by Jody Hedlund
“I can’t help it.” His voice was low.
“Then I may have to relieve you from the job.” She tried to keep her voice light and playful, knowing it would be all too easy to fall back into his arms again.
“Your hair is so beautiful.” This time he brought the brush up and began to stroke gently, almost reverently.
She savored the tenderness and the delicious feelings he was eliciting in her. The ripple of the wind in the leaves overhead and Jethro’s splashing nearby were the only sounds until Drew finally spoke again.
“My father didn’t want me to be a teacher.” There was a hint of bitterness in his tone.
She wanted to ask him why. But she held her questions, deciding it was best to let him share what he wanted to in his own way.
“He told me he wouldn’t support me or pay for any more of my education if I became a teacher, said there wasn’t any prestige in teaching children. He had his heart set on my becoming a minister, had connections at one of the largest churches in Savannah. And he had hopes I’d eventually move into politics. Later, when I dropped out of seminary and returned home, he threatened to disown me.”
“He sounds like a hard man to please.”
“Very hard. He’s well educated, a lawyer, and thought teaching was beneath me.”
“But you became a teacher anyway?” she asked.
“I guess he expected me to tire of it and see the error of my ways.”
“I have no doubt you proved him wrong and became the best teacher Georgia has ever known.”
She expected him to agree or at least to make a jest, but he was silent.
“What about your fiancée?” Marianne couldn’t stop herself from asking about the other woman in Drew’s life. She wanted to ask what had happened and if he still cared for her, but she forced herself not to pry too deeply. “Did she support your teaching?”
“She tolerated it, but in the end she persuaded me to return to the seminary and continue my theological studies. After being wed, we planned to move back to Virginia so I could finish.”
Marianne suddenly didn’t like his former fiancée at all. “Then she didn’t see you with the children to realize how wonderful you are with them.”
He didn’t respond, but instead brushed her hair in long strokes. She’d almost begun to believe he’d shared all he could, that he’d reached the limit, when he spoke again in a choked voice. “There was an accident a week before the wedding. One of my students died. I left and haven’t been back since.”
Marianne twisted around to face him. His expression was etched with the same anguish she’d seen there the night he’d thought George was dead. Now she understood.
He hung his head as though expecting her condemnation. Instead, she pressed a hand to his cheek as she had that night and swiveled his face so he was looking in her eyes. His turmoil tore into her. Had his fiancée rejected him because of the accident? Maybe his father had as well.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears at the thought of the incredible pain he must have gone through.
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered back. “I’m the only one to blame for all that happened.”
She wanted to ask him exactly what had happened. How had his student died? But she had the feeling she’d already pushed him to share more than he had in a long time with anyone else. She prayed that in time he’d heal enough to share the rest with her.
“I lost my sister.” She blurted the truth, and once the words were out, she started to tremble.
He didn’t seem the least surprised by her declaration. “Is she who you’ve been looking for in the record book and asking about everywhere we go?”
She nodded, and it was her turn to drop her head as the shame of all that had happened fell upon her. “I was hoping to find a lead of some kind on this trip. But I haven’t found a single clue.”
“I’ll help you,” he offered.
When she chanced a peek at his face, there wasn’t a hint of condemnation there, only understanding. Surely, he wouldn’t be so kind if he understood how much she was to blame. “When Elise left for her new job in Quincy, she put me in charge of Sophie and Olivia and Nicholas. I was supposed to keep them safe, supposed to keep us together, supposed to be strong enough to handle it all. But I failed.” The words poured out about living at the Seventh Street Mission, the lie about being pregnant, moving in with Reinhold’s family, and then losing Olivia and Nicholas, as well as Sophie.
He watched her with serious eyes, his brows slanted.
She waited for him to pull away, for disappointment or disgust to flitter into his eyes.
“You were with Reinhold?” he asked.
Of all the things she’d just bared to him, that was his only question? Did he think she was a loose woman now? Embarrassment slashed through her. “Of course not,” she murmured. “I’ve never even kissed anyone, until you . . .”
Nice job, Marianne. Way to make yourself look like a bumbling idiot.
“Good. Because if he dared to use you, I’d have to find him and beat him to a pulp.” This time Drew’s voice contained a distinct note of possessiveness.
“Reinhold would never do anything to dishonor me. He’s a good man. In fact, he’s wonderful—”
“You could have stopped at ‘good man.’”
“Are you jealous?” She managed a smile.
“Absolutely.” He smiled back, but it wasn’t lighthearted. It smoldered. “The merest thought of any other man touching you makes me crazy.”
Before she could study him further, he turned her around so she was facing forward again. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she expected him to resume the brushing. Instead, he slid his arms around her middle and pulled her back against his chest. He folded her against him, and she relaxed in his embrace, wrapping her arms over his. Her chest ached with the sweetness of the moment. He hadn’t rejected her or thought any less of her for losing Sophie and Olivia and Nicholas. He still wanted her.
She snuggled against him, and when his lips pressed against her hair above her ear, she released a breath and for the first time in a very long time felt as though she was finally home.
“Are you eating Miss Neumann again?” Jethro called from the bank.
Drew’s laughter rumbled against her. As if to defy Jethro, Drew angled his head and pressed his lips against her neck, this time below her ear.
She gasped and wiggled to free herself from him before she totally embarrassed herself in her reactions to his touch.
He laughed and moved after her.
She climbed across the blanket out of his reach. “Andrew Brady,” she chided, “we have an audience.”
“Marianne Neumann.” His eyes twinkled with merriment and desire. “We may have an audience now, but in four days we won’t.”
“Then you must wait.” As much as she longed to be back in his arms, they needed to be careful not to give in to any more intimacies, not until they were married.
As if realizing how easy it would be to let their passion spiral out of control, Drew nodded. “It might be the longest four days of my life, but I’ll wait. You’re worth it.”
Chapter 16
Reinhold finished hitching the mare and rubbed a hand along her muscled flank.
“Your girl Lucinda wants you,” Liverpool said from the wagon bench where he was waiting.
Reinhold didn’t bother to look up or respond to the youth’s snide comment. The orphan came home with Mr. Turner last week and had been trouble ever since. The only good thing about the situation was that the boy seemed to take to him more than Higgins. Perhaps Higgins and Liverpool were too much alike to stand each other. Higgins would have only soured the boy’s attitude all the more. Whatever the case, he’d become Reinhold’s shadow.
Reinhold was used to boys like Liverpool, had lived and worked with young men even more hardened than this one. He always put up with them and hoped they could see in him a better way of life. Maybe Liverpool would e
ventually too. Even so, there were times, like now, when he longed for peace and quiet.
“Looks like she’s got food for you,” Liverpool continued. “Think there’s enough for me too?”
After a full day’s work, Reinhold didn’t particularly want to ride into town and miss supper. But Mr. Turner had paid him today, and he was desperate to send word to his aunt that money was on the way. He just prayed it wasn’t too late, that she hadn’t decided to give up his sisters yet.
He couldn’t chance waiting another day, even though he was exhausted and hot and hungry. If he waited, tomorrow would be just as busy as today with hoeing the cornfields. And tomorrow evening he’d feel exactly the same as tonight.
Reinhold straightened as Lucinda neared the wagon. She held a dish that was heaped with pieces of fried chicken, golden-brown biscuits slathered in butter, string green beans, and beets. His stomach growled at the sight of it.
“I thought you might be hungry,” she said shyly. Her thin face turned as red as the beets. She bowed her head, giving him full view of her dark hair, parted down the middle as usual and pulled into a severe knot at the back.
“Thank you, Lucinda.” He took the plate gratefully, hoping Mrs. Turner wouldn’t discover her daughter had fed him in spite of her strict rules about mealtime. He didn’t want Lucinda getting into trouble on account of him.
Lucinda nodded, watching him a moment as if waiting for him to take a bite.
He obliged her by picking up a chicken leg and tearing off a hunk of meat with his teeth. The warm, flavorful juices ran into his mouth and made his stomach rumble all the more. “It’s delicious,” he said.
Her face beamed, making her long pointy features come to life. “I’ll leave a piece of cake for you on your bed.”
Liverpool snorted in a way that made Reinhold keenly aware of the fact that Lucinda was perhaps growing too attached to him. He hadn’t meant to lead her on in any way. He’d only tried to be kind and appreciative, the same way he’d treated his mother and sisters.
Had she been reading more into his actions? He started to shake his head. “You don’t need to leave me any cake—”
“But it’s your favorite.” The pleasure in her eyes faded, and her shoulders slumped.
How would she know his favorite kind of cake? He didn’t even know himself what he liked best.
“You can leave me his piece,” Liverpool said, still sitting on the wagon bench.
“Never mind,” Reinhold interjected. “I’m sure I’ll be hungry again when I get home and would appreciate the cake.”
Her smile returned, albeit more hesitantly.
“That girl’s got it bad for you,” Liverpool said as the wagon rattled down the rutted path toward town. He stuffed a biscuit into his mouth, devouring it in only a few bites. While the Turners kept the boy well fed, Reinhold knew it was difficult for street children to shed the habits formed after years of starving and scrounging. Liverpool had likely learned to eat fast or lose his meal to someone stronger and quicker than him.
“Mister, all you need to do is show her a little more interest,” Liverpool said through another mouthful, “and you’ll get more than just the cake on your bed.”
Crass talk was nothing new to Reinhold. He’d heard it all and then some. But that didn’t mean he liked it. “Listen, Miss Turner is a fine woman. Not the woman for me, but still, she deserves my respect. And I won’t use her to sate my own pleasure.”
Liverpool stopped chewing and stared at him as though he’d gone crazy. “She’s practically throwing herself at you.”
Was she? Reinhold shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench. He needed to be more careful not to give her the wrong impression. “I’m not planning to be intimate with any woman until I get married—if I get married.”
Liverpool’s mouth dropped open even more. “What’s wrong with you? You planning to be a priest or something?”
“Do I look like one?”
Liverpool shook his head.
“I’m just an ordinary man, but I’m not rushing ahead and doing my own selfish thing by having any woman I want. Too many problems come from that kind of living.” Reinhold didn’t have to spell out for Liverpool the problems that resulted from infidelity. They’d been surrounded by it in the city: prostitutes with unwanted, abandoned children, wives cast aside by unfaithful husbands who had no means to support themselves, drunken and abusive men who beat their women and children.
“No, when the right woman comes along,” he continued, “I’m planning to get married first before sharing my bed. In the long run, waiting until marriage is the safest and most satisfying way. That’s the way God designed it. Unfortunately, a lot of people ignore the guidelines He set in place, do it their way instead, and get hurt.”
Liverpool was silent, and Reinhold prayed he was taking his words to heart. Actually, the words belonged to Reverend Bedell from the Seventh Street Mission. Reinhold had sat in on some of his church services and seen the way the reverend treated his fiancée, Miss Pendleton, with restraint and respect.
Of course, Reinhold had never gotten any words of wisdom while growing up, especially not from his father. No, all he’d gotten from his father was the sting of his belt and the bruising force of his fists. Reinhold tried to be different with his own siblings, giving his brothers the encouragement he’d never received. And now maybe he could encourage this young man too.
Reinhold surveyed the neighbor’s cornfields on either side of the road and gauged the growth of the corn. It was knee-high, perhaps a little taller than the corn belonging to the Turners. But the tender shoots were growing fast in the hot and humid weather they’d had recently and promised to be a bountiful harvest. Reinhold prayed his potato crop would be just as plentiful.
He still hadn’t figured out how he’d be able to earn enough by autumn to put a down payment on a place of his own. But he wasn’t giving up just yet.
“So you got someone else then?” Liverpool finally asked.
Reinhold shook his head and debated whether to say anything more or not. His past was still too painful to dwell on. And yet perhaps he needed to face his pain and talk about it if he was ever going to heal. “The woman I love and thought I would marry ended up falling in love with someone else.”
“Serves you right,” Liverpool said. “If you’d claimed her while you could, maybe she wouldn’t have walked away from you.”
“I’m glad she got someone better than me,” Reinhold said. “She’s happy now, and that’s what matters most.”
Liverpool snickered. “You’re pathetic.”
Maybe, but the truth was, Elise was much better off with a wealthy man like Thornton Quincy. Thornton could give her everything she wanted or needed much more than he ever could. As hard as it had been to leave her behind in Quincy, he’d done the right thing by heading out on his own.
He just hoped she’d received his telegram from earlier in the week and sent word to Marianne to check on his sisters. Marianne would do it. She was a sweet and caring girl. Although she’d tricked his mother and aunt last fall with a false pregnancy and claimed he was the father, he knew she’d done so out of desperation because she needed a place to live. She’d cared so deeply about her family that she was willing to lie for them. If there was even a hint of trouble now with his sisters, she’d do everything she could to help them. He had no doubt about it.
Even so, he wanted to make sure Tante Brunhilde received the money as speedily as possible. He gave the reins a shake to urge the horses into a faster trot.
The miles passed quickly, and as they rounded a bend in the dirt road on the final stretch before town, he saw several boys jumping in Percy’s pond. The small body of water belonged to Mr. Percy as part of his farmland, but he allowed the kids to swim in it whenever they wanted.
As Reinhold drew nearer, the boys waved in greeting. Reinhold tipped the brim of his hat in response and noticed Liverpool was looking the opposite way, almost as if he didn’t want to watch
the boys having fun.
“I can drop you off here if you want to go swimming while I’m in town,” Reinhold offered.
Liverpool shook his head. “No. I don’t swim.”
“It’s not hard to learn,” Reinhold said.
“I ain’t going and that’s the end of it.” Liverpool’s voice rose in anger.
Reinhold shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
At a sudden chorus of shouts from near the pond, the skin at the back of Reinhold’s neck prickled. Was someone hurt? He scanned the boys, counting the three from before. They were all accounted for. But had one of them hurt himself?
Reinhold tugged on the reins and slowed the wagon. “Everything all right over there?” he yelled.
One of the boys shook his head. Even from a distance, Reinhold could see he was terrified. Before the frightened boy could speak, one of his friends called out, “Ernie said he saw something at the bottom of the pond.”
Reinhold steered the team off the road toward the pond.
“What are you doing?” Liverpool asked. “Don’t go over there.”
“I need to make sure the boys are all right.” Reinhold guided the team into the tall grass, slowing them down.
Liverpool shook his head. “Do you have to be a do-gooder wherever you go?”
“If you were one of those boys in trouble, you’d be happy to see me.”
Liverpool cursed under his breath. And when they arrived at the edge of the pond, he sat stiffly on the bench while Reinhold jumped down and headed to where the boys were clustered.
The three of them were younger than Reinhold first thought, likely around the ages of ten, eleven, or twelve. “What’s going on, boys?”
“Ernie here saw a dead body lying in the muck at the bottom,” said one of the boys, his eyes the size of the mare’s when she was spooked.
Ernie hugged his arms across his chest. In spite of the sun beating down on him, his teeth were chattering. Boys his age were apt to tell tales just to frighten their pals. “You sure you saw something down there?” Reinhold pressed.