by Gina Welborn
“I became a telegraph operator because my father was.” Mr. Palmer reached for another golden brown dinner roll.
Mrs. Palmer nodded. “I would be honored if my two girls followed my example.”
Luanne’s face paled. “I don’t mean that it’s always bad. I’m talking about the ones who—”
“We know, dear.”
Luanne smiled at her mother, and Roy’s breath caught. If he spent the rest of his life watching her smile, it would not be long enough. Was that not love?
“If it’s that important to you”—Geddes cut a smirk at Yancey before returning his attention to his plate—“I’m sure Roy would be happy to help.”
Chapter Three
“We need to talk,” Father said, breaking the companionable silence in the kitchen.
Luanne grimaced since only Mother, standing next to her at the sink, could see. She was in no mood to have a talk with anyone about Roy Bennett speaking to her class. What kind of example would a drifter like him set for her students? Certainly nothing good. Right?
Mother’s blond brows rose with that silent don’t ignore your father command.
With a sigh, Luanne finished drying the last dinner plate, then set it in the nearest cabinet. She turned to face her father. His bright blue eyes had that look—the one that said he knew something was bothering her—and unlike Mother, he never chose peace over tackling a problem head-on. He said it was the best lesson he’d learned during the Civil War, and one he was determined to teach to his children. So far, Yancey was his only success.
“Well then . . .” Mother stepped back from the sink, drying her hands on her apron. “I’ll go see if the boys want coffee. Who knows how long they’ll be out there working tonight on those infernal balloons.”
As Mother left the kitchen, Luanne checked the wall clock. She had twenty-one minutes until the meeting started. “How about tomorrow?” She folded the towel and laid it over the sink. “I really need to leave for the Ladies Aid Society meeting.”
“Ah, that you do.” Father held the kitchen door open. “How about I join you on the walk to the church? After the day cooped up in the telegraph office, my legs could use a leisurely stroll.” He gave her another of his looks. This one, as easily read as the other, said you have no option but to say yes.
Luanne sighed again. “Let me gather my bag. I’ll meet you on the porch.”
Five minutes later, they were a block away and Father had yet to speak.
Luanne shifted her tapestry bag to her left arm as they strolled up the sloped road. She’d been living with her parents for twenty-six years. She shouldn’t have to live in fear of a lecture from her father. Considering what she’d saved over the last nine years from her teacher’s salary, and the fact Montana paid the highest teacher salaries in the nation, she had the financial means to buy her own home. It was time she moved out. The new residential district east of Main Street was the perfect location. She would have less distance to travel to meetings and would have a prime view of the mountains. Moving to her own home was a grand idea. And if Roy Bennett ever visited again, she could easily avoid his person.
“I gather you didn’t have that discussion this morning with Roy,” Father said.
“The moment wasn’t right,” Luanne replied without hesitation.
“The man had finished building an unneeded fire. How was that not the right moment to tell him to stop?”
The image of Roy standing next to the stove, looking all pleased with and proud of his act of service, popped into her mind. Her heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t imagine—feared, actually—what he would do if she gave him any indication of her feelings.
They paused at the intersection to wait for a wagon to pass, then crossed the wagon-rutted road to use the boardwalk in front of the businesses on the west side of the street.
“Well?” prodded Father.
“Professor Tate proposed,” Luanne blurted in desperation to change the subject.
“Again?”
Luanne nodded. She slowed the pace as they neared the church. Keeping her voice low to not attract any attention from fellow pedestrians, she quickly shared the discussion she had with the persistent widower. Once again, Father had nothing at first to say.
They reached the church. The double doors were open, but Luanne couldn’t see anyone standing inside near the entrance. Still, she kept her voice low. “I don’t understand why he chose me as his next wife.”
Father rested his boot on the first step. “I agree. What kind of man wants to marry a beautiful, kindhearted, intelligent woman who cooks almost as well as her mother?”
Luanne snickered. “Clearly he has poor taste.”
“Indeed.”
“I’ve given him no indication his attentions are welcomed.”
He stared absently at the brick steps, his smiling turning downward. “Lu, no response is a response.” His gaze met hers. “Too often our no-response is interpreted to mean something quite the opposite than what we mean.”
She gave his forearm a little squeeze. “I will write him a letter to ensure he knows exactly my answer.”
He said nothing for a long moment. “What about Roy?”
“I plan on writing him a letter as well.” She shrugged a little. “That should do the trick.”
After a little hmmph, he muttered, “If you say so.”
“Oh, I know so.” Luanne kissed his cheek, then hurried up the steps.
In time Father would see the wisdom in her response. The sound of voices grew louder as she neared the meeting room. Mrs. Hollenbeck, as usual, sat knitting along the west wall, while the other thirty-four ladies occupied chairs around tables.
Mrs. Hollenbeck never ceased to behave as if she were the lowliest person in the room, even though her late husband’s estate made her one of the wealthiest women in Helena. Whether Luanne ever had wealth or not, she would be honored to become a woman like Pauline Hollenbeck, who used both her influence and wealth to quietly make lives better, and who did all of it simply because she believed it was her responsibility to show God’s love in her community.
“I am sorry I am late.” Luanne slid onto a chair next to the esteemed widow.
Mrs. Hollenbeck continued to knit. “My dear young friend, arriving three minutes before a meeting is to begin does not constitute late . . . for most people. You, on the other hand, like your mother, are not most people.”
“Oh.”
“Do not feel badly.” Mrs. Hollenbeck craned her neck to peruse the room. “The comment was not criticism. I greatly admire your mother. Ahh, here we go.” She laid her knitting in the empty chair to her left, then stood, placing her hand over her heart.
Luanne did as well. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the . . .”
For years, she’d been a member of the Ladies Aid Society, attending along with her mother, who had been one of the founders and board members every year thereafter. Until a few years ago. Mother had quit the society so Luanne could step out of her shadow. That Luanne was the only single woman under forty in the society certainly made her stand out.
After the pledge of allegiance came the prayer. Everyone sat for the week’s scripture reading and the order of business. Votes were made to raise funds to build a library in Chinatown. Luanne immediately volunteered to head up the committee. To her shock, Mrs. Hollenbeck championed Kate Watson instead. As the vote fell into Kate’s favor, Luanne maintained a smile to hide her irritation.
Once discussion continued into new business, Luanne shifted to face Mrs. Hollenbeck. She gazed at her frankly. “Why did you stop them from voting me onto the library committee?”
“Mrs. Watson will do fine.”
“She is carrying her fourth child. She doesn’t have time to head a committee.”
“And you do?” Mrs. Hollenbeck asked softly, giving a look that was a clear indication of her belief Luanne was too busy to become involved in another charity project. “You teach year-round. You can have as many as sixty st
udents. You are on four committees here, in addition to the work you do at church.”
“I enjoy helping others.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You make it sound like that is a bad thing.”
Mrs. Hollenbeck rested her knitting in her lap. She glanced at the rest of the Ladies Aid Society before looking back at Luanne. “Did you know Kate Watson was a librarian in San Francisco before her husband moved the family to Montana?”
“Mrs. Watson never mentioned that.” Nor was the information included in the biographies of the Helena schools’ Board of Trustees, of which Kate Watson’s husband was the chairman, as Mrs. Hollenbeck’s husband had been before he passed away last year.
“Never know what you’d learn if you sat with women of your own age instead of in a corner with me”—Mrs. Hollenbeck let out a little huff of air—“like you are an elderly spinster instead of a compelling young woman.”
Luanne winced at the rebuke. In all her years of knowing Pauline Hollenbeck, she’d never known the elderly woman to say a critical word of anyone. “They’re all married and have children. It is their world. Mine is . . . different.”
“Life changes when one marries.”
Ah, that was the crux of it. Until she married, she would be a bird of another feather, set apart from the similar ones flocking together.
Luanne returned her note-taking journal to her tapestry bag. “I need to go.”
“Ahh, yes, we must not break the eight P.M. teacher curfew.” Mrs. Hollenbeck abruptly rested her hand atop Luanne’s, stopping her from leaving. For the longest moment, she just stared at her. “I think you need a change.”
“A change? How so?”
“I would like to offer you employment as my paid companion. I will pay you one hundred dollars a month. Since Sylvester’s passing”—she shook her head—“life is . . .”
Luanne did not speak, waiting for Mrs. Hollenbeck to finish her thought.
Mrs. Hollenbeck blinked rapidly, then gave Luanne a weak smile. “We could be good for one another. Since you wouldn’t be breaking any of your teacher contract stipulations, you can move into my home and work for me as well as finish out your teaching contract. August thirty-first of next year, instead of you making plans for the new school year, you can pack your bags for a tour of Europe. I would like to visit France again. Please give it some thought.”
Luanne nodded, too stunned to give any more of a response. She then picked up her tapestry bag and slipped quietly out of the meeting room. Her heels clicked on the floorboards, the sound echoing in the dark, narrow hallway. Leave Montana and tour Europe? Leave teaching? Be free of the stringent teacher contract stipulations?
She’d considered the sixty dollars a month she earned teaching more than generous. To earn one hundred a month—plus all the amenities of living in a twenty-nine-room mansion. Mrs. Hollenbeck had a housekeeper, two maids, a cook, and a driver. Oh, and a gardener! If Luanne lived there . . . why, she’d never have to wash a dish or dust a shelf again. She would have access to the largest library in Helena. Plus she’d be able to visit some of the places Roy Bennett had described in such vivid detail.
Luanne hurried out of the church before she ran back and took Mrs. Hollenbeck up on the tempting offer. Sunset stretched across the sky with glowing coral fingers. A chill chased down her arms, reminding her that winter was coming. In a few more months, the snow would fly and she’d have to be to school early enough to start a fire. Roy Bennett would be long gone by then. Off on another of his grand adventures.
A flicker of movement caught her eye. Luanne stopped. Turning her head, she stared at the spot in the dark alley, waiting for it to reappear. Was it a bird? The rustling of tree branches in the wind?
Nothing moved.
No one was there.
In fact, besides her, no one was out walking. This was the time of day to be inside with one’s family. Time to read a book, or listen to Father playing his fiddle. Be together—that’s what families did in the evening.
A carriage rolled past. A dozen men on horses rode by, including Sheriff Simpson and a pair of deputies, all too focused on where they were going to acknowledge her. A posse?
A tin can banged against a brick wall. A cat hissed.
Luanne glanced around. Nothing. No one. Not even a cat dashed into the street.
Where was the cat? She listened. Nothing. Silly of her to feel like she was being watched.
Silly, no doubt.
With a shake of her head, she clenched her tapestry bag to her chest and resumed walking. A tour of Europe would be a nice change. She bet France didn’t have posses riding out to hunt gangs and wanted men. Liechtenstein didn’t have red-light districts. England didn’t have dirt streets and outhouses. No, Europe was civilized.
But Europe also didn’t have her parents. It didn’t have Yancey. It didn’t have Geddes. It didn’t have her friends, her church, and people she knew.
As much as travel sounded exciting, Helena was home.
Chapter Four
Roy reached for the shiplap piece Geddes held up. After an hour of concentrated work, they were on the last section of the west wall. Roy’s feet ached, but the work went faster with one of them stationed on the ladder and the other handing up the smooth, thin boards.
“Son, give us a moment.”
Roy looked down from his perch. Mr. W. H. Palmer held open the door to the carriage house.
Geddes sent Roy an apologetic look, then scurried out still holding pieces of shiplap in his hand.
Mr. Palmer closed the door. “Mr. Bennett, what are your intentions toward my eldest daughter?”
Most of the time, Roy preferred straightforwardness. Saved him from guesswork and making a fool of himself. But where Luanne was concerned, he was so uncertain, so raw, he hardly knew where to start.
“Let me rephrase that.” Mr. Palmer stepped deeper into the half-finished carriage house. “Do you have tender feelings for her?”
Roy eased himself down a few rungs. In the six weeks he’d stayed with the Palmers, this was the first private conversation he’d had with Mr. Palmer, and the man wanted a direct answer to a question Roy still struggled to untangle inside his own head. “Can a man develop tender feelings for a woman who doesn’t seem to want him anywhere near her?”
Mr. Palmer tugged his earlobe. “Hmm. So, this whole business of building fires in her classroom was your attempt to what? Make her appreciate your . . . nearness?”
Roy hopped off the ladder onto solid ground. “Yes, sir. Though, to be fair, I was following the advice of your son and youngest daughter.”
“Ah. So that’s what the under-the-table kick was about.” Mr. Palmer’s eyes twinkled in the fading light. “Yancey and Geddes are playing matchmaker, are they? Trying to get you and Luanne in the same place at the same time regardless of her feelings?”
Put like that, Roy wanted to encase himself in the half-built walls. He jammed his hands in the front pockets of his denims. “Our hope—or at least my hope—was that Miss Palmer would come to appreciate me given time and opportunity. You must admit, sir, she flits from one place to the next on her missions of mercy, which makes it difficult for a man to get to know her well.”
Mr. Palmer pursed his lips and seemed to think on that for a moment, his brow furrowing. He then sat on the same crate Yancey had a few days ago. “When did you decide you wanted Luanne to come to appreciate you? Because, from my perspective, you’ve treated her like a little sister since your arrival.”
Roy remembered the exact moment. He’d waited thirty years to feel the punch of a woman’s smile, so even if life took him and Luanne in different directions, he’d never forget it. “You’re right, sir. When I first arrived here, I did see her like a younger sister. That changed two weeks ago. Geddes and I had scheduled a group of sightseers for a balloon ride over Helena. One of your employees suddenly came down sick, so you pulled Geddes down to the telegraph office to work on his day off.”
Compr
ehension dawned on the older man’s face. “If I remember correctly, Geddes volunteered Luanne to help you operate the controls since your hand was still in a cast.”
“That’s right. We took the family up, and at one point Luanne smiled at me with this look of . . .” Roy struggled to wrap words around what he’d seen on her face. He wrote for a living, shaped words to describe people, places, and things for the express purpose of evoking a response in readers. But, when it came to Luanne, he was at a complete loss. “The best way I can describe it is freedom and bliss. I’ve never seen her so happy. It . . . it changed everything.”
A knowing grin flickered on Mr. Palmer’s lips for an instant. “I see. Tell me, Mr. Bennett, in the time you’ve been here, what you have surmised about my eldest.”
Roy scratched his beard. “She’s kind, dedicated, smart, and committed to making a difference.” Not to mention beautiful, and she set his skin on fire just by being in the same room with him—which he wasn’t about to say out loud.
Mr. Palmer waved his hand like a fly buzzed around his head. “Yes, yes, all good things, but I want to hear the things you think are her flaws.”
“Sir?”
Mr. Palmer narrowed his eyes. “Anyone who’s known Luanne for ten seconds can tell me what a kind, dedicated, smart girl she is. Those things are easy to see and easy to fall in love with. Real love is about seeing the whole person—the good and the bad—and deciding you can live with what you don’t like as much as the things you do.”
Leaning back against the beam, Roy crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, sir, since you seem to favor the direct approach . . . She’s too nice for her own good.”
Mr. Palmer nodded. “Go on.”
Roy stuffed his hands in his front pockets. What was the man after? Was he trying to put a wedge between his daughter and someone he deemed unworthy of her? That was a father’s prerogative, of course, but such underhanded tactics didn’t match his forthright nature. “There isn’t more.”