The young girl made great attempts to maintain her annoyance, but her pinched face spread into a smile when the dress appeared.
“It’s breathtaking,” she gasped, as her mother nodded along in approval. “Every girl at my wedding will be so envious. I can’t wait to see their faces!”
“I’m sure you can’t wait to see Victor’s face, dear,” Mrs. Vollrath added.
Priscilla waved a dismissive hand at her mother. “Of course, of course,” she said as if her fiancé was a mere cog in her grand scheme to throw the most magnificent wedding imaginable.
They helped Priscilla into the dress, and the girl probed over the lace and material inch by inch. Even under her critical eye, her only demand was the satin sash around her waist be shortened by two inches. An hour later, Priscilla stepped out onto the blustery street with her cheeks aglow, and Ann stepped out shortly after with her payment for the lace.
Delia’s brother, Homer, had already hitched the wagon by the time they arrived at the Ludlows’, and he waited impatiently beside it. At fifteen, Homer was already several inches taller than Delia, but possessed only a fraction of her mirth.
“We best get going, Miss Cromwell,” he insisted soberly as she approached. “Some storms are coming and I don’t want to get caught.”
Delia placed a hand on Ann’s arm. “Maybe you should wait until tomorrow morning,” she suggested. She pointed to the darkening skies.
Ann shook her head. “I’ve put this errand off long enough.” Truthfully, she’d put off retrieving the trunk in the hopes James would deliver it himself. As the days dragged on, it became apparent no such thing would occur. “My train leaves at noon. If we wait and don’t make it back in time, I’ll have to wait a week to catch the next one.” She gave her friend a quick squeeze. “We should be back by supper.”
Their drive was uneventful for several miles, other than the odd gust of warm air tickling her neck. Her chest twinged as they drove past the Zwebel farm. Their home sat too far back from the road for her to see more than the wind shield of bushes stretched across their lawn but she imagined George and Sadie inside and prayed that they were well and content.
James’s farm loomed in the distance, and they were still a half mile away when the wind chose to grow a temper. It blew so fiercely Ann had to hold her hat against her head with two hands to keep it from flying away. Soon she gave up and tucked it beside her on the seat. A few minutes later it began to sprinkle.
“I’m sorry to bring you out in this,” she apologized to Homer.
The boy shrugged. “I guess we’re going to get wet.”
Within minutes the clouds crackled and poured their contents onto the land. Ann knew the umbrella she’d brought would be ruined in the wind, and so she gritted her teeth and allowed the late-summer shower to soak her to the bone.
“This isn’t really so bad,” Homer mused beside her. “At least it’s warm.”
Ann laughed at the sullen boy’s suddenly bright outlook. He was right. The day was still warm, despite the damp, and like a typical summer storm, it was over as quickly as it began. The clouds parted and the sun returned at the same moment they turned onto the lane leading to James’s house.
“I was hoping to be a while,” Ann called over her shoulder as she hopped down from the wagon. “Though I can manage the trunk myself.”
“No problem, miss. If you don’t mind, I’m going to visit my friend Abner a little ways down the road since we’re so close.”
“Could you meet me here in two hours?” Ann doubted her goodbyes with Uncle Mac could take more than a few minutes, given his muteness, but she had plans on how to say a proper goodbye, and those plans required time.
Homer agreed and guided the horse back to the road.
Ann stood before the door and took a deep breath. This was to be her last time in James’s home. The place she’d arrived at the beginning of the summer believing it to be her new home. The place where she’d seen James for the man he truly was. The place where she’d fallen—
She didn’t let herself finish the thought. Instead, she chanted the same words she’d said so many times over the past week. He doesn’t want you. He never wanted you. He deserves a wife who can give him everything. She knocked on the door four times, waiting approximately one minute between each.
No one came.
She turned the knob and found it unlocked as always. Inside, the house smelled mustier than she remembered, and she moved from room to room calling Uncle Mac’s name. The last thing she wanted was for him to mistake her for an intruder.
After several rooms and several minutes, the stairs creaked and Uncle Mac appeared in the dining room doorway, carrying a copy of Moby-Dick. He grinned and opened his arms wide when he saw her. Ann embraced him and drew in his scent of old books.
“Welcome...home,” he grunted into her ear.
She pulled back and stood at arm’s length. “Uncle Mac, you know I came to say goodbye, don’t you?”
The older man dropped his head and his weathered features turned down into a frown. “Y-yes.”
She squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll write. I promise.”
Uncle Mac whisked an invisible tear from her cheek with a weathered thumb, all the while ignoring the stream of tears coursing his own face. “Yes.”
Ann took the old man by the arm and steered him down the hallway toward the kitchen. On the way, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the polished oval mirror. Damp curls plastered her forehead, and limp strands had blown loose from her bun and straggled down her back. The crisp sleeves of her dress were now wrinkled and flattened. She plucked a stray leaf that had affixed itself to her throat like a brooch.
“Lovely,” she murmured.
She directed Uncle Mac to take a seat at the table. “Stay here,” she directed. “I have something to give you before I leave, but it may take a while.”
Ann snatched an empty bowl and headed outside. She returned ten minutes later with a bounty of apples. “One more Apple Brown Betty,” she explained.
Uncle Mac’s face creased with smile lines. “Good, good.”
Ann peeled and cored and sliced the apples, and cubed the old johnnycake she knew she would find tucked under an oilcloth. She smiled to herself as the dish slid into the oven. It seemed she might learn to cook after all, even if it was only one dish at a time. She’d mastered eggs, and then this. In her time with the Ludlows, Delia had patiently walked her through enough basics to keep from starving should she have to cook for herself—and had taught her enough about following cookbook instructions that she felt moderately more comfortable with the idea of experimenting on her own. In a year she might be able to prepare an entire meal without making anyone sick.
She took a seat at the table and stared into Uncle Mac’s weathered gray eyes. She wished she could have met this man a few years ago, before he’d been robbed of his voice. Now, she could only pat his hand and hope the gesture conveyed her despair at having to leave. The image of Emily, James’s demanding fiancée, came into her mind. Had she really treated Uncle Mac as terribly as James described? No, she imagined Emily had been much worse. Her heart quickened in anger as she pictured the girl James had almost married.
It doesn’t matter. She shook the image from her mind. She could only pray whomever James did marry was caring, and she treated both James and Uncle Mac with kindness.
Ann left the kitchen in search of her trunk. She found it exactly as she had left it, at the end of her bed. Not a thing had been touched in the room, and a fine layer of field dust had already settled over everything. Ann wiped down the furniture and swept the floor before she carried her trunk downstairs and set it on the front porch.
The humid kitchen was soon permeated with the scent of apples and cinnamon. She set the dish on the counter to cool, and gave Uncle Mac one last hug.
His clear gray eyes studied her, and his lips moved but no sound came out. As she waited patiently, the lines on his forehead deepened, and his mouth grew taut. Still, no words passed his lips. He stomped his foot in frustration.
“Can you show me?” Ann offered.
He took a deep breath, and the crease on his forehead eased. He pointed to the hammock hanging on the back porch.
“James’s hammock? James?”
Uncle Mac grinned. He pointed to Ann.
“Me?”
The grin grew wider. He jabbed a crooked finger toward her, then toward the porch, before pressing a palm to his chest. He repeated the motions again and again as Ann puzzled over them.
You, James, chest? You, James, heart? You, James...
“Love,” she blurted. Her heart skipped a beat. He asked if she loved James. Uncle Mac nodded vigorously and gestured for her to continue. What could she say? It didn’t matter how she felt. There was nothing she could do to become the woman he deserved. Of course she loved him. She’d struggled against it with all her strength, but it couldn’t be denied.
“I—I really need to be going.” She fumbled through her pockets and pulled out a fold of bills. “Please, give this to James.” It was more than half of what she’d earned from her lace. He’d never told her just how high the agency bill and her passage had been—she could only hope that this covered it. “And know I’ll always write, even if you don’t respond.”
Uncle Mac hung his head and nodded. He walked with her to the front door where he kissed her lightly on the cheek. She glanced around one last time at the simple foyer and drew in a deep breath. Even if it brought her pain, she wanted to remember this place forever.
Outside, the storm had long since passed, and the sun shone high and bright. Her dress and hair were still damp from the rain, and she stood in a ray of sunlight on the lawn in an attempt to dry them. The clip-clop of hoofbeats grew in the distance, followed by the crunch of stone beneath wagon wheels. Homer was a little earlier than expected. Ann sighed and drank in the sight of the house in front of her. The barnyard to her right. The Schneiders’ house in the distance on the left. She stared until there was no chance she could ever forget.
“Whoa,” the driver of the wagon called to the horse.
Her heart stopped and she shivered despite the humid day. It was not Homer who had turned down the lane. It was James.
Chapter Twenty-One
At first, James was sure his eyes deceived him. As he drew closer he knew he wasn’t mistaken, yet his mind couldn’t reconcile what his eyes were seeing. His heartbeat quickened as he dismounted Old Harriet and stepped closer.
She kept her back to him until he was only a few feet away. Ann’s hair and clothes were a mess. She’d clearly been caught in the recent rainstorm. When she turned and saw James she put her head down and rushed to move past him. “I only came for my trunk. I can wait by the road until my ride returns.”
James caught Ann by the arm. “You don’t need to leave.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, I was certain you wouldn’t be here.”
“Please, at least wait on the porch.” He kept his voice steady, even as his heart raced faster.
She hesitated. James saw his opportunity. “Look.” He pointed to a clot of dark clouds in the distance. “It’s sunny now, but another storm is headed our way. You don’t want to be caught out in it.”
His mentioning the storm must have reminded Ann of her appearance. Her hands flew to her hair and she opened her eyes wide. Don’t tell her how beautiful she looks right now. He couldn’t let himself be caught up in that again. He knew all too well how easily he could say the wrong thing around Ann, and he needed to make the most of this opportunity.
Ann glanced at the distant dark sky and wordlessly moved to the porch. James remained rooted to the spot.
Please, Lord. Give me the right words.
He ran his hands through his hair and prayed again—this time for courage—before joining her. She stood on the far corner of the porch, her arms crossed, and stared out over the fields.
“Why did you think I wouldn’t be here?”
Ann visibly stiffened at his words. She’d likely hoped he would leave her alone. But he had to say his piece.
“I’d heard you’d taken on many weeks of work at the mill. Every day but Sunday until harvest.”
“Did Frederick tell you this?”
She sniffed. “Among others.”
“What else did you hear?”
She dropped her arms and faced him. “What does it matter? I’m leaving tomorrow and you’ll never have to see me again.”
His heart dropped. So he’d gotten the date wrong. He’d thought her last fitting with Priscilla was still two days away. James took one step toward her. “I didn’t know you were leaving so soon. I was going to come see you.”
“Please don’t lie to spare my feelings. I know you were in town almost every day. If you’d wanted to see me, you would have.”
He took another step forward. “Please, if you could give me a chance to explain.”
Ann sighed. “I don’t want to leave things this way. To leave angry. You were kind to let me stay here those many weeks. I’ve left money with Uncle Mac to repay you, as I promised.”
James inched forward, his throat constricting. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She crossed her arms again and tilted up her chin. Were those tears in her eyes? “It’s what we agreed upon, isn’t it? Or rather, we agreed my true match would repay you for my fare. It doesn’t matter that there is no rich banker. No oil baron. I would never have used the agency if I’d had the fare to come to America on my own. You helped bring me here. The least I can do is repay you.”
Her voice rose as she spoke and her eyes flashed with anger and imminent tears. He could feel opportunity slipping through his fingers. “Can we sit?” He gestured to the porch swing, purposely ignoring the high-back rockers beside them. He breathed a sigh of relief when Ann nodded and walked solemnly to the swing. He took a seat beside her, and the swing swayed lightly beneath their weight. Ann stared straight ahead.
“It’s true I was in town almost every day, working at the mill, but I was also sending telegrams to the East Coast and speaking with anyone who ever knew the Schneiders. In fact, I just got back from Pittsburgh.”
“Pittsburgh?” She turned toward him in surprise, only to remember herself and glance away again.
“The day after Hal died, Jed and Frederick and I combed Hal’s house looking for any clues about his relatives, and we found lots of letters from a few addresses in Pittsburgh. That’s where I sent the telegrams. But there’s only so much correspondence one can do through telegraph. Once I found an old neighbor, I took the train to meet him.”
Ann crossed her hands on her lap. “So did you find George and Sadie’s family?”
James’s heart thudded in his chest. “We found someone to take them in. And I think they’re going to be happy there.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
He watched her from the corner of his eye. Ann’s shoulders had relaxed and a sad smile played on her lips.
They rocked in silence for several minutes, though it was anything but silent in James’s head. Tell her! Just tell her! At any moment she could walk off the porch and out of his life forever. He drew several deep breaths, until his head was light and dizzy. He grasped for courage, but it felt very far away.
Lord, give me strength.
The same prayer he’d sent up when Ann first arrived. Only then he’d prayed for strength to keep her at arm’s length. Now he only wanted to draw her up in his arms and never let her go.
“Ann?”
“Hmm?” She still gazed o
ut at the fields, not making eye contact.
He reached for her hand and exhaled in relief when she didn’t wrench it free from his grasp. If she didn’t want to look at him, that was alright. But he had to feel her hand between his. Strong, brave Ann. That first day, he’d thought her the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. If he could have only known how beautiful she’d become.
“You have every right to be upset with me. If you only knew how many times I wanted to come see you these past weeks. It took everything in me not to turn down the Ludlows’ street and knock on their door.”
“Why didn’t you?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He plowed a hand through his hair. “I’ll explain everything in a minute. But I need to tell you something first.”
She looked at him for the first time. Her exquisite blue eyes opened so wide he could practically fall in them and drown. Ann’s rose lips trembled, and it took everything he had to fight against their pull for a few moments longer. This was it.
“Ann, I’m in love with you.”
* * *
Blood coursed through Ann’s ears, deafening even the sounds of a robin chirping in a nearby tree. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. She stared back into his hazel orbs.
“What did you say?”
His hands had not left hers, and now he grasped it tighter. “I said I’m in love with you. Desperately in love. I should have told you the night of the accident, but I didn’t get the chance. And after I was stupid enough to let you leave, I thought you’d never believe me, even if I did tell you.”
Ann’s head spun. None of this made any sense. Her heart pleaded at her to fall into his arms, but she’d spent too many days replaying their last night together. The look of shock and disappointment on his face when she’d revealed the circumstances of her barrenness. The silence when she’d said goodbye and he’d said nothing in return. Her heart twisted in pain as she realized what was happening. This was not love from James. This was pity.
“You don’t have to say these things, James. Your sense of duty is admirable, but you deserve much, much more. And if you’re worried about me, I assure you I’ll be quite fine.”
A Mistaken Match Page 22