by Ginny Aiken
When the physician closed the door behind him, Olivia turned to face Eli. He saw the color leach from her face as though a hand had run over it, and then a shudder ran through her. Her eyes grew wide as horror distorted her even features.
“Oh, Eli…” She stepped toward him. “I can’t stand the thought of what that man did to you. That we might have lost you—”
“Hush,” he said, his voice soft and low. He held his arms open wide, in spite of the knife-stabs of pain in his chest at the motion. “Come here.”
For a moment, when rosy dabs appeared on her still-white cheeks and she aimed her gaze at the floor, he feared she would turn and run away. But then, to his enormous relief and burst of joy, she stepped up and slipped her arms around him. A fresh new sense of peace poured through his whole body, and he sighed with satisfaction.
Olivia laid her head on his chest as her exhalation echoed his. He closed his eyes to savor their closeness, the sense of belonging, the depth of comfort he drew from her proximity, the pull of attraction he felt for his wife.
Once again, those needles of fear, that impression of I’ve-been-through-this-and-barely-survived-it stabbed through him. And yet, again, his more logical side reminded him how different his new wife was from Victoria, as he had told Olivia about an hour earlier.
She nestled closer, bringing her face right up to the side of his neck. That was when he realized she was crying. The tears, evidence of her feelings for him, moved Eli. He tightened his arm around his wife then leaned his head down to rest on hers.
“I’m fine, Olivia. We’re going to be just fine.”
Her tears continued for a while. They clung to each other even longer. Something new was forged between them as a result of a bank robber’s evil plan. A fragile bond that he came to realize meant the world to him.
Later that night, curled in the armchair Eli used most evenings, Olivia watched her husband sleep on the sofa she’d made up as a bed for him. After the tender moments they’d shared in each other’s arms once Doc Chambers had left, she’d spent the rest of the day feeling cherished, treasured, and more like a wife than she had up until then. The day had flown by, even though a cranky Eli had bickered with her over every last detail with which he could take issue. Her robust, normally active husband made an awful patient.
She’d had to call on every drop of her mercy and restraint. And humor.
Still, she’d felt every bit of the changed texture of their relationship. A new closeness and a fragile, deepening bond had begun to bloom where before only polite interaction existed.
“Thank you, Father,” she murmured. “I see you answering my prayers for my marriage. Now, when will you see fit to answer the ones for my family’s plight?”
Eli groaned. He twisted and turned on the sofa. The blanket slipped off him. His restlessness revealed his failure to find a more restful position, and he moaned again.
Olivia’s compassion for her husband deepened, seeing as how there would be no less bothersome way for him to sleep on the moderate-sized piece of furniture. Eli was a tall, broad-shouldered man. The cushions, while the perfect size on which to sit, weren’t constructed to provide adequate support to an injured gentleman.
She slipped off the chair and knelt at her husband’s side. With light, tender gestures, she smoothed the blanket up over his shoulders and around his back, fluffed his pillow, and tucked it more fully under his head. As she made the adjustments, he smiled, nuzzled her hand, and let out a soft sound that in Olivia’s opinion revealed an easing of his previous difficulty.
His eyes opened a sliver. His hand slipped up from under the blanket and took hold of hers. As his eyes closed again, he drew her hand higher to place a kiss on the back. He sighed, and then, slowly, as his breathing grew deep and even again, he whispered, “Olivia…”
Peace settled over her. A smile curved her lips. Gratitude again flooded her, and she gave the Lord thanks—yet one more time—that Eli had been spared in the confrontation at the bank.
Slowly, gently, she tried to remove her hand from his clasp, but at the lightest tug, his fingers twitched, clenched around hers, and she stopped her efforts. Eli seemed to want her at his side right then, and that struck her as mighty fine.
The feelings this man had awakened in her had come as a surprise. She hadn’t expected them, even though she’d hoped—prayed—for affection between them. This didn’t feel like something as bland as affection. Her heart swelled with foreign emotions, and chills ran through her every time Eli’s gaze landed on her.
Other times, she felt flushed, as though she’d run blocks down Main Street, when he grazed her hand. Then the other night, when he’d kissed her, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep, treasuring the tender bond they’d forged.
What an amazing gift the Lord had given her with this marriage. She could no longer imagine life without this man in it, near her, holding her close. She hoped and prayed he’d begun to feel at least a little like she did.
With a sigh, she laid her head on the sofa cushion, right next to Eli’s. A fresh sense of belonging kindled an ember of hope in her heart, and she relaxed. Warmth and drowsiness struck at the same time. She yawned, surrendered bit by bit to slumber.
So this was what love felt like…
By the Tuesday after the attempted robbery, Eli reminded Olivia of a cat intent on fleeing to freedom. He argued, paced, and had the house in an uproar for the most part. For that reason, she didn’t object too strenuously when he insisted on going back to the bank. Both Holtwood, who’d only been knocked hard on the head, and Larry Colby, who hadn’t been hurt at all, had kept the place open for business in Eli’s absence.
After he’d left, she went to the kitchen to work on the day’s menu with Cooky. The older woman let out a merry laugh when Olivia walked into the gleaming room.
“Oh, Missus Livvy, I couldn’t love that man of yours more than if I’d borne him myself.” She rolled her eyes. “But oh, my dearie, anyone with half a teacup of common sense woulda thought we’d stuck him in my nice little wire egg basket and latched the door shut just by looking at him fuss. I gotta tell you”—she wagged her finger—“I’m right glad he’s off to work today, I am.”
Olivia chuckled. “It’s hard to put into words how wonderful it is to have him home evenings and on the weekends. Then, as soon as we brought him home to recover, why… he set my nerves on end, he was so restless.”
Cooky nodded. “I loved my Mr. Goodwin to pieces, and I still do all these years since the Lord welcomed him home, but my, my, my! How that man could drive me mad. He got so antsy when he had nothing to keep him busy that he was worse than Luke with his fidgety boy ways, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m beginning to understand why Mama shoos Papa from the kitchen every morning even though she loves him to bits.”
“She’s smart, all right, a woman who knows how to keep from going mad.”
“Well, for me to keep from going mad, you and I need to get to work now.”
The hours sped by for Olivia. She worked on a number of the decorative pieces for the holidays and the Christmas party; she received and paid for the delivery of two sacks of wheat flour she’d ordered at Metcalf’s Mercantile; she cut out pieces for the silvery blue, lightweight wool dress she wanted to finish for Randy’s Christmas gift now that she’d finished the rose-colored one; and then she hurried to meet the children when school let out.
She enjoyed her daily stroll through town, the opportunity to greet the neighbors she met on her way. Even more, she loved to see the smiles on her children’s faces when they saw her waiting for them. Spirited descriptions of the day’s events in the schoolroom always accompanied the return home.
Once she had the children settled with their schoolwork, Olivia’s thoughts turned to Eli. She began to track the path of the tall case clock’s arm across its face. She couldn’t help but wonder how her husband had fared on his first day back at work. Anxiety nipped at her, each time sharper, more than eve
r when she remembered how he had moaned in his sleep the night of the attempted robbery.
Had he struggled with a great deal of pain today?
Would he admit it if he had?
Just when she thought she would explode from fretting over him, the front door opened and his footsteps echoed as he went to the peg rack down the hall to hang his coat. She ran from her room to the top of the stairs and got there before he’d made it up even one step.
“How are you?” she asked, her voice strained even to her own ears. “How is the wound?”
He looked up, and when she caught sight of the twinkle in his blue eyes, she sagged against the newel post. “Well enough that there’s no chance I’m going to let you chain me here again when I need to be at the bank.”
Olivia was coming to know him and his fondness for teasing better each day. She planted her hands on her hips, fought a smile, and gave him a mock glare. “If you mean that, then don’t go giving me any more great ideas, Mr. Whitman. As it is, I might just deposit that one about chains into my bank of notions for future use.”
He crossed his arms. “I’d love to see you try to chain me down. You’d have to catch me first.”
“I’ve always been light on my feet—”
“Ah, Mr. Whitman, sir,” Cooky said from the doorway to the kitchen. “Looks to me like she’s already caught you but good, and for good, at that. Can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”
Eli blinked. He seemed frozen for a moment, and then he glanced back up at Olivia. “Hm… I’m not feeling hog-tied one bit, Cooky. Matter of fact, life has been remarkably peaceful and most enjoyable around here of late.”
Olivia’s heart gave another of those flips it had turned for the first time back when Eli started to share his evenings with her. These days, that heart of hers seemed to spend its days in a state of dizzying whirls.
A sensation she was coming to appreciate.
“S’what I said,” Cooky answered between hearty chuckles. “Things are mighty fine around this house, I tell you. Mighty fine, and I’m praising my good Lord in heaven, I am.”
Olivia hadn’t taken her gaze from her husband. Neither had he looked away from her. The gleam in his eyes appeared to heighten with every moment that went by. That intensity sent currents of awareness from the top of her head to the ends of her toes, the tips of her fingers.
The night of the attempted bank robbery, Olivia had recognized she’d fallen in love with her husband, with Eli. Could his breath-stealing stare and his heart-warming words mean he was coming to care for her as much? Could he… could he be falling in love with her?
It was her fondest wish.
She prayed it might be true.
“I’ll be back down as soon as I wash the day’s dust from my face, and pen ink from my fingers,” he said as he ascended.
Olivia held her breath as they met in the middle of the stairs. He reached out, placed a gentle finger on her cheek, then ran it down to trace the line of her jaw.
“Soft…” he whispered.
A shiver ran up Olivia’s body to spark a fizzy feeling in her head. She felt powerful, all-capable, as towering as a mountain, stronger than steel, invincible. She felt she should respond, but she didn’t know if she could get a sound out past her emotion-tightened throat.
She stood tall, and with what she feared might look like a silly grin, she met Eli’s gaze. “Thanks…”
He tapped the tip of her chin. “I’ll be back. I hope supper’s ready. I’m famished!”
As he ran upstairs, she floated down and into the dining room. What an extraordinary moment. She couldn’t wait until she and Eli met alone in the parlor once again.
At supper, Olivia couldn’t stop stealing glances at her husband, anticipation leaving her a bit impatient with the leisurely pace they always took. Later, once the children had cleared the table and Cooky had taken over the dining room to clean up, she marshaled her family upstairs for their normal evening routine. As soon as Luke finally whispered his “Good night, Mama,” she took a moment to smooth her hair, tidy her white blouse into the waist of her skirt and, happier than she’d been in a long while, she sailed into the parlor.
“Come here,” Eli said, gesturing her to his side.
Once again, he had a crate on the floor, this one without a cover. Olivia could see wrapping paper crumpled to the top.
“What have you brought home with you tonight?”
“I didn’t bring it. Tom Bowen stopped by just as you went upstairs with the children. That’s why I took a few minutes before heading to help Luke with his mathematics.”
Olivia dropped down onto the elegant deep rose, cream, and black wool rug, close to Eli, smoothing her skirt around her. “Then this must be Luke’s Christmas gift.”
Eli shot her a grin. “Can’t wait to see it, but I wanted to wait for you. I have to say, I didn’t expect Tom to finish it so soon.”
“He must have rushed to get it done, then. It’s only the middle of December. I didn’t expect to see the train set until the week before Christmas.”
“Exactly. He caught me by surprise.”
Olivia gave him a mischievous smile. “So are we to sit here and flatter Mr. Bowen’s speedy work or are we going to see the fruits of his labors?”
He chuckled. “I’m not stopping you. Why don’t you unwrap the pieces?”
In minutes, they’d hooked the train cars together. For the next while they entertained themselves running the train over the rug’s colorful swirls and anticipating Luke’s excitement come Christmas morning. Then, reluctantly, they wrapped the pieces and packed them away.
“I can’t wait for Christmas morning,” Olivia said, leaning on her hands, propped behind her.
“So you like it?” Eli asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
“I love it. I thought you had an excellent idea when you first suggested a train set for Luke. Now that I’ve seen it finished, I think you know our son quite well.”
His smile widened. “Think about it. I was a boy once.”
She laughed. “Once? I seem to remember a very restless child recently.”
A smoldering light brightened the spectacular blue of his eyes. “A child, huh? I don’t think so, Mrs. Whitman.”
He leaned closer to Olivia, and before she knew it his arms closed around her and his lips covered hers.
This kiss was something beyond Olivia’s wildest imagination. As tender and caring as his earlier caresses had been, this one said her husband was all man, one who saw her as all woman—his woman. The kiss heated, passion soared, and by the time Eli pulled away, Olivia knew their relationship had changed once again.
Heavens! She couldn’t catch her breath.
Blinking, she caught sight of Eli’s satisfied expression. Before her head quit spinning, he stood. “I’m not about to apologize. I meant to kiss you, and I’m glad I did.”
Her jaw gaped. “Well!”
Unsure of what to do, Olivia went for what felt most familiar. She’d been working so steadily on the decorations for the upcoming holidays that she turned and reached for the basket she’d earlier lined with scarlet fabric and was filling with pine cones, a pair of gourds, and balls of tightly wrapped green wool. The gourds had looked wonderful for Thanksgiving dinner, and would be equally appropriate for the more festive Christmas holidays, once she added fresh touches of green and red.
“This will be perfect for the hearth, don’t you think?” she asked Eli, proud that her voice didn’t shake. Not too much.
“It’s very nice.” He faced the fireplace. “The mantel will look good if you do what you mentioned before. An evergreen garland will be very festive.”
“I plan to weave red ribbons with the greenery.”
“Excellent.”
They chatted, and the easy friendship that had grown between them overtook the heightened attraction Olivia felt for her husband. They worked on a centerpiece for the table where a number of pristine white candles of varied sizes wer
e the main attraction.
As they worked, thoughts buzzed in Olivia’s head. She’d seen the evidence of how fiercely Eli had fought to defend the business he and his father had built, and she couldn’t help but wonder about that part of her husband’s nature. Was he as ruthless in his work as he was protective? Was the businessman she’d married also the tender, kind, and generous man she saw daily at home? Could Eli, a man who professed to love God, have no regard for Christ’s teachings on love and charity? If so, what was to become of her family? Of her?
Her heart told her he didn’t have it in him to return his customers’ trust with cruelty. Certainly not Eli, the man who’d been betrayed by the woman he’d loved, the wife he’d trusted. He would never betray the farmers.
She saw him with his children, with Cooky, she knew how he treated her. Even before they’d begun to grow close, he’d offered her everything that belonged to him—except the bank, of course. He’d withheld nothing, not his lovely home, not his safe and secure buggy, not his horse, or his money. He’d turned his account at Metcalf’s Mercantile over to her.
The more she thought about the situation, the more certain she grew that something was wrong, that Eli would never have done anything so out of character. The man she’d come to love would never turn her family, or any other family, from their home in the winter.
Even so, she’d seen the letter Papa had received. The letter had been written. She’d seen Eli’s signature. How had that happened?
Could it have been another instance of forgery, as Victoria had done before? If so, who had done it? Who had access to the bank customers’ information?
The men who worked for him, of course. But which one would do such a thing? She’d learned from Eli that only one was a new employee. Had that newcomer taken it upon himself to—to what? Harm strangers? That made no more sense than to think Eli could have done it. What would be the point?
The only way for her to help would be if she could find a way to talk it over with Eli. Could the blooming relationship between them mean she could ask now about the foreclosures?