A Bride in Store

by Melissa Jagears

  The softness of her lips, the warmth of her in the crook of his arm, the way every worry and fear retreated with her so near—a kiss far sweeter than any of the schoolboy pecks he’d plied on Nancy. He slipped his other arm around her, and she pressed closer.

  An instant later, she broke away, pupils wider in the moonlight than he’d ever seen them. “I can’t be caught kissing a man with no shirt on. Everyone will think . . . Well, this is exactly why they’d gossip if they saw me with you at this time of night. Things like this could happen.”

  Yet she didn’t leave the circle of his arms.

  He couldn’t help but smile at her objection. “Well, I realize this isn’t the best place or time—”

  She stepped away from him and grabbed the doorknob behind her. “I can’t stay in here with you.”

  He grabbed her free hand. “Wait.” He edged closer but stopped when she put her palm out.

  “No farther.”

  “All right.” He wouldn’t, though the desire to steal another kiss tempted him to hang the consequences. “But don’t go outside, where I’ll worry about you.”

  “No need to worry.”

  “Oh, but I am worried.” He pulled her away from the door until she let go of the knob so he could take her other hand. “I’m worried that you and I’ll miss out on happiness—long-lasting happiness.”

  “I’ve got my store.” She glanced over her shoulder, as if she planned to return to the Five and Dime the moment he headed upstairs for his shirt.

  “Will your store make you truly happy?”

  She glowered. “I’ve worked too hard—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips to cut her off.

  She stood, blinking against the darkness.

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t want a store and I shouldn’t want to doctor, but maybe we’re going about this all wrong.”

  “How’s that?”

  “In my Bible reading this evening, First John said something about the things of this world and our desires will pass away, but he who does the will of God lives forever. I want to do what God wants, sure, but at the same time, all my focus is on obtaining finances for school. Yet look at the mess I’m in.”

  “You’re always trying to help others. Surely God will bless that.”

  “But I’ve been acting as if I don’t believe God knows what I need—as if I’m the only one who can get it.”

  “I didn’t pay a dime for my store, as Mr. Raymond likes to point out. Some unknown person is letting me use it. If that’s not God giving me a store to take care of, I don’t know what is.”

  Will rubbed the back of his neck. She was right—her store was clearly a gift from God.

  What had he expected her to do after his little Bible lesson—declare her property worthless, jump into his arms, and beg him to marry her?

  Clearly, God had been speaking only to him. Maybe He was asking him to reconsider his goals, but what did that mean exactly? Give up school, the store, Eliza . . . everything?

  Chapter 20

  The glowing edge of the eastern horizon grew as Eliza rushed along an empty Main Street toward her store. She needed to clean last night’s mess before opening and perhaps fix her broken door.

  A face-stretching yawn scrunched her eyes so much she stopped walking. Not only had the sheriff’s questions kept her from crawling into bed until a few hours ago, but ruminating over Will’s kiss had stolen the rest of her night.

  She ran a finger along her scar. He’d caressed her puffy skin as if such an ugly thing were endearing. She wrapped her arms tightly about herself and hurried down the road. What a ridiculous thought. Of course a scar wouldn’t endear—more like engender pity. But his touch had been nothing short of tender, and his eyes had held no revulsion.

  Walking faster, she forced herself not to imagine being kissed a second time. A kiss was pleasurable, fleeting—not a promise, like an engagement or courtship. And promises were often broken . . . like her mother’s vow to commit to her husband and be there for her children.

  Promises were nothing. Kisses were meaningless.

  She’d no longer pretend that Will refrained from asking to court her because he didn’t want to, but something held him back. Her store and his schooling most likely; they couldn’t be together and maintain both dreams. Last night, he’d made that clear by insinuating she’d find real happiness if she gave up her store, that she couldn’t have both him and the Five and Dime.

  She stopped in front of the Five and Dime. The front door was ajar. Hadn’t she locked it? Ignoring the shortness of her breath and her prickling skin, she tiptoed up the steps. Heart in her throat, she put a hand against the glass to peer inside.

  Seeing no movement, she looked down the street. Should she get Will or bother the baker? Surely a robber wouldn’t sneak around this close to daylight. Pushing the door open enough to step through, she let her eyes adjust to the dim interior, her ears ready for any sound encouraging her to run.

  Near the front counter, Will sat slumped in a wooden chair—a rather uncomfortable chair she’d found hidden upstairs. His head lolled to the side, and a soft snore escaped.

  She let out a shaky breath and closed the door quietly behind her.

  Spying the rifle across his lap, she stopped midstep. Could she wake him without getting shot?

  “Will?” she whispered.

  He hummed, a little smile curving his lips, yet his hand gripped the gun tighter.

  She gritted her teeth and took a step back. She’d never awoken anyone but family, let alone a man with a gun.

  No broken dishes littered the floor in the middle of the store, and a few plates and one lone teacup sat in the middle of the table she’d knocked over.

  He’d cleaned? She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Just a few days ago, she’d accused him of trying to sabotage her business—more likely a reflection of what she might have done rather than Will. And yet here he slept after straightening everything.

  Easing herself against the table holding children’s playthings, she half leaned, half sat. These items sold so quickly, she had plenty of space to sit. She should put two, maybe three, more tables of these popular items up front.

  Another of Will’s snores ended with a slight whistle.

  Was watching a sleeping man wrong? But trying to sneak out or wake him didn’t seem wise either. Might he startle awake, ready to fight an imaginary foe, like her father used to? Or would he try his hardest to keep his eyes closed as long as possible, like her brother often had? Or maybe he awakened with a cheery attitude as soon as the clock chimed six, like her mother once did?

  The morning sunlight penetrating the front windows slowly crept up to Will’s knees. He couldn’t be comfortable draped over that tiny chair. Why hadn’t he gone home? He’d known she’d taken her cash with her and planned to return early to clean.

  And why guard her store? A robber wouldn’t return for towers of five-cent teacups and fistfuls of penny candy, but the guns under his counter would certainly entice a thief, along with his cashbox and more valuable merchandise.

  Not so long ago, she’d doubted Will’s integrity, along with the rest of the townsfolk. She hadn’t trusted this man who slept in a wobbly chair, guarding the very trinkets undermining his sales, the doctor who bothered to save a stray dog’s life, the brother who made his little sisters’ eyes glow at the mere sight of him.

  She should find something else to look at, but as the sunlight crept up his chest, causing the sheen of his navy tie to cast a blue shadow on his stubbly chin, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Playing with a loose strand of hair, she let herself look.

  Nothing about him stood out if she forced herself to be objective. Sure he was handsome compared to her, but was he more striking than average?

  She rolled her eyes at herself. Yes, he certainly was. Even if God hadn’t blessed him with an attractive face, the caring in his hands as he’d stitched her up that first day, the kindness in his eyes when he ta
lked to a patient, the mess of hair on his head, as soft as it was thick . . .

  But the look in his eye the day of the pillow’s demise had not been kindness—it had been something she shouldn’t have seen from a man about to stand beside her groom.

  And she’d run straight to him last night. Not home, not to the sheriff. To him. Knowing he’d help, but who wouldn’t he help?

  How often had she witnessed Will give advice, medicine, and necessities away without a glimmer of indecision in his blue-green eyes?

  Had she ever helped anyone if she’d lose something to do so? She regularly gave a portion of her income to the church, but often with a smidgen of misgiving, especially when she was under financial stress. And once or twice she’d allowed customers to buy from her despite being a penny short—but not without irritation.

  The sun hit Will’s eyes, and his eyelids scrunched against the brightness. He rubbed a hand down his face and stretched in his chair.

  His eyes opened for a second, drifted closed, then popped back open. “Eliza?”

  She stiffened, but thankfully, his grip didn’t tighten around his rifle. “Yes.”

  He made a charmingly silly noise as he yawned and shook his head to chase away sleep. “How long have you been here?”

  “Not too long.” At least he hadn’t asked how long she’d been staring at him, memorizing his every feature, contemplating his compassionate heart.

  He rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Well, I certainly failed at guarding anything if you walked in unnoticed.”

  She shook her head. Only he would apologize for not helping enough when he had gone beyond anyone’s expectations. “I still appreciate it. Nothing else has been stolen and you cleaned. That’s something.” More than something.

  “And I fixed the back door.”

  Of course he did. “Thank you, Will.”

  He pushed himself out of the chair and took a lopsided step forward. He rotated his ankle and rubbed a lazy hand over his stomach, wrinkling his shirt more.

  She should do something to let him know she was grateful for his guarding her store, cleaning up, coming to her aid at midnight—all of it. “You hungry?”

  He shrugged.

  Right. When wasn’t he? “Since you saved me from cleaning this morning, why don’t we have coffee and pastries next door before you head to work?”

  One would think he’d been offered a thousand dollars by the smile filling his face. “You’re eating with me?”

  “I normally don’t breakfast this early, but we can take our time.” Or maybe he couldn’t? “That is, if you don’t need to return to your store any time soon.”

  “Oh no.” His smile made strange things flutter inside her. “I’ll sprint down at the last second if need be.” He slapped his pockets. “Oh wait, I don’t have any money.”

  “I’ll pay.”

  He frowned.

  “Consider it reimbursement for guard duty.”

  His frown deepened.

  She stuck her hands on her hips and mirrored his features. “You’d take a pie from an old woman for inspecting her bunions.”

  “But that’s an old woman.” He let his gaze travel over her, and strangely she didn’t shrink away or cross her arms to guard against his perusal. Did he find her attractive despite her unembellished dress? And why did she wish all of a sudden she owned a nicer wardrobe?

  “All right. But I’m not letting you pay because I watched your store.” He held out his arm. “I just don’t want to waste five minutes away from you.”

  She took his arm, her own shaking a bit. He wanted to be with her that much?

  Her pulse pumped hard as they walked next door. If she were to commit to Will, when he went west, she’d have to relinquish her store when her contract obligations with Mr. Raymond expired. If she couldn’t do that, there was no reason to entangle their emotions any further. She let her arm slip out of his. She’d not damage his heart like her mother had devastated her father’s.

  They stepped inside the bakery, but no one stood behind the high counter topped with two muffin platters. Her stomach grumbled.

  Will stopped in front of the fresh baked pastries. “Mr. Allison?”

  A boy not much thicker than a French bread roll popped his flour-powdered face around the back doorjamb. “Father’s not here. What can I get you?” He looked at her, then back at Will, and his grin widened. “Both of you?”

  “Coffee, and we’ll just eat from the muffins you’ve got out.” Will looked to her and winced. “Unless, of course, you wanted something else?”

  Knowing Will hadn’t meant to choose for her but rather make the baker’s life easier, she picked up a muffin. She hoped the dark spots weren’t raisins. “These will do, I’m sure.”

  “Great.” The boy disappeared for a second, then returned with two mugs and a coffeepot. “Rice muffins are on the left. The others are vanilla egg muffins with dried berries. Hot rolls are coming out next.” He set the coffee on a table near the counter. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to pour for yourselves. I have to get something out of the oven.” He nodded at Will, then disappeared.

  Will pulled out her seat. “What kind would you like?”

  Surely the baker’s son would have mentioned raisins if they indeed contained raisins. “I’ll try one with the berries.”

  “Those do sound good.” He snatched five, set them on the table, then folded himself into his chair, this one as dainty as her store’s chair was uncomfortable. He bowed his head.

  “Lord, thanks for the protection you offered Eliza last night and that she didn’t suffer much loss. I pray the sheriff catches the thief. Please help the thief learn that he should rely on you for provision rather than wrangle it for himself—like I need to learn myself. Thank you for the baker who provides for our stomachs and for the woman across from me who’s admirable in so many ways. Amen.”

  Admirable? What on earth was admirable about her compared to him?

  Will snatched up one of his muffins and took a huge bite, then closed his eyes and hummed.

  Having stared at Will minutes ago made it difficult to keep her eyes off the man who far surpassed her in things that mattered more than an impressive business record. She pinched off of a piece of her muffin’s crumbly top and stared at the steaming mugs on the table.

  “What’s wrong? Upset about last night?”

  “No. Er . . . depends on what part.” Before he brought up the kissing—something she would not discuss in public—she leaned forward. “Do you really think it’s Axel?”

  He shrugged and grabbed a second muffin. “If he needed to finance himself by stealing, he’d know this town. Some of the things I’m missing point to him.”

  “But he has money from the robbery and who knows what else.”

  “The money wasn’t all his.”

  But he had other money. “Did you know he was running liquor?”

  Will stopped chewing. “How would you know that?”

  She bit her lip and rolled a crumb between her fingers. “He told me.”

  “I should’ve guessed.” He frowned, but then raised an eyebrow. “And you were still going to marry him?”

  She nodded reluctantly, knowing her willingness to marry a lawbreaker couldn’t improve her character in Will’s eyes. “He said he’d quit but couldn’t right away. Said you can’t just stop working for those kinds of people.”

  “All the more reason to think he’s still around then.” Will’s munching slowed, contemplating his muffin as if the pastry might reveal the whereabouts of his friend. “I can’t believe I was so blind.” Will set down his breakfast and rubbed the back of his neck. “Or so . . . gullible.”

  “I’m not sure if you’re gullible or just kinder than most.”

  “Well, kindness can keep you from pursuing what you want.” He glanced at her mouth, and she bit her lip. How long had he wanted to kiss her before last night?

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been kind, not truly. Not
like you anyway.” She fidgeted in her seat. “I’ve basically been given a store, and yet I worry kids will pocket penny candy, never thinking they might be stealing because they have nothing to eat.”

  “If they need food, they shouldn’t steal taffy and lemon drops.” He threw a heaping spoonful of sugar in his coffee. “I’m certain if the opportunity to help someone presented itself, you would help them gladly.”

  Would she truly? How often had she missed helping someone in need because she was focused on herself? “I can’t think of anyone I could help.”

  “What about Axel’s mother? Mrs. Langston said she needed somewhere to sell her clothing.” Will swirled his coffee before taking a sip.

  Mrs. Langston had embraced her like a long-lost daughter, offered hospitality, gushed over the wonderful things Axel had said about her, begged her to visit often.

  And not once after Axel left town had she dropped by or offered help, though only she, Will, and Axel knew her desperate need. Eliza shoved her muffin away.

  Will eyed her discarded pastry. “Not that you have to. Nobody would blame you for avoiding Axel’s mother.”

  “That’s not it.” How could she have overlooked Mrs. Langston’s need when she could help her better than anyone else?

  “Is there a problem with the muffin?”

  “It’s not sitting well in my stomach.” By no fault of the baker. She pressed her hand against her churning belly. The more she probed her character, the worse her insides agitated. She stood, bumping the table. Her untouched coffee sloshed over its rim. “I’m sorry to leave you since I invited you to eat with me, but I need to do something before I open.”

  Will stood, taking the napkin from his lap to wipe up her spill. “That’s all right. Thanks for breakfast.” And though he agreed, the light in his eyes dulled. Once again, he deferred to someone else’s wants above his own.

  She couldn’t leave him thinking she didn’t want to spend time with him. She wanted to—now more than ever. “Perhaps you could come to the boardinghouse tonight to check on Irena? She took to bed again this morning.”