by Dorothy Love
He opened the door. “I want to thank you for encouraging the Hargrove boy to make something of himself. My daughter is bound and determined to marry him someday. I’d hate to see her tied to someone who couldn’t provide for her properly.”
Ada pulled on her gloves. “There’s more to a good match than money, Mr. Gilman.”
He nodded. “I know. But Sabrina is my only daughter. I couldn’t live with myself if I stood by and let her make a mistake.” He smiled. “You know how fathers are about their little girls. We want them to have the best of everything.”
As long as they get to decide what’s best! She shook his hand and hurried from the bank before he could see the tears that threatened to destroy the last shred of her dignity. On the sidewalk, she paused to compose herself before heading to the mercantile. Lately she hadn’t had much of an appetite or the energy to make meals only for herself. But yesterday she’d used the last of the tea and flour, and she was nearly out of oil for the lamps.
She retrieved her shopping basket from the rig and pushed open the door to the mercantile. Jasper Pruitt sat on a stool at the counter, adding up a column of figures. He looked up and nodded. “Anything I can help you find?”
She gave him her order. He slid off his stool and headed to the back. While he weighed out tea and flour, she picked up a tin of lard and a small round of cheese and took them to the counter.
Jasper returned and shook his head. “You don’t want that cheese. It’s about to go moldy. I’ve got some better in the back.” He left and returned with a fresh round.
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“No trouble.” He added up the total. “You want to put this on your tab?”
She shook her head and handed him a bill and a handful of coins. “Mr. Pruitt—”
“Jasper.”
She smiled. “I never had the chance to thank you properly for coming to my aid on the road. I’m very grateful for your help.”
He flushed. “That’s all right. Anybody else woulda done the same.”
“Perhaps. But I’m grateful nevertheless.” She headed for the door. Jasper lifted one hand in a little wave and went back to his work.
She drove home, unhitched Smoky, and turned him into the pasture. Then she put the kettle on for tea and set to work on a wedding hat for the mayor’s niece. It was an elaborate confection of white netting and lace, just the sort of job she normally relished, but now the joy had gone out of everything.
She wondered about Wyatt. Was he still in Chicago after all this time or back at the mill? Maybe he’d already left for Texas and his new life. Did he think of her at all, or had he put her out of his mind?
She blinked away sudden tears. It didn’t really matter. She had made her choice. She’d have to live with it.
She worked until it grew too dark to see and rose to light the lamp. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten all day. As she headed toward the kitchen, a sound out on the road startled her. She looked out the window. Someone was in the yard.
Her mind raced. She wasn’t expecting Sage or Robbie. Or Wyatt. Charlie Blevins was in jail. Was someone else stalking her, intending harm?
Footsteps sounded on the porch, and panic seized her. She grabbed the fireplace poker, ran to the door, and yanked it open. “Who’s there?”
“Ada? Wait!”
Her heart jerked against her ribs. The poker slid from her hand and rolled across the porch. She peered into the gloom.
“Edward?”
Wyatt unlocked his door and carried his bags into the parlor. The air in the house was close and still after his two-week absence. He made a fire in the cookstove and put the coffeepot on to boil. While he waited, he threw open the windows to the evening breeze and sat in his rocking chair, watching twilight come on.
What was Ada doing right now? He could imagine her curled up on the settee in Lillian’s silent house, reading a book by lamplight, or at the kitchen table working on a hat. Maybe she was rereading her travel journals and dreaming of happier times. He wondered if her heart felt as stone-cold and empty as his own.
He’d stayed in Chicago for as long as possible, hoping to put her out of his mind. But even as he huddled with a phalanx of lawyers, signing the papers for the sale of the mill, thoughts of her still haunted him. He tried to distract himself with the activities available in the city—dining with the new mill owners and their wives, touring the sections of the city that had been rebuilt after last October’s disastrous fire, window-shopping, attending the theater. None of it brought him one iota of pleasure. Even the news that Bea Goldston had signed the papers finalizing the sale of Two Creeks had failed to cheer him.
Regret burned hot as a branding iron in his chest. Why had he fallen for Ada Wentworth in the first place? Because she made him feel alive and hopeful in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. She was pretty as could be and whip smart and full of New England practicality. He couldn’t imagine anyone who could suit him as well. He wasn’t looking forward to a future without her.
He heard the coffeepot boiling over and hurried to take it off the stove. He poured a cup and walked around the house, deciding which things to take with him and which to leave behind. He wouldn’t need much. He’d be bunking at his father’s place while he negotiated the purchase of the old Caldwell acres—a surprise he was planning for Dad—and scouted for additional land. Now that Ada wasn’t coming with him, he’d leave the pretty lace curtains and most of the furnishings behind.
He sorted through a stack of books. At the bottom of the pile was the copy of Vanity Fair that he’d bought for her last summer. What had he been thinking? Again, he wished he’d given her a different kind of gift, some small keepsake she could carry in her pocket as a constant reminder of his regard for her instead of a stuffy book that was not one of her favorites in the first place.
He sat down heavily and scraped a hand across his stubbled chin. He’d been certain that God’s hand was in all of this, that God had arranged for him and Ada to find each other here in Hickory Ridge. Now he wasn’t so sure. He had offered all that he had to give, and it hadn’t been enough to overcome the deep inner wounds that held her back. So he’d had to let her go—from his life, if not from his heart.
He hadn’t prayed for himself since the dark days of the war, but now he asked God to intervene. To heal Ada’s heart, wash away her distrust, and show her what he knew to be true—that they belonged together.
THIRTY-THREE
“May I come in?”
Edward stood on her porch, his arms at his sides, looking nothing at all like the adventurous and confident ship’s captain she had once adored. Now he seemed years older and thinner than she remembered.
“How did you find me?” Ada’s voice shook. “What do you want?”
“I’ll explain everything, but I’d really like to sit down. I walked all the way from the train station. I won’t take much of your time.”
She stood aside and showed him into the parlor. He sank into Lillian’s favorite chair by the window and bent forward, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. Ada sat on the settee across from him and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. He had ignored her letters, leaving her to wonder why he’d sacrificed her happiness. Why had he come at all, when it was too late to salvage anything?
“I wrote to you last year,” she began. “Twice. You never answered.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been at sea almost continuously since . . . since the night I last saw you at your father’s house. I arrived back in Boston only last month. That’s when I found your letters waiting and learned Cornelius was dead. And your Aunt Kate.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it. I’m sure it must have been a terrible shock.”
“It was. But so was finding out that Father paid you to break our engagement.”
“Is that what you think?” He shook his head. “That isn’t exactly how it happened.”
“Then what did happen, Edward?” She blinked
away her tears. “You promised to tell me why. I waited and waited, thinking that if only I understood the reason, I could live with it. But—”
“That’s why I’ve come.”
“After all this time. How did you find me?”
“After I got your letters, I went to your house and discovered it had been sold. I contacted your father’s lawyer, who told me about the auction, but he had no idea where you’d gone. Then he happened to mention Mr. Biddle, your mother’s millinery supplier. It was a long shot, but it was all I had. Biddle told me he’d recently shipped an order to you, here in Hickory Ridge.” He looked up and smiled. “It’s quite a shock, finding you living in the backwoods of Tennessee. Whatever possessed you to come to a place like this?”
“I had no money. I needed a job. I found one here.”
He looked around. “Is this your house? You live here alone? Or maybe you’re married now?”
Suddenly she was very tired. “Why don’t you say what you came to say?”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be asking so many questions. It’s only that I remember all our happy times together. All the plans we made for a life at sea.” The color had come back into his cheeks. His eyes glittered with the old excitement she remembered. “We were going to travel the world, remember? Life was going to be our big adventure!”
“I remember.” Now she recalled what it was about Edward that both vexed and excited her. He was bold, he was reckless. He believed he could have whatever he wanted, just because he wanted it. Where she was careful and measured, he was heedless and impulsive. And when he went too far, carried away by his enthusiasm, she’d always forgiven him.
But not this time. His actions had cost her too dearly.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Edward said. “That I am a cad and a reprobate, not worthy of you.”
“I wasn’t—”
“It’s all true.” He rose and began to pace. “I don’t deserve someone as fine as you. The truth is that even after I proposed and you accepted, I wasn’t . . . faithful.”
She was stunned. “You were seeing someone else?”
He nodded. “I’d known her a long time. She’s a lot like me— fond of a good time, perhaps a little careless. I knew it was wrong to keep seeing her when I’d pledged myself to you, but somehow I couldn’t close that door. Then one day she told me she was expecting a baby . . . and it was mine.”
“Oh, Edward.”
“It was a mess, all right. I offered to marry her, but marriage wasn’t what she wanted.”
“What then?” She braided her fingers together and waited.
“She wanted money—more money than I could have raised even if I’d sold my ship.” Edward shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “I tried to reason with her, but she threatened to tell you, to go to the newspapers and expose the whole ugly story. I didn’t want that to happen, and I couldn’t think of what else to do. So I went to your father and confessed everything. He was furious, of course. For a moment, I thought he meant to kill me.” His voice broke. “I wish he had. Death would have been preferable to walking around with this horrible guilt—knowing how much I’ve hurt you, that I’m the cause of your misfortune.”
Ada didn’t try to staunch the tears pouring down her face. His selfishness had destroyed both their lives.
“To spare your feelings, Cornelius agreed to lend me the money,” Edward continued, “though truth be told, he had to scrape to get it. He said business was bad, but he’d find the money somewhere if I called off our engagement.” He paused before the mantel, just as he had on that cold winter’s night almost two years ago. “He made me promise to stay away from you. So I put out to sea.”
Ada struggled to make sense of it all. She remembered her father’s last futile business ventures, the ones that had seemed so foolish. He’d risked everything to protect her. And she had repaid him with anger, silence, and blame. A wave of shame and regret moved through her. She stared at Edward through a blur of tears.
“I can see in your eyes,” Edward said quietly, “that I made the wrong choice. It’s true that I’ve been at sea, but I should have spoken up sooner.”
She nodded wordlessly. Edward had no idea what his silence, and her father’s, had cost her.
“Then my ship hit a bad storm off the cape, and I had to bring her in for repairs. That’s when I got your letters and I knew it was time—past time, I guess—to honor my promise to tell you the whole truth.”
He collapsed onto the chair again as if the confession had sapped all his strength. He looked up at her, the earlier sparkle in his eyes replaced with guilt and shame. “Now you know.”
Outside, night birds fluttered in the trees. Finally Edward said, “You’re probably wondering about the money. I wanted to pay Cornelius back, but one thing and another came up. Expenses and so forth.” He blushed. “Babies aren’t cheap. I had some bad luck, and . . . well, there isn’t any.”
“I’m not surprised.” She studied him in the lamplight. How had she ever fancied herself in love with this man? Now she knew that all she’d felt was infatuation. Loving Wyatt had taught her the difference. But this knowledge had come too late.
She got to her feet. “I think you should go.”
“All right.” He stood. “I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
Could she? After his terrible betrayal and his lies? Did she want to?
Edward headed for the door. “That’s all I came to say. I should get going. It’s a long walk back to town.”
“It’s too late to walk all that way,” she heard herself say. “You can sleep in the barn if you like.”
He turned. “That’s kind of you, Ada. Much kinder than I deserve. But I’m too tired to argue.”
Leaving him in the parlor, she went down the hall and took a quilt from the shelf in Lillian’s room. She brought the quilt to her nose and breathed in the comforting scent of the lavender water Lillian had been so fond of. Oh, Lillian. How I miss your wisdom.
She handed Edward the quilt. “Just leave it on the porch in the morning. I don’t think I want to see your face ever again.”
He sighed. “I can’t blame you.”
She followed him outside and watched him cross the yard to the barn, her emotions a jumble of anger, sadness, and regret. She sat on the porch swing and looked up at the blanket of bright stars.
She felt nothing for Edward. But it was a relief to finally know the truth. And good intentions counted for something. She leaned back in the swing and set it in motion, listening to the rhythmic creak of the chains, letting her mind go blank. She thought of her father and was surprised by a rush of love and regret.
For all the pain his choices had inflicted, in the end, Cornelius Wentworth had sacrificed everything to protect her future and her heart. He had saved her from marriage to the wrong man.
But the trouble was that she’d sent the right man away. She’d hurt Wyatt terribly, and she couldn’t blame him for not wanting anything else to do with her. Her own fears and her lack of faith in Wyatt and God and in herself had cost her the love of her life. And those insecurities were because of the man who was at this moment sleeping in the barn.
Anger boiled up inside her once more. She closed her eyes. Edward had asked her forgiveness. But how could she absolve him of such a grievous wrong?
She stilled, not really expecting an answer, but needing one all the same.
When somebody needs your forgiveness, remember the One who has forgiven you. Forgive those who have wronged you. Let go of blame and bitterness and your heart will heal.
Oh, Lillian. I don’t know whether I can completely forgive. At least all at once. But I can begin.
A dove rustled in the trees. A shooting star trailed across the sky.
Ada bowed her head and prayed.
THIRTY-FOUR
“How come you’re movin’ to that ladies’ hotel?” Sophie set down her scissors and looked up at Ada, her moss-green eyes serious
.
“We’ve been over all that. This is Mr. Caldwell’s house. Now that Miss Lillian has died, I’m not needed here.”
“We still goin’ to have readin’ lessons and our stories?”
“Of course we are.” Ada finished pinning the pleats on the crown of the hat she was making. “Now that I’ll be living in town, perhaps I’ll see you more often.”
“I guess it’s all right then. When are you movin’ out?”
“Not for another week. The hotel is full until then.” Ada set down her pincushion and smoothed Sophie’s hair. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
Sophie’s smile, swift and incandescent as lightning in a jar, went straight to Ada’s heart. “I’m finished with this pattern. Can . . . may I go play?”
“For a little while. We’ll have to get you back to Mrs. Lowell’s soon.”
Ada watched Sophie scamper through the garden. Despite the delight she took in the little girl, she felt a loss like death. Wyatt was very much alive, but no longer a part of her life.
At last week’s quilting circle, Mariah had confirmed what the banker had told her. The sale of the mill and the land in Two Creeks was complete. Wyatt was moving on, heading to Texas to pursue his dreams without her. And though she’d urged him to do it, the news had filled her with such despair that she’d barely slept since.
She poured a cup of tea and watched Sophie climb the magnolia tree. How long would her money last before she’d need another position? Could she ever be content, living in other people’s houses, looking after strangers? Despite Mr. Gilman’s refusal to lend her any money, the idea of having her own business hadn’t lost its appeal. But establishing her independence was proving much harder than she’d imagined.
The struggle had left her with a new appreciation of the challenges her father must have endured. Faced with a mountain of bills and shrinking profits, he’d been driven to ever more risky schemes. And he’d done it at least in part to spare her. The knowledge didn’t take away the pain of her loss, but she was grateful to Edward for finally telling the truth.