by Karen Kirst
Something akin to grief flitted over his face. He firmed his jaw. “Is that what Caroline wants?”
“After last night, she wants nothing to do with you.”
His gaze slid past Duncan’s shoulder. After long moments, he said, “I will respect her wishes.”
Duncan released him. “You’d better, because next time I willnae be so nice.”
* * *
After days of silence, her blackmailer finally contacted her. This time, instead of leaving the letter at the main house, he’d propped it against the cabin door where Duncan could’ve stumbled upon it. A foolish risk, because the second Duncan learned of this, he’d put a stop to it. The threat to her father’s reputation and livelihood meant nothing to him. Feeling chilled despite the midsummer heat, Caroline walked along the boardwalk, limiting her interactions to polite smiles that didn’t invite conversation. She had a distasteful errand to complete.
The bank’s large sign loomed overhead, and her steps slowed to a snail’s pace. Her fingers bent the folded document that held Duncan’s supposed signature. She reminded herself again that she had no other choice. Her blackmailer wanted double the usual amount. If she didn’t bring the money to the desired spot by five o’clock the following day, all of Charleston would soon be reading about her father’s alleged deception in the newspaper. Loyal customers would snub Turner soaps and other sundries and her family’s name would be tarnished forever.
Slim hope resided in her. The masks she’d shipped to Charleston might appeal to buyers. If so, she could use the proceeds to offset her withdrawal. To her knowledge, Duncan didn’t monitor the account he shared with her. He’d set up his own not long after his arrival. The odds of him discovering her deception were low.
Caroline wondered briefly if protecting her father was worth the risk to her relationship with her husband. She and her father weren’t close, no matter how much she wished otherwise. There was the other matter of his guilt. If he’d actually done what her blackmailer insinuated and lied about the quality of ingredients in their expensive soaps, didn’t he deserve to deal with the consequences?
A towheaded boy of about seven or eight bumped into her. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
“It’s all right.”
She couldn’t stand in this spot staring at the bank. People would notice.
Drawing in a bracing breath, she entered the rough-hewn building, her stomach sinking at the sight of Milton Donahue. The clerk hadn’t attempted to hide his dislike of her. Above his wire-rimmed spectacles that perched low on his nose, his beady eyes met hers. His mouth puckering as if he’d tasted a persimmon, he waved her forward.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. McKenna?”
“I brought the signed document.” Perching on one of two seats angled toward his desk, she handed it to him. “The amount I require is there on the top line.”
He scanned the information. “Typically we’d require Mr. McKenna to come in to the bank and sign in person.”
Perspiration dripped down her spine. She affixed an apologetic smile on her face. “My husband is a very busy man. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but we’ve had a horse theft this past week. He’s working throughout the day with his normal chores and keeping watch at night. He simply can’t spare the time, I’m afraid.”
At least that part was true. Duncan’s fatigue was obvious, but he refused to risk her father’s animals. His confrontation with Theo had yielded nothing of value. And since she’d yet to hear of Theo sporting a black eye or broken nose, she had to believe that what Duncan had told her was true—they’d come to an agreement without resorting to physical violence. An apologetic Theo had promised to respect their vows. That little detail niggled at her.
Theo wasn’t the apologetic sort.
His reason for remaining in Gatlinburg—a newfound friendship with Vivian Lowe—validated her suspicions. And if he in fact wanted Vivian, not Caroline, what had been his purpose for visiting her the other night?
“I did hear that,” Milton reluctantly admitted.
Her shoulders sagged with relief.
“However, I will have to check with Mr. Jenkins before I proceed with the transaction.”
Caroline schooled her features, while inside she was railing at him. Why was he being so difficult? It was her money, after all!
“Of course.”
While she waited, she prayed for God’s forgiveness. She hoped He understood her motivations. The last thing she wanted was to deceive Duncan. Every time the bell above the door jangled announcing a new arrival, she flinched.
Milton returned after what seemed like a lifetime, accompanied by Mr. Jenkins. “Caroline, how wonderful to see you.”
His smile was wide, his gaze clear. He didn’t suspect a thing.
“How are your parents?”
Standing, she curled her fingers into her palms and tried not to stare at the thick envelope in Milton’s grip. “Enjoying their holiday, apparently. They’ve decided to prolong their stay.”
“My wife is practically giddy with joy that you’re going ahead with the tea party.”
“I’m happy to hear it.”
“Well, I bid you a good day.” He clapped his clerk’s shoulder. “Take excellent care of Mrs. McKenna, you hear?”
Milton colored. “Yes, sir.”
As Mr. Jenkins returned to his office, Milton handed her the envelope. “The amount requested.”
“Thank you.”
Resisting the urge to sprint through the door, Caroline pivoted.
“Mrs. McKenna?”
Tensing, she turned. “Yes?”
His look of satisfaction didn’t bode well. “Next time, your husband will have to come in with you.”
“I understand.”
Feeling lower than low, Caroline reentered the hustle and bustle of Main Street. A rural community like Gatlinburg was comprised mainly of hardworking farmers and their families, with a handful of professionals sprinkled in. Most were honest, God-fearing people. But like in any population, there was a portion that wasn’t. Who in these mountains would have the necessary knowledge of the Turner enterprise—not to mention the audacity—to coerce money from her in exchange for silence?
Before Theo’s odd behavior, she hadn’t given him a second thought. Now she couldn’t be certain he wasn’t involved. She’d heard rumblings that the Marshes’ business had suffered some setbacks in the past year. As a lifelong family friend, Theo’s presence in Turner factories wouldn’t be cause for suspicion. He could’ve gained access to offices and warehouses.
Hurrying home, she detoured to her parents’ house and, after greeting Cook, entered her father’s study. Surely there was a piece of correspondence with Theo’s handwriting in here. If she located a sample, she could compare it to the demand letters.
She started with the desk. Sinking into the leather chair, she caught a whiff of the tangy cigars her father collected but rarely smoked. The wooden box was angled on the desk corner in clear sight of anyone who entered. Albert knew Louise despised the habit, and yet he left this reminder out to taunt her.
With a sigh, she examined the drawers’ contents. Twenty minutes later, she hadn’t found a single piece of correspondence between the Marshes and Albert.
“Miss Caroline, I didn’t know you were here.” Sylvia lifted a dusting cloth, her curious gaze taking in the papers fanned out before her. “I’ll come back later.”
Caroline glanced about the room. “I don’t see a single speck of dust. You’re very conscientious, Sylvia. My father would appreciate knowing how hard you work in his absence.”
“That’s kind of you, miss.” She smiled tremulously. “This job has been a lifesaver. I owe your parents my best effort.”
“A shame not all employees share your view. How is your mother?”
; “Still struggling, I’m afraid. Doc said to give the medicine time to do its job, but I...” Pressing a hand to her throat, she shook her head, and her mobcap trembled. “I get discouraged sometimes.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I gather you’re very close.”
Tears shimmered. “She’s my best friend.”
Caroline made a mental note to advise Cook to prepare an appropriate meal for the pair and have it delivered. “She’s fortunate to have a devoted daughter like you.”
“That’s kind of you to say.” She hesitated before gesturing to the desk. “Is there anything I can help you with, miss?”
“No, thank you.” Restacking the papers, she rose to her feet. “I was searching for something I’m not sure is even here.” With a shaky laugh, she pointed to the large mantel clock. “I’ve got lunch to prepare. A wife’s duties are never done.”
Funny, she didn’t mind the chores as much as she used to.
“Sylvia, you weren’t here in August last year, so you missed the tea party.”
“That’s right. I’ve heard it’s a feast for the senses. You can count on me to do whatever needs to be done.”
“Actually, I thought you might like to attend as a guest. Do you think your mother would be able to come, too?”
Sylvia’s expression reflected shock. “That would be lovely, Miss Caroline. However, I’m not sure I should. Miss Louise certainly wouldn’t approve.”
“My mother isn’t attending this year.” Slipping her reticule ribbon over her wrist, Caroline came around the desk to stand in the middle of the study. “I’m in charge, and I’d like you both to be there, if possible.”
“I’d love to.” A blush added much-needed color to the girl’s cheeks. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.”
Caroline left then, no closer to answers than before. The extra weight in her reticule served as a reminder of the errand she had yet to complete. She may have satisfied his demands this time, but what happened next month? And the month after that? She couldn’t continue like this. She had to discover who was behind the threats.
* * *
When Duncan decided to accept work in Tennessee, he couldn’t have foreseen that he’d wind up with a wife not of his own choosing. Caroline hadn’t been his choice. However, she was God’s choice. Duncan hadn’t taken Albert Turner’s offer of employment lightly. He’d considered it long and hard, had prayed about the decision for weeks. In the end, he’d had peace about leaving North Carolina. He had to believe this marriage factored in with God’s plan for his life.
Indeed, he and Caroline had made great strides since exchanging vows. Like a delicate bloom, she was slowly opening up to him. It was his own impatience that was causing his continuing dissatisfaction. While he didn’t blame her for being cautious, Duncan was a man of action. He didn’t deal well with uncertainty. He wanted the assurance that their relationship was on solid footing and was going to succeed. He wanted intimacy with his wife. And children. Both would have to wait until Caroline was completely and utterly forthcoming. Based on her recent anxious behavior, he had the feeling he’d be waiting a long while.
His thoughts running amok, he finished shoeing the horse and turned to leave the stall, almost mowing over Wendell.
“Wendell, I didnae hear you come in.”
“Have you ever heard me come in?”
Duncan laughed. The man moved aside to let him pass, padding behind him to the tack room. “Anything in particular I can do for you?” he said.
“You’re good for her.” Wendell’s dark eyes were probing.
“What makes you say that?”
“She’s happier now that you’re here.”
Duncan pondered the statement. “I’d like to take the credit, believe me. But I think it’s more to do with her altered circumstances than me. She’s no longer under her parents’ rule. She’s also learning new skills, which boosts her confidence.”
Wendell’s enigmatic gaze tracked Duncan’s movements. “She has secrets.”
Tension stiffened his neck. “You know something I don’t?”
“I’ve been married many moons. I had a daughter. I can tell when my womenfolk are carrying big burdens.” He waggled a finger. “Caroline’s eyes tell a story. It’s up to you to figure out the ending.”
“Why don’t you talk to her? She trusts you.”
“I’m not her husband.”
“She’s no’ ready to confide in me.” The admission felt like a failure.
“Keep trying.”
As soon as he’d left, Duncan washed his hands and went searching for his wife. She wasn’t in the cabin, so he tried the main house, her command center for the party. He questioned Sylvia, who told him Caroline had expressed a desire to be alone. Concerned, he checked the pond, thinking she may have taken a book out there. The water was placid, the canoe empty. The spot reminded him of the fun they’d had frog gigging and the kiss—their first—that had flipped his world on its head. He hadn’t kissed her in days. It was too difficult to be close to her, knowing she didn’t trust him enough to share her deepest worries. She’d insisted she was merely preoccupied by the party planning. Duncan didn’t buy it.
Returning to the stables, he checked the last place he could think of—her art room. He knocked softly. “Caroline, it’s me. Are you in there?”
He heard the clink of glass, followed by her quick footsteps. The door swung inward about six inches, her body blocking the view to the room. “Duncan. Is it time for the noon meal already?”
“May I come in?”
Her brows drew together. “Um, sure.” Allowing him entrance, she quickly closed the door behind him. “What’s the matter?”
“Does the barn have to be on fire before I can seek out my wife’s company?”
Her navy eyes darkening, she smoothed a paint-spattered hand over her upswept hair. “Of course not.” Caroline went to her work area and picked up the mask, then she dipped a brush into a pot of orange paint and made controlled swipes across the surface.
Duncan was tempted to take those things away and force her to give him her full attention. Sinking his hands into his pockets, he quietly observed her craftsmanship adorning the walls. The riot of colors lent cheer to the space. He could spend hours studying the details on each one of her creations.
“Why are these spots empty?”
The brush stilled and lifted from the papier-mâché as her head whipped up. “What spots?” she hedged.
“These.” He indicated the random areas.
He sensed an internal war being waged inside her. Lowering the mask and brush to the table, she locked her hands behind her back. “I sent them to a curiosity shop in Charleston in hopes they will sell.”
“Recently?”
She pulled in a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Why? You have plenty of money at your disposal. Are you aiming to make a name for yourself in the art world?”
Please say the latter, he silently implored.
“I simply wished to see if they would sell.”
The way she avoided his gaze told him more than mere words could.
Frustration compelled him forward. Lightly gripping her upper arms, he said, “There’s something you’re no’ telling me. Why dinnae you trust me?”
Her lips parted. “I could ask the same of you. I’ve told you repeatedly that right now is a crazy time for me. This party is a huge undertaking. The entire town will hear about it if it’s a failure. And wouldn’t my mother be pleased. In the past, I was the second-in-command, a soldier following orders. That’s not the case this time.” Waving at her surroundings, she said, “I haven’t been in here in days. I had to get away from the chaos for a bit.”
He released her. “She’s no’ going to be in attendance, and yet yo
u’re still worried about failing her? Caroline, it’s impossible to measure up to some people’s standards. No matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, you willnae be able to please them. Focus on pleasing God in your thoughts and deeds. Do things for the pure joy of them, because you want to. Like these masks.”
“I want to host this party.”
“Then enjoy the planning and the ordering people about and the chaos. Stick to your decisions, and forget about what your mother might think.”
She closed her eyes. “That’s like telling me not to breathe.”
“I realize how difficult it must be for you, lass, but I suspect you’ll never know contentment unless you start viewing yourself through the Lord’s eyes instead of your parents’.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Pray, then pray some more. Search the Scriptures. God’s Word says you’re wonderfully and fearfully made.”
“Since we got married, I’ve read my Bible more than I ever have.”
“Is that because I’m such a trial to you, lass?”
“What? No, I—”
With a wink, he seized her hand. “I’m teasing. Sort of. I ken I can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes. I’m glad you’re seeking the Lord’s guidance. Without it, we’ll fail to pattern a godly union.”
“I want us to have a good marriage,” she shyly admitted.
Duncan caressed her cheek and moved closer.
Her stomach rumbled. Chuckling, he tugged her toward the door. “Come on, let’s go out for the noon meal.”
“Seriously?”
As a couple, they had yet to eat anywhere other than at their humble cabin. “Aye, I’m serious. Ben advised me which menu items to avoid.”
“I won’t turn down an opportunity to get out of cooking.” Smiling, she untied her apron and snatched her bonnet from the table. “Even if it is the Rotten Plum.”
He’d heard it referred to as that a couple of times. As they strolled past the house and onto the lane leading to town, he said, “Why disnae someone else open up a restaurant? With a decent cook, I cannae see why it wouldn’t be a success.”