A Stolen Heart

by Amanda Cabot

  “I’d like you to meet Lydia Crawford. She’s staying with me.” Lydia lost count of the number of times Aunt Bertha said that, performing introductions as she and Lydia made their way down the center aisle after the service. Though Lydia tried to associate names with faces, she knew she would not succeed. Instead, she focused on smiling sweetly and doing her best to ignore the whispered comments that trailed behind them like a ship’s wake. But she could not ignore the man who scowled at her. Though it was possible that the scowl was due to the leg that ended at the knee and his dependence on a cane, Lydia suspected that was not the cause. This long after the war, even phantom limb pain should have disappeared.

  “Abe, I’d like to introduce you to Lydia Crawford. She . . .”

  The man whose resemblance to Travis left no doubt of his identity did not let Aunt Bertha continue. “I know who she is, but if you expect me to welcome her to Cimarron Creek, you’re sorely mistaken. Yankees have no place in my town.”

  “Now, see here, Abe.” As Aunt Bertha began to sputter, Lydia placed her hand on the older woman’s arm.

  “It’s all right, Aunt Bertha.” She forced herself to keep smiling as she looked at Travis’s father. “Mr. Whitfield is entitled to his opinion.”

  A flicker of something that Lydia hoped was grudging respect crossed the older man’s face, quickly replaced by a frown. “Don’t waste your time trying to change it. You’ll never do that.”

  Travis gave Lydia a look that communicated his regret over his father’s words, but he said nothing. It was Aunt Bertha who whispered, “Don’t let him bother you. He’s always like that.”

  Though Lydia tried to dismiss the man’s rudeness as part of his habitual crankiness, the memory of his disapproving frown lingered. Had Travis been subjected to similar anger growing up? She hoped not.

  The progress down the aisle was slow, as Aunt Bertha stopped to introduce Lydia to the other parishioners, but eventually they reached the narthex and, after praising Reverend Dunn for his sermon, emerged from the church.

  To Lydia’s surprise, Nate Kenton moved toward them. After glancing at Aunt Bertha, he fixed his gaze on Lydia.

  “May I have the privilege of walking you two ladies home?”

  Lydia’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and her head ached from the strain of trying to remember names and faces. All she wanted now was to spend half an hour in total silence, but before she could formulate a polite refusal, Aunt Bertha nodded vigorously, setting her hat ribbons to bouncing.

  “Certainly, Nate. Would you like to join us for dinner? I’m sure Lydia would like to get to know you better.”

  Lydia tried not to cringe at Aunt Bertha’s less than subtle effort at matchmaking. To her surprise, Nate appeared equally uncomfortable. Perhaps Aunt Bertha had been wrong and he had no romantic interest in Lydia. Perhaps he was merely acting on Reverend Dunn’s admonition to be neighborly. “Thank you, but my sister is expecting me.”

  From the corner of her eye, Lydia saw Catherine emerge from the church and stare at them, a frown marring her normally sweet expression. Lydia turned slightly, hoping to catch her friend’s eye, but when she did, Catherine’s frown deepened and she turned away.

  Seemingly oblivious to her niece’s displeasure, Aunt Bertha smiled at Nate. “Did you tell Lydia you’re practically family?” Without waiting for a response, she turned to Lydia and explained. “Nate’s older sister married one of my nephews. Rachel’s a Henderson now. A lovely woman, inside and out. And she has three children that would make any woman proud. I was surprised they weren’t in church today.”

  As Nate bent both arms so that Lydia and Aunt Bertha could place their hands on the crook of his elbows, he said, “The boys caught the measles, and Rachel’s afraid Rebecca may be contagious, so they all stayed home. That’s why she needs me. I promised her I’d help entertain the boys.”

  Aunt Bertha nodded but for once seemed content to remain silent, leaving the burden of conversation with Lydia.

  Love thy neighbor, Lydia reminded herself as the trio headed north on Main. She could—and would—be polite to Nate. The man was simply taking the minister’s sermon to heart and being neighborly in escorting them home. The least she could do was keep the discussion from dying.

  “How old are the boys?” Lydia wondered whether they were among the boys whose antics troubled Catherine. Though Catherine hadn’t mentioned any names, she had said that the worst offenders were two brothers.

  “Twelve and thirteen.”

  Lydia nodded. They probably were the mischievous ones. “A tough age to be sick.” And to spend days inside a schoolhouse when you’d rather be outdoors doing almost anything else. It wasn’t hard to understand why they’d gotten into trouble.

  “They’re not used to being sick,” Nate confirmed. “Especially with spots all over. They won’t let their friends see them, even the ones who’ve had measles.”

  “I can’t blame them. Teasing can hurt.” Lydia had seen the effects on her schoolgirls and knew that it could be even worse for boys, simply because they often tried to pretend the taunts didn’t hurt.

  “I’m not sure what I can do to help them.”

  Though she said nothing, Aunt Bertha’s face was flushed. Deliberately, Lydia slowed her pace as she sought a way to help Nate. He was a pleasant enough man, and even though his constant chewing was a bit annoying, at least it was a wad of mint leaves rather than tobacco.

  “What would you do otherwise?”

  “If they weren’t sick, I’d saddle some horses and go for a ride.” Nate frowned. “I already asked, but Rachel said no. She thinks it would be too much for them.”

  “What about a wagon ride?”

  For the first time since he’d joined them, Nate appeared to relax. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll bet Rachel would agree to that. Thank you, Miss Crawford.”

  “He seems like a nice man,” Lydia said ten minutes later when Nate had escorted them to their front door, then taken his leave.

  Aunt Bertha nodded as she sank onto the settee. Though they’d walked slowly, she was breathing heavily and appeared fatigued. “Nate is a good man,” she agreed, “even if he does have a weak stomach. That’s why he smells like a walking mint plant. I told him he ought to try some of my digestive tablets, but he claims natural remedies are better.” Aunt Bertha shrugged. “He could be right. The man’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s a hard worker too. Nate may not be as handsome as Travis or Warner, but he’s still a good catch. That’s why I’m surprised he hasn’t married yet. He’s close to thirty, you know. A man ought to be settled down by that age.”

  Edgar had said the same thing the day he’d asked Lydia to marry him. He’d announced that he was ready to settle down. And he had. Unfortunately, it had been with another woman. But there was nothing to be gained by thinking of Edgar and his wife, the wife who was going to bear his child, the wife whose husband had disappeared.

  “I thought for a while that Nate and Catherine might be courting,” Aunt Bertha continued, “but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Most courting couples meet up after church. The way Nate latched on to us tells me he’s not interested in anyone else.”

  But Catherine had been visibly upset. Lydia bit her lip as she considered the possibility that Nate was the man Catherine loved. Surely that couldn’t be the case, because as Aunt Bertha said, Nate did not appear to be a man who was smitten with another woman. And yet he was as handsome as Catherine had claimed. There was only one way to know if she was right.

  “I thought I’d visit Catherine this afternoon,” she said. “Would you like to come with me?”

  Aunt Bertha shook her head. “I’m going to take a nap once we finish eating. Church wore me out more than I expected.”

  Lydia’s concerns grew. She hadn’t expected Aunt Bertha to admit that anything was wrong, and the fact that she was so open about her fatigue worried Lydia. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Though she knew the older woman would protest, Lydi
a would insist on washing dishes and putting the food away.

  Once again Aunt Bertha shook her head. “It’s nothing a nap won’t cure.”

  And so when the meal was over, Aunt Bertha headed upstairs while Lydia made short work of the dishes. If Nate was the reason for Catherine’s coolness, Lydia wanted to set things straight between them. As she filled a small bowl with several pieces of fudge and some of the chocolate creams she’d made last night, Lydia smiled. Once Catherine knew she had no interest in Nate, their friendship would no longer be in jeopardy.

  “Hello, Lydia.” The words were polite, but the tone was distinctly cool when Catherine opened the door and saw who was standing there. Lydia hadn’t imagined her displeasure.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to talk to you after church.”

  “It’s all right.” It was a perfunctory reply with no warmth behind it. This was not the Catherine who’d joked as they’d rolled out sweet dough or the one who’d shared her concerns about her mother.

  “It doesn’t seem all right to me. I’m not sure what I did to hurt you”—although she had a good idea—“but I want to do what I can to fix it. I don’t want to lose your friendship, Catherine. That’s why I brought this.” Lydia held out the bowl of candy.

  “A bribe?” For the first time, a smile teased the corner of Catherine’s lips.

  “You can call it that. I prefer to think of it as a peace offering.”

  Catherine nodded. “Come in.” She led the way to the parlor and offered Lydia a seat. “You’re right that I was upset, but I shouldn’t have been. It’s not your fault that Nate can’t keep his eyes off you. You’re a beautiful woman, Lydia.”

  It was what Lydia had feared. Nate was indeed the man Catherine hoped to marry. If she’d known, she would have overruled Aunt Bertha and refused to let him escort them home. “Nate is the one.” Lydia made it a statement.

  As tears filled her eyes, Catherine nodded. “I thought he was until I heard how he ran down Main Street to give you some perfume. He’s never given me any.”

  Lydia wondered if that was the reason Catherine had sent the note, saying she couldn’t come for her pastry-making lesson on Friday. Some friend Lydia had been! She tried not to frown as she realized that she’d been so caught up in the excitement of planning the candy shop that she’d neglected her new friend.

  “The toilet water was meant as an apology, nothing more. Nate practically knocked me over when he came into the drugstore, so he was trying to make amends.”

  “That may have been the case then, but I saw the way he looked at you this morning.” Catherine brushed an errant tear from her cheek. “He’s infatuated.”

  Though she and Edgar had never had one, Lydia had heard of lovers’ spats. She hoped with all her heart that this would prove to be nothing more than a misunderstanding and that Catherine’s dreams of marriage to Nate were not permanently shattered.

  “I wouldn’t say he’s infatuated, but even if he were, I’m not interested in him—or any man, for that matter. I’m not going to marry. I’m going to open a candy store.”

  Catherine nodded. “I heard that—the part about the candy store.” When Lydia raised an eyebrow, Catherine managed a weak smile. “Don’t look so surprised. I told you there are no secrets in this town.”

  She dashed the tears from her cheeks, straightened her shoulders, and reached for the candy dish, clearly signaling that the discussion of Nate was over. Catherine chose a piece of fudge and nibbled the corner. “Delicious,” she said when she’d swallowed the candy. “If everything you make is this good, your shop will be a success.” She took another bite and nodded again. “I think the store is a good idea for Cimarron Creek and for you. I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last couple days, and I’m beginning to believe women need to rely only on themselves.”

  Though that might be right for Lydia, she did not believe it was the answer for Catherine. “But you love Nate.”

  “That’s true.” Catherine’s smile faded. “The problem is, he obviously doesn’t love me. If he can be distracted so easily, he’s not the man for me.” Though her words were firm, the instant she’d pronounced them, Catherine burst into tears. “Oh, Lydia, it hurts.”

  Drawing her friend into her arms, Lydia nodded. “I know.”

  An hour later, Lydia left Catherine. She’d dried her friend’s tears and tried to comfort her, but Lydia knew the hurt would remain. She had wanted to tell Catherine that she understood, that the man she’d expected to marry had married another woman, but she hadn’t. Lydia would tell no one about Edgar, just as she wouldn’t tell anyone that Nate had broken Catherine’s heart.

  “You look serious. Is something wrong?”

  Lydia turned, startled by Travis’s question. She hadn’t seen him, but here he was, only a foot away from her. “No. You just surprised me.”

  His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “I went to law school, Lydia. That means I learned how to cross-examine witnesses. The first thing I was taught was to watch their expressions. Those tell more than words. You can claim you’re not worried about anything, but your face says otherwise. I hope it’s not my father’s rudeness at church.” Travis’s eyes darkened. “I want to apologize for that. There’s no excuse for his behavior, but even though I’ve tried, I can’t get him to see how wrong he is to blame Yankees for everything he doesn’t like in his life.”

  “It wasn’t your father. Aunt Bertha warned me about him, and while I won’t say it was pleasant, what he said was no worse than what I heard on the stagecoach.”

  Travis appeared relieved. “If it wasn’t Pa, it must be something else that’s bothering you.”

  Lydia nodded. There was no point in denying what Travis had seen, but that didn’t mean she would talk about Catherine or Edgar. “You’re right,” she said as she took his arm and resumed the walk home. “I am concerned about something, and you might be able to help me. It’s your aunt.”

  “Aunt Bertha? What’s wrong?”

  “She seems to tire very easily. Just climbing the stairs leaves her out of breath, and she takes long naps each day. Do you know if she’s ill?”

  “I don’t think so.” Travis was silent for a moment. “It could be her age. She’s over sixty, and her husband’s death hit her hard.”

  The explanation was logical. Lydia had seen how depressed the school matron had been when her sister had died, and losing a spouse was even more difficult.

  “That’s probably all it is,” she agreed.

  To her surprise, Travis shook his head. “Maybe not.” He looked around, as if assuring himself he would not be overheard. “No one talks about it much anymore, but I’ve heard Aunt Bertha hasn’t been the same since she lost her daughter twenty years ago.”

  Lydia had thought she was done with surprises for the day, but apparently she wasn’t. “I hadn’t realized she had a daughter. She’s never mentioned her.”

  “That might be part of the problem. The parson always says it’s important to grieve. I’m not sure Aunt Bertha did. Or if she did, she never finished.”

  “What happened? Was it smallpox?”

  “I don’t think so, but no one really knows. Joan was here one day, gone the next. Bertha and Jonas wouldn’t talk about it other than to say she was gone.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “It is,” Travis agreed. “I probably shouldn’t have told you, but since you’re living with her, I thought you should know. All I ask is that you don’t tell Aunt Bertha I said anything.”

  “I won’t.” But that wouldn’t stop Lydia from wondering what had happened to Joan Henderson.

  10

  This is even prettier than I expected.” Catherine smiled as she looked around the front room of Cimarron Sweets. To Lydia’s delight, her friend was the first customer to enter the store, and her genuine appreciation made Lydia return the smile.

  The past three weeks had been busy, but everything had gone more smoothly than she’d dared hope, i
ncluding her relationship with Catherine. Though Catherine was obviously still bothered by Nate’s fickleness, she did not appear to blame Lydia. Instead, she’d offered to help Lydia prepare for the store’s opening. Though Lydia would have appreciated her friend’s advice on the store’s décor, when Catherine had mentioned that her mother had taken a turn for the worse, Lydia had claimed that the greatest favor Catherine could offer was her opinion of the various candies. Lydia had practiced making everything from peanut brittle to penuche, from caramels to chocolate creams, and had taken samples of each to Catherine. It was little enough to offer a friend who was suffering from both the loss of a potential suitor and her mother’s continued decline.

  “Mark my words,” Aunt Bertha had said when she returned from visiting her niece by marriage, “Gussie won’t last the summer.”

  Lydia didn’t want to think about that this morning, and judging from Catherine’s overly bright eyes and slightly red nose, which were undoubtedly the result of tears, neither did her friend.

  “I’m pleased with the way the store turned out,” Lydia admitted, gesturing toward the glass-fronted cabinet that displayed her confections. With its polished wood top, it was an eye-catching piece of furniture. She had Warner Gray to thank for that. Though she had covered the front window with an old sheet so that passersby would not see the changes she was making to the store, Warner had stopped by Aunt Bertha’s house one evening, saying he remembered the layout of the store and wondered if she needed a display case. When Lydia had admitted that she planned to ask Luke Henderson, the Gospel who was also the town’s carpenter, to make one, Warner had volunteered to give her one that he insisted was gathering dust in his back room.

  The window seat’s velvet covering had come from Nate Kenton. Apparently Carpenter Luke, who was also his brother-in-law, had told him of Lydia’s plan to have a window seat, and he’d insisted on giving her two yards of velvet he claimed to have found in a trunk when he’d moved into his house.