Before the previous night, it had been months since Ann had slept next to anyone. While working in the orphanage, despite being afforded a semiprivate room in the attic with the other maid, most nights she stumbled to bed and found a small girl nestled there, waiting to cuddle with her. Ann never understood why. The little children shared one large room with dozens of other girls—all willing and eager to share a bed on a cold night. They had no need to creep up two flights of stairs.
The attic grew cold and drafty in the winter, and on those nights part of Ann welcomed the warm body. It was in the heat of the summer, when the attic held on to every bit of moisture the house had belched forth during the day and every ounce of heat, that she was bewildered by the discovery of a small child eager to be snuggled. Each would wrap her thin arms around Ann until the stifling warmth drove them apart.
The one tiny attic window could never hope to release the choking humidity. The girls’ own bedrooms were flanked by comparatively luxurious long windows that opened out into the night and sucked cool air over their beds. And yet a child appeared each evening. Sometimes, the same girl curled next to her for subsequent nights. Other times, someone new arrived each evening.
Never mind that they would be swatted and scolded if they were discovered by the orphanage’s senior staff. Entry by the children into the servants’ quarters was strictly prohibited. But they had no night nurse and no bed checks, and so their visits continued.
She could have stopped them. She could have reported the behavior and looked on as they were whipped for it. Nellie, the chambermaid with whom she shared a room, was jealous on those cold winter nights, and she tried to persuade the girls to join her instead. But it was Ann’s company they wanted. Her bed for which they were willing to risk a beating.
The pain of having a child in her arms was as acute the first time as it was the last. Every moment reminded her of the child she should have had in her arms. Or rather, all the children she could have had in her arms, had she not thrown her honor and her future away. Perhaps that was why she braved the pain each night, letting the girls sleep beside her without a word of objection. It was her penance.
Most peculiar of all, was why these girls were drawn to her. The absurdity of it all made it clear this was God’s punishment for her. During the day, Ann never cast smiles at these girls or gave them pats on the arm in encouragement. She didn’t pass them the occasional sweet like the cook or turn her worn-out uniforms into dolls like Nellie. Instead she did her best to avoid them at every turn. She cleaned their vacated rooms and sidestepped their outreached arms in the corridor. Yet still each night they found her.
Sadie hadn’t moved from her tucked position against the wall. She had lain the same way the night before, and Ann had fallen into a deep sleep of exhaustion after the stress of the day, thankful to be only mildly aware of the girl’s presence. Ann was keenly aware of her tiny body tonight. Sadie’s deep, steady breathing reminded Ann another soul curled beside her. She closed her eyes.
It’s only the wind, she lied to herself.
A thin arm snaked over her chest and wrapped itself around Ann’s neck. She held her breath and dared not move as Sadie’s body nestled into her side, and her head tucked against Ann’s shoulder. She couldn’t breathe without taking in a mixture of little girl scents. Pears’ soap. Hay. Spicy, sweet cinnamon apples. Her heart skipped a beat. Sadie’s breath was sweet on her cheek, which felt surprisingly cool. The strange chillness that only comes when your cheeks are wet with tears.
She did something she’d never done in the orphanage. Not in all those many nights. She lifted her free arm from the bed and wrapped it around the waist of the tiny girl. Ann’s fingers traced a slow, soft pattern on Sadie’s back, and she let the tears flow. She cried as silently as she could, but was not quiet enough. Sadie stirred and raised her head.
“Why are you crying?” she whispered.
In the dark Ann could make out nothing of her face, but the empathy in the girl’s voice was unmistakable. Ann’s heart ached.
“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”
Sadie’s head descended and her lips landed a soft kiss on Ann’s teary cheek.
“Kisses make it better,” she announced resolutely before nuzzling her head back into Ann’s shoulder.
The pain in Ann’s heart intensified and she gripped the girl tighter.
Dear God, I can’t wait for the letter from Mrs. Turner. I must get away from this place.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’ll walk with you to the edge of the property and wait there until you return. It’s probably best if I hunker down in the weeds a bit, in case Hal’s bent the wrong way, but you’ll know I’m there.”
James’s heart pounded in his chest. Tiny Ann Cromwell was about to confront Hal Schneider. The man whose life she’d saved. He’d thought her as fragile as a china doll mere weeks ago. Now he knew just how strong and determined she was as she strode in lockstep next to him in the barnyard, far out of earshot of the children.
“What do I say?” Her voice quavered, despite the confidence in her stride.
“This is where that accent and charm of yours are going to serve you well. Introduce yourself. Act like a new neighbor coming for a visit. Tell him the children had a nice time, but don’t bring up why they were with us in the first place. If he thinks he agreed to let them visit, he might even go along with it. If he’s in a particularly foul mood, apologize.”
“Apologize for what?”
“I don’t know. For not introducing yourself sooner. For not bringing the children back until after breakfast. Whatever you do, pretend that night where he nearly died never happened. Hal’s a prideful man, and if he ever found out you saw him in that condition, let alone saved his life, there’s no telling how he’d take it.”
She licked her lips and drew in a deep breath. “We should go now. Before I have too much time to think about it.”
The children screamed and shrieked as they chased each other around the barnyard.
“George? Sadie? Time to go home.”
Both children stopped short. Sadie’s eyes lit, but George cast his head down and kicked the dirt.
“Is Papa okay now? Is he better?” Sadie implored.
What could he say? He was going to live—for now, at least—but he was far from healed. “He misses you very much,” James finally answered.
“When will we see you again?” George asked. The boy had been even more serious and quiet the last two days. He sidled up to Ann and slipped his hand into hers.
“We’ll be at church this Sunday.” She knelt down until she was eye level with the boy.
Had Emily even liked children? The thought bobbed up like a bubble in a pond. Sudden and incongruous. He ignored it.
“Will you visit us?” George’s dark eyes were wide and serious.
“I’ll try. I’ll try as hard as I can.” Ann pulled George into a hug and pressed her fair cheek against the boy’s thin shoulder. A knot grew in James’s throat.
The sun danced high in the sky as midday approached. It was a five-minute walk to the Schneiders’, and they couldn’t delay the children’s departure any longer. Sadie pleaded with James to ride on his shoulders, and he obliged. George kept his grip on Ann, and the two walked hand in hand. In her other hand she carried a neatly folded bundle containing the children’s clean clothes.
When they arrived at the line between the two properties, James plucked Sadie from his shoulders and squeezed her tight. The little girl clung to him like a briar. He patted George on the back. A firm, manly clap of the hand so as not to embarrass the boy, but to let him know he wasn’t alone. The knot in his throat grew larger. He couldn’t cry in front of the children.
I can’t cry in front of Ann.
Emily’s unwelcome face flashed before him. I despi
se a man who cries, she’d said more than once. Such a sign of weakness. At the time he’d agreed. He’d actually been proud to agree until his parents died, and he cried like a baby. The unmistakable disgust on Emily’s perfect face twisted the knife of his sorrow.
An ancient oak tree near the fence provided convenient cover, and James shooed the trio onward before ducking under the massive limbs.
“Go on. Be safe,” he called, hoping a fortuitous breeze carried his words.
He observed the scene from the safety of the tree’s cloaking shadow. The children didn’t skip along or giggle or chatter at Ann. Instead, the three walked in a solemn line. James breathed a silent prayer. A petition for safety for Ann today, and the children for all of their days.
As James watched, the barn door slid open and a figure emerged, swift and surefooted. It ran toward the children. Hal Schneider was upright and alive.
The children hugged their father, but when Ann’s yellow head bent down to them, they gripped her long and tight. Within minutes it was done. George and Sadie followed Hal into the barn with Sadie now carrying the stack of clean clothing.
He expected Ann to hurry back over the field. Instead, she walked slow as molasses, frequently turning to look back at the children, as if she expected them to race to her at any moment. One glance. Two glances. Three. It was plain to see how much she cared for those children. Just as she cared for Uncle Mac. For the past day, he’d been guilty of enjoying having them all together, like a real family—a family he could scarcely imagine with anyone but Ann at his side.
James’s heart seized. How could he have been so wrong about Ann? So quick to judge her that first day? What would have happened if he’d waited a few days before sending the letter to Mrs. Turner?
You’d still want her to stay and she’d still want to leave.
He could try to rewrite the past few weeks, but it wouldn’t change that simple truth. An English rose may thrive in an Ohio cornfield, but that doesn’t mean it belongs there. Ann deserved a private garden. She deserved so many wonderful things he couldn’t give her.
Tears streamed down Ann’s cheeks by the time she reached the oak tree. James was at her side at once. “Are you alright? Did he say something to upset you?” The exchange had appeared quick and easy from afar, but Hal could have landed any number of verbal wounds.
“I know it’s not one of your fancy ones, but it’s clean,” he said, offering a handkerchief. She took it without a word, and halted long enough to dab her nose and eyes. Then she was off, walking double time toward the farmhouse.
James stumbled along beside her, unsure of what to do or say. He never should have let her go alone. One moment she stomped ahead of him. The next moment her foot caught a bit of rough terrain and she dived headlong toward the ground. He caught her around the waist mid–free fall and his arms stayed tight around her as she found her footing.
She turned toward him, his arms still encircling her, and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. Her blue eyes were already red and swollen. “How could we do that to those children?” she sobbed. She pressed her cheek to his chest and his cotton work shirt soaked up her tears.
“Do what?” His fingers grazed over her silken hair. “We fed them, bathed them and returned them to their father. What else could we do?”
“But they’ll surely starve.”
“Ann, they aren’t going to starve. Hal doesn’t feed them well, but he does feed them.”
“Didn’t you see the house? Absolutely filthy! I can only imagine what’s crawling over those poor children when they go to sleep at night.” She shuddered and he pulled her closer.
“Mrs. Ludlow—Delia’s mother—is due to return tomorrow. I imagine she’ll be there first thing in the morning.”
“James McCann, how could you not tell me?” She pummeled his chest with soft, closed-fist blows of frustration. He chuckled and held her tighter.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughed. “I thought I’d told you!”
“I’ve been positively frantic over letting those children return home. The last few hours have aged me a year.” She pressed on his chest with her palms and pushed herself free from his embrace while he fought the urge to draw her back into his arms. She stepped back from him, and stutter-stepped over a gopher hole. He caught her by the arms before she could fall back. Ann might not only be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but also the clumsiest.
“I assumed Delia had mentioned something about her mother returning,” he said. “The two of you have become such fast friends.”
“We were busy yesterday. It must have slipped her mind.”
“I guess it slipped mine, as well. Life has been much busier lately than I’m used to.”
“You’re right.” Her voice grew soft and she dipped her head. “The last few weeks have been a bit overwhelming. The strain has affected me, but I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you. I’m sorry.”
His chest panged with guilt. She was the one who’d offered to help him in the fields these last few weeks, but he didn’t have to accept. Soon you’ll be with your rightful match, away from all this stress and work. His attempts at hospitality had been a colossal failure. He had to remember to treat her more as a guest in the future, and not a hired hand.
“You really care for those children, don’t you?” he asked, and she nodded. He would arrange for letters to be exchanged with them after she left. Something to ease her mind while she reclined on richly upholstered sofas and produced needle lace for leisure. Not as an excuse to distract her from life with him, as she did now.
“Thank you for letting them stay here these past two days. I know it was an added burden.”
“No trouble at all. In fact, it only made me wish more for a few of my own.”
Ann’s shoulders stiffened beneath his fingers, and she turned and quick stepped toward the house. What had he said? He stood stock-still, mentally fumbling over what might have offended her before he gave up and hurried to catch her.
“I saw Frederick Renner on my way back from town yesterday,” she said when he finally reached her side. “He says there’s work at the mill.”
“Work? Did he say when?”
“Beginning last night, but lasting several weeks. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”
James had always dismissed Frederick’s offers, though that never stopped his friend from continuing to ask. The mill often had extra work, but James could rarely find time to pick it up. He’d once told Ann he would speak with Frederick about work, but it had really been an excuse to drive her into town so she wouldn’t have to walk to meet Mrs. Williams.
He surveyed the crops stretched out around him on three sides. Healthy green corn stalks stretched toward the sky with nary a weed to be seen. Waves of rippling wheat danced in the wind. If only he had some help in the barn, it would be easy to make a little extra money at the mill. Money he could use for... He shook his head to jar the thought from his brain. He couldn’t let himself even think it. No sense hoping for something that could never be.
“I truly am sorry. With everything going on with the children...it slipped my mind.”
James crooked his neck to observe Ann’s furrowed brow on her exquisite face. She must have mistaken his silence for anger at not receiving the message.
“I suppose we’ve both forgotten to tell the other something now.”
Her countenance softened. “So will you be going?”
“No. I couldn’t leave you here alone with Uncle Mac. Too many things to do.”
“You said the crops didn’t need attention until harvest. I’ll be alright.”
James stopped short and she halted beside him. They’d both been walking so fast it might have been easier to run, but Ann wasn’t flushed or breathing hard. Ann Cromwell, who appeared more delicate and vulnerable than
a wild rose growing in the middle of a field about to be plowed, but who was as stubborn and strong as an oak tree with deep roots. Everything he’d thrown at her, she’d handled.
“The cow needs milking. The garden needs tending. The animals need to be fed.”
“Delia Ludlow is coming first thing in the morning to help me learn everything you just described.”
“She is?” He tried to control the shock and hope in his voice. The hope that Ann’s interest in learning farm skills was more than a way to pass the time. That maybe she actually liked life here, with him. This didn’t change anything. She was still intended for another. Hadn’t he just promised himself he’d treat Ann more as the guest she deserved to be?
“Don’t think I’m naive enough to believe I can learn everything in one day, but I think between the two of us, we’ll make out alright.”
“It’s not that. It’s just...” He searched for the right words. He was forever offending Ann. He could only guess he’d offended her before when he’d mentioned his desire for children. It must have reminded her of the other woman who would replace her someday. Not that he believed she was jealous. James couldn’t even let himself imagine she might want to stay. No, her reaction was likely one of annoyance. No doubt Ann Cromwell had never experienced a man’s rejection. No matter how humble Ann showed herself to be, it had to carry a sting. “I want you to enjoy the rest of your time here. I don’t want you to look back on this time and find it unpleasant.”
If she ever thinks of her time here at all.
Ann threw her shoulders back. “Delia is coming first thing in the morning and I have no way of reaching her to cancel our plans, short of walking five miles into town or having you take me there.”
“Fine. I’m sure both of you will have a lovely visit when she arrives. You can use the parlor.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I would like Delia to give me cooking lessons. And show me how to perform chores in the barn. We won’t be spending our day in the parlor.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a statement. Ann appeared to realize this. Her cheeks colored and her hands dropped to her side. “If you don’t mind.”
A Mistaken Match Page 16