Anger and bitterness were common emotions, but fear or pain? She’d never even considered those as a possibility for Pa. “When I thought Ma had died, I knew Pa was upset, but I never saw him cry for her. I always wondered why he didn’t.”

  “I imagine he’s like most men. If he loved her, he’d be hurt, and his pride would be smashed to bits.” Steven scratched his cheek. “In fact, I wonder if that’s why he drinks so much. If he loved her, he’d think himself a failure as a man, because he couldn’t keep his wife happy and at home.”

  “Ma said he loved her, and she never loved him.” She turned and looked at him, realization dawning. “Her letter said she told Pa she’d consider putting the deed to the ranch in his name. He worked hard all these years, caring for the land. Pa thinks the ranch belongs to him.”

  Steven pursed his lips, then let out a long whistle.

  Leah stared at the ground for a minute. Finally, she lifted her head and tried to keep her voice steady. “When he finds out, he’ll drink even more. Maybe he was trying to protect me when I was young, but I’m a woman now, and I haven’t seen anything change. I’m sorry, Steven, but I don’t believe Pa cares more about me than about the ranch, or he wouldn’t have lied.”

  She gathered her skirts around her and pushed to her knees. “I appreciate you coming to check on me, and especially for taking time to share your thoughts, but it’s probably best that we get back. I’ve left enough things undone today.”

  Steven stood and extended his arm. “Let me help you up.”

  His warm fingers gripped hers again with a gentle firmness that sent her heart pounding. When was the last time a man had touched her this way? With deference, kindness, and even—dare she allow herself to dream—a touch of personal interest? But it went even further, beyond the physical.

  Somehow Steven had managed to reach into her soul. She felt it starting to open, starting to trust for the first time in years. He was someone she could share her heart with.

  And maybe, just maybe, someone she could trust not to leave her and walk away, as so many others had done.

  He helped her to her feet and retained his hold. Her heart continued to hammer, and she smiled up at him, willing him to kiss her. Praying he was starting to care in the same way that she was.

  “Thank you. I’ve gotten out of the habit of wearing dresses and hardly know how to walk in one anymore.”

  Those were not the words she wanted to say. She longed to pour out her heart—to ask if he’d sought her out because Millie had urged him to or because he’d been drawn to her. Instead, all she could manage was to prattle about her clothing.

  He took a step back and released her. “What now?”

  “I beg your pardon?” All she could think of was losing the warmth of his touch and the security it had brought for those few moments. “Now? I don’t understand.”

  “As you said, Charlie assumes the ranch belongs to him, but it is legally yours. What will you do? Tell him the truth?”

  Her heart stuttered and jerked before it accelerated to almost twice its normal pace. Tell Pa the truth? She had a pretty good idea what it would do to Pa when he discovered Ma had left the ranch to her. It might be the final blow. No doubt he’d drink more than ever, but how would he treat her? But if she didn’t tell him, she would be guilty of keeping a secret from Pa, as he’d done with her.

  A secret that had the power to wound him, possibly almost as much as when Ma left. Maybe her father had feared the same thing would happen if he told her the truth about Ma leaving—that Leah would be hurt beyond repair. By revealing this secret, would she lose her father as well as her mother?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tom stalked across the barnyard and yanked on the barn door. “Pa? You in here?” He stepped into the cool, dimly lit interior and looked around, frustration building in his chest like steam in a teakettle. “Pa!” He strode from one stall door to another, peering inside, then over to the stack of loose hay piled against the back wall, giving the edges a kick. He figured he’d find his father sleeping off another drinking binge.

  He hurried out to the wagon yard and stopped short. The buggy was gone. Had Pa driven himself to town with a broken arm? More likely Buddy took him. He hustled to the house and pushed through the kitchen door, ready to holler for Millie.

  She stood a few feet away, a scowl on her face. “Not another step inside this kitchen, Thomas Pape. You hustle and back up.”

  She pointed at his feet. “I don’t know what you stepped in, but it looks like you’ve been walkin’ through somethin’ unpleasant and more’n likely stinky to boot. Out!” Millie thrust her hands toward him. “Clean up before you traipse across my kitchen floor.”

  Tom gritted his teeth. He loved Millie almost as much as he’d loved Ma, but he didn’t have time to be scolded right now. “Fine, I’ll leave. But where’s Pa? He’s not in the barn, and the buggy’s gone.”

  “Yep. Him and Buddy headed to town. We’re gettin’ low on supplies, and I sent a list. Somethin’ troublin’ you?” She peered at him with alert, piercing eyes.

  “I’m sorry about the floor. I’ll get out of your way,” he said halfheartedly. He’d started to shut the door behind him before she could question him further when another thought occurred.

  He poked his head into the room, careful to keep his muddy boots outside. “Millie?”

  She swiveled, a damp rag in one hand and a bucket of water in the other. “What you needin’ now?”

  “Did Leah go with Pa and Buddy?”

  “Nope.” Millie clamped her lips together as though fearful a secret might escape.

  Tom narrowed his eyes. He knew that look. He’d seen it often enough when he was young, but he also knew that no amount of prying would soften Millie once she decided to keep her own counsel. “Any idea where she might be?”

  She shrugged and dipped the rag in the bucket. “Around. Since it’s nigh on to supper time, I’m sure everybody will be home soon, includin’ your sister.”

  She scowled again. “Now, get on out of here and let me get my work done so’s I can get supper on the table. Your pa and Buddy should be rollin’ in anytime.”

  Tom turned away, wondering at her brusque tone and evasive reply. What was she hiding? The crunch of wheels on rock and the clop of hooves alerted him that Pa and Buddy must be home. He’d waited too long for this talk with his father, and he didn’t intend to wait any longer.

  Buddy reined the horse to a stop in front of the barn and set the brake, then swung down. “I’ll unhitch, boss. You might want to head into the house and rest that arm. Seems like it’s been paining you all the way home.”

  Tom winced. If Pa was in pain, he might not be in the mood for what Tom planned to say. He almost let out a laugh. Pa would probably never be in the mood to listen. He strode over as his father awkwardly clambered to the ground. “Pa? You
got a minute before you go inside?”

  Buddy shot him a look, then grasped the horse by the bridle and led him through the open barn doors.

  Pa, shoulders hunched, eyed him. “I’m wantin’ a cup of coffee pretty bad right now, so don’t take long. Or you can follow me to the kitchen and speak your piece there. It’s up to you.”

  Tom shook his head. “I’ll hurry, but I’d rather talk here if it’s all the same to you.” He motioned his father away from the barn. His courage faltered, and he almost changed his mind.

  No, this was important. Besides, it was his due. He straightened his shoulders. “I’ve been doing a lot of work since I arrived.”

  His pa grunted but didn’t reply.

  “I haven’t gotten paid a nickel.”

  Charlie rounded on him. “You got a free place to live and food in your belly, doncha?”

  Tom’s gut tightened. This was exactly what he’d expected, although deep in his heart he’d hoped for more. “Yeah, I do. But I’m your son, and this place will be mine someday. I don’t mind working every day if it’s needed, but it would be nice to have you appreciate it sometimes.”

  He bit his lip, wishing he could take back that last part. He’d only planned on asking for money, not approval or appreciation. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Not that I expect it.”

  “Why should you? You’re my son, but that didn’t stop you from walkin’ away from this ranch years ago.”

  Tom grimaced. “I was young, Pa. And I was missing Ma. She was alone and—” He stopped as anger blossomed in his father’s cheeks.

  “You sure as the dickens didn’t stay young all these years. You coulda come back anytime once you growed up. It weren’t like your ma needed you to keep her company every minute. You ever once think maybe Leah and I needed you here? That Buddy was gettin’ up in years, and we could use another set of hands on the ranch? You never so much as wrote to see if any of us was alive.”