A Tailor-Made Husband

by Winnie Griggs

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What a beautiful dress.”

  It was the morning after the town hall meeting and also Tensy’s final fitting. But it was Hazel’s not-yet-completed wedding dress that Tensy was admiring, not her own. And she was studying it with what Hazel could only describe as a look of pure covetousness.

  Hazel couldn’t very well disagree since she herself had created this ostentatious gown as her supposed ideal wedding dress. So she swallowed her true opinion and pasted on a smile. “Thank you.”

  Tensy gave her an accusatory look. “I thought you didn’t approve of such showiness.”

  Oh dear. Was the girl comparing this one unfavorably to her own? She gave her customer a self-recriminating smile. “I’m afraid I may have gotten a bit carried away when I started working on this one. It is a bit overmuch, isn’t it?”

  “Oh no, it’s lovely. And you’ll look beautiful in it. Just like a princess.”

  Hazel winced at the bitter edge to the girl’s tone.

  Then Tensy gave her a disappointed look. “I suppose this means you really have decided to marry the sheriff. Somehow I figured you would snap your fingers at folks’ expectations and pursue your adventure in New York as you’d planned.”

  Had she fallen off of the pedestal Tensy had set her on? How was she supposed to respond to such a statement?

  Fortunately, Tensy changed the subject. “It was wonderful the way you stood up for the sheriff last night.”

  “I meant every word I said.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not quite brave enough to speak up in public like that. Pa says it’s not a woman’s place.”

  Hazel had no patience for such sentiments. “And why not? We women live in this town too. We should have some say in how it operates.” She saw how taken aback Tensy was at her passionate response and decided it was time to change the subject.

  “Were you planning to wear a hat or a veil with your gown?” she asked. “Because now that Verity is back in town I’m sure she would be able to make you a beautiful hat to match your dress.”

  “I’d planned on a veil.” Her tone was tentative, uncertain. “What do you think?”

  “I think a veil would be lovely. Would you like to look over the selection of lace and netting I have? In fact, I’d be honored to provide the materials as my wedding gift to you.”

  As Hazel ushered her to the area of the shop where the bolts of netting and lace were located, her thoughts drifted back to her own engagement.

  It appeared Ward had given up all pretense, at least with her, of thinking they would go through with a wedding or even that she would remain in Turnabout. What would he say if she told him she’d decided she wanted to stay here with him and Meg, that she wanted the engagement to be real?

  He would go through with it, of course, that wasn’t even a question in her mind. But would he be happy or merely resigned?

  And could she ever be truly happy with anything less than his love?

  * * *

  “I’ve heard from a Jonathan Eversby, the pastor of the church in Daltonville.” Ward reported at lunch. “He was able to help with the final pieces to Meg’s story.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad.” Hazel glanced across the restaurant where Meg was happily showing a picture book to Chessie. “So tell me everything.”

  “Her name is Megan Leigh Johnson, daughter of Luther and Sally Johnson, sister of Frieda Johnson. As Meg told us, her mother died in childbirth and her father and sister resented her for it for most of her life.”

  How had the little girl grown up around such people and retained her sweet, sunny disposition? “The pastor knew this?”

  “According to the letter he sent, he tried to counsel Meg’s father to show the child some love but to no avail. Luckily she had a very motherly Sunday school teacher who gave Half-pint what extra attention she could.”

  “Well, that’s a blessing at least.”

  “The pastor also knew that Frieda had taken up with a young man named Rory Dunkin, a relationship her father frowned on. Then Luther died about two months ago. Frieda sold the home place and then, as far as the pastor knew, she, Meg and Rory seemed to disappear off the face of the earth. He had no idea the pair had so unceremoniously abandoned Meg.”

  “Are there any other relatives?”

  “Not as far as the pastor knows.”

  “So what does this mean for Meg? Surely you won’t put her in an orphanage? I couldn’t bear even the thought of it.”

  “Of course not.” Ward looked insulted that she’d even brought it up. “She needs a loving home.”

  Hazel gave him a pointed look. “Like yours.”

  “I can’t be Meg’s father. Surely you of all people understand why.”

  “But I don’t. In fact, I believe just the opposite. You’ve done very well with Meg so far.”

  His posture was rigid, his jaw muscles stretched taut. “After what happened with Bethany, I—”

  That again. Would he never let go of his sense of guilt? “What happened with Bethany was not your fault. Just like you can’t be everywhere at once now, you couldn’t then either. A board broke, it was an accident.”

  “What you don’t know is that I knew all about that rotten board. I’d been meaning to fix it for days, I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. If I’d done my job, Bethany would never have fallen.”

  Had he been carrying this guilt around with him all these years? She placed a hand on his arm. “Ward, you were sixteen years old and you were trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Both your parents were gone, you had the family farm and a younger sister to take care of. You were doing the best that you could.”

  “I’m not sure Bethany would feel the same way.”

  “I am.” She squeezed his arm. “Look at me. I mean it. I knew Bethany like she was my twin. Bethany loved you. She also worried that you were working too hard, trying to do too much.”

  She saw the stubborn refusal to believe her or forgive himself in his expression and decided it was time for a confession of her own. Taking a deep breath, she looked him square in the eyes. “Besides, if anyone is to blame for her accident, it’s me.”

  That got his attention. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I’m the reason we were up in the loft to start with. I had something important to tell her, something that just couldn’t wait even though she had chores to do, and I insisted we find somewhere private. And our favorite place to have those chats was up in the loft.”

  “You two were just thirteen years old.”

  “Exactly. And you were just sixteen. We both loved Bethany and we both feel we let her down. But she wouldn’t want us to wallow in that for the rest of our lives.”

  She saw the emotions playing out in Ward’s face and thought for a moment that he would give in.

  Then his expression closed off again and he changed the subject. “This is getting us nowhere. We still need to figure out what the best thing is for Meg going forward.”

  Hazel let go of his arm and leaned back in her seat, disappointed.

  Ward kept his tone even. “She’s grown quite fond of you.”

  “And I’ve grown fond of her as well. But it’s you she feels most connected to.”

  “Is there no room in your life for her now that you plan to move to New York?”

  She stiffened. “That’s not fair. The question is not whether I want her in my life, the question is what is best for Meg.”

  “Hazel, everything else aside, I’m a bachelor with a job that demands a great deal of my time. There’s no way I can give Meg the kind of attention she needs, the kind of attention she deserves. And you and I both know, a little girl needs a mother.”

  But Hazel wasn’t going to back down. “She needs a fathe
r just as much.”

  “No, not just as much. I’m right and you know it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  Feeling she was losing the battle, Hazel changed her approach. “This would break her heart.”

  “I know. But it will heal, in time.” His expression closed off even more. “And with that in mind, I think it best I start spending less time with her. Sort of ease myself out of her life so it won’t be as big a change when it comes time for the two of you to leave.”

  “Absolutely not. I won’t allow it.” She was not going to budge on this point. “This is the time for her to be building memories, memories she can carry to New York with her and help carry her through the loneliness she’s going to experience.”

  He gave her a crooked smile. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

  “Not in the least.”

  * * *

  Even though it was barely dawn, Ward was already downstairs pulling on his boots and wishing for a cup of strong coffee. He hadn’t seen much during his midnight patrol last night but he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling ever since he’d returned home that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, but he’d learned a long time ago that it didn’t pay to ignore his gut. So he’d finally given up on getting any shut-eye and decided to make another round before he started his day.

  The conversation he’d had with Hazel at lunch yesterday still bothered him. She could be so stubborn. But she was also usually right nine times out of ten. Should he continue with Meg as usual?

  The sound of someone pounding on his door pulled his thoughts back to the present. That was never a good sign—folks didn’t come by here to report good news.

  He crossed the room and jerked open the door to find Tim Hill, hand raised to knock again.

  The man blinked, obviously not expecting Ward to respond quite so fast. But he recovered quickly. “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff, but I thought you ought to know. Them boys been at it again.”

  Not at all happy that his instincts had been proved right, Ward was already reaching for his gun belt and hat. “Whose place did they hit this time?”

  The lamplighter gave him a you’re-not-going-to-like-this look.

  “It was Hazel Andrews’s dress shop.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Ward stood in front of Hazel’s shop, studying the large, splotchy splatters of red paint that had been liberally applied to her display window. It was a mess, but thank goodness that seemed to be as far as it went—there were no signs that the place itself had been broken into.

  Seeing a light already on upstairs, he rang the door chime on the shop door. Truth be told, he would have done the same even if the light hadn’t been on upstairs. He wouldn’t breathe easy until he assured himself Hazel and Meg were okay.

  It took several minutes but finally Hazel opened the door. The overwhelming sense of relief at seeing her there, obviously calm and unaware that anything was amiss, was telling in its intensity.

  “Good morning. You’re here mighty early. Is everything okay?”

  “I’m afraid not. Where’s Meg?”

  “She’s still in bed. I was just about to get her up.” Then she gave him a sharp look “Something’s happened, hasn’t it? What?”

  “Step out here for a moment, please.”

  Her expression apprehensive, she nonetheless did as he asked without question. When she saw the vandalism on the front of her shop, her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply.

  Ward put an arm around her shoulder, not caring that there were already others gathered on the sidewalks, watching. She was his fiancée so he had every right to comfort her. But even beyond that, he cared about her, deeply.

  A moment later she took a deep breath and gave him a smile that was an odd mix of vulnerability and humor and that touched something deep inside him.

  “At least they picked a bright, cheery color.”

  He squeezed her shoulder and returned her smile. He’d like to do more, to brush the hair from her face, take her in his arms, kiss away her worries, but not here in public view.

  So he stepped back. “Go on and tend to Meg. I want to look around back and downstairs in your shop, just to make sure nothing else was done.”

  Her eyes widened again, as if she hadn’t considered that invasion until now. Then she nodded and headed back inside.

  Ward painstakingly checked Hazel’s shop, both inside and out, but found no signs that anything had been done besides the splattered paint. When he stepped back on the front sidewalk he found Nate Cooper scrubbing the paint off of the window.

  Ward tipped his hat back. “This is mighty neighborly of you. I’m sure Miss Andrews will be grateful.”

  Nate shrugged without pausing in his task. “She straightened up our place after the break-in. I figure this is the least I can do to repay her. Besides, my wife works here too.”

  By the time Hazel and Meg came downstairs, the window looked as good as new. Fortunately, there would be no need to try to explain the incident to Half-pint.

  But there were still splatters of paint on the woodwork below the window and sidewalk in front. Those wouldn’t be as easy to remove as the smears on the glass had been. Perhaps he would get some paint and paint over it for her.

  While Ward stood in front of the dress shop speaking to Nate about any suspicious sounds he might have heard, Eunice Ortolon and Mayor Sanders’s wife walked by. “I suppose,” Eunice said to her companion in a voice pitched to carry, “now that the dress shop has been affected, something will finally get done about all this criminal activity.”

  Ward just couldn’t win. If it took much longer to find the culprit, they would fire him for not doing his job. If he managed to catch the culprit soon, folks would say he’d finally taken action because of his concern for Hazel and Meg.

  Ah, well, he hadn’t taken this job to become popular. It was to help people and make a difference. He’d just keep doing the best he could and hope that was enough.

  Ward checked in on Hazel several times that morning, just long enough to stick his head in the door and assure himself that she and Meg were doing okay.

  He couldn’t help feeling that this attack on her shop had somehow been aimed at him, that he was in some way responsible for what had happened.

  But Hazel refused to dwell on the act of vandalism. When he tried to bring the subject up at their noon meal, she waved his concerns away and changed the subject.

  “Tomorrow is Joy’s birthday and Verity and Nate are going to take her on a picnic to celebrate. She’s invited us to join them.”

  Ward rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. It’s probably not a good idea for me to be away from town right now.”

  She frowned indignantly. “Surely you’re allowed to take a few hours off to relax and enjoy yourself. Besides, other than when they attacked the laundry on Tensy’s and Eunice’s clotheslines, the culprit seems to only strike at night.”

  “I’ll compromise with you. I won’t stay for the whole afternoon, but I will come by for a little while to have lunch with y’all.”

  He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d given in to her. After all, wasn’t he supposed to be putting some distance between himself and Meg?

  But he kept seeing that vulnerable, brave smile Hazel had given him this morning, kept feeling the slight tremble of her shoulders under his arms as she surveyed the vandalism to her shop, and he couldn’t hand her another disappointment.

  * * *

  Hazel was disappointed Ward wouldn’t spend the entire afternoon with them but she understood his reasons. He wouldn’t be Ward Gleason, the man she admired and, yes, loved, if he hadn’t felt his responsibilities so strongly. So she would be happy with what she could get.

  When he walked her and Meg back to the dr
ess shop, she tried to ignore the blotches of paint still staining the sidewalk in front of her display window.

  Why would someone have done this, or any of the other incidents for that matter? Didn’t they realize how it made their victims feel? Or didn’t they care?

  But she was doing everything in her power not to let Ward see how it affected her. She didn’t want to add any additional worries, or reasons to feel guilty, to his already full plate. Maybe the picnic tomorrow would help lighten his spirit, even if only a little.

  Later that afternoon, as much to distract herself as anything else, she took Meg shopping to find a birthday present for Joy. Meg really threw herself into the occasion and studied the offerings at the mercantile long and hard before declaring that none of the things there were right for her new friend.

  Then Hazel remembered the wooden toys Chance Dawson created over at The Blue Bottle and brought Meg there. The little girl immediately latched onto a wooden box with some intricate carvings that had a floral theme.

  “It’s a treasure box,” Meg declared. “She can put all her special things inside it.”

  “That’s perfect,” Hazel agreed. “And you know what? I think if we ask Mr. Dawson to paint Joy’s name on it, he’d do that for us. Would you like to do that?”

  Meg nodded eagerly and in no time it was done. Once their purchase was complete, Meg insisted on carrying the gift herself, proudly chattering on about how much she knew her friend would love the box.

  When Hazel handed Meg off to Ward for the evening and locked her shop door, she felt uneasy in her home for the first time. Which was silly, of course. Once the hooligans had moved on from the Lawrence place, they hadn’t attacked any one place twice. They were likely done with her, and as incidents go, the one against her had been relatively mild.

  But had it really and truly been against her? Somehow, this incident and the one at the town hall seemed more aimed at Ward than anyone else.

  Because whether that was the intention or not, it had certainly hit him harder than the other incidents had.

  * * *

  The picnic the next day went a long way toward getting everyone’s spirits back up. The two little girls had a great time together. And even Pugs and Beans contributed to the merriment.