Elliot dropped his arms and leaned against the mantel. He wasn't about to admit she was succeeding in making him feel foolish. Maybe he had overreacted, but what if he hadn't? He clung to that however slight possibility and tried to distract her by turning the tables. “I thought they were happy here, with you. Why are you suddenly gung-ho for the adoptions? If I remember correctly, you were very opposed to my plan from the beginning.” He cocked a brow for emphasis and added, “Strongly opposed, I might add."
"Did I have a choice?” Natalie asked, going still. “Do I have one now?".
Looking into her hopeful eyes, he wished he could give her the answer he knew she wanted to hear. But he couldn't. His frustration bled through. As a result, he was harsher with her than he intended. “Damn it, Natalie.. don't have a choice. Neither of us do. What would have happened to the children if we had died in that cave? Did you think about that? Where would they have gone? Who would have taken care of them?"
"Marla—"
"Marla has a family!” he all but shouted. “Would that be fair to Marla or Noah? Taking on four children is a major responsibility."
"Not everyone is afraid of responsibility,” she flung at him, leaving him in no doubt as to her meaning. “And as I recall, you weren't thinking about the children in the cave."
"As I recall,” he retorted with uncharacteristic malice, “You weren't either.” He spit out a vicious curse when she went pale, reaching her in three angry strides. Instead of shaking her like he wanted to do, he ran his hands up and down her stiff shoulders, soothing, apologizing without words. “Natalie, I want what's best for the children, and I want what's best for us.” He lowered his voice, his gaze straying to her mouth. “Finding homes for them is the only way."
She kept her gaze lowered. “You said—you said you'd give us a chance."
She had whispered the accusation, yet it was ten times more potent than a shout. He did shake her then, but gently. She was the most stubborn, bull-headed, determined female he'd ever met, he decided, torn between frustration and admiration. “And you believe you'll sell enough doll houses to buy Ivy House?” he queried softly. When she lifted her stunned gaze to his, he nodded. “Yes, I know about the doll houses.” He considered telling her that he was the investor now that he knew the whole story from a chastened Marla, but he decided against it. One step at a time.
"I admire your determination, Natalie, but I don't think—"
"Don't patronize me,” she hissed, jerking free. “And stop telling your lies. You care nothing about the children, or Ivy House—or me. Why don't you try being honest for a change? At least Nelda was honest. Well, the children are counting on me, and I won't let them down like she did, like this town has, and like you're doing."
He grit his teeth. How much patience did he have left? He searched and found none, and that left him with but one choice; to tell her the truth. It would be the ultimate test, he knew. Perhaps—no—probably one of the reasons he had avoided telling her. When she found out, would he find out that she really cared nothing for him? That her one and only interest in him had been Ivy House all along?
He inhaled slowly, holding her gaze with his own. He wanted to see her eyes when he told her. Only then could he be sure. “I have to sell Ivy House, Natalie. My grandfather owed a staggering amount of money to the railroad—people who had invested in his venture—and they want their money.” He watched the shock come into her eyes and braced himself. “They didn't know about Ivy House, but it's just a matter of time. If they find out before I sell it, they have every legal right to take it. It's worth more than I owe them."
Her eyes continued to widen until he thought surely they would swallow her face. Her lovely lips parted, then closed as if she wanted to speak and couldn't.
To hide the pain her reaction caused, he growled harshly, “So not only am I a pauper, I'm up to my suspenders in debt."
She found her voice. “We never had a chance, did we? You let me believe we had a chance, but we never did—not even from the beginning?"
Hating to, but knowing he had no choice, he slowly shook his head. “No, you never had a chance to buy Ivy House."
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"You should talk to him, Natalie,” Marla said, gripping the edges of her sweater tight against the chill breeze. The weather had turned. Winter was on its way. “You can't solve a problem by ignoring it."
Natalie knew evasiveness wouldn't work with Marla, but she tried anyway. “I've got to get these potatoes up before the first frost.” As if to emphasize her point, she jabbed the shovel into the ground, grunting as she pushed through the earth in search of potatoes. She could have given the chore to Brett or Cole, or even Jo, but she had needed the distraction. Maybe if she worked hard enough, she'd sleep tonight.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Marla's swollen ankles. They reminded her to stay calm. She turned the earth from the shovel and bent over to pitch the dirt-crusted potatoes into a basket. “We have nothing to say to one another, anyway. He's going to sell Ivy House."
"He has no choice,” her friend reminded her.
Slowly, she straightened. Her back ached as well as her heart. She'd been avoiding Elliot for three weeks, and Marla constantly nagged at her for it. She leveled her gaze on Marla. “Maybe he doesn't have a choice,” she conceded. “But has it occurred to you that . don't have a choice, Marla? When Nelda Boone left, I made a promise to myself and to the children. What kind of person would I be if I went back on my promise—even for love?"
Marla smiled smugly. “So you do love Elliot."
"I never said I didn't.” She resumed her digging, refusing to acknowledge why her eyes burned. Of course she loved Elliot. And it hurt like the devil. “Have you forgotten the vow we made just before you were adopted by the Masons? Even if Elliot did want to marry me, he's made it clear that he doesn't want the children. We said we wouldn't marry anyone of that opinion."
"But if he finds homes for the children—"
"Will he? Do you really think he will?” She stared at Marla until she shifted her gaze away. They'd had this talk before and Marla damned well knew it. “All of them? Yes, someone might adopt Brett and Cole because they can work, but what about Lori? She's sick more often than not. And Jo? What will happen to her? Don't you care,?"
Marla gasped. “That's not fair!"
Immediately contrite, Natalie apologized. “I'm sorry—I didn't mean that. I know you care.” She shrugged her weary shoulders. “I'm just so confused lately. Let's go in for a cup of tea.” Marla stopped her before she could turn in the direction of the house. Her shrewd eyes searched Natalie's face. Natalie felt a blush begin to build. There was seldom anything she could hide from her best friend, and although she had told her friend about finding her father, she had left out the most important part of the adventure. She planned to tell her—when she could talk about it without falling apart.
"What else happened in that cave?” Marla asked gently. “You're hurting and I want to know why."
Natalie closed her eyes. “Something that shouldn't have happened. Something that changed everything for me, but I can't talk about it yet, Marla. Please understand."
Marla stared at her for a long moment. Seemingly satisfied by what she found, she relented and changed the subject. “I didn't tell Elliot about the doll houses, you know. Hickory did."
"It doesn't matter.” She sighed, leaning the shovel against the fence that surrounded the garden to protect it from critters. She tried to summon her optimism, but that seemed to fail her as well as her strength. “We'll never get the money we need, so it really doesn't matter.” Her smile felt weak. “The most we can hope for is enough to rent a room at the boarding house for myself, Lori, and Jo until we figure out what to do. I expect Brett and Cole'll have new parents by then."
"You're always welcome to stay with us,” Marla began, only to be interrupted by Natalie's fierce reply.
"No. No,
we won't stay with you, but thanks for the offer.” Elliot's blunt comment still lingered in her mind like a splinter buried just below the skin. He was right; it wouldn't be fair to Marla. “We'll be fine at Clyde's. He runs a decent boarding house, and maybe I can strike a deal with him. Room and board in exchange for cleaning and washing.” If her words lacked enthusiasm, Marla didn't seem to notice.
Each lost in their own thoughts, they strode into the house.
* * * *
"And you say you've always wanted a little girl?” Elliot eyed the fidgeting couple perched on the edge of the sofa in his hotel sitting room. Just a few questions, he thought, before he took them to Ivy House and introduced them to Lori.
Mrs. Thorton, a short, plump woman who wore her rouge like war paint, twisted the handkerchief in her lap. She exchanged a nervous look with her husband before saying, “Yes. When Ace and I saw your ad in the paper, we discussed it. We'd love to meet her."
"Why?” When they looked at him blankly, Elliot explained, “Why do you want a little girl? Why not a boy?"
Bewildered, they exchanged another glance. “Well, I don't rightly know,” Mrs. Thorton stammered. “I guess because girls are quieter than boys.” Warming to her theme, she added, “Boys get dirty, and fight. They're noisy, aren't they Ace? Isn't that the reason we decided on a girl?"
Elliot smiled thinly at the well-dressed couple, thinking of how rambunctious Lori could be when she wasn't sick, and how much she enjoyed playing in the mud. Which reminded him ... “Mrs. Thorton, have you had any experience at nursing the sick?"
"What? Oh, no. Not really.” She swallowed visibly, the twin slashes of red standing out like flags against her pale cheeks. Her voice quavered. “Why do you ask?"
"Lori seems susceptible to colds.” He didn't see the need to mention the strange fevers because he wasn't entirely convinced they existed. Marla would know, however. He made a mental note to ask her the very next time they spoke. “Nothing serious, but she does require a little extra care. Her room has to be kept warm and draft free, and in the winter it's best not to take her out—"
"Ruth,” Mr. Thorton suddenly burst out, snatching the handkerchief from his wife's hands and mopping his sweating brow. “I think we should give this a little more thought.” He grabbed his wife and hauled her to her feet. “I'm sorry, Mr. Montgomery. We'll get in touch and let you know what we decide. These—these things shouldn't be rushed, don't you agree?"
His mouth curving in a cynical smile, Elliot nodded as the couple dashed to the door and disappeared. He knew they wouldn't be back, which was just as well. Lori needed quality care ... like the care Natalie gave her. Mrs. Thorton didn't appear to have the backbone it would take to raise a special child like Lori.
Yes, he'd done the right thing by questioning the couple before raising Lori's hopes. He had enough on his conscience without giving the children over to just any stranger that happened along.
His growling stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten lunch. Pleased with himself, he snatched his hat from a chair and made his way downstairs to the dining area.
He'd ordered from the menu and was sitting back to enjoy a cup of coffee before his meal arrived when the banker approached his table. Elliot calculated swiftly, then relaxed as he realized that he wasn't late on the small loan he'd made with the bank. He smiled at Camper McCormick and stood, shaking the portly gentleman's hand.
"Mr. McCormick."
"Mr. Montgomery.” The banker took the proffered seat across the table from Elliot. “I'm not interrupting your lunch?"
Elliot shook his head, taking a cautious sip of his coffee. Instinct told him this wasn't a chance meeting, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what the banker was after.
Mr. McCormick signaled the waitress and ordered coffee. When she'd brought it, he stirred an enormous amount of sugar into the black brew then took a scalding gulp. His mustache gleamed with moisture. “I've heard you might be selling Ivy House,” he said, lifting a bushy brow in question.
Elliot hid his surprise. He guessed it was common knowledge, but after living anonymously in a big city, small town antics still amazed him. “I might,” he ventured with a touch of reserve. It was too soon—
"I'm interested. My wife and I have thought about building something bigger, but I'd like to take a look at your house before we decide.” Mr. McCormick leaned closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Got seventeen grandchildren, and I can't begin to tell you how deafening that can be when they all get together. I'd like a house big enough to get lost in—if you get my meaning."
Elliot got his meaning all right. In return he gave the banker his silent understanding. Seventeen grandchildren...? He shifted in his chair. “Well, like I said, I haven't decided. But when I do, you'll be the first to know."
That appeared to be good enough for the banker. He drained his cup and stood, grabbing Elliot's hand again. “Don't take too long, sonny. Can't hold the missus off forever.” With a friendly wink, he strode away, leaving Elliot alone with his brooding thoughts.
He shouldn't have hesitated. He should have taken the banker out to Ivy House the moment he mentioned his interest in buying it. How could he let an opportunity like that pass him by? Had he lost his mind? It was suicide to wait, and he knew damn well two or three months wouldn't make any difference. Didn't he? In the end, the men he owed would get Ivy House, one way or another. But this way ... this way he could chose how it was done rather than leave Ivy House in the ruthless hands of his debtors.
He sipped and thought, vaguely aware that his meal had arrived. He picked up his fork and began to eat, no longer hungry but knowing his belly would not stop quarreling until he fed it. So why did he hesitate when a golden opportunity practically fell into his lap? Well, firstly, he needed time to find homes for the orphans, then Natalie would need time to look for lodging and adjust to the change. With the money he earned helping Noah, he could just manage to make the small payments on the loan and pay for his own lodging until everything was settled.
Muttering a disgusted curse beneath his breath, he speared a potato and popped it into his mouth, chewing with more force than the tender vegetable warranted. Excuses, he admitted. They were all excuses. Just the thought of selling Ivy House made his gut clench in rebellion, and that was the truth.
Then there was Natalie...?
She had become the most important thing in his life, beyond Ivy House, beyond his future security, beyond his own well-being.
Natalie Polk, orphan, woman, and warrior. The keeper of his heart. His laugh was humorless as he left his meal unfinished and threw some coins on the table.
Natalie was all those things and more, and certainly worth the enormous hell she was putting him through by pretending to hate him. He frowned. At least, he hoped she only pretended. According to her best friend, Natalie suffered from guilt, believing she had failed the children. If she acknowledged her feelings for him, then it would mean the same as deserting them, at least to Natalie.
He shook his head as he made his leisurely way to Noah's house, perplexed over Marla's twisted logic. He supposed it made sense ... if you were a woman.
"You'd better be right, Marla,” he grumbled.
* * * *
"They're gone,” Natalie announced, surprised to find her voice steady. She didn't feel steady. She felt betrayed, unloved, a failure, and perilously close to tears after reading the note the boys had left in their room. “They're gone because of me."
Jo and Lori had come running from the kitchen at her call and now stood at the bottom of the stairs. Lori had been helping Jo make biscuits, and from the looks of her flour drenched arms and face, she had dived in with gusto. Jo, too, had flour everywhere, a smudge on her forehead; a slash of white on her cheek.
"They're gone? After I made extra biscuits for that sniveling, whining—"
"You really didn't know they were going?” Jo's answer was important. If Natalie knew she had just one ally in a world
gone mad, then she'd make it, she thought.
When Jo flushed beneath the fine layer of powder sprinkling her cheeks, Natalie flinched inwardly and switched her gaze to Lori. Lori buried her face in Jo's apron and sniffled.
She had her answers.
Jo wiped her hands on her apron, her expression earnest. “I didn't know they were going today—right now—Natty. Honest I didn't. Neither did Lori."
Jo looked down at Lori as she spoke, patting her head. The protective gesture made Natalie swallow a sob. Jo was protecting Lori from her. Damn Elliot Montgomery. This was all his fault!
"We heard Cole and Brett talkin’ about that nice couple that wanted to adopt them, and how they wanted to live with them, but Mr. Montgomery messed things up and they just decided to strike out on their own. Ain't that right, Lori?” Lori nodded her head but didn't look up. Jo's face darkened. “Believe me, if I had known, I wouldn't have went to all the trouble of makin’ extra biscuits for that pig."
Natalie knew Jo referred to Brett, who could eat twice the amount of food as Cole despite his diminutive size. The memory brought a sharp ache to her chest. Brett ... Cole, alone out there in the big, cruel world. What if the farmer and his wife changed their minds and rejected them? She would never forget how that felt, and wanted to protect them from ever having to feel the same, hopeless anguish.
She had failed them—failed them all. If Brett and Cole hadn't been so concerned about their future, they wouldn't have gone to the farmer and his wife. They hadn't believed she could save Ivy House.
And they were right.
"Guess maybe this ain't the right time, or maybe it is,” Jo began, pushing Lori in the direction of the kitchen. “Go check on them biscuits, Lori. I'll be right in."
Natalie gripped the hand railing and wondered what could possibly happen next. Everyone was deserting her, it seemed. Would Jo desert her too?
"I'm gonna get that job at the restaurant, and soon as I get my first pay, I'm rentin’ a room at Clydes.” Jo's voice trailed off breathlessly, as if she had to push it all out in a hurry.
Where The Heart Is Page 17