The Secret Admirer Romance Collection

by Barratt, Amanda; Beatty, Lorraine; Bull, Molly Noble

  “Dance with me?”

  Meredith didn’t try to hide her shock at the man’s cheeky behavior. “Not at the moment, Mr. Arkwright. Now, if you’ll please excuse me.”

  Hurrying past Leopold Arkwright, Meredith continued along the outskirts of the dance floor. She turned to take a second glance just to be sure Leopold wasn’t following her. That’s when something most embarrassing happened.

  She ran right into Gabe Kleeman.

  Gabe’s arms reached for Meredith as she teetered toward him. When he righted her, Meredith’s gaze connected with his. Gabe swallowed hard. Hadn’t he often dreamed of holding Meredith in his arms?

  Perhaps so, but not due to this awkward circumstance. “Hello…uh…Meredith,” he said, hearing in his own ears that his voice sounded like the croak of an ill frog. He shoved the insecure thoughts aside. She smelled of roses, and he inhaled again.

  His heart leaped a bit in his chest just at the mere sight of her.

  “Hello, Gabe.”

  Gabe realized he was still holding her in his arms, but to Meredith’s credit, she didn’t seem like she was trying her best to escape his gentle hold. He released her, took a step back, and willed his mouth to speak rational and intelligible words. “Um…are you all right?” Not quite as intelligent-sounding as he’d hoped, but it would have to do.

  Meredith nodded and pressed her hands against the wrinkles of her blue dress. My, but wasn’t she a sight to behold! Realizing he was staring, Gabe averted his gaze toward the folks on the makeshift dance floor then back again to Meredith. That’s when he realized Meredith staring at the red bandanna on his arm.

  What would she think now that she knew he was her secret admirer? Well, not her secret admirer exactly, as he’d just only recently begun to take over the task of writing letters to her. But still, would she be happy to discover his feelings toward her? Or disappointed? A wave of insecurity washed over him.

  Meredith’s gaze returned to his face, her expression unreadable. Should he ask her if she would like to dance? Prefer some lemonade? Escape his presence? The loud music sounded in Gabe’s ears. “Uh…”

  “Yes?”

  Gabe took a deep breath. Lord, please, can You make my mouth work with coherent words? “Uh…hello, Meredith.” It was a start, if not redundant.

  “Hello, Gabe.”

  What a fool he was! They’d already made introductions. “Meredith?”

  “Yes?”

  Was that expectation he saw in her eyes? He hoped so. She hadn’t fled yet. That comforted him.

  “Would you…would you care to step outside for a minute of fresh air?”

  “Certainly.”

  Just speaking those fourteen words drained him of energy. But how else could he explain about the letters with all the commotion that surrounded them?

  Gabe followed Meredith outside. Several other folks had the same inclination, as many couples and children were enjoying the fresh air. Gabe offered a prayer. He would need a miracle if he was going to be able to utter more than a few words.

  Meredith’s heart seemed as though it might beat plumb out of her chest. Was Gabe sporting a handkerchief around his arm in case he needed to use it, or was he the one?

  Her mind brimmed full with the memorized contents of all the letters she had received. If the handkerchief was on Gabe’s arm because he was the one who had written them, it could only mean one thing.

  He liked her as much as she liked him.

  Would it be proper to ask him if he’d sent the letters? Just to be sure? Or should she wait for him to say the first word? What if he never said anything?

  Meredith stopped by the fence post and watched a colt with boundless energy kick up its heels.

  “I…uh…it’s a nice night.” Gabe had stopped beside her near the fence and wiped his hands on his pants. He looked quite dapper this evening with his blue chambray shirt that further enhanced his broad shoulders. He smelled of pine, like the forests near Ellis Creek.

  “It is a nice night.”

  They stood in silence for what felt like an hour. The tips of Gabe’s ears had begun to turn red, a trait that Meredith found endearing. She looked out over the sun that was starting to set. “Are you…are you the one who sent me the letters?” What would Mama say of her forwardness?

  He took so long to answer that Meredith regretted asking the question. Perhaps Mama and Pa would announce it was time to return home and save her from this embarrassment. If Gabe said no, then what would he think of her? Yet why did he sport the red handkerchief on his left arm? She leaned over just to be sure it was still there.

  “Oh, there you are, Meredith!” Tillie skipped toward her. “I was looking for you. Hello, Gabe.”

  That girl had the worst timing ever. “Did you need something, Tillie?”

  “No. I was just wondering where you went. That impertinent Mr. Arkwright is looking for you.”

  Meredith grimaced. Would the man never realize she wasn’t the least bit interested in him? “I’ll thank you kindly not to tell Mr. Arkwright where I am.” Meredith tossed a threatening big-sister glare Tillie’s way.

  Tillie made a motion to appear she was buttoning up her lips. “Not a chance. I’d never do something cheeky like that. Mr. Arkwright is a cad if I ever knew one. But Gabe here, well, he’s the opposite of a cad. A gentleman, to be precise.”

  “Thanks, Tillie.” Good. Gabe had found his voice again. Now, if Tillie would leave them to their discussion, Meredith might find the answer to her important question before nightfall.

  “I better return to the dance. That ridiculous boy Willard, with the pumpkin hair, persists in asking me for a dance.”

  Meredith laughed at her sister’s exaggerated words. “Give him one dance, Tillie, and then rest assured he’ll likely cease pestering you.”

  “That would be seemly, but highly improbable.” Tillie rolled her eyes. “I’ll leave you to your conversation.”

  “Thank you, Tillie.” Meredith marveled at how intelligent her sister always sounded with her large vocabulary. The girl’s dream of someday teaching school seemed attainable. With a swish of her skirts, Tillie turned on her heel and returned to the barn.

  Would it be too brazen for Meredith to ask Gabe her question again? She chewed on her bottom lip. If she did ask again, might she receive an answer this time? If she didn’t ask again and he hadn’t heard her the first time, she might never know.

  She must know.

  Therefore, she must ask.

  “Gabe, are you the one who wrote the letters to me?”

  “Somewhat.”

  “Begging your pardon?”

  Gabe cleared his throat. “I am somewhat responsible for the letters.”

  “Somewhat?” This conversation was going nowhere. Did he have a partner in writing the letters? Had he, or had he not, written the letters?

  Gabe turned to face her. His eyes were so hazel. His handsome face so serious. Could it be that she’d made some mistake? She hoped not. “Begging your pardon, Gabe, but I received a letter stating that the author would be wearing a red handkerchief on his arm at the dance. Have I mistaken the red one on your arm?” She hated the way her voice sounded so desperate. More than anything else at this moment, she truly wanted her secret admirer to be Gabe. What a wonder it would be if he had admired her from afar, just as she had admired him.

  “I wrote the last five letters.”

  “Only the last five?” Then who had written the prior letters? Please, not Leopold Arkwright! “May I inquire as to who wrote the previous letters?”

  The corners of Gabe’s mouth turned up in a large smile. He seemed to be able to converse easier now than in the past. “Our dear sisters.”

  “Tillie and Lula?”

  “Two and the same.”

  Meredith put her hand to her chest. Her sister, along with Gabe’s sister, had dreamed up this scheme?

  “But then…how? Why?”

  Gabe chuckled, a flush creeping across his handsome
cheeks. He shrugged but said nothing, so Meredith continued. “I suppose I don’t rightly understand. Why would our sisters do something so unconventional? That would explain, however, why some of the letters were written in a different penmanship. I’m assuming that’s because they wrote some of them and you wrote some of them.” Meredith paused to take a breath as she processed the information. “I’m surely thankful that your decision to wear a red handkerchief on your arm is because you are the one who sent the letters. Well, not all of the letters, mind you, but some of the letters. And I’m ecstatic that that Leopold Arkwright didn’t write any of those letters. After all, he mentioned writing letters, and I do declare, the thought of him being the one was enough to make a girl faint dead away from dread.” She took a deep breath. “Oh, dear me. I’m rambling.”

  Meredith’s oval face had taken on a rosy tint, one to match his own, to be sure. If she wanted to ramble, that was quite all right with him. He wouldn’t utter another word. Gabe would just watch Meredith’s face light up with excitement as she spoke.

  It was as if the words he wanted to say were mushed down in his throat and unable to make their way the short distance out his mouth. He tried to pretend she was someone else while explaining about Tillie and Lula, and it had worked for a second. But one look at her face and he was reminded all over again that this was Meredith.

  Meredith Waller.

  The girl he had secretly admired and had looked upon with great fondness since their school days. While the words seemed to flow with more ease than ever before, there was no way the words would ever come easily in her presence. So just how was a tongue-tied oaf like himself supposed to ask her the important questions, like the question of courtship? Or how could he tell her how pretty she was or that he wished he’d written all the letters, not just the last few? With his luck, he’d probably drool all over the place from his tongue being tied in more knots than an unworkable rope. What then? Would she still be thankful that it was he, and not Leopold Arkwright behind the letters?

  She was gazing at him expectantly, awaiting a response. He prayed then mustered up some courage that must have come all the way from his curled toes in his boots. “Meredith.” Her name caught in his throat.

  “Yes?” Meredith’s eyes were bright with anticipation.

  “I…”

  Her head bobbed slowly as she waited for him to speak.

  “I…I’m glad it’s me, too.”

  “You’re glad it’s you?”

  Lord, could You please help me be long-winded just this once? I know You’re in the business of miracles, and I reckon I could sure use one right about now!

  Gabe took a deep breath. “Meredith, I reckon I’m glad I’m your secret admirer and not Arkwright. I’m glad you’re glad it’s me and that I wore a handkerchief on my arm. I’m honored to be here with you tonight. I wanted to write all those letters, but I’m much obliged for our sisters starting off this whole thing.” There. He’d said it.

  And the Lord had performed a miracle.

  An even brighter smile lit her face. “I can’t wait to hear all about how Tillie and Lula ever came up with such a plan.”

  “Would you care to dance?”

  “I’d love to dance.”

  Gabe led her back into the barn, relieved, for dancing was easier than conversation. He took her left hand in his and placed his right hand gently on her back. Every ounce of embarrassment had been worth it for this moment.

  Reckon you’re turnin’ soft, Kleeman, he chastised himself.

  Gabe drove Meredith home in his wagon that evening. She didn’t want the night to end. Over and over, Meredith had thanked the good Lord above that it hadn’t been Mr. Arkwright or Marvin Pratt or Mr. Griggs who had been writing the letters.

  She never would have guessed that Gabe fancied her.

  The only sound during the ride home was the clop-clopping of the horses’ hooves on the dirt road and the song of crickets in the night air. Meredith found the silence to be agreeable. It gave her time to rehash the night spent dancing with Gabe. Not once, not twice, but at least six dances. A time or two, she had noticed Leopold Arkwright starting to meander toward them, presumably to ask her for a dance. Gabe must have noticed, too, for he quickly swept her aside.

  Moments later, Gabe assisted Meredith from the wagon. “I had a nice time.”

  “Thank you, Gabe. I did, too.”

  They stood facing each other. Meredith looked up into his eyes. His strong arms had been around her tonight, both when she’d run into him and then when they had danced. What would it be like to be kissed by Gabe Kleeman?

  Meredith hastily chastised herself. A night spent in Gabe’s company at a barn dance did not equal courtship. Although she did hope he would ask to see her again.

  Chapter 11

  Widow Jones put her hand on Meredith’s arm. “Thank you again for all the mending you’ve done for me.”

  Meredith smiled at the dear woman. “You are more than welcome, Widow Jones.”

  As they stood conversing, a wagon approached. The driver glimpsed their way then took a second glance. He promptly turned the wagon around and headed toward Widow Jones’s home. Meredith’s heart stopped in her chest when she realized it was Gabe. She hadn’t slept much last night thinking about their time at the dance and Gabe’s admission to writing the letters. Maybe someday Meredith would even thank Tillie for her role in bringing them together.

  And now, here the man of her affections was once again.

  Gabe removed his hat. “Hello, Widow Jones.” He turned toward Meredith. “I’d be much obliged if I could speak to you for a moment.”

  “Certainly. Is everything all right, Gabe?”

  His face flushed before he answered a hearty yes.

  Widow Jones stood nearby, a smirk on her precious wrinkled face.

  While waiting for him to continue, Meredith looked into Gabe’s eyes. Such handsome eyes on such a handsome face. Not only that, but he was kind, generous, and a man of God. What was there not to like? How could she have not noticed him before he left for Missouri?

  “Could you…would you…” Gabe paused and threw a glance at the widow as if begging her to step aside. Was he hoping for a moment of privacy without their chaperone? What was he about to ask?

  Meredith held her breath.

  Gabe again darted his eyes toward Widow Jones in some type of unspoken message.

  Instead of taking the hint, Widow Jones merely grinned, did the opposite, and took a step closer. To be privy to the interesting goings-on, perhaps?

  “Meredith…”

  “Yes?”

  Gabe took a deep breath. “Would you do me the honor of courting me?”

  “Yes, Gabe. I will court you.”

  Gabe nodded, returned his hat to his head, and strolled toward his wagon. With a wave, he beckoned his horses and rode off down the road.

  Leaving Meredith to wonder if what had just happened was truly a reality.

  Widow Jones held her hand to her heart. “Such a darling man. It befuddles me that he took so long to ask you. I could see it in his eyes the day you were both over here helping me that he fancied you. Ah, to be young and in love.”

  Meredith didn’t have a response for Widow Jones, but she was thrilled about what had transpired. Courtship with Gabe? She couldn’t wait to tell Roxie.

  “He does seem to suffer from a lack of words where you are concerned, dear,” the widow continued. “Not to worry, however. My beloved Harold had a shyness about him, as well, until the day we married. Then he had words-a-plenty, and some mighty sweet words at that. Just takes some men a bit of time to find their words. Not one person who knew Harold would say he wasn’t long-winded.”

  All this time, Meredith had figured Gabe wasn’t interested in her. But now, with their time spent at the barn dance and his subsequent request for courtship, Meredith realized how wrong she’d been. Gabe had only been shy and reserved.

  Thank You, Lord. Thank You that You care about e
very detail in our lives. Even about courtship.

  Gabe’s stomach knotted, as he rode his horse toward the Waller home. He had prayed since yesterday that he would summon the fortitude to do what he was about to do. If he survived this meeting, Gabe could survive anything.

  Perspiration beaded his brow. What if Mr. Waller didn’t find Gabe fit to court his daughter? What if Mr. Waller had someone else in mind for his eldest child? What if—

  Quit it, Gabe. You’ve given the situation to the Lord. It’s only fitting you let Him handle it. Besides, if you can string together enough words to ask Meredith about courting in front of Widow Jones, you can assuredly ask her father.

  But then, once Meredith gave you her answer, you just rode off as hasty as a varmint escaping a predator. What must she think of that? Gabe shook his head. He still needed assistance where shyness was concerned. A lot of assistance.

  After scolding himself, Gabe experienced a renewed sense of courage. He traipsed toward the Waller home, noting that Tillie sat outside on the tree swing. “Hello, Tillie.”

  Tillie removed herself from the round circular chunk of log that constituted a swing. “Hello, Gabe. Say, I am about out of jawbreakers.”

  “Reckon you’ve had enough jawbreakers in the last few weeks to render you toothless.”

  “If you’d like me to keep your surreptitious messages to Meredith incognito, might I suggest another bag of jawbreakers?”

  Gabe chuckled. “Nice try, Tillie. You forget that I have a sister who has already attempted enough bribery in jawbreakers to last until she’s forty-five. Anyhow, Meredith knows about the ‘surreptitious messages,’ as you call them.”

  “She does?” Tillie’s eyes grew large beneath her spectacles. “Who divulged the confidential information? The last I knew, she feared it was Leopold Arkwright delivering the letters.”

  “Meredith feared it was Arkwright?”

  “She did. Or even that Mr. Pratt. Now, he’s an interesting sort.”

  Gabe blew out a breath of relief. He needn’t have worried that Meredith had wished the letters to have been written by Arkwright. Pratt had never been a concern. “So, do you think she’s grateful it was me?”