An Inconvenient Match

by Janet Dean

  “Look, Abby.” Rachel dropped her voice. “The Cummings men are arriving.”

  Abigail turned her head, following their progress. “With the food I prepared tucked inside the basket Wade’s carrying.”

  Not far from the gazebo, Wade opened a wooden folding chair and got his father situated in the shade of an oak. Then carried the basket up the gazebo steps to the tables set up inside.

  Discovering George had lied about the railroad deal had destroyed the likelihood of ending the feud. The last straw—Wade opposed denying Rafe custody of his son. Abigail prepared their food, kept that house in order and saw that George got fresh air and exercise. She was paid for her efforts, but the harm he’d brought her family made every chore onerous.

  “You know, Rachel, I think Wade needs help unpacking that basket.”

  A smile curving her lips, Rachel searched the cloudless sky. “I sense a storm brewing.”

  Wade opened the basket, inhaling tantalizing aromas. Even mad enough to spit nails, Abby wouldn’t taint food the entire community would share.

  Certainly the fried chicken, coleslaw, potato salad and chocolate cake looked delicious. Safe.

  Four weeks ago when he and Abby sat under that oak sharing her box lunch, she’d claimed that if she’d known she’d been cooking for a Cummings, she’d have seasoned the food with a laxative. Though she’d been teasing, the mistrust triggering the banter hadn’t eased. If anything, things had gotten worse.

  He lifted the basket, preparing to tuck it under the table when Abigail appeared at his elbow, a vision in white and pale blue. Even with the trouble between them, he missed her every moment they were apart.

  Eyes gleaming like a Fourth of July sparkler, Abby cocked a brow. “You’re a brave man, Wade Cummings.”

  That look, those words—she had mischief on her mind. “You wouldn’t.”

  A sly smile stole across her face. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  “If you’d wanted to contaminate my food, you’ve had the opportunity.”

  Color dotted her cheeks. “You’re mighty sure of yourself.”

  “With you? Never.” He leaned toward her. “I’ll promise you one thing. If you did taint my food, I wouldn’t hire Harry to seek damages.”

  Fisted hands found her hips. Blazing eyes held his. Whoa, he’d riled her now. This woman battled him but deep down he knew she’d never run as his mother had.

  She’d never looked lovelier, more alluring. No doubt about it, he was smitten. An urge to drag her to him, to kiss the sass off that enchanting face seized him. But he kept his arms pasted to his sides, choosing to finish the day in one piece.

  “You’re making light of Rafe’s behavior and the grounds for my compliant. Why don’t you share my concern for Seth’s safety?” she said.

  “Rafe’s scared. Scared he’ll lose Seth to college, to the courts. I warned him to change his ways, stop his drinking and threatening folks with that gun.” Wade wouldn’t tell her that he’d been forced to deliver the message with his fists.

  “What kind of a father opposes a son bettering himself?”

  “Seth’s all Rafe’s got.”

  “Rafe’s the grown-up. Let him act like one.”

  She turned aside, fussing with the dishes she’d prepared, ignoring him.

  Abby had no idea what Rafe meant to Seth. Odd when she clung to a steadfast loyalty to her father, a man who hadn’t handled the blow of losing the farm any better than Rafe handled the loss of his wife.

  Wade suspected underneath that faithful façade, Abby resented the father she claimed to adore—for shirking his duty, for losing his way when they needed him most.

  To escape Frank’s defeated life, had Abby latched on to education as a way to never have to depend on anyone or anything? Not on land. Not on a man.

  “Abby, you’ll break Seth’s heart if that complaint you filed separates him from his pa.”

  “You’ve got all the answers, Wade, for everyone’s life but your own.”

  Beard neatly trimmed, gray eyes dancing, Harry loped up the gazebo steps, wearing a navy double-breasted jacket, light slacks and straw boater cocked on his head.

  Abby turned toward Harry with a smile, obviously welcoming the interruption.

  “Thought you two might need my services.” With a satisfied smirk, the attorney leaned back on his heels. “Perhaps a stay of execution’s in order.”

  “I’m starting to rue the day you arrived in town.”

  “That you’d speak so callously about a fraternity brother wounds me, Cummings.” Harry turned to Abby and held out his arm. “May I offer my protection from this brute and suggest a stroll of the grounds?”

  Abby tucked a hand in the crook. “I’d love hearing more about your college days, Harrison.”

  Harry gave Wade a jaunty salute then sauntered off with Abby while Wade gnashed his teeth.

  “Boston is a lively town, full of history, but also a place where history is made. Now Wade and I…”

  As they moved out of earshot, Wade had no idea what nonsense Carder was planting in Abby’s pretty head. The man loved to hear himself talk. If that rapt expression on her face meant anything, Abby enjoyed his spiel.

  Paying Carder to leave town would be money well spent. With his practice languishing, Harry might actually go.

  If only Wade had the funds.

  He’d have a chat with Harry. Make a few things crystal clear. Just in case he didn’t understand the lovely schoolteacher was his woman. Without a doubt, she’d deny it.

  With all that stood between him and Abby, he had no idea how they’d make peace. Lord, show me what to do.

  Before I lose her to that dandy.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A long and difficult day at the bank examining the books’ low cash reserves and a delinquent loan confirmed the bank was at risk. Wade went home hauling that cold dose of reality to an equally cold dinner.

  On the way into the house he’d dropped off the books in the office, leaving them for his father to dissect. Then stood at the kitchen counter eating the meal Abby had left for him and faced the truth. As much as he wanted to deny it, as much as he’d fight for any other option, more trouble loomed between Abby’s family and the Cummingses.

  With his stomach rebelling, he strode to the shop to meet Seth. He’d promised to assess the boy’s design for the gift he wanted to make for Abby.

  Why hadn’t Wade thought to make something for her? Perhaps a present could bridge the chasm between them. He sighed. After tomorrow, that chasm would widen to Grand Canyon proportions.

  Seth waited outside, excitement riding his face, a paper clutched in his hand. He’d never seen the boy look happier.

  “If I make Miss Wilson something pretty,” he said, “she’ll see I’m good at this. See how much you’ve taught me. Maybe see I’m not afraid of my pa, that he isn’t a threat to anyone.”

  Though he didn’t see the connection, Wade said, “I hope you’re right.”

  In the shop Wade studied the to-scale drawing of a wooden jewelry box, admiring the boy’s creative attempt to soften Abby. Not that he believed a handcrafted gift would make her drop the complaint against Rafe. Still, the gesture couldn’t hurt.

  “What wood would you like to use?” Wade strolled to where he kept a stash of decorative wood.

  “Cherry. Or maybe bird’s-eye maple.” His brow furrowed. “Which would she like?”

  The rosy hue and soft grain of the cherry fit Abby perfectly. “I think the cherry suits her.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’ll get you started.” Wade helped Seth select a plank, laid it on the workbench to mark the dimensions.

  Satisfied the design was feasible, Wade handed Seth the goggles. As he watched, Seth cut the wood into twelve-by-one-inch and eight-by-one-inch lengths.

  “Wade, can a judge make me stay in school?”

  “No.” But he could remove Seth from the Collier home. “But you know, getting a high school d
iploma makes sense. Without it, you limit your options.”

  Seth sighed. “I don’t see how I can manage to work on the farm, apprentice in your shop, attend school and study.”

  “Handling all that would be difficult but not impossible for a smart, hard-working kid like you.”

  A flush climbed Seth’s neck. “Thanks, but I want to earn more money.”

  Wade heard the desperation in Seth’s tone. “Sounds like you have a special reason.”

  “Without money I can’t court Betty Jo.”

  “If she cares about you, money shouldn’t matter.” Still, Seth could barely afford to buy Betty Jo a soda at the drugstore. “Finish the twelfth grade and I’ll give you an advance on your earnings.”

  “You’d do that for me?”

  He’d do what he could to save Seth from the pain he himself had endured. “I remember how it feels to care about a girl and not be accepted.” The problem had been his name, not money.

  The door opened. Abby stood on the threshold. “Wade, your father wants to talk to you.”

  “I assumed you’d gone home for the day.”

  “I had grocery shopping to do. I thought I’d work in the garden for a while.” She tilted her chin. “On my own time.”

  The implication he’d resent paying for her work slashed at his pride. He wouldn’t grace the barb with a comment.

  “Hello, Seth,” Abby said, her voice soft, almost pleading, as if afraid of his response.

  Seth leaned against the workbench, cutting off her view of the beginnings of the jewelry box.

  “I hope you know I didn’t file the complaint against your father to be mean. I’m concerned about him and about you.”

  “Pa fired his gun to run you off, Miss Wilson. If he’d wanted to hurt you, he would’ve, ’cause you see, Pa never misses.”

  Abby glanced at Wade, a flash of disquiet in her eyes. Most likely not pleased to hear of Rafe’s prowess with a gun.

  “Well…” Her voice trailed off. “Don’t forget your father’s waiting, Wade.”

  As Abby stepped out the door, Wade put a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Can you handle mitering those corners?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Be careful of that saw. I’ll be back later to see if you need help.”

  A faraway look on his face as he penciled lines on the wood, Seth didn’t appear to hear.

  “Seth?”

  “Huh?”

  “Be careful using the tools.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The boy had worked at Wade’s side for a year without incident, giving Wade confidence in his ability to work alone.

  As he headed to the house, to his father’s summons, he spotted Abby in the garden watering the resettled plants.

  At his approach she turned toward him, her gaze filled with misgiving. “Seth’s upset with me.”

  If she knew about the jewelry box, she’d worry less. “He doesn’t hold a grudge.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She sighed. “Sometimes doing the tough thing is the right thing to do.”

  He hoped she’d remember those words in the coming days.

  Some tough decisions had to be made before the bank examiner arrived. Wade rapped on the door then entered the library that also served as his father’s office.

  His desk strewn with accounting books, George sat staring off into space.

  Wade cleared his throat, jerking up his father’s head.

  George motioned to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.” He formed a steeple with his fingers. “I assume you agree the bank’s in trouble.”

  Wade nodded. “Last fall’s dismal crop forced farmers to borrow. The fire hurt us when those who lost their homes withdrew their savings.” He expelled a breath. “Cash reserves are at a record low.”

  “The bank examiner could put us on probation, or worse, force us to close.”

  “Could you loan the bank some of your personal money?”

  “Most of my cash reserves went to the fire victim fund.”

  “I could come up with a couple hundred.” The start-up money for his shop. “But that money’s already in the bank.”

  “We need new money. Talk to those leasing our buildings. See if anyone can come up with enough cash to buy us out. If not…” He cleared his throat. “You know what that means.”

  “We have to call a loan.”

  “The question is whose?” George ran a scarred finger along a column. “Five families owe the bank considerable money. But only one loan is delinquent. Delinquent loans don’t please bank examiners.”

  Wade braced himself for what was coming. “I know.”

  “Lois Lessman borrowed money to pay off their creditors almost two years ago but they haven’t paid one dime.”

  When Lois had come to Wade asking for a loan, she’d been desperate. Joe was gambling. Her income couldn’t feed and clothe four boys. The grocer and Mercantile had refused to extend more credit.

  “The Lessmans are just now getting on their feet. We can’t add to their troubles, can’t risk enlarging the feud.”

  “The feud is the reason I let that loan go unpaid as long as I did.” He studied Wade under heavy brows. “If the bank fails, the entire town suffers.” George shoved the tome aside.

  “The Lessmans don’t have money to pay off the loan. Joe can’t work and he’s still in deep with gambling debts.”

  “They’ll have to sell their house.”

  His father’s words sank to the bottom of Wade’s stomach. Abby would never forgive him. Most likely the town would never forgive him. “That’s heartless.”

  “Figure out another way if you can. But the Lessmans owe this bank hundreds of dollars. They’re in arrears. The time has come to prove you’re man enough to make the hard decisions. The bank examiner arrives in two weeks. This can’t wait.”

  A knot formed in Wade’s throat. Lord, please let there be another way.

  He’d check with businessmen leasing Cummings’s properties. Talk to the owner of the canning factory. Yet even as Wade made the plan, he doubted anyone in this town had the money to purchase the property they rented. Without a miracle, he knew what had to be done.

  Calling the Lessman loan would pound the final nail into the coffin of his and Abby’s relationship.

  If he hoped to save the Lessman home, Wade had to bring more capital into the bank. Now. He’d saddle Rowdy and ride out to talk to Leland Owens, hoping the owner of the canning factory would have interest in buying one of the rental properties as an investment. On the way out Wade would mull over other money-making ideas.

  Before he did, he’d see how Seth was getting along. A miter box was easy enough to use but Seth planned to dovetail the corners of the jewelry box, difficult for a novice.

  “How’s it going, Seth?” he called as he opened the door. Silence greeted him. Motes of dust floated in a strip of sunlight streaming in the window. “Seth?”

  No answer. Wade took two steps. Stopped. His heart clutched, as if a mammoth hand wrapped around it and squeezed.

  Blood.

  On the tool bench.

  On the floor.

  “Seth!”

  Wade spun around, searching the space. No Seth, only Abby coming in. “Have you seen Seth?” he asked her.

  “No why? What’s wrong?”

  “Blood.” Wade waved a hand toward the puddle on the floor and cursed himself for leaving the boy alone. Why had he done that! “Oh, Lord, I pray he’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?” Then Abby saw the glimmer of crimson and let out a gasp. “Where would he go?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ve got to find him. Make certain he got that bleeding stopped.” Wade paced the floor, thinking. “Maybe he’s at Doc Simmons. Or home.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  He was already halfway out the door with Abby at his heels. “Taking the carriage will slow me down.”

  She laid a hand on his shoulder. A touch of comfort, reason. “Wade, if Seth’s
lying along the way, bleeding, we’ll need the carriage.”

  No point in arguing with the determined set of her jaw, especially since she was right. “Run to the house. Get gauze and antiseptic—in Dad’s room—while I hitch Beauty.”

  A few minutes later, his mind racing with possibilities, Wade helped Abby into the carriage. What if the time he’d taken to hitch the horse had been too long?

  Wade snapped the reins and Beauty jerked forward. The entire way to Doc’s, Abby sat beside him, quiet, stoic, except for her white-knuckled hands opening and closing, opening and closing.

  They reached the white clapboard house, Doc’s office and residence, but found the door locked. Wade clambered into the carriage, dread coiled in his gut. “Doc must be out on a house call.”

  “He could be at the Colliers’,” Abby offered, no doubt trying to reassure him.

  “I hope you’re right.” Wade snapped the reins and turned Beauty east toward Rafe’s farm. “What if Seth lost too much blood and didn’t make it home?” He shook his head, trying to shake loose the horrifying images running through his mind.

  Abby laid a gentle hand on his forearm. “He’s going to be all right.”

  “I never should have left him alone. This is my fault.”

  “Seth’s a smart boy. From what you’ve said, he knew what he was doing. Accidents happen even to experienced carpenters.”

  Wade turned to Abby, drinking in her quiet assurance, her soothing presence. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here.”

  She smiled, and the tension in Wade’s chest eased its iron grip. “He’ll be okay, Wade.”

  “I pray you’re right.”

  Out of town, Wade gave Beauty her head. Along the way, Wade scanned both sides of the gravel road for any sign of the boy or blood. The twenty-minute drive to the Collier farm took an eternity. But then finally the lane came into view. “The gate’s open.”

  Abby looked at Wade. “Why?”

  Dread squeezed his stomach as Beauty trotted up the lane. “I don’t know.”