by Amanda Cabot
To the best of Travis’s knowledge, there had been no thefts since the rat poison. Though it was possible that other shopkeepers had yet to discover their losses, Travis doubted this robbery was like the first set. That time, the missing items had been small and not particularly valuable. Digitalis did not fit into that category.
“Who has keys?” he asked his cousin. A lock was no good if its keys were readily available.
“Just me. I carry one and keep the spare at home.”
“In the old cigar box?”
Warner seemed surprised by the question. “How did you guess?”
“That’s where you used to keep your treasures.” When they’d been twelve, those treasures had included a couple marbles and an Indian arrowhead Warner had found when he, Porter, and Travis had been exploring the outskirts of town.
“I guess I’m predictable, but some things never change.”
Some things did. Pa was gone, and Travis, the man who had once feared marriage, was planning a courtship. “I’ll see what I can find. Sooner or later, whoever’s behind this will make a mistake.”
“I hope it’s sooner.”
“Me too.”
When Travis returned to his office, Edgar handed him a folded piece of paper. “Mrs. Henderson would like to see you. I read it, just in case it was something I could handle, but she’s specific about seeing you.”
“No offense, Edgar.”
“None taken. I figured to start my rounds once you came back.”
Travis locked the office as he and Edgar left, knowing Edgar’s first stop would be the candy store. He couldn’t blame the man. If he hadn’t been worried about Aunt Bertha and whether he’d discover something had been stolen from her house, Travis might have detoured there too.
“Come in, my boy.” To Travis’s relief, Aunt Bertha did not look distraught when she opened the door. She led the way to the parlor and gestured toward the settee. “Sit down, and before you wonder if I’m missing a hog or a chicken, let me assure you that I’ve asked you to come here as my attorney, not the sheriff.”
Travis shook his head in amazement at the speed with which the grapevine moved. “I won’t ask how you heard about the missing animals.” He only hoped she never learned about the stolen digitalis. “Now, what can I do for you?”
She leaned forward, her green eyes serious. “I need you to promise you won’t breathe a word of this to Lydia.”
“Of course not. Attorney-client privilege says anything you tell me will remain confidential.”
“Perfect.” Aunt Bertha’s relief was visible. “Here’s what I want.”
Travis listened, surprised and yet not surprised by her request. Everything she said made sense. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Now, how soon can you make this happen?”
“How about tomorrow morning?”
“Perfect.”
Lydia took a deep breath, trying to let the peace she normally found in church wash over her and quiet the thoughts that whirled through her. She and Aunt Bertha had been home for over a week now. Though the sorrow that had filled Aunt Bertha’s eyes while they were in Ladreville had not disappeared, she seemed—if not happy—at least at peace.
Aunt Bertha had joked with Lydia that Travis was courting her. Lydia doubted that was the case, and yet she could not deny that her relationship with him had changed the night they’d kissed. Since then, they’d exchanged glances that made Lydia’s heart beat faster, and then there’d been the casual touches. Though nothing more than a brush of fingertips or a palm that lingered an extra second on her waist, those touches had sent shivers of excitement up and down her spine.
Those had been wonderful, but so too were their conversations. Though he’d asked her not to tell anyone, Travis had shared the story of the missing digitalis.
“I don’t understand it,” he admitted. “It seems as if someone is targeting Warner, but I can’t imagine why. When the mortar was taken, I thought it was simply part of the rash of thefts, but now the digitalis combined with the stolen poison makes me wonder.”
“I’d almost forgotten about the poison.”
Travis shook his head. “You can be sure Nate hasn’t. There’s a truce between him and Warner, but I know he hasn’t forgotten that those yellow sacks came from Warner’s store.”
“Big yellow bags?”
“Fairly big.” Travis gestured to give Lydia an idea of the size. “Why?”
“I remember seeing them somewhere, but I can’t recall where it was.” She looked up at Travis. “Don’t you hate it when that happens, when the memory is just out of reach?”
Despite Lydia’s inability to remember where she’d seen the bags of poison and her feeling that it was important to remember, it had been a wonderful week, starting with Aunt Bertha’s reaction to the special candy Lydia had made for her. Though she’d expected Aunt Bertha to be pleased by the chocolates with their pansy decorations, Lydia hadn’t expected the exuberant thanks she’d received. Aunt Bertha had hugged her, telling her the gift meant more than she could imagine. Today before they’d entered the church, she had regaled at least a dozen people with the story of her new box of candy.
“I’m a selfish old woman,” she’d said with a wry smile. “Instead of sharing them with visitors, I’ve put the box on my bedside table. I eat a piece each night—a special treat from a very dear young lady. And,” she added, lowering her voice as if to confide a secret, “I sometimes reach for one or two in the middle of the night. There’s nothing quite like a piece of chocolate to help a body sleep.”
The matrons had nodded their approval, the gleam in their eyes making Lydia suspect she’d have a number of orders for uniquely decorated chocolates when the store opened tomorrow.
Now Aunt Bertha sat at Lydia’s right, her hands folded on top of her Bible, her eyes closed in silent prayer.
On the opposite side of the church, Opal and Edgar sat with Travis in the pew he normally occupied with his father. Though the grapevine had buzzed with the news of Abe Whitfield’s departure, no one seemed to know why he’d gone to Austin. Opal speculated that he wanted to see his granddaughter again, but when Lydia had asked Travis, he’d said only that it was his father’s decision.
Despite the resurgence of petty crimes, Travis seemed happier than Lydia could recall. Each day when they’d walked to and from the store, he’d given her looks that made her suspect he was remembering the kiss they’d shared on the way to Ladreville. If so, that made two of them. She couldn’t forget how good that kiss had felt and how much she wished it could be repeated.
Pushing aside thoughts that had no place in church, Lydia prayed for peace, and for the next hour, she thought only of the hymns she sang and the sermon Reverend Dunn delivered. When the service ended and she and Aunt Bertha emerged from the church, Lydia found Travis apparently waiting for her.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he told her. “Much too nice to stay indoors. I wondered if you’d like to take a walk with me this afternoon.”
Knowing Aunt Bertha would have her customary after-dinner nap, Lydia nodded. Though she often spent Sunday afternoons with Catherine, her friend had told Lydia she was spending the day with Nate and his family. “It’s nothing romantic,” Catherine assured her, “but I like his sister and the children.”
“Thank you.” Lydia smiled at Travis. “I’d enjoy that.” She could think of nothing she’d rather do than spend this beautiful autumn day with him.
Two hours later, he crooked his arm for her as they descended the steps of Aunt Bertha’s home and headed north on Cedar. When they reached the spot where the street dead-ended next to the creek that gave the town its name, Travis shook his head.
“I’m not sure this was a good idea. I thought we might walk along the creek, but I’d forgotten how different ladies’ shoes are from mine. Do you think your shoes can handle that?” He gestured toward the uneven terrain that marked the creek’s banks.
Lydia nodded. “They’re sturdier than
you might think, and if there’s mud, I can always brush it off.”
“If you’re sure,” Travis said, his voice holding a note of concern, “there’s a place I wanted to show you.” He led the way.
Cimarron Creek, Lydia had discovered, took a slow and meandering path alongside its eponymous town. The town itself was situated at the spot where the river made a right-angle turn, changing its flow before turning again. Upstream a few blocks, here at the end of Cedar Street, the creek bent once more. Lydia and Travis strolled along the creek’s bank, stopping occasionally to watch a fish swim through the clear water, apparently undisturbed by the presence of humans so close. Lydia smiled when a jay flew by their heads, then perched on a branch and squawked, warning others of the arrival of intruders. The bird was clearly more bothered by their presence than the fish.
When they reached a small bend in the creek, Lydia stopped, entranced by the sight of a massive live oak tree shading the water, one branch extending so far that it practically touched the opposite bank.
“It’s lovely,” she told Travis. “This is the kind of place where I could spend hours.”
Travis smiled. “It’s always been special for me. My mother brought me here when I was maybe six or seven. She said it was her thinking spot, the place where she felt especially close to God.” He moved next to the oak branch and laid an arm across it in an almost protective gesture. “After Ma died, I used to come here and talk to her. I suppose that sounds foolish. She’s no more here than she’s in the cemetery plot, but I feel closest to her here.”
Lydia took a step toward Travis, wanting him to know how touched she was by his story. Though he hadn’t said it, she sensed that this was the first time he’d brought anyone to this spot.
“I can see why both of you came here. It’s beautiful and peaceful, the perfect place to reflect on the majesty of God’s creation. Thank you for sharing it with me.” Though Lydia knew she’d never come back alone, she also knew she’d cherish the memory of being here with Travis. It was another special moment in what had been a very special week.
Travis dropped his arm and closed the distance between them until he was standing only a few inches from Lydia. Though he’d been smiling, the smile faded, replaced by an expression so serious that she wondered if something was wrong.
“This isn’t all I want to share with you,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “Dorcas said her husband had a flowery speech, but I’ve never been one for fancy words. I always thought I should say what I meant as plainly as possible so there’d be no misunderstanding.”
Travis reached for Lydia’s hands, clasping them between his. “When we left Ladreville, I told myself I’d go slowly, that you deserved to be courted, but I’ve discovered that I’m not a patient man. I don’t want to wait for months to learn whether I have a chance with you.”
He took a shallow breath, his gray eyes now the shade of thunderclouds. “I love you, Lydia, and I hope you’ll do me the very great honor of becoming my wife.”
Lydia’s heart had skipped a beat when Travis had spoken of courtship, but now her breath caught as the full magnitude of his words registered. Aunt Bertha was right. Travis had been courting her. Lydia had been right too. The kiss they’d shared on the way to Ladreville and all the tender moments they’d had since then had meant as much to Travis as they did to her.
Travis wanted to marry her! Lydia wanted to shout the news from the rooftops, telling everyone in Cimarron Creek that she was the most fortunate of women. Instead, she found herself so overcome with emotion that she was unable to utter a single word.
When she’d dreamt of marriage proposals, Lydia had never imagined receiving one in such a beautiful spot. The day Edgar had asked her to marry him, they’d been in the school’s parlor, but Travis wasn’t Edgar. He was a man of spotless integrity, a man who would never disappoint her.
“I won’t make promises I can’t keep,” Travis said as if he’d read her thoughts. “I can’t promise we won’t have arguments or times of sorrow, but I can promise that I’ll never stop loving you, and I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”
Travis’s expression was solemn. “Before you give me your answer, there’s something you need to know. I never thought I would marry, because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to make my wife happy. That’s because I saw how often my mother cried. I worried that would happen to my wife, and I couldn’t subject any woman to a life like that. I was convinced I’d die a bachelor. But then I met you, and suddenly I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”
Lydia smiled at the realization that Travis’s feelings mirrored hers. When she pictured a future without him, it was bleak.
“Thank goodness Aunt Bertha set me straight,” Travis continued. “She told me that Ma’s unhappiness was not my father’s fault.”
As Travis explained about his mother’s first love, Lydia’s heart ached for Cynthia, who never recovered from Chet’s death, for Abe, who tried but failed to make her happy, and for Travis, whose life had been colored by his parents’ less-than-perfect marriage.
“That’s such a sad story,” she said.
“It is, but we don’t have to repeat it.” Travis tightened his grip on her hands, his eyes darkening to charcoal as he said, “Will you marry me?”
Though she wanted to answer yes, Lydia hesitated. “Are you sure about this, Travis? Even though most of the people seem to have accepted me, I’m still a Yankee. I don’t think your father will ever forget or forgive that.”
Travis nodded. “You’re probably right. When I told Pa I wanted to marry you and that I expected him to welcome you into our home, he chose to leave.”
This was worse than Lydia had feared. She had caused a rift—a seemingly irrevocable rift—between Travis and his father. And yet, though she heard regret in his voice, Travis’s eyes shone with love.
“Pa made his choice. I wish he’d chosen differently, but I won’t forfeit our future to placate my father. I love you, Lydia, and I know there’ll never be another woman who touches my heart the way you do.”
Just as there would never be a man who touched her heart the way Travis had.
His eyes still solemn, Travis raised her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss on them. “If you love me even a little, say you’ll marry me.”
Lydia smiled. “I love you a whole lot more than a little.” Before she agreed to Travis’s proposal, she needed to make certain he understood just how much she loved him. “You’re the second man who’s asked me to marry him, but I want you to know that I’m not your mother. You’ll never be second place in my heart.”
As Lydia spoke, Travis’s expression lightened. She continued, “Loving you has made me realize that what I felt for Edgar were the feelings I would have for a brother, not the man I wanted to marry. Edgar is a good man, but he’s not the right one for me. You are. I love you, Travis, in every way a woman can love a man. And, just as importantly, I trust you.”
Though Travis looked as if he wanted to speak, Lydia shook her head. She needed to finish. “You know how hard it is for me to give my trust, but from the first day I met you, you’ve been honest and trustworthy. That’s part of what I love about you. All of which is my long way of answering your question. Yes, I love you, and yes, I want to marry you.”
As Travis wrapped his arms around her and lowered his lips to hers, Lydia knew this was where she was meant to be. Travis was the man God had chosen for her.
26
This is the fastest I’ve ever seen news travel,” Opal said the next morning as she cut another slab of fudge into perfectly even cubes. “I don’t know who started it, but three different women stopped me on the way over here to ask if it was true that you’re going to marry Travis.”
Lydia smiled. It felt as if she’d done nothing but smile since she’d become engaged to Travis. She suspected she’d even smiled in her sleep last night. When she and Travis had returned from the creek, they’d shared their news with Aunt Bertha, who’d m
ade no secret of her delight. Next they’d stopped at Travis’s house to tell Opal and Edgar, and by the time they’d reached Catherine’s home, she and Nate were just arriving back from visiting his sister. Any one of them could have been responsible for activating the grapevine, but Lydia suspected the honor belonged to Mary Gray. She’d found Travis’s aunt sitting in the parlor with Aunt Bertha when Travis brought her home.
It didn’t matter who had spread the news. What mattered was the news itself and how it made her feel. Lydia could not remember ever being this happy. When she’d awakened this morning, she had felt as if everything in her life had led her to this moment. Cimarron Creek was where she was meant to be, and Travis was the man she was meant to marry. Lydia was almost giddy with happiness. That’s why it made no sense for her stomach to feel so queasy.
“Did you package all the peppermint?” she asked Opal. A piece of that might settle her stomach.
Opal nodded. “There were just a couple broken pieces.”
“That’s probably all I need. My stomach’s a bit upset this morning.”
Opal grinned as she handed the slivers of mint to Lydia. “Nerves. I was the same way the day Edgar and I got married. My head and my heart knew it was the right thing to do, but my stomach had other ideas. Edgar didn’t say anything, but I could tell he felt the same way.”
Lydia was still sucking on a piece of peppermint when Edgar knocked on the door and entered the kitchen.
“I’m heading out of town and won’t be back for lunch,” he told Opal. “Travis said not to fix anything for him. Said he wasn’t hungry.”
Lydia smiled as Opal gave her an “I told you so” look. “You don’t have to worry about your wife,” she told Edgar. “She can eat with Aunt Bertha and me.”
Though Lydia expected nothing more than a nod in response, a puzzled expression crossed Edgar’s face and he took a step backward, almost as if he did not want to be near Lydia.
“What are you eating?” he asked.