Secret Sweetheart

by Liz Isaacson

  “Rhodes said he’d go for anything we want,” Jessie said.

  “I made pizza,” Betsy said, turning to face her sisters. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she hated that she was crying. But these were her sisters, and if she couldn’t cry in front of them, who could she be real with?

  “She made pizza,” Cami said. “So someone call Rhodes and tell him to just get a couple of salads.”

  Betsy wiped her face, everything feeling too hot. Jessie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, and that undid any composure she may have had left. She cried into her taller sister’s shoulder, glad when Georgia and Cami made it a group hug.

  “It’s okay,” Jessie said. “Everything will be okay.”

  “How?” Betsy asked.

  “You just need to talk to him,” Georgia said.

  “If you’re this unhappy,” Cami added. “You can change it. I think he’d be willing to get back together.”

  “Yeah,” Jessie said. “You broke up with him.”

  The group embrace dissolved, and a flash of anger struck her like lightning. “I know what I did.”

  Her three sisters faced her, the few moments of silence stretching uncomfortable. Finally, Georgia said, “Then fix it.” She glanced at Jessie and then Cami. “I’m going to go call Rhodes.” She stepped away; the oven beeped, signaling it was to temperature; Betsy turned to put the pizzas in.

  When she turned back around, she found Cami making punch and Jessie pulling down dishes. Activity filled the kitchen when Rhodes arrived with the salads, as well as Granny and Gramps. Betsy’s parents arrived, and she accepted her father’s hug, finding a bit of comfort there when it had eluded her previously.

  With all the food on the counter, she’d normally step forward and go through all of it. But today, humiliation filled her and she just stood in the kitchen, a half-step behind Granny. Every eye landed on her, and she wanted to rage at her family.

  She couldn’t believe she’d messed up so badly. Regret lanced through her, and she just wanted to run away.

  “Betsy made her barbecue chicken pizza,” Granny said stepping forward. “It’s got mushrooms, green peppers, and red onions.” She gestured to the other pizza. “This one is a supreme. Looks like ham and sausage. Black olives, green peppers, and onions.”

  “Let’s say grace,” her father said, and Betsy folded her arms and closed her eyes unsurprised when tears trickled out of them. Her father’s deep voice thanking the Lord for their blessings passed quickly, and then it was time to eat.

  Betsy usually stood back and waited for everyone to serve themselves, and today was no exception. Gratitude for Granny streamed through her, and she pressed her cheek to Granny’s papery, powder-scented one, and whispered, “Thanks, Granny.”

  Then she slipped out of the kitchen, her appetite completely gone.

  She finished the dress on Tuesday. Shopped for all the ingredients she needed for the refreshments on Wednesday. Posted one last reminder in all the online forums she could for the dance and other festivities going on in Quinn Valley for Valentine’s Day.

  And then Valentine’s Day arrived, and there was nothing rosy or romantic about showing up at the pub at four o’clock in the morning and measuring flour and sugar to make cookies. Her eyes felt dry and scratchy, but she applied her focus to the baking, and she got all the sweets done and cooled before Bethany showed up.

  “Made some caramels for you.” She smiled at Betsy, who instantly felt bad she didn’t have anything for the other woman. She took the box of candy and clutched it to her chest.

  “Thank you, Bethany.” She hugged her, and Bethany held her tight.

  “I’m working all day and night, so good luck with the dance,” she said, finally stepping back.

  “Thanks,” Betsy said. She loaded up everything she needed and headed back to the homestead to start on the cupcakes and cake pops. She worked upstairs and down, going back and forth to put in trays and then take them out. Put more in. Take more out.

  Once everything was baked and cooling, she whipped together the cream cheese frosting and a batch of buttercream. With all the parts ready and waiting—except for the candy melts she was using to coat the cake pops—she showered, giving the cakes all the time they needed to cool properly.

  As she came back into the kitchen fully made up and with her hair completely straight, all she needed to do was frost, crumble, dip, and decorate.

  Half of the three hundred cupcakes got pink frosting and half got purple. She swirled from a piping bag, and she’d bought chocolates in the shape of hearts for the decoration. She was already killing herself in a lot of ways, and she didn’t need to temper chocolate and pipe hearts and arrows.

  She filled trays with thirty-six cupcakes and took them into the garage to make sure everything would be set for traveling later that day.

  Crumbling up cake for the cake pops came next, and she enjoyed getting her hands messy as she mixed in the frosting to make the balls stick together. She scooped them out with a premeasured scoop and speared them all on sticks. She had brightly colored decorating sugar in pink and red, as well as some big sprinkles in a variety of bright, spring colors.

  She stirred and melted, melted and stirred. Then she dipped, and dipped, and dipped, rolling some pops in the sugar and sprinkling others.

  By four o’clock, she never wanted to see another cupcake or cake pop in her life. But she had three hundred cake pops lined up in blocks of Styrofoam, and when Jessie came in the kitchen, she stopped and whistled.

  “Betsy,” she said, taking in the scene on the counter. “These are beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I have to leave in an hour.” She moved into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. “I just have to change, so I’m going to lay here for a few minutes.”

  “You said you’d do my makeup,” Jessie said.

  “You don’t need it,” Betsy said. “It’s a masquerade ball.”

  “I’m going to shower,” Jessie said as if Betsy hadn’t even spoken. With silence back in the homestead and Betsy finally done with her baking, she let her mind wander.

  Of course, it went straight to Knox, and she toyed with the idea of texting him. Just to ask if he’d be at the dance that night. Maybe mention that she’d love to see him, talk to him, find a way back to him.

  She couldn’t bring herself to do it, though, because it felt unfair of her. She couldn’t just expect him to come running whenever she texted. Then walk away when she got scared or paranoid or unsure of herself and her life choices.

  “You are who you are,” she whispered to herself. And she couldn’t skip the dance, so she got up, got dressed, and did Jessie’s makeup before loading up all of her confections and following Georgia as she drove with Jessie and Cami to the dance.

  She kept her fingers tight around the wheel, and her eyes glued to the worsening roads as the snow continued to fall. This weather would keep people home rather than bringing them out to the dance, and she worried that she’d made way too many refreshments. With every passing moment, her mind churned through a constant prayer.

  Let there be a lot of people there. Help me arrive safely. Please bless Knox to come. Help others to enjoy my treats.

  Let there be a lot of people there….

  Chapter 14

  Knox normally didn’t dress in all black clothing, and he felt very much like he could be anyone in these clothes. He supposed that was the object of a masquerade ball—people could be anyone—but he didn’t particularly like it.

  He arrived early with Logan to get the dance floor set up, using his muscles for the first time that day, and then ducked down the hall to the bathroom to change. When he went back into the gym, Betsy had arrived. She and her sisters, plus Logan, stood at the refreshment table, setting out trays and plates and tiered decorations.

  He ducked behind one of the draperies Rhonda had set up surrounding the newly laid floor and peered through a crack. It was much too early to be at t
he dance as a regular attendee, and he wasn’t ready to see Betsy yet.

  She wore a beautiful dress that swelled and flowed in all the right ways. The sleeves billowed with each movement, and he wondered what the smooth fabric would feel like beneath his fingers.

  She’d sewn lace over the bodice, and Knox’s heart thundered in his chest. He wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with her. He hated that she’d made all those gorgeous desserts alone. That he hadn’t at least texted her. Could he still do it? Would she even have time to look at her phone?

  As he watched from behind the curtain, he realized how empty his life had been this past week compared to when he’d been with Betsy. She was his first thought, and the only person he wanted to share his life with. The good things, the bad things, all the things.

  Perhaps he should just walk over to her and tell her he loved her.

  He sucked in a breath and ducked out of the gym, pulling off his Phantom mask as he went. He’d never been in love before, but he had no other words for the feelings streaming through him.

  He found a small room down the hall that the dance committee had met in before, and he stepped inside. He could hide out here until more people arrived at the dance.

  The witching hour arrived, and the noise level down the hall increased. The music started, and the dance was underway. Still Knox hid in the dark room, the only light splashing in from the hall.

  His phone buzzed, and he hoped it would be Betsy but the better bet would be Logan. Sure enough, his brother’s name sat on the screen, and he’d asked where Knox had disappeared to.

  They’d driven over in Logan’s red pickup truck, so Knox couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. Half of him wanted to. The other half was still trying to decide if he should go back in there and…do something.

  He inhaled, Logan’s advice to him steaming through his mind. At this point, he didn’t have anything else to lose. He strapped his mask into place and entered the hall, his cape fluttering behind him as he marched toward the dance.

  “Cool,” someone said as he joined the line from the wrong direction. They wore jeans and a T-shirt, a gold mask full of sparkle and glitter concealing who they were. He waited as the line edged forward, and then he was inside the darkened gym. Tea lights rimmed the top of all the draperies, and a decorative street lamp stood over by the refreshment table now.

  He didn’t see Betsy over there, but surely she wouldn’t have migrated too far from making sure there were enough cake pops or sugar cookies on the platters and tiers. Sure enough, she sat in a chair to the left of the table, almost behind the last drape on that side.

  She’d added a mask to her outfit, and it went up and over her head to make a pair of ears that simply took his breath away.

  Still, he didn’t go over to her. Someone said something to him, and he turned toward Flynn, a cowboy from the ranch. He wore a Batman mask with a Batman T-shirt and black jeans. Knox couldn’t help chuckling, even if a pinch of jealousy hit him over the fact that Flynn got to see Betsy at poker night.

  They chatted for a few minutes, and then Knox nodded toward the four masked women hovering a few feet away. “I think they’re here for you, Batman,” he said. Flynn glanced at them, and then back to Knox, a look of unrest in his eyes. Or maybe it was too dark to tell, because when Flynn turned back to his female admirers, he spoke in a bright, jovial voice.

  Knox turned back to the refreshment table, his heart seeming to scream at him to go find Betsy and tell her everything.

  She was gone.

  Knox scanned the wall behind the refreshment table and saw all the remaining treats. There weren’t as many people as he’d expected to see, and everyone wore a mask. But he knew what Betsy was wearing, and she wasn’t on the dancefloor either.

  Surely she hadn’t left the building completely.

  His heart tapped and pittered, skipping over some beats and then racing forward with too many. He’d waited too long, and now she was gone.

  The song ended, and the people dancing clapped. “Welcome to our masquerade ball,” a woman said, and Knox spun, trying to find where Betsy was speaking into the microphone. He couldn’t see her. Where was she?

  “The costume contest will go until eight-thirty,” she continued. “So be sure to cast your votes in the box by the refreshment table.” Another song started to play, and Knox expected to see Betsy emerge from behind a curtain. Something.

  He couldn’t find her.

  “There you are,” Logan said, appearing at his side, Georgia’s hand in his. She immediately started texting, and a few seconds later, the song stopped abruptly.

  “I’m sorry,” Betsy said. “But I have another announcement, ladies and gentlemen.” A spotlight burst to life, shining on the stage in front of Knox. The curtains there continued the semi-circle that had been started on the floor, and they parted. Betsy stepped out, letting the spotlight illuminate her and her shiny, beautiful dress.

  Knox only breathed because it was an involuntary response. He took a step forward without expressly telling himself to do so.

  “I know this is a masquerade ball, and the point is to not know who you’re dancing with. But I’ve made a terrible mistake, and I’m searching for someone specific so I can fix things.” She drew in a deep breath, her eyes still focused straight ahead.

  “So, Knox Locke, if you’re in the room, could you please come forward?”

  People started twittering and turning to look for him. Knox felt frozen to the floor, wanting to move forward but unsure how.

  “Go on,” Logan hissed, practically pushing him from behind.

  “He’s right here,” Georgia called, and everyone turned to stare at him. Everything Knox disliked happened at once. He’d lived his life in the shadows, and as the spotlight trained on him, he was definitely uncomfortable.

  He did manage to get his legs moving toward the stage, and Betsy pointed to the side, where he knew there were steps leading up to the stage. He detoured that way, ducking behind the curtain as another song started to play.

  Thankfully. At least it seemed like they’d be having their talk in private. No microphone. No spotlight. No stage.

  He made it to the steps and glanced up to see her standing at the top. She took his breath away, and time froze for a moment. He felt as if he was looking up at a princess, and he knew he didn’t want to live another day without her in his life.

  She came down the steps, a heart-shaped sugar cookie with pink frosting in her hand. She extended it toward him with the words, “I have made a terrible mistake.”

  He took the cookie and bit into it. It was melty and flaky and sweet. “I don’t know,” he said. “This tastes great.”

  Betsy smiled, but it wobbled around the edges. Her eyes burned brightly behind her mask, and she took another step toward him. “You asked me what I wanted for my life.”

  “I’m regretting asking that,” he said, hoping this conversation was going to end better than the previous one on this same topic.

  “I’m not,” she said. “It really got me thinking. And doubting. But not everyone can be a doctor or a lawyer or own a ranch or a spa or a pub.” She pressed her fingertips together. “And I just want to be a homemaker. I like sewing and cooking and gardening. I like decorating, and I think I’d be a good mom. I’m really good at organizing things, and I’d love to be in our home, waiting for you to finish shoeing whatever horse has been naughty so you can come home and relax.”

  Tears came over the front of her mask, and she reached up to remove it.

  “I love you, Knox, and I just got scared that I might not be good enough for you, because what I want to do with my life doesn’t earn anything, at least in terms of dollars and cents.” She bit her bottom lip and swiped at her eyes. “I want that to be good enough for you, but I understand if it’s not.”

  Knox didn’t hesitate when he said, “It’s always been good enough, Betsy. More than good enough.” He set his cookie on the steps and swept his arms around her. “And
I’m sorry I ever gave you the impression that it wasn’t.”

  She reached up and touched his mask, and he took it off. “I love you too.” He leaned down and kissed her, his pulse finally settling and his heart rejoicing that God had provided a path to understanding between the two of them.

  He pulled away but continued to hold her close to his heart. “So you’re going to build a house of your own on the ranch?”

  “That was one idea,” she said. “But Logan turned me down.”

  “He’s buying a ranch,” he said. “I’m not sure when, but by the time we’re ready to get married, I bet he’ll be gone. Maybe the house I have in town is acceptable to you?”

  “I want to see it in the spring,” she said, pulling back and gazing up at him, a playful edge in those beautiful eyes now.

  “That’s fine,” he said.

  She giggled and shook her head. “I’m sure it will be great, Knox. I just want to be where you are.” She sobered, tipped up and kissed him, and Knox felt the same way.

  He just wanted to be where she was.

  Chapter 15

  Betsy laughed as Mortie and Roo romped around the yard, the sun shining merrily overhead. She’d been doing some landscaping at the Locke brother’s house over the past couple of weeks, and she wanted to get these shrubs planted before Knox got home.

  She wasn’t sure why he disliked his brother’s dogs so much. They were sweet, and after they tired themselves out, they’d find a nice patch of shade and keep her company while she worked.

  She’d already started working on Knox to get a dog of their own once they were married—but that would require a proposal first. Logan and Georgia had just gotten engaged about two weeks ago, and Betsy told herself she simply needed to wait.

  Georgia deserved to have her moment in the spotlight, and their mother had pulled out all the stops and made a wedding binder.

  So Betsy had employed her patience. But she sure did want her own wedding binder, one with a picture of her and Knox in the front, the way Georgia had one of her and Logan in it.