My Heart Belongs in Niagara Falls, New York

by Barratt, Amanda;

  “Not seriously, according to Miss Linley. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, if she’s feeling poorly, this might cheer her a bit.” Delany pulled a paper-wrapped package from his pants pocket. “Just tell her who it’s from and that he hopes she’s doing better real soon.”

  Drew palmed the package. “I’ll give it to her.”

  All the rest of that afternoon, the package sat on the table next to his chair. Hope slept most of the day, Drew checking in on her a few times, getting her a cup of broth and toast with only a modicum of agony on his part.

  That night, Drew stared at it, pondering.

  Why would Delany leave his sister a present?

  Unless…

  No, not a chance. They’d only met each other twice, exchanging a thimbleful of words the first time, a mere scattering the second. Delany couldn’t possibly feel anything more for Hope than what any stranger did upon introduction.

  A memory bobbed to the surface. That day on the ferry. A conversation scarcely lasting longer than a blink.

  The heart could prove itself to be flightier than a puff of wind.

  Or as set upon its course as a rudder piloted by the most skillful of captains.

  His gaze skimmed the room and centered in on Adele, home for scarcely an hour. She sat on the hard-backed kitchen chair, head bent over a length of fabric, plying her needle upon it. It only took a second’s perusal to realize the object she worked upon was, in fact, his own shirt. The one that had been absent two buttons and boasted a tear along one shoulder.

  A tightness wound its way from his throat and fixated on the core of his heart.

  Oh, Adele…

  The debt he owed her went far beyond any monetary one. She worked tirelessly, six days a week, bringing home her earnings and after purchasing foodstuffs and paying the rent, gave him the rest for medical expenses, both his and Hope’s. She labored in the kitchen, cooking for the three of them in what were probably her first attempts at the task. She laughed with Hope, even when weariness cloaked her eyes.

  She smiled at him and his desire to breathe, his heart, his world, stopped at the very sight. Everything else ceased to matter—his body, his finances, all of it.

  When she smiled, all he wanted to do was feast his eyes upon the sight, drinking it in and letting it slake the thirst building inside of him. One that demanded sustenance. And one he couldn’t, for the life of him, seem to deny.

  She looked up then, awash in lamplight, her lips curving. Lips he found his gaze drawn to, studying the contours until he’d memorized every inch. The way they always seemed brushed with a rose-tinted hue, the lower one dipping downward, lush and full.

  His mouth went dry. And when he swallowed, he couldn’t seem to force his throat to work properly.

  “What do you think about this?” She crossed to stand before him, holding up the shirt. “Dreadful bit of needlework, I know.”

  He couldn’t care less whether she’d taken the shirt and dyed it bright purple. Quite frankly, he wasn’t even looking at the garment at all. Instead, his attention rested on a stray tendril. It brushed her cheek and she didn’t swipe it aside, as she sometimes did. It lingered there, soft and free. Making him force his fingers into a fist on his lap, marshaling them into submission. For what they wished to do, what he ached for, was to lift his hand, his fingers finding purchase against her cheek, before tangling in the richness of her hair.

  “It’s…real nice.” The words emerged, rough as sandpaper.

  “You needn’t humor me.” She surveyed the shirt with a crimp in her brow. “I’m a wretched seamstress, and according to my employer, not much better at cleaning house. They didn’t teach that to ladies of the manor, you know. I can’t think what possessed my governess not to include it in her standard curriculum.” She issued a laugh, but it came out brittle. “And what I did learn, I haven’t been able to put to use here. I’m sorry, Drew. I feel as if I’ve…failed.” As the last words whispered from her lips, moisture gathered in her eyes.

  “Come here.” He ached at the thought that she believed she’d failed him. When, truly, it had been he who’d failed her. Beautiful, brave Adele Linley had displayed more worth than any woman he’d ever met. It was time he told her, truly told her. Verbalized his thanks in a way that went beyond a simple, polite expression after she performed some task.

  She moved closer and knelt, looking up, her fathomless green eyes intent on nothing but him. Hope was still in the bedroom resting, and it was a good thing too.

  For this moment was meant for none but the two of them.

  And it fairly simmered with anticipation.

  “You haven’t been a failure, Adele Linley. You’ve done nothing but make my life better in every way by your presence here. You’ve helped us survive when we would have otherwise failed. You’ve worked tirelessly for the good of everyone but yourself, and you have done it all with such grace, such…” This time, he couldn’t keep his fingers in the proper place. They reached up and rested against her cheek. Her breath fluttered across them like the softest touch of a summer breeze. Against his hand, warmth radiated from her skin.

  A warmth rivaled only by that building within. No, what sparked inside him had gone beyond warmth long ago. In this moment, it became a fire, one that could rage out of control if left untended.

  “Such what?” A catch tangled in her voice.

  “Everything. You have brought light into my hour of darkness, and there are no words to express the gratitude I feel toward you.” His hand slipped from her cheek and reached for her fingers. He grasped her hands in his, hands that had been roughened and cracked on his account. Gently, reverently, he lifted them to his lips, kissed first one, then the other. This contact with her, the most intimate they’d experienced, only stoked the heat inside him.

  Her breath shuddered out from parted lips. What would her mouth feel like against his? Was it as soft as her hair? As trembling as the hands he now held?

  In a moment born of utter madness, he tossed aside all rational reason and let the emotions building inside sweep him up with as much force as the Falls rushed over the precipice. It didn’t matter whether he’d pulled her toward him or she grasped his shoulders. In the space of an instant, she was on the edge of the chair, arms wound around his neck. His ribs cried out in protest, but the pain paled in comparison with the long-tamped-down need within.

  He delved into the depths of her gaze. No fear or hesitation lingered there. Not an ounce.

  And that was all the invitation he needed to press his lips against hers.

  The feel of her would be imprinted on his memory as long as he walked the earth. Her gentle sigh as he deepened the kiss. The fragrance of roses in her hair. How their breath melded as together they took flight from reality and soared skyward to the stars. His hands threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her neck. Hers framed his face, before winding around his neck again as she pulled him closer yet. He trailed tiny kisses across her cheeks, her forehead, her hair, before again claiming her mouth with his in a gesture that did nothing to deny the longing she inspired within him.

  No. It was more than that. Longing could be controlled. Cast aside, even.

  But love could not.

  Love could never.

  In Drew Dawson’s arms, warmed by his embrace, her world had been set to rights and rocked, all in the space of a few moments. All in the brush of a single kiss.

  Make that several kisses.

  He pulled away with a groan that suggested it took an effort to do so. Though her arms still rested on his shoulders, an ache swelled inside her at the loss of contact. She could have kissed him for hours without interruption. The emotions he evoked inside her ranged from glorious joy to exquisite longing. And now that his lips no longer pressed against hers, the emotions lingered but their radiance dimmed.

  “Adele,” he whispered her name with such sweetness it touched her like a caress. “If only I wasn’t bound. If only I had the freedom and the knowl
edge that I could give you what you deserve, what we shared could be just the beginning.”

  “What are you bound by?” How easy it would be to lapse into the fantasy he painted. If control hadn’t won out, that kiss could have turned into more in a heartbeat. As husband and wife, they could go far beyond a kiss and revel in the doing of it. But his talk of bondage had broken the fantasy and left in its wake a cadre of questions.

  “A debt.” Anguish pooled in his eyes, witness to the war unfolding in his heart. A war she did not understand the cause of or the meaning behind but one she had no question about which side to take. His. Always his.

  “To whom?” She pressed her fingers down on his shoulders, hoping to stir him to words with the touch.

  “Franklin Conway.” His tone was hoarse, gritty. “After…that night, he came to me and informed me that due to my inability to fulfill what I had promised, he would lose capital. Capital that I now owe. Fifteen hundred dollars, to be precise.” His shoulders slumped, as if fate had piled bricks upon his shoulders and added one too many.

  Her hands fell away. The enormity of the sum sent a tremor racing through her. Not a pleasurable one, as their kiss had produced, but one that scraped raw every place inside her and left a gaping wound in its wake. This was because of her. Had she not schemed to get Drew injured, he would have completed the stunt. To be sure, she’d potentially saved him from death but in its place had given him a misery that fairly crushed him.

  What a sum. Had she possessed it herself, she’d have gifted it without hesitation. But she and the Linley family did not. And Linley Park was already mortgaged to the hilt.

  Drew didn’t owe that debt. She did.

  Fifteen hundred dollars owed to Franklin Conway.

  “He wants the money by January. January, Adele! I can’t have it by then. It’s too much. How cruel can he be? Taking delight in ruining a man, giving him ultimatums impossible to fulfill.” Anger brewed in his gaze, but it softened as he brushed a finger across her cheek. “I’m unutterably glad you didn’t promise yourself to such a scoundrel. And even that is too good a word for him.”

  No. She had not promised herself to Franklin Conway. He hadn’t wanted her, except as a mistress. He desired her beauty, but not enough to put a ring on her finger before taking possession of it.

  Desired her beauty…

  Her breath halted. Did he still? He’d once looked at her with such adoration. Not as Drew did, his whole heart in his honorable eyes. But calculated adoration was adoration still. She could go to Conway. Offer herself as payment for the debt. She’d suggest marriage, beg even, if need be. But if he did not wish to wed, perhaps he would still take her as payment.

  The enormity of the horror she plotted sent ice-cold revulsion slithering through her body. What she wouldn’t give for the warmth of Drew’s arms around her again, the heat of his kisses on her lips. They had been kisses from a gentleman, though a passion-filled one. He’d stopped, despite the heat of the moment, knowing how far was too far. He did this because he thought her worthy enough, honored her enough to do so.

  Standing, she crossed the living room and stared out the window. Rain wept from the sky, streaking the windowpane, as if nature cried tears for her, for what she would sacrifice.

  Franklin Conway was no gentleman.

  And he would not stop as Drew had.

  What had possessed him to reveal his circumstances? It had obviously distressed her, evidenced by the way she’d pulled away and left his side. He should have kept his problems to himself instead of spilling them before her like a little boy lifting his pant leg and revealing a scraped knee. But, like the little boy, Drew had wanted the comfort of sharing the pain with another.

  Little boys were often selfish, and he’d been so in telling Adele about the debt. It was his burden, not hers.

  He’d done it to explain of course. Tell her that though he cared for her, he could never do so from anywhere but a distance. The kiss they’d shared shouldn’t have taken place. It had been a manifestation of the feelings he’d kept in check for so long, perhaps even those she held toward him, but it shouldn’t have happened. Not when he couldn’t do the next step—offer her his heart and worldly goods if she became his wife. Worldly goods, indeed. His were an absolute joke.

  He fixed his gaze out the window. She’d left some time ago, saying she needed to fetch some potatoes for tomorrow’s dinner. But it didn’t take long to walk to the market and back. Especially since it was raining and there would be no stopping to chat with acquaintances or enjoy the weather.

  Unease tightened through him. Both at the wondering of where she was and what he’d say to her when she returned.

  I’m sorry for sharing with you. It’s only…I care for you far too much. More than a man of my sorry state has a right. And I want you to know that though there can never be another kiss, my heart is and forever will be yours.

  But he could never say that. It would be best if those moments of bliss were forgotten about and their relationship returned to the safe territory of friendship. Not only best, but vital.

  Somewhere in the Bible, there was a verse about guarding one’s heart with all diligence. Also, in that same book, a scripture about remaining equally yoked with believers. Adele had told him before about her lack of faith.

  He’d violated both verses by feeling so much for her, by kissing her, no matter how heartrendingly beautiful their kiss had been. He’d done wrong before God, though it hadn’t seemed that way in the heat of the moment.

  Drew clenched and unclenched his fingers.

  He could well understand Adele’s questions about God and faith. These days he had plenty of his own. Questions and frustrations about why a God who promised to care for His children didn’t seem to be doing much of anything when it came to Drew’s circumstances.

  Bitter. Yes, he was bitter, God help him.

  As for Adele, she’d soon return to England and the mess that awaited her there. Why must there always be sorrow and poverty and heartache? Why had God put them on this earth if only to mete out that, along with a few moments of stolen joy that could never be fulfilled?

  He rubbed a hand across his jaw, staring blankly into the lamplight.

  I don’t know, Lord. But I’ll do all I can to trust You. I guess trust really is a choice, like Reverend Darfield says. It’s not always easy, but it’s the path we have to take, regardless of how difficult.

  Deciding to look in on Hope, he stood and, with the aid of his crutch, made his way into the bedroom.

  He opened the door. Hope lay on her bed, hair splayed across her pillows, eyes closed. The pungent scent of mustard plaster assailed his nose, as well as the underlying fragrance of various other remedies. No doubt Adele’s handiwork. Was there nothing the woman couldn’t do if she put her mind to it?

  His gaze landed on his own bed. Something lay atop it, a folded piece of paper with his name written on the front. It looked like Adele’s handwriting but appeared to have been written in haste. Was this what she’d been doing in the bedroom before she left? Writing him some note, probably apologizing for their kiss. He’d thought she’d been tending to Hope.

  Well, whatever was written in the note was completely unfounded, and he’d set her straight as soon as she returned home.

  Glancing once more at Hope, Drew carried the paper out to the living room. Lowered himself into his chair and positioned his crutches within easy reach.

  For a long moment, he stared at his name flowing across the front.

  Did he really want to open this and read what was within?

  The sputter of the lamp wheezing out its last few licks of flame seemed to tell him his answer. No.

  But he’d read it anyway, squinting in the darkness. As he unfolded the page, a small object fell into his hand. He stared down at it, a wrinkle in his brow.

  An ordinary round, black disk. His button, the one he’d wondered about the whereabouts of.

  That day they’d met on the street, she
’d somehow taken it from him. And now returned it.

  Drew,

  By the time you read this, I shall have left you. Inside the jar in the kitchen is every cent I have been able to save. It should be enough to keep you until such time as you recover and are able to work again. I am sorry to have gone without saying goodbye, but it is for your own good that I make my departure. Though they may appear otherwise, the things I’ve done have always been because I wished you well.

  However, there is something I must tell you. That night, when I came and asked you to help me rescue Tony, you were walking into a trap. One I created and take full responsibility for. You see, Drew, I feared for you, risking your life above the fury of the Falls, and thought to rescue you by rendering you unable to do so. I went to the proprietress of the Castle and asked her to aid me in staging a brawl, one meant for you to be injured in. As you well know, what followed went beyond what I intended. I succeeded in producing my brother’s death and your own injuries, which have left you in the unhappy state you now find yourself.

  I was wrong. We promised once to be always truthful to each other, and I broke my part of the promise. Oh, how bitterly wrong I have been!

  But now, I will make amends. For you see, the debt you owe is not, in fact, yours but mine. For it is because of me and my actions that you incurred it.

  I beg you to take whatever follows in the days ahead as a gift from me, and with it, my full and heartfelt apology. I know there is nothing I can do to fully amend what has happened, but I hope I may, at least, aid you in the aftermath.

  As for what we shared, I will forever cherish it. You said I made your life better with my presence. You have gone far beyond that for me. You have made me a better person, a better woman, for knowing you, and I thank you for all you have done for me.

  I must go now. But a piece of my heart will always be with you. Take it with you wherever you go and think of me. I will be thinking of you.

  Adele

  The letter dropped from his hand and fell to the floor, the button rolling beneath his chair. The enormity of what she’d just told him swamped him in a world of intensity, one it would take more than a moment’s reflection for him to comprehend.