“Also, remember, no overnight guests at the house without my approval.” He felt bad for reminding her he would not pay for them to run a cottage house, but he didn’t want any surprises either.
She colored. “Yes, sir.”
Hmm, he’d thought a prostitute would be beyond blushing.
And now he understood the reservations Nicholas had about chugging full speed ahead with this ministry. So many things he hadn’t thought of.
And what about the women’s safety? He couldn’t be around constantly. “Do you need me to walk you home each night?”
Bethany rocked back on her heels and worried her lip. “If someone recognizes us alone, we might be forced into a situation we can’t escape, but if someone saw you walking us home . . . Well, I’m more concerned for your reputation than mine.”
“I’ll buy you something to defend yourselves with, then. And make sure you tell me if I can do anything else.”
She swiped the back of her sleeve across her face and sniffed. “Yes, Mr. Kingsman.”
He reached out to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze but changed his mind and ran his fingers through his hair instead. These ladies didn’t need to be touched without their permission ever again. “All right. Leave a note on my desk if you need anything.” He’d debated last night whether they should be alone in his factory, and maybe he was a fool to let them work unsupervised, but he had to trust them.
“Good night, ladies.” He nodded at Bethany and then waved at Kathleen, who’d stopped sweeping to stare at him.
He walked out of the still-hot factory into the crisp autumn air. Clicking the door shut behind him, he leaned against it for a second and blew out a breath.
He did not want to go to the hotel where Father was staying. Last night he’d visited him like a dutiful son should and endured hours of lecture.
However, Father had intended to spend today at the natatorium, hoping to attract buyers for the factory. Perhaps he should visit again, if only to discover whether or not Father had found anyone interested. Between his obligations to his father, the business, Kathleen and Bethany, and his heart, what was the wisest thing to do?
Breaking ties with Father completely might create more trouble than he could handle right now. But would staying tied to Father keep him from doing the best he could with the rest of his life?
He started his well-traveled route to the mansion. There was one major piece of information he needed before he could plan how to go forward, and to get it, he’d have to talk to Evelyn. Time was up. He might be going too fast, but his life wasn’t giving him much choice.
He kept his hands in his pockets as he pushed himself forward. He likely knew her answer, but he had to have it outright. If she could be bothered to wish on a star, she’d insinuated it would have been for nothing more than getting the children and women of the district the help they needed—and he’d been doing his best to make that happen. Not just because it was her dream, but after getting to know Scott, Max, Caroline, Bethany, and all the others, how could he not get involved? How had he ignored that area in Kansas City? He’d been involved with a few charity projects back home, but he’d never once ventured into that part of town, hadn’t once thought about reaching out to those in need there.
If he ended up back in Kansas City, he’d start something to help the children and women there—Father’s money would make that infinitely easier than if he forged out on his own.
But no matter what woman Father pushed him toward, he would only marry someone he could love to the fullest and who would love him back—even if the time was short.
Which meant Evelyn might not be the one for him, though his heart was tripping all over her. He wasn’t going to leave before figuring out if he had any chance with her, or else he’d wonder forever.
When he reached the bottom of the mansion property, he stopped at the gate and looked up at the beautiful estate he might be living in. Not as wonderful as being in charge of his own place, but then, he wouldn’t have to pay for the whopper of a heating bill Nicholas had to have. Would Evelyn want to stay here forever, or like Lydia, raise a family elsewhere but continue to help?
His insides started quivering as he forced himself to climb the hill.
How could he steel himself against getting turned down flat while drowning in hope?
By pushing forward.
By pursuing the life he wanted.
By accepting what God did or did not have for him when he got his answer.
He climbed the stairs to the portico and clanked the knocker—perhaps for the last time.
Franklin answered but said nothing, only opened the door for him to come in.
But he couldn’t cross the threshold. How could he ask Evelyn something like this with everyone watching, people listening, or children interrupting?
“Could you ask if Miss Wisely is available to talk?”
Franklin’s brow furrowed. “Out there, sir?”
His throat tightened, and all he could do was nod.
Franklin left the door partially open, but not enough for David to see inside.
For five infinitely long minutes, he paced, forcing himself to breathe deep and slow in hopes of calming his wild pulse. God, stop me if I shouldn’t ask.
The door whined open, and Evelyn stepped out with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “David, is something wrong?”
He’d find that out soon enough. “I came to tell you what I’ve done.”
She stepped out farther and clicked the door shut behind her. “Oh, dear. Whatever it is, I know what kind of man you truly are. God loves you and will forgive you.”
He smiled at how she immediately jumped to giving him the benefit of the doubt. He had God’s love, that he knew, but whether or not he had hers was the question. “I meant that I now understand why Nicholas wanted to go slowly with the women’s home, because I just forged ahead on my own and am now incredibly unsure if I’ve done the right thing.”
There was a glimmer of a smile in her eyes. “How can helping anyone be the wrong thing?”
“If I can’t follow through.”
She crossed the porch to meet him. “Why wouldn’t you be able to follow through?”
“Queenie sent two ladies to me yesterday willing to clean my factory and live in less-than-ideal conditions to do so. And my father showed up to sell the factory yesterday morning—but I can’t turn the women out.”
“Your father’s here?” She sat on the low stone wall on the edge of the portico. “Why didn’t you tell me? I suppose he’s making things difficult?”
That was a rather tame way of putting it. He sat on the wall in front of her, knee to knee. “What would you think of me if I dissolved my relationship with my father? I’d try to only break away from the business, but I can’t fool myself into thinking that wouldn’t break the rest of the relationship as well.”
She rubbed at her chin. “Perhaps it would be a good direction. You could attempt to work on your relationship without the stress of doing business together.”
“Actually, what I wanted to ask is, how would you personally feel if I took up residence in Teaville? The last time I asked, you told me you couldn’t give me business advice, but I’m not asking for business advice.”
She looked away, her throat visibly working hard to swallow. “Teaville surely can’t compare to Kansas City.”
“In some ways, no. But Kansas City doesn’t have you.”
She made a sound similar to that of a whimpering puppy and took a quick sideways glance at him. “Oh no, David.”
He’d have mistaken the look in her eyes for someone in love if not for how her face contorted with tears. “I’m willing to stay here if I have a chance with you. I’m willing to go against my father. I’m willing to be the one who takes over the orphanage so you can keep it—”
“Please, make your decisions without any thought to me.” Her voice was scratchy and thick, and she dropped her gaze to her lap. “I thought I’d made i
t clear I wasn’t interested in getting married.”
“But I just saw how you looked at me.” He tipped her face back up, but she kept her eyes shut, her lids sealed with glistening teardrops. “And the way you looked at me the night of the ball, the way you wanted to kiss me. I know you have feelings for me. What I don’t know is why you hate the idea of marriage so much you don’t want me to stay.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Please don’t ask me.”
He took her free hand, thankful she didn’t pull away. “You told me once you wanted to be friends, but you don’t let anyone know what’s tearing you up inside—not Lydia, not me, not your parents. How can we help you if you refuse to let us in?”
“It’s a secret,” she whispered.
“I want to hear all your secrets, and I want you to know all of mine.” Though he didn’t know what else he could tell her, since the week he’d stayed with her at Mr. Hargrove’s he’d laid out everything before her . . . yet she seemed determined to keep everything from him.
“No, you don’t really want to know.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” He pulled back the hair that had fallen into her eyes, letting his fingers trace the scars that weren’t blotted out with makeup. “I promise. Whatever you’re hiding, it won’t make me love you any less.”
“Love?” she croaked, silent tears running down her face. “You shouldn’t love me, David. As you said, I’m not even that great of a friend. How could you want anything more from me?”
“Because I’m in love with everything about you. From your passion for helping others to your confounded secret.”
She looked down at her lap, where her hands were strangling the fabric of her skirt. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I thought I was the only one in danger.”
Danger? Though she sat rigidly, he kept a hold of her hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. “What happened that keeps you locked away from us?” He’d told her the truth just now. He had dreamed up every insane possibility that might have convinced her she shouldn’t get married, but none had made him feel any different. “Do you have an illegitimate child?”
She shook her head so hard, he was certain that wasn’t a lie.
“A man left you at the altar? Someone beat you up?” With every shake of her head, he rattled off another possibility. “A family member abused you? You gave yourself to a man and feel you don’t deserve to get married? You had an accident that will keep you from having children? You are an adopted child prostitute?”
All she did was shake her head and close her eyelids tighter.
“Then what? Tell me. Let me help you work through it.”
She slipped her hand from his and stood. “If only I’d been able to ignore your charm, stay cold, and drive you away like the others. For it’d be far better that you hated me for being a heartless woman than what I actually am.”
“And what are you?”
“A married one.”
His eyelids were the only thing that worked.
That . . . that was not how she was supposed to answer his proposal. A yes, a no, a let me think about it—but not that.
Perhaps he hadn’t heard her right? He wet his lips and forced out the question. “Did you say you’re married?”
She wrapped her arms around her chest as if her heart hurt as much as his did. “Maybe.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose but felt nothing. His body had to be in shock, since his skin was numb. “What do you mean ‘maybe’?”
“I mean, I’m not certain, but as far as I know, I am.”
He looked at his feet, waiting for the sound of his heartbeat to register in his ears and confirm his heart still thumped inside his chest, though it felt as if it had burst through his ribs and left him behind. He closed his eyes and tried to piece it together. “But . . . you’re Miss Wisely.”
“Actually, I’m Mrs. Bowden.” Her voice clogged and a tear slipped down her cheek.
If she’d given him any other tear-filled response he would’ve gathered her up and held her until her crying subsided, but how could he hold her now, knowing she was Mrs. Bowden?
“My parents don’t even know . . .” Her voice died, and she looked at him with eyes so sad they looked ready to fall apart. Though perhaps her eyes only mirrored the sorrow in his. “I’m so sorry, David.”
He stood and walked backward until he hit a portico column.
She took a step closer, but he could only stare at her forehead.
“I always did as much as I could to discourage any man from having an interest in me. But with you . . . I thought because you’d return to Kansas City and would only be here for a short time, that we could be friends. You were so nice, so determined to be my friend no matter how I treated you.”
“I can’t fault you there. You certainly did keep me at a distance. It’s my own fault for ignoring your signals.” Perhaps he was more stubborn than he or Father thought. Or maybe more foolish. Either way, he was definitely paying for it.
“With how I’ve been feeling . . . Well, there’ve been several times lately that I began to think I shouldn’t keep my secret any longer, but I figured I’d tell people after . . . after you were gone, so you wouldn’t think . . . less of me.” She stood there for a moment, then slumped and turned. “I can imagine how much you hate me right now. I’m so sorry, and I understand why you’d never want to see me again.”
He stumbled forward and snatched her sleeve when she headed back toward the mansion. “No. You said you were uncertain if you were married. I don’t understand how that’s possible, so tell me everything. I need to know.”
She pulled her hand away for a second to wipe her face but placed her hand right back in his, squeezing hard enough that his shocked nerves actually felt pain.
He tugged her back to sit on the wall and sat beside her, though this time, they both faced forward, a chasm between them. The only thing that registered was the sound of the blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the mansion’s front door.
After a few false starts and two throat clearings, Evelyn took a deep breath. “My father was a pastor in Topeka before we moved to Teaville. I was a rebellious seventeen-year-old when James jumped off a train with four other boys who rode the rails. He was everything my father disliked. He flirted with all the young ladies, had a disregard for authority, was the epitome of a rake. And I was the pastor’s daughter—expected to be perfect simply because of who my father was. I won’t get into everything I did to exasperate Daddy, but once, after one of Daddy’s parishioners took him to task for how I was behaving, he called me ‘a disappointment.’ And to my everlasting shame, I decided to show him what a real disappointment I could be.”
“I suppose James was instrumental in doing so?”
She nodded. “I just meant to make Daddy squirm. I didn’t expect to succumb to James’s charm.”
Fidgeting beside him, she played with her fingernails. “We got it in our heads to show him how grown up we were by eloping once I turned eighteen. If Daddy so much as got a hint, he would have stopped us. So we waited until summer. I normally spent summers in Wichita with my great-aunt. She had dementia, so I read her books and kept her entertained. I’m not sure she even understood James and I had married, not that we lived with her. She probably didn’t even realize I left at night, and my business was of no concern to the servants, so they’d never thought to inform my aunt or my parents.” She brought up her legs and wrapped her arms around them, like a hurt child hiding in a corner.
“But the honeymoon was over in a few short days. James turned out to be exactly what my father feared. The moment the law said I was his, he dropped all pretense. He no longer hid that he drank, smoked, and gambled. He refused to attend church with me and my aunt.” She looked off into the distance as if she could see back in time. “And we fought—all the time. I knew deep down I couldn’t continue my rebellious ways into adulthood, but James didn’t see it that way—and why should he have?
I hadn’t caught his interest by acting as I’d been taught.
“James left after we’d been married five weeks. He left a note saying our marriage had been a mistake but didn’t tell me where he was going.” The sound of heartbreak made her voice squeak. “After all these years, I’m not even sure why he married me, but I had certainly become the disappointment I’d set out to be, and it didn’t feel good at all.”
David took her hand and caressed her skin with his thumb. He couldn’t imagine her pain, even if his own dreams were dying an extraordinary death.
She took a few exaggerated breaths, obviously trying to keep her emotions from completely bursting. “When I went home at the end of the summer, I didn’t tell them what I’d done. When Aunt Meredith died five months later, I let my secret go with her to the grave.”
Except being married wasn’t something you could just forget about. “Why did you never tell your parents?”
“At first I couldn’t bear the shame of it, didn’t want to talk about it. I’d talked myself into believing it was all their fault for their unrealistically high expectations of me and locked myself in my room. But truthfully, I’d hoped James would come back and rescue me from humiliation, and I didn’t want to endure their censure in the meantime. I didn’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’ I’d decided I’d wait until James returned with some sorry tale that would prove I was right about him being a good man deep down and that Daddy was wrong.”
She fished out a handkerchief and wiped her face. “Years went by, and I realized I was wrong to not have said anything. But the longer you live with such a secret, the harder it is to bring it up when nothing could change the outcome.”
“But surely something can be done.” He started doing the math. “How long has he been gone?”
“Nine years.”
He’d been sixteen. She’d been out of his reach before he’d even thought about marrying.
“After several years, I did check into my options. I could either try to declare him dead or divorce him on grounds of abandonment. If I couldn’t find out definitively what happened to him but declared him dead, and I remarried, if he showed up later, the courts could declare my second marriage void. The lawyer said that was a risk I’d have to consider if a judge would even grant such a declaration. And as the daughter of a pastor, the very word divorce made me want to die inside. How much more of a disappointment could I be to my father than to become a divorcee?” She swallowed noisily and looked away.
A Love So True Page 27