He shouldn’t kiss her now. Not even a good-bye kiss. But her lips were too close, her breath too sweet, and the urge to kiss her powerful bad. He leaned forward another inch.
Her tender lips against his revived the words of the love sonnet he’d recited, except he’d leave the sensation of his mouth upon hers instead of a touch upon the palm and gain the flavor of butterscotch on his lips to haunt his dreams rather than the taste of wine.
A moment passed before her lips softened against his. He sank deeper and wound his fingers in her hair.
She inhaled sharply and broke away. “Your lesson is over.”
He dropped his hand and blinked. “Because I kissed you?”
“No.” She stood, her chair banging against the sofa, and she reached to steady herself. “I mean, yes. I shouldn’t have done that. Not at all.”
This was going wrong, terribly wrong. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that either. I didn’t mean to kiss you—”
“So you accidently kissed me?” She clenched her fists at her side. Her face was red again, but definitely not from a blush. “Your bride might not appreciate you kissing other girls for no reason.”
He stood and reached out to her. “But I don’t accidentally kiss other girls—”
“Oh? I never would’ve believed Dex Stanton would cheat on a woman.” Before he could grab her, she’d disappeared into the hall.
“I’m not cheating.”
“I doubt your wife would think so.” Her slippered feet made swift work of the stairs.
He slid after her into the foyer. “Wait, Rachel. You’re not listening. This is just a big mistake—”
She slammed a door.
He stood, shaking as hard as if he’d been forced to publicly read an unfamiliar passage. His chest rose and fell fitfully. The feel of her lips against his had twisted up everything inside him.
“Rachel! I’ve kissed no one but you. There is no one but you.” Hoping to hear the quiet opening of a door, he waited until his breathing evened out. But only the mantle clock ticked and ticked and ticked. . . . What had he done wrong?
He went back to grab his sister-in-law’s poems and trudged back into the foyer, taking one last hopeless glimpse upstairs. He’d used his lips upon hers to show her everything he’d bottled up inside, but it hadn’t been enough to win the battle. That’s what he got for doing nothing to win her until now.
For the rest of his life he’d have to be content spending his pennies on butterscotch.
Chapter 5
The front door shut with a faint click.
Rachel wilted against her bedroom door. She pressed a hand against her lips still abuzz from Dex’s kiss. She should have gone back downstairs and asked him what he meant by there being no one but her. Did that mean he didn’t have a bride already? But he’d written one, so he must have considered all the girls in town and found her wanting. So why kiss her the day before he left?
Did it mean anything? The racing of her pulse and the longings of her heart were pushing her to read into things when his words had been clear: A mistake. An accident. If he’d had any desire to make her his only girl, he wouldn’t have told her to go to school.
She needed time to think without his nearness clouding her judgment, so she shuffled over to her bed and sank onto the mattress.
Tucked up in a ball, she lay facing the window, a finger against her lips. The starlings in the catalpa tree twittered a sweet song, and the sun’s lemony rays burst through its fat, velvety leaves. The Founder’s Day celebrators would have a beautiful spring evening for dancing.
Did Dex really think she should go to school or was he only saying what he thought she wanted to hear? If she didn’t go, would he think less of her or more?
Open doors. Open doors. Would God really guide her through open doors? Momma acted as if disregarding her opportunity to attend school would be a sin.
She grabbed her Bible and ran her fingers down pages and columns and more pages in the New Testament looking for the word door. After flipping through several books, she scanned faster. She should memorize more.
The first passage she stumbled upon was in Acts. Paul and Silas stayed in jail despite the Lord opening the door with an earthquake. He’d even supernaturally unlocked their chains. And yet they didn’t leave, saving the lives of the soldiers who would have been punished for their escape.
No one’s life was in peril if she went to school or not.
But Paul and Silas had still ignored a door. So where did people get the idea that if God opened a door, they must go through?
She kept her finger moving over the columns until she hit upon another door in Corinthians this time. God opened a door for Paul to work in Ephesus, so he chose to stay and work though he wanted to visit the Corinthians again. So that fit her situation better. Frowning, she kept scanning.
A door opened for Paul to work in Troas, but he felt uneasy and went to Macedonia instead.
He ignored a God-opened door.
She dropped her Bible onto the bed and stared at the birds fighting in the branches. If Paul disregarded some doors opened by the Lord, was it wrong for her to consider opportunity as only part of the equation? Unless God commanded her, she had plenty of other factors to consider.
Mainly, Momma would regret that she didn’t go. No, regret was not a strong enough word for what Momma would feel.
Papa had said he wanted the best for her. Whatever that was.
Rachel dropped her head onto her embroidered pillowslip, running her fingers across her sister’s fancy stitching of two birds flying together, carrying a tied ribbon between them. How many times had she quashed a daydream about Dex’s gay green eyes hovering close enough to kiss her? He’d done so only a bit ago, the pressure of his lips still buzzing on hers.
But he’d told her to go to school.
Might he have pursued her these past two years if he’d known she’d abandon college for him?
Some had questioned her parents for wasting tuition on a girl “who already knew more than a woman needed to know.” A pretentious degree wouldn’t extricate her from beneath their roof.
But that’s exactly why Momma wanted her to pursue school. Only a man who loved her for who she truly was would bother to propose. Sound reasoning.
Rachel huffed. She had as many rationales to pass through the open door as not.
She slid her feet over the side of her bed. Would he consider marrying her before he left? He’d been writing a mail-order bride company after all, and since he’d said there was none but her, maybe she’d been wrong to assume he’d already chosen a bride. She ran her hand along the quilt’s stitching.
If he didn’t want to marry her immediately, she could tag along with Neil and Patricia, and they could court as long as he desired.
But what if Dex’s kiss wasn’t indicative of anything deep? What if it was an accident, as he claimed? Her parents would spend her tuition on another printing press the moment she crossed the border between Missouri and Kansas. If Dex didn’t want to marry her now, he might not ever, no matter how many years she chased him.
She had to be more certain of his feelings.
She’d never pursued Dex, biding her time with books, mathematical equations, and Latin. Maybe the closed door she’d pined after needed to be knocked upon—or pummeled with both fists. Paul had constantly looked for a way to get to Rome. When thwarted, he kept trying. And he finally got there . . . when God sent him in chains.
All right, maybe her analogy didn’t quite fit the way she wanted.
Slipping to the side of the bed, she positioned herself to pray as she had as a little girl, feet neatly tucked under her skirts, folded hands against her forehead.
Oh God, I don’t want to entrap myself in a bad situation by charging pell-mell into daydreams. But You know how long I’ve been smitten, and You knew he’d kiss me only a day before leaving. You’ve known I haven’t been excited about going to school as much as Momma is, that I’ve desired to
be a wife and a mother more than anything.
Do you disapprove of mail-order brides marrying strangers? Would You look down on me for throwing myself at a man I’ve only dreamt loved me? Because, unless You show me in some fashion that I’m wrong in the choice I’m about to make, I’m going to forget about school and reach for my heart’s desire.
Though God would only approve if her plans honored Momma. She pushed against the mattress and steeled herself for the conversation she was about to have.
She found her mother outside on the porch, reading The Inferno to the accompaniment of wind chimes.
Rachel didn’t bother to sit. “I’ve decided not to go to school.”
Momma dropped her book into her lap and frowned. “I thought we’d discussed this already.”
Discussed, yes. Decided? Momma had, but she hadn’t—until now. “I’m going to see if Dex will marry me.”
Momma puckered as if she’d suddenly found a lemon in her mouth. “Dex? Has he shown any interest in you besides these lessons?”
She wouldn’t bother defending him. If Momma couldn’t see his merits in the fifteen years they’d lived in the same town, she’d not convince her in a few minutes. And she didn’t have that much time. “I think he has, though he hasn’t been overt.” Not until today. But she’d keep the kiss to herself.
“But he’s going to Kansas. Your mind will go to ruin on the prairie.” Momma rubbed her temples.
“No, Momma, it won’t.” She crossed her arms and raised her chin. Momma might have a whole slew of reasons for wanting her to attend school, but going farther west wasn’t going to magically turn her mind to mush. “I could educate my children, use my analytical skills to help him choose what plants or animals to raise, maybe teach in the area’s first school or keep books for Neil for some extra income.”
Momma shifted in her seat, a smug look on her face. “Has Dex Stanton asked you to marry him?”
“No.”
“Go with him?”
“No.” She kept her head held high.
Momma shook her head. “Darling, he’s had years to court you, and he’s leaving tomorrow. If you weren’t standing in front of me, I’d think Patricia was talking. Now, I’ve always told you a smooth-talking man messes with a woman’s ability to think clearly, but I never thought you’d succumb.” She settled back against her seat, the way she did after putting Papa in check. “You’ll have plenty of time to find a good man in the city. An educated man with money. Not someone who’ll drag you west and hide the gem that you are in a dirt hovel.”
Rachel clasped her hands together and sighed. Had she believed Momma would answer any differently?
But she could play verbal chess too. “Even if school wouldn’t make me happy, you’d want me to go?”
“You’re a smart woman, Rachel, and I expect you to think with your head, not the flip flops in your stomach when a handsome boy smiles at you.” Momma bobbed her head like she did when she was scheming—for the good of others, of course. “Why don’t you pack a bag and take a trip to see your Aunt Val? She’s entertaining enough to keep your mind off your brother and sister’s departure while you wait until it’s time to go to school. Even Tennessee, if you want.”
So Momma figured agreeing to her choice of Tennessee over New York would distract her from Dex. Rachel couldn’t help the smirk curling her lips. Momma was so easy to read. “But you believe I’m capable of making a wise decision?”
“If anyone can,” she widened her eyes and tipped her head forward as if to glare the right decision into her, “it’s you. You know what the right decision is.”
But Dex’s kiss hadn’t scrambled her brains, just her heart. “And if it’s not the choice you’d have me make?”
Momma picked imaginary lint from the green shawl draping her shoulders. “Your father says all we can do is pray you’ll make good decisions, not make them for you.”
Rachel leaned over and kissed Momma’s forehead. God bless Papa. That was as close to an agreement as she was going to get. “I’ll pack, Momma.”
Whether she’d go to Aunt Val’s or Kansas would depend on Dex.
Did he love her as the poem he’d recited suggested, or had her longing pout lured him into an indiscretion?
She flew up the stairs faster than she had this afternoon, when she’d fled the desire to disgrace herself and kiss a man silly. However, she might do just that now if given the chance.
Dex’s eyes roved over the gathering crowd as he sat on the fairground stage, intermittently twanging his Jew’s harp while Jedidiah strummed a happy melody on his banjo. Why couldn’t his friend play something that droned along in a minor key? The cheerfulness grated his nerves, along with the smiling faces, bubbly laughter, and giddy conversations of the nearby cluster of women arranging their blankets and baskets on the grass. The men lugging chairs and dance floor boards also seemed in high spirits despite the children playing tag getting underfoot.
Life wasn’t over just because Rachel had fled from his kiss and declared she never wanted to see him again. But for the moment, it seemed so. Why couldn’t the rest of the world subdue itself in an instant or two of compassion?
An auctioneer’s chatter boomed from one of the tents full of people. The warm weather had brought out more people than ants, but Dex would rather have had rain.
Jedidiah poked him in the shoulder. “Why don’cha up and do something? There’s plenty of time before the music starts. Last good vittles before we hit the trail.”
“No thanks.” If he mingled, someone would want to talk to him, and what would he say? Oh, you want to know how I’m doing? Well enough, I suppose, considering I’m contemplating sticking my head in the horse trough until the lack of air blacks out the feel of Rachel’s lips upon mine.
“Aw, buck up, Sunshine.”
Dex scowled.
“Oh, now, that’s better. And here I’d only thought a bee’d flown in your bonnet. Seems you’ve been chomping on scorpions too.” Jedidiah sighed and went back to strumming. “At least go buy me a fritter if your sulky self insists on sucking the life out of the air I’m breathing.”
Near the auctioneer’s tent, Patricia’s showy green hat stacked high with purple feathers bobbed above the crowd. “How about I go make sure Everett knows the meeting’s been moved up?” Would it matter if he didn’t bother to come back and play? His instrument wasn’t necessary to keep beat or melody. Maybe he’d find himself a sore throat or a headache.
He pocketed his mouth harp and marched toward Patricia though Everett’s tall, fair-haired form seemed nowhere close. Had his friend actually found a pair of scissors, snipped his ties, and wandered away from his girl for a minute?
When she spun around and caught his eye, he lost his breath as if she’d pierced his lungs with a dagger.
Not Patricia.
Rachel. Her curls were hidden under Patricia’s poke bonnet, showing off her long neck, accentuating the wide neckline she’d slipped off her shoulders. The full green plaid dress was nothing extravagant, but she’d taken off the lower sleeves, letting the silk fringe at the elbows tickle her arms, milky white like the rest of her. She was exquisite.
Her eyebrow went up, and she smirked.
He tugged at his necktie, but she kept right on looking at him. Why was she smiling at him like that? She’d slammed a door in his face mere hours ago. He looked over his shoulder, but no one followed behind him.
Rachel beckoned him forward with a tilt of her head. No flecks of anger marred the mesmerizing golden eyes that drew his leaden feet forward a pace. The thumping of his heart moved him forward another step, and he wiped his damp palms on his trousers. Perhaps he hadn’t ruined his chance with her after all.
“Yoo-hoo! Dexter!”
Dexter? The unfamiliar feminine call came from the road to his left. He turned to find Everett, still in work clothes, trudging along with a stocky little lady. His friend looked none too pleased about the blonde pulling on his arm. Everett bent over, and
she whispered something into his ear. He nodded, and they both looked straight at him. One with a frown, the other with the brightest smile he’d ever seen.
“Dexter!” She cried again, only louder.
“I’m not Dexter,” he gritted, thrusting his hands on his hips. Why hadn’t Everett corrected her? He glanced toward Rachel, but her attention was on the sturdy lady in the bright yellow traveling suit—just like everybody else’s in the crowd.
The blonde let go of Everett and raced unladylike toward him, her ringlets bouncing with each step. Winded, she stopped in front of him and smiled. “You’re more handsome than I pictured.”
“What?” The churning his gut had been doing since Rachel had slammed the door on him turned as sour as apple cider vinegar.
“Oh, don’t be modest. I can see why you didn’t send a picture with your letter. What girl wouldn’t come running if she knew what you looked like?”
His stomach clenched. He’d only sent one letter in his life. But that didn’t make sense . . . the response—
She stuck out her hand. “I know it’s rather formal to shake hands with your bride, but we do have to start someplace.”
His fingers curled around his belt loops. There was only one person she could be. “Miss Pratt?” Dex croaked.
Everett caught up and shrugged.
“Pleased to meet you, but you can call me Fannie.” She took his hand hanging limp and clammy at his side and shook it twice.
“But I didn’t . . . I hadn’t . . .”
“I apologize for not sending a telegram before I came, but I figured I’d better get here quick, seeing as you’re leaving on Sunday.”
“No . . . that is . . . I wasn’t taking a bride with me. I just meant to start the process—”
“Oh, but I only live a day’s ride away. And how’s a few months of letters going to do any good when you plan on marrying a stranger anyway? Besides, it’ll be easier talking to you than reading your letters, right?” She winked. “Might as well drive alongside your wagon rather than find someone to travel with later. Besides,” she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb, “Mr. Cline here can tell you I brought plenty of good supplies. Practical ones too. A cook stove, dishes, barrels of salt pork, most of which I bought wholesale. My uncle’s a mercantile owner.”
Love by the Letter (An Unexpected Brides Novella) Page 6