by Jody Hedlund
She’d scoured through Drew’s record book on two different occasions, yet she hadn’t seen any mentions of a child who resembled Sophie. There hadn’t been any notice of two infants named Olivia and Nicholas either. In fact, the information was so vague for most children that she’d all but given up hope of using the records to help in her search.
Instead, she’d continued to make inquires wherever she went. But as with everywhere else, no one had seen a girl that fit Sophie’s description or Olivia and Nicholas’s.
Cuddled up next to her on the bench, Jethro seemed so small and vulnerable. Because of the stories he told about his survival, at times she forgot he was only seven years old. Unfortunately, he’d experienced too much of life already, too much that no one, not even an adult, should have to live through.
He sniffled and wiped the back of his hand across his runny nose. “Guess nobody likes my red hair.”
“Oh, Jethro,” she crooned and hugged him closer. “Your hair is a beautiful color. It reminds me of the sun when it’s glowing on the horizon just before it sets, when it’s a blazing fireball of oranges and reds.”
“You might like it, Miss Neumann, but there ain’t nobody else who does.”
She didn’t want to tell him he was close to the truth. Many people were prejudiced, and with his red hair they assumed he was Irish—even though Jethro didn’t know his family’s ancestry and had lived in America his whole life. Still, he was the only orphan left. Even without his red hair, he was in the age group hardest to place. Families liked to adopt the youngest children whom they believed weren’t corrupted by the degradation of poverty and city life. And families were willing to take in the older orphans, who had the capability of working hard and earning their keep.
But a seven-year-old like Jethro was often considered a burden. And one with red hair and possible Irish ancestry?
Drew hadn’t been surprised that Jethro was still with them. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he said after they’d returned to the hotel last night. “We’ll pray for God to provide you just the right new home.” She was touched when Drew knelt down right then and there and prayed with Jethro.
Yet she couldn’t keep from questioning the wisdom of the leaders who’d allowed Jethro to come on the trip. If they’d known he would be hard to place, why had they sent him? Didn’t they know he’d face rejection? Didn’t they realize how devastating such rejection would be for a young boy?
She hated to think about having to take him all the way back to New York City and place him in an orphanage there. He likely wouldn’t stay in such a place and would end up back on the streets.
Drew had mentioned that during their follow-up visits, he’d attempt to find a family among those who’d already taken children. But Marianne worried that if a family took Jethro out of obligation and didn’t really want him, he’d only suffer all the more. He deserved a family who wanted and loved him for who he was.
“You’re going to make some mother and father a wonderful son,” she reassured.
“My other ma and pa didn’t want me.” A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. “You and Mr. Brady are the only ones who like me.”
“That’s not true. You’re a loving boy and make friends wherever you go.”
“Maybe you can be my new ma.” He tilted his head up to gauge her reaction.
She attempted to hide her dismay and instead smiled. “As much as I’d adore having you for a son, I can’t be your ma.”
“Why not? I’d be a good boy.”
“Oh, Jethro.” She smoothed his hair back. “You’d be a very good boy. That wouldn’t be the problem. The problem is me. I’m not in a position to have children since I’m not married.”
“You could marry Mr. Brady.” The words came quickly, as if he’d already planned everything out.
Marianne was tempted to laugh at Jethro’s suggestion, but the sincerity of his expression stopped her. “Mr. Brady and I, well . . .” She slid a glance at the man in question.
“Mr. Brady’s a real nice man,” Jethro said. “And I can tell he likes you.”
Against her will, her mind flashed back to the kiss he’d given her the night in the tavern after losing George. Since then, she’d thought of the kiss too many times to count. It was seared into her memory whether she wanted it to be or not. But she couldn’t very well say that to Jethro.
“I agree. Mr. Brady is a fine man—”
“And intelligent, strong, and incredibly handsome.” The voice came from beneath the hat covering Drew’s face.
“But he’s a tad too arrogant for me,” she finished.
Drew pushed up his hat until he revealed his devastating grin. “Don’t let her fool you, Jethro. She loves me, and she’d marry me in a minute if I asked her.”
“I absolutely would not.”
He pushed the brim of his hat higher until she could see his eyes. The sparkle there told her he was only teasing. Nevertheless, she felt flustered. The idea of marrying Andrew Brady didn’t repel her in the least. In fact, it made her insides flutter in a strange but pleasurable way.
“Oh, that’s right,” he countered. “You wouldn’t be at all interested in marrying me because you already have a dashing beau waiting for you somewhere here in Illinois.”
Reinhold. She hadn’t thought of him at all in recent days. She’d simply been too busy and too consumed with the orphans that her plans to search for him had all but vanished.
“As a matter of fact, I was planning to seek him out on the return trip.”
Drew gave her a crooked smile, one that told her he knew she’d forgotten about Reinhold, and that he also knew who she’d been thinking about instead.
Jethro’s gaze bounced back and forth between her and Drew. “Miss Neumann, you oughta marry Mr. Brady.”
Drew’s grin widened. “I am quite the catch.”
Jethro nodded earnestly. “Mr. Brady’s the nicest man I ever met.”
She fanned a hand in front of her face, positive her cheeks were flaming with embarrassment. Even if Drew was only jesting, she couldn’t deny her attraction. And she had the feeling he knew it all too well. “Mr. Brady is nice, Jethro,” she replied, choosing her words carefully, “but he’s not serious about asking me to marry him. He’s teasing. That’s all.”
“You are?” Jethro said to Drew.
“He’s not the marrying type,” Marianne continued, this time challenging Drew with a narrowed gaze. She knew he’d been engaged once, that he’d been hurt, and ever since then he’d probably had a difficult time making a commitment to any woman. He was scared of a serious relationship and was more likely to flirt with pretty women, steal a kiss or two, but then cut the ties when things got too serious. He’d probably left a trail of broken hearts wherever he’d gone.
The truth was, he might be able to talk and tease about marrying, but when pushed, he certainly wouldn’t follow through. She could play his game without any worries.
“As a matter of fact,” she said, “I highly doubt Mr. Brady would get married, even if someone paid him to do so.”
“Are you daring me, Miss Neumann?” He sat up in the bench, turning to face her squarely. After having slept most of the day, his shirt was wrinkled and his hair mussed. And yet nothing could take away from his incredibly good looks.
“I’m not daring you, Mr. Brady. I’m simply telling the truth. You can’t do it. Some men are the marrying type. Some aren’t.” She smiled at him as if the matter were settled. “And you clearly fall into the second category.”
“How about if we put your theory to the test, darlin’?”
She was enjoying sparring with him much more than she should. In fact, she loved challenging him. Their dares had become a highlight of the trip.
But for all his talk about daring to get married, he wouldn’t. This was finally a dare he wouldn’t be able to do. Marriage wasn’t a part of Andrew Brady’s immediate future. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he’d chosen the life of an agent, because then he
didn’t have to worry about settling down. He could constantly move around and so keep his relationships from ever becoming too serious.
“How would you like to put your theory to the test, darlin’?” she said, trying to imitate his Southern drawl.
“We’ll get married just as soon as we get to Quincy.”
She jutted her chin. “I’d like to see that. I know you won’t.”
“Try me.” His eyes flashed with something that made her hesitate. Was he serious? Would he really go through with marrying her simply to win a challenge?
No. He wouldn’t take it that far. He’d back out sooner or later. He was too afraid of marriage.
“All right,” she said, her stomach quavering. “I’ll try you.”
Jethro was still glancing between them. “So you’ll get married at the next stop and keep me as your child?”
“I’m planning on it. But Miss Neumann might be too afraid to commit.” Drew’s tone challenged her—no, dared—her to follow through, as though he didn’t believe she was ready for marriage either. Did he think she was too frightened or too weak? The implication galled her, making her spine stiffen with the need to prove herself.
“For your information, I can commit just fine.” She ignored the whisper at the back of her mind telling her she’d been using Reinhold as an excuse to hold other men at arm’s length in her fear of getting too close and disappointing them.
As though reading her thoughts, Drew’s grin slanted into dangerously irresistible territory. “Does that mean you’ll marry me when we arrive in Quincy?”
How could she say no without making herself look like a frightened old spinster? Once more she hesitated. “Surely you don’t expect to get married the minute we get off the train.”
“I knew it!” With a smirk, he sat back, draping both arms across the bench. “You think I can’t do it, but when it comes down to it, you’re the one who’s too afraid.”
She bristled at his remark. “All I’m saying is that we would need a little time to make the arrangements. You aren’t planning to walk directly to the church and ask the minister to marry us right away, are you?”
“Why not?” His eyes glinted, clearly relishing the challenge.
“Because . . . because . . .” She fumbled over her response. Because why, exactly? Elise had married Thornton without any preparation. What was to stop her from doing the same?
He tapped his fingers on the back of the bench. Jethro watched her expectantly, his eyes bright with hope. A part of her told her she needed to put an end to this whole discussion now before it got out of hand, if it hadn’t already. She and Drew couldn’t make plans and promises to each other only to break them at the altar once Drew’s moment of impulsivity passed and the reality of what he’d done settled upon him. And they couldn’t do this to Jethro—allow him to believe they would marry each other. He would be devastated when he realized they’d never really planned on it.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” she finally said with a pointed sideways glance at Jethro.
“I’m not planning to hurt anyone,” Drew replied. “In fact, I think Jethro’s right. We’re his best option. And since it’s clear you like me—”
Her indignation rose swiftly. “I do not like you.”
“You see the way she looks at me, don’t you, Jethro?” Drew’s expression took on an innocence that stirred her ire even further.
“I’m sure all Jethro sees is your infatuation with me.”
Drew laughed, a deep belly laugh that soon had Jethro giggling. As she watched the play of sunshine and mirth between them, she couldn’t contain a smile of her own.
When Drew’s laughter faded, despite all the teasing and banter, something in his eyes beseeched her not to deny him. That something was powerful. It drew her in and made her breathless with anticipation.
“You better ask her to marry you proper-like, Mr. Brady.” Filled with excitement, Jethro hopped up onto his seat. “Maybe then she’ll say yes!”
Instantly, Drew slid from the bench and knelt in front of her. He reached for her hand and took it into his. The touch sent sparks into her blood. As he lifted her hand toward his mouth, she bit down on her lower lip in an exquisite moment of anticipation.
His kiss was soft and lingering and only stirred a longing for much more. It was the promise of more kisses and their exploring the secrets of married life together.
“Marianne,” he whispered, “will you marry me?”
She should say no as quickly as she could. They were only asking for trouble by carrying on this charade. But somehow in that moment, with the undeniable attraction she felt toward him, she didn’t want to say no. At least not yet. “We’ll need at least a week to make the arrangements,” she said in an embarrassingly winded voice.
“You’ll marry me at the end of the week?” He gently maneuvered her hand so his lips were against her wrist, grazing her pulse, which she realized was throbbing. The contact was nearly hypnotizing, and she had to break it before he managed to get her to agree to anything else.
Besides, this open display in front of Jethro wasn’t appropriate. The boy was hopping up and down on the bench, beaming with his toothless smile, watching her and waiting for her answer.
She couldn’t say no now. She’d have to go along with the plan until she figured out a way to get them out of the hole they’d just dug and had now fallen into quite deeply. She nodded her answer.
Drew rewarded her with the most beautiful smile ever.
They arrived in Quincy at dusk. The soft blue of the sky was tinted with hints of purple and wisps of clouds. The tall grass of the endless prairie was still a fresh green that hadn’t yet experienced the hot, dry days of summer, which would eventually turn it brown and brittle.
As Marianne stepped down from the train onto the platform, Drew held her arm to steady her. Her eyes snapped to his, revealing the stark desire there that had started to make him do crazy things—like get down on his knees and propose to her.
What had he been thinking?
For an instant, he lost himself in her bottomless brown eyes. The trouble was, he hadn’t been thinking. With every passing day, he was finding it more and more difficult to make his brain work rationally around Marianne. And now somehow he’d ended up engaged to her with their wedding a mere week away.
“Marianne!” An elegantly dressed young woman with pale blond hair who’d been standing in the shade of the depot rushed toward Marianne.
Marianne squealed. “Elise!” The two women hugged and laughed and spoke all at once. When Elise pulled back, she held Marianne at arm’s length and studied her like a mother would a child.
“I see you’re getting good use of the dresses Fanny made for you,” Elise said sarcastically in a German accent that was stronger than Marianne’s.
Marianne glanced down at the skirt and flushed. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had time to launder them since we started our journey. It’s been incredibly busy and so much traveling and—”
“Then it’s a good thing I had Fanny work on creating a few more dresses for you,” Elise said. “Because this one is just begging for a day off.”
“Marianne looks lovely all the time.” The words came out before Drew could stop them and were much harder than he’d intended, a rebuke to Elise along with a warning not to hurt Marianne.
The young woman’s attention shifted to him, revealing a face outlined by the same pretty features as Marianne’s: long eyelashes, delicate eyebrows, and the same doe eyes. While Elise’s coloring was fair, Marianne’s was a shade darker, more exotic and enticing.
Elise’s blue eyes were direct and almost intimidating. She was clearly a strong woman, a natural leader, and likely very determined when she set her mind on something. He understood more completely why Marianne had wanted to be on her own, to come out from under the protective wings of this capable woman and prove she had merit on her own.
“I suppose you’re Marianne’s supervisor from the Children
’s Aid Society?”
“No, I’m not technically her supervisor. Andrew Brady. Drew. We’re working together as partners. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“They’re going to get married in a week” came a small voice beside him. Drew felt Jethro’s little hand slide into his. He glanced down to find the boy was peering up at him as though waiting for an introduction.
“Married?” Elise’s tone rose several octaves.
Marianne looked away, embarrassment, fear, and insecurity rippling across her features. She obviously hadn’t thought through how to tell her sister about their engagement. Maybe she hadn’t been planning to; maybe she’d hoped to avoid any conversation about the subject so that all talk of marriage would simply die away.
It struck Drew then just how impulsive and irrational he’d been in proposing to Marianne. That was the way he usually operated—act first, think later. But at this moment, with Marianne bowing beneath the censure of her capable and intelligent sister, his heart welled with empathy and the strong, almost overpowering need to defend Marianne. With Jethro’s hand still in his, he crossed to Marianne and wrapped his arm around her, drawing her to his side.
“She just agreed to marry me,” he said, looking down at her and willing her to meet his gaze so he could reassure her that he would stand by her side. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”
At his declaration, her lashes lifted, revealing startled, disbelieving eyes.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he bent and pressed his lips softly to hers. The touch was like a flicker of a candle flame, brief but searing.
When he pulled away, her eyes were focused on his lips, telling him the kiss had touched her with its heat too and she wanted more. Her look of desire had him dropping his attention to her lips again too. Just for an instant. Hopefully, though, it was enough for Elise to see that marriage by the week’s end was probably in their best interests. At least that was the way he saw it just then.