Fifteen? Gabriel didn’t have fifteen dollars. He looked apologetically at Felicity, trying to let her know he couldn’t afford more, but her face slowly turned to stone.
Mr. Shea hurried the count, probably so Blevins couldn’t reconsider. “Fifteen once, fifteen twice, sold to Mr. Robert Blevins for fifteen dollars.”
Gabriel stood defeated in front of the entire town. He heard a snicker and several whispers. Felicity stared at the ground until Blevins, bearing the basket triumphantly, seized her arm and jerked her away from the grandstand. Gabriel had made his play and lost.
“Next we have a lovely basket that smells so good I could eat its contents right now,” said Mr. Shea, holding up a modest basket covered in red gingham.
Judging by the blush on Anna Simmons’s cheeks, the basket belonged to her.
“Do I have an opening bid?”
Shea’s question was met by silence.
“One dollar?” he prompted.
Again, there was silence until Hendrick Simmons raised his hand. Anna blinked her eyes rapidly, and Gabriel felt her humiliation—to have only your brother bid on your basket and offer just one dollar. Poor girl. The Simmons’s didn’t have much money, but they worked hard and loved God and their neighbors. They deserved better.
“Ten dollars,” Gabriel said, raising his hand.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Mr. Shea hurriedly closed the bidding. Again, every eye focused on Gabriel, but he only cared what Felicity thought. Her lips had pressed into a tight line, and the moment he looked her way, she turned her face and took Blevins’s arm.
Gabriel’s elation plummeted. He’d hurt her, but he didn’t have time to repair the damage. Anna Simmons raced toward him, basket bouncing so much the contents nearly spilled out. The awkward colt of a girl beamed like Cinderella at the ball. He’d done the right thing.
Felicity watched Gabriel take Anna Simmons to meet his sister. That should have been her. Mariah must have encouraged Gabriel to bid on her basket, but then he stopped bidding. Worse, he’d paid more for Anna’s basket than he bid on hers. Felicity blinked back tears. Now Robert would get the satchel. Now Anna Simmons got to eat with Gabriel.
“Let’s dine by the river,” suggested Robert.
“The river?” Felicity followed his outstretched hand. “It’s damp there.” She didn’t want to go anywhere secluded with Robert. She also had to see what happened between Gabriel and Anna. “Over by the parsonage is drier.”
“The parsonage? That’s hardly romantic.”
This time she would not allow Robert to lead her into seclusion. She marched to the spot and waited for the reluctant man to drag the basket there. Sally Neidecker watched Felicity with an envious glare. Her basket had fetched a pretty price but clearly not from the right suitor. Likewise, Eloise Grattan looked glum. Felicity held her head a bit higher. At least in their eyes, she’d won the big prize.
“The sun is warmer here,” she said when Robert finally arrived.
She pointed to a flat, grassy area, and he lifted the pressed linen tablecloth from the top of the basket. It snapped and fluttered in the breeze, threatening to blow away until she sat down. The ground was hard and lumpy and would stain the tablecloth, but from here she could watch Gabriel.
Robert pulled one item after another from the basket, commenting on each. “Lemonade. And little crystal glasses. How charming. Silverware tied with ribbons with a little flower tucked in. How dainty.”
Felicity detested each word. Gabriel and Anna chattered away like best friends while Anna’s brother, Hendrick, captured Mariah’s attention. Why oh why hadn’t Gabriel outbid Robert?
“What on earth is this?” Robert held up the gift she’d meant for Gabriel and shook the satchel as if he expected a snake to tumble out.
Felicity thought fast. “It’s for your instruments. You can use it when you work in the field.”
“Hmm.” He examined the interior. “Looks like a plain old knapsack to me.”
How rude. Gabriel wouldn’t have disparaged her gift, even if he already had a satchel. He would have thanked her profusely and used it every day.
“It’s just a trifle.” She waved her hand the way Mother did to indicate her lack of concern, but Robert’s words stung. The gift, once blessed with hopeful dreams, turned cheap in his hands. Gabriel, Gabriel, why didn’t you bid more?
Robert tossed the satchel onto the corner of the blanket. “You were awfully sure I’d win your basket, weren’t you? What if that minister fellow outbid me?”
She looked away lest he realize that’s exactly what she’d wanted.
“I suppose your mother told you she gave me more than enough to outbid a poor minister.” He laughed, stark and harsh, not like Gabriel’s warm inviting laughter. Then he shoved a whole tart into his mouth. His cheeks bulged like a chipmunk’s.
“Those were meant for dessert.”
He shrugged. “Why not grab the best part first?” he mumbled with his mouth half full, crumbs clinging to his whiskers.
Her rebuke didn’t slow him. He downed another and another until she couldn’t stand it. “There is such a thing as manners.”
He guzzled half the lemonade and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You sound like the reverend, all proper and reserved. Let your feelings out a little.”
“Certainly not.”
“Forget the sermons and what you learned in Sunday school.” Robert leaned close. “A woman like you needs to be free to express herself. You don’t belong with the religious types.”
His heavy cologne made her nose itch. She tried to ignore it. She tried not to fixate on the absurd waxed mustache. She tried to find something to admire about the man but couldn’t. He’d just denigrated the sacred.
“I attend church,” she stated flatly. “I believe in God.”
Robert found that immensely amusing, and the wave of cold fear that had rolled over her that night in the park returned. Something about Robert felt wrong, hidden, as if he wasn’t who he said he was.
She instinctively sought Gabriel, who was talking with Anna and Mariah. How she longed to be with them. How she wished Gabriel had won her basket.
She nervously glanced at Robert. He was consuming the chicken, never having offered her a bite. Robert Blevins only took. If she gave herself, he’d take that too and throw her aside like the chicken bones. Why hadn’t she realized that earlier? Why had she let him think she cared? She knew why—that foolish plan of hers.
That’s what got her into trouble in the park that night.
That’s what led her here. That’s what would force her to spend the evening with Robert. And after the dance… She shivered. What was she to do?
“I say.” Robert sat bolt upright, dropping his half-eaten drumstick.
Felicity looked around to see what had startled him. It didn’t take long to spot the cause. Slinky had snatched the red satchel and was running full speed toward the woods.
“Rotten dog,” Robert said, throwing a table knife at him. “That’s mine.” He picked up the fork.
“Stop it.” Afraid Robert would hurt Slinky, Felicity grabbed the fork from his hand and scrambled to her feet. “Let him go.”
Robert twisted the fork from her hand. “That dog has my knapsack.”
“Don’t worry,” said a calm baritone voice from behind her. “I’ll get your bag from Slinky.”
Felicity whirled around to see Gabriel’s wonderful brown eyes and welcoming smile. He tipped his hat and took off after Slinky. She instinctively stumbled a few steps after him.
“Come back, chickadee,” said Robert, patting the tablecloth.
Without a look in his direction, Felicity ran after Gabriel. She couldn’t match his pace, and by the time she reached the parsonage fence, he’d disappeared from view. He could be all the way to the river or on Mr. Coughlin’s land. She stopped to catch her breath and was relieved to see that Robert hadn’t followed.
The broken-down fence stood twe
nty feet away on her right. The trees were thicker here except for the occasional glade, rippling with bright green grass and ferns. Out of view and to the left the river raced south before turning west.
“Gabriel?” she said hesitantly.
“Down here.” His voice sounded oddly far away, as if he was in a cave, but she’d explored these woods in childhood, and there weren’t any caves here, only upriver where the springtime rapids had carved a hole into the bank.
“Where? I don’t see you.”
His head popped out of the ground not twelve feet ahead, face ashen, like he’d seen something terrible. “Stay there.”
“Why?”
He scrambled up. “Go to the parsonage and get the rope, the one Mr. Coughlin used to tie up Slinky. It’s just inside the back door.”
“Why?” Something was wrong, and he didn’t want her to see it. “Is Slinky hurt?”
“I think so. Just get the rope. Please?” He touched her arm, gently directing her toward the house.
She nodded and obeyed. The old Felicity would have questioned or refused, but this one knew Gabriel was deadly serious. Slinky was hurt, and Gabriel needed her. No one had ever needed her before.
She ran as fast as she could to the parsonage.
Chapter Ten
Sending Felicity to get a rope had been a diversion. Gabriel wasn’t sure how much she knew about her father’s involvement in the bootlegging ring, and he didn’t want to be the one to enlighten her.
He climbed back into the root cellar and stepped between the toppled cases of liquor, avoiding the broken bottles. Slinky whimpered and quaked, definitely hurt.
“It’s all right, boy.” Gabriel hooked his arms under the big dog. “I’ve got you.”
He struggled to carry Slinky from the cellar. Why would the bootleggers leave the doors open on Founder’s Day? Someone was bound to happen upon it. This reeked of stupidity or laziness, neither of which he’d attribute to Kensington.
The dog panted and whined but didn’t bite. Once out of the cellar, Gabriel set him down.
“Stay,” he commanded, probably unnecessarily considering the way the dog favored his right front paw.
He returned to the cellar to fetch the red satchel, but halfway in, he heard thrashing. Someone was coming. He did not need Blevins showing up right now. He quickly exited, closed the cellar doors and carried Slinky a short distance away.
“Gabriel?” That voice could only belong to Felicity.
He exhaled. “Thank goodness it’s you.”
“Who else would it be?” She pushed through the underbrush, snagging her fine navy suit. “I found it.” She held up the rope.
“Good. Bring it here.”
Instead she headed toward the root cellar. Gabriel panicked. He’d forgotten to kick leaves over the doors. She’d find it and know where Slinky had been.
“We’re over here.” He waved.
“I know. I’m just going around a rotten log.” Her cheeks were pleasantly flushed, making her infinitely lovelier than the studied sophistication she assumed at dinner parties. “Are we in time?” She halted when she saw Slinky. “I thought you needed to lift him from a hole.”
“I got him out, but he seems to be favoring his right leg.”
“Poor dear.” Felicity knelt and gently lifted Slinky’s paw. “I won’t hurt you, big boy.” Her soft tones calmed the dog. “Let’s look at your paw.” She spotted the problem in seconds. “See?” She motioned for Gabriel to look at the shard of glass embedded in one of his pads. “This must hurt terribly. We’ll need to clean out the wound with hydrogen peroxide.”
Gabriel had no idea if he had any, but Felicity didn’t pause long enough for him to tell her that.
“It’s not far to the parsonage, but we shouldn’t make Slinky walk on the injury.”
“I’ll carry him.” Gabriel liked this new Felicity. In an emergency, she took charge. Even better, her concern and gentleness with Slinky showed a surprising depth of character.
“I wonder how it happened,” Felicity mused. “You said you found him in a hole? And with glass, too. How odd.”
Gabriel held his tongue.
“The foundation of the old Warren homestead is around here somewhere. Maybe he fell into it.”
Gabriel wondered again how much she knew about her father’s smuggling operation. She hadn’t mentioned the root cellar, but she did know about the homestead.
Felicity led the way to the parsonage, all business. By the time they reached the fence, his arms burned and he was panting as much as Slinky. Felicity opened the gate and closed it behind him. She also held the screen door for him and followed him into the kitchen without one word about propriety. She whipped the precious monogrammed towels out of the linen closet and laid them on the floor. Then she barged into the pantry.
“If I remember right, the hydrogen peroxide is in here.”
“You’ve been in the pantry before?”
“Mother and I helped stock it before you arrived,” she said, emerging with bottle in hand. “I’ll need some tweezers.”
“I don’t think we have tweezers,” he said helplessly.
She knelt beside Slinky, gently caressing the dog’s head. “Very well, we’ll make do.”
Her tender touch calmed Slinky to the point that he nuzzled into her arms like a lap dog. Maybe Mariah was right. Maybe her pretentious veneer did hide a tender nature.
“Peroxide.” She held out a hand.
Gabriel uncapped the bottle, and she poured some on a cloth and dabbed at the injured paw.
“It’s tough to see with all the mud.”
That mud had come from the bottom of the root cellar, a fact best kept to himself. “Do you want some water?”
She shook her head. “This will do.”
Felicity carefully cleaned the footpads and then, bending close, pulled the sliver of glass from Slinky’s paw. The dog whined but didn’t nip her.
“Got it.” She sat back with a sigh of relief.
“Is that the only one?”
“As near as I can tell.” She applied more hydrogen peroxide to the wound.
This time Slinky pulled away, fed up with the entire procedure, and retreated to his bed.
“He looks better already,” Felicity said hopefully as she recapped the peroxide. Her hands were flecked with blood, but she didn’t seem to care.
He liked her this way, without the self-consciousness and pretension. Helping animals changed her. “You’d make a good veterinarian.”
She looked up in surprise. “Me?”
“You’re good with animals.”
She shook her head. “There’s no such thing as a woman veterinarian.”
“Why not? Why shouldn’t women be veterinarians?”
She shrugged. “They just aren’t. Besides, even if a veterinary college accepted me, Mother would never allow it.”
Not allow her to help animals? Not allow her to use her God-given gifts? Even though her mother forbade pets in the house, that prohibition shouldn’t extend to her daughter choosing a career. “Why not?”
Her far-off gaze looked so sad that Gabriel ached for her. Mariah had often talked of the fewer opportunities granted to women, but his sister didn’t let that stop her. Felicity did, and that was a tragedy.
“I shouldn’t have spoken so openly,” he said. “You might find it difficult to believe, but I think women should have the same opportunity to pursue their dreams that men have.”
She averted her gaze. “Maybe I don’t have dreams.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute.” He touched her bloodstained hand. “You deserve every opportunity.”
She shook her head but didn’t pull away. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“It should.”
Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “It doesn’t.”
Gabriel couldn’t get her into veterinary college, but he could change her life in another way, by entrusting her with solemn responsibility.
; He took a deep breath. “Will you promise to consider something for me?”
She looked up, wary. “What is it?”
“A friend from New York, Mr. Isaacs, arranges foster homes for orphaned and abandoned children. His Detroit mission needs to place five children in good Christian homes. He thought Pearlman might be a good place for them. You know the community and everyone in it. Would you serve on the Selection Committee?”
She didn’t answer at first, the disbelief evident on her face. “Me? Are you sure?”
He recognized the seeds of self-doubt. No wonder she flaunted her social status. She didn’t believe she had anything else of value. “Yes, I’m sure. With your compassion for the less fortunate, you’d be perfect.”
For a moment her confidence lifted, but then she lowered her eyes. “I’m not certain—”
“Don’t answer now. Think about it.” He needed to find a reason she couldn’t resist. “Just remember, these children are no different than Slinky. They need love and a place to call home. They need someone who cares enough to help them.”
She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I don’t need to think it over. I’ll do it. I’ll be on your committee.”
“Thank you. You won’t regret it.” He smiled, and when she smiled back, he had to envelop her in a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and breathing in the rosewater scent that belonged only to her.
He wanted to stay with her forever, but the kitchen door creaked open.
“Gabriel?”
He jerked away from Felicity. It was Mariah, and beside her stood Anna Simmons and Blevins.
Felicity leaped to her feet and smoothed her skirt, embarrassed to be caught in an embrace. “We were just taking care of Slinky.” She waved at the dog, who watched the uncomfortable scene from his bed.
Mariah looked surprised. “Is that where you went? You were gone so long that Anna and I searched the park while Mr. Blevins checked the woods.”
Poor Anna looked like she was going to cry, but Robert leaned confidently against the doorway, arms crossed. He was going to hold this against her.
“Slinky was hurt,” Felicity hurriedly explained, “so Gabriel carried him here.” She smiled at the memory of him lugging the big dog through the woods. He’d had to lean backward to balance the weight, but he’d never once set Slinky down.
The Matrimony Plan Page 12