by Delynn Royer
Emily raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That didn’t seem to bother you before. If I remember correctly, you had a crush on him when we were twelve.”
Melissa colored again. “But we were just children. All children want what they can’t have, and Karl was exactly that. The one boy I could never have. What did I know of love then?”
What do any of us know of love? Emily thought. She was the wrong person for Melissa to turn to for advice. The only man she had ever loved was due to walk down the aisle with another woman in less than a week. She didn’t voice these doubts but instead pointed out, “You could have had Elwood or any of the other fellows you wrote to me about, yet you didn’t marry any of them because you didn’t truly love them. That’s what you said in your letters, right?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand what that has to do with this.”
“It may be that you will finally have your chance with Karl. How does that make you feel?”
Melissa frowned. “Very unsure and, to be honest, a little afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
Melissa let out a sigh and looked at the floor. “Afraid that if I allow myself to fall in love with him, he’ll leave me for another woman. He has such a wicked reputation that way. I don’t think I could bear that. Why take the chance?”
“Because perhaps Karl has finally grown up. He’s got a very good job, and he seems serious about making a success of it. Perhaps the love of a good woman is the final ingredient he needs to help plant his feet firmly on the ground.”
“The love of a good woman?” Melissa appeared to consider this. “Do you think so?”
“There are no guarantees, of course.”
“Fun,” Melissa whispered. Her eyes seemed to lose focus as she pondered her options, but then she brightened and smiled. “Perhaps it’s time to take a chance, after all.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was almost an hour after his confrontation with Malcolm when Ross arrived at the Winters Print Shop. He would have come directly, but he’d had one stop to make first. He wasn’t about to make another mistake; he’d come prepared this time.
“Ross!” Emily’s sister appeared shocked from where she sat behind a receiving desk near the door.
“Good morning, Karen,” he said as he surveyed the shop. “You look radiant, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Today this place was a far cry from the deserted shell he’d found the night he’d followed Emily from the Herald office. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows to reflect off immaculate wood and metal surfaces. A summer breeze wafted through the shop, but not even that could completely eradicate an underlying odor of turpentine and wood polish. Marguerite Winters and Karen’s young daughter Dorcas hadn’t yet noticed his presence. They were busy chatting as they cleaned tables in the back.
There was life and movement and vitality here once again. A pulse. But this time it was Emily’s spirit and determination that drove it.
“Do you want to place an order?”
Ross forced his attention back to Karen. She’d recovered from her initial surprise. With her lips pursed, she cocked an eyebrow and regarded him as if he were a cow patty on her parlor carpet. “Engraved wedding invitations, perhaps?”
“Very perceptive of you,” Ross replied. He knew he would have to make his peace with Karen over time. He just hoped Emily would give him that time. “Keep an order sheet ready. Where’s your sister?”
“She’s not—”
“I’m right here.”
Ross looked up to find Emily standing by the foot of the stairs with an unopened crate in her arms. She wore a soiled printer’s apron over her dark dress, her sleeves were rolled up, and her hair was half up and half down. There was a huge ink smudge on her nose, and she was sweating. She looked beautiful.
“What do you want?”
“I came to get a job.”
“You came to get a what?”
“I quit the Herald.” He shrugged. “Or I was fired. I suppose it depends on whose viewpoint you take.”
Emily stared at him.
Taking advantage of catching her off guard, Ross approached. “Malcolm’s not real pleased with me right now. It might have something to do with the fact that I broke my engagement with his daughter, but that’s all water under the bridge. Now it looks like I’ll be needing a new job.”
Ross stopped and took the crate from her. She was still watching him, assessing his words, and by now, he sensed that Marguerite and Dorcas as well as Karen were assessing him, too. The place had grown unnaturally quiet and expectant.
“You see, I need a job real soon,” he continued, “because I intend to make a down payment on Phares Hockstetter’s place. After all, a man can’t propose to the woman he loves unless he knows he can provide a decent home for her.” He paused and nodded to the crate he held. “Where do you want this?”
“Over there,” Emily said, pointing to a worktable. Ross took it over to the table she indicated. He smiled and nodded at Marguerite and Dorcas, who stood observing the proceedings with respective ill-concealed amusement and childish curiosity.
“Good morning, Mrs. Winters.”
“Good morning, Ross.”
“Good morning, Miss Miller.”
“Morning, sir.”
“Well, you can’t possibly think you’re going to get a job here!” Emily blurted.
Ross turned to face her. “Why not? The way I see it, I’ve got some money invested in this place. That means I have a direct interest in its success.”
“You certainly do not have money invested in this business.”
“Oh, I most certainly do. Or are you forgetting that hundred-dollar loan I made a while back?”
“And that’s all it was!” She jabbed a finger at him. “A loan. I’ll pay you back in full.”
“Oh, no you won’t.”
“Oh, yes I will!” With a defiant toss of her head, she spun around and headed for the job press.
Ross followed her. “No, you won’t.”
“Oh, ho, ho! I most certainly will!”
“Won’t.”
“Will!”
“Children,” Marguerite interrupted gently, “please think of the example you’re setting.”
Both Ross and Emily turned to see little Dorcas following their exchange with round, eager eyes.
“Sorry,” Ross said.
Emily was less contrite. She waggled a finger at her niece. “Mind you, Dorcas, men operate under the misguided assumption that they are always right. It is our God-given duty as women to point out to them that this is rarely the case.”
She gave Ross a pointed look, then turned her back to cross to the nearest composing desk. She pulled out a drawer of type. “You seem to have forgotten, Mr. Gallagher, that I already made one payment on that loan.”
“Ah, yes,” Ross said, reaching into his pocket, “glad you reminded me. I’ve been meaning to return this ever since you dropped it on my floor the other day before we—”
“Stop!” Emily’s cheeks flamed scarlet as she charged the short distance between them to snatch the greenbacks he’d produced. Stuffing the bills into an apron pocket, she lowered her voice to a tight whisper. “Have you lost your senses? My family is listening!”
“What’s the matter? Afraid they’ll force us to marry if they find out we—”
“Stop!” Emily clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Then marry me,” Ross said, though the words were muffled into her palm.
“Outside,” Emily said from between set teeth. Her tone was dead serious, but any authority she hoped to display was ruined by the huge ink spot on her nose. “We will continue this discussion outside.” She removed her hand from his mouth.
“Em, you’ve got a—”
“Outside!” Turning, she struggled to untie her apron strings as she moved toward the back door.
Ross followed, wincing when she tried to tear the uncooperative garment off over her head but got it stuck on h
er elbow. She yanked and muttered something unintelligible as it tangled in her hair, then she flung it backward to smack him in the face.
The door creaked open then slammed hard enough to rattle the washstand mirror on the wall next to it.
Ross pulled the apron off his head and grinned at Marguerite. “I love it when she gets like this. I’m probably the only one, though, right?”
“Yes,” she replied, “you probably are.”
Ross winked and tossed the apron to Dorcas, who caught it with a giggle. He went outside to find himself standing in a small courtyard that separated the print shop from the rear of a three-story brick hotel.
“Over here!”
Ross looked to see Emily waiting with folded arms by the corner of the building. A second later, she vanished into the narrow alley off to the side. He followed her.
“What are you trying to do?” she demanded when he appeared around the corner. Her skirmish with the apron had loosened her chignon completely, leaving most of her hair streaming down her back and over her shoulders.
Ross smiled. “I told you. I came for a job.”
“Do you find this humorous?”
“Not at all. I’m very serious. I quit my job. I also broke my engagement. I want you to marry me.”
“Just like that?”
“Well... yes.”
She poked a finger at his chest. “You break off with Johanna one minute, then traipse over here and propose to me the very next. How convenient. Have you checked on whether Father Carpenter is still available next Saturday?”
“No, I haven’t.” He reached up to capture her hand before she could pull it away. “But that’s an excellent idea.”
“Very funny.”
“I don’t mean it to be funny. I want to marry you, Em. It’s been a long time in coming, and I don’t see the point in wasting any more precious time, do you?”
“Yes!” she replied, trying to yank her captive hand free. “I mean, no! I won’t do it. Who’s to say you won’t change your mind again? You did once before. Then what?”
“I won’t change my mind,” he assured her, wrapping his free arm around her waist and bringing her hard up against him. She wasn’t happy about it, as evidenced by the riotous look in her eyes, but she sure felt good to him just the same. “And if you need proof,” he added, “try this.”
Oh, she wanted to kiss him, all right. Ross could tell by her surprised little gasp and the instant, almost imperceptible relaxing of her body against his, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to admit it. A split second after his mouth came down on hers, she clamped her lips together. Tight.
He tried coaxing and probing with the utmost of patience, but to no avail. He whispered against her stubbornly sealed mouth. “Come on, Em. One kiss, that’s all. Just one. You know you want it.”
“No, I don—”
That was all he needed. He captured her parted lips, molding them to his own in a long, sensual kiss that elicited exquisite, intertwined memories of one reckless night’s lovemaking on the eve of war and one Sunday afternoon’s playful abandon on a parlor floor. If Ross had his way, he would have more of the same, much more, enough to fuel a lifetime’s worth of memories for them both.
A frustrated moan came from deep within her throat before she turned her head away. “No.”
“Yes,” Ross said, skimming his lips across her jaw and down her neck.
“Let go.”
Reluctantly, he did as she asked, but not, apparently, what she expected. When he let go, she stumbled back a few steps to smack into the brick wall behind her. “Oh! Jiminy pats!” she said, clapping a hand over her mouth. He hadn’t heard her use that expression in years. “Curse my traitorous mouth!”
“While you’re at it, you’d better curse every other part of your body that wants more of the same, Em.”
“Stop doing this to me!”
“I never want to stop. I want to kiss you again and again and again. I want to peel off all your clothes and touch every part of you. I want to take you to bed every night of the week and—”
Emily shook her head and covered her ears. “Go away!”
Ross took her by the wrists, pulling her hands from her ears. “Hear this. I’m not going away. Maybe I need to state the obvious. There’s a chance you could be pregnant again.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that?”
“You’re not behaving as if you have. One thing’s for sure, though, you’re stuck with me this time. I’m not leaving. Not ever again.”
She pulled free. “If you won’t go away, then I will.”
“Where?”
Turning away, she made a dash for the Queen Street end of the alley. “Someplace where I can think in peace!”
“All right! Fine!” he called after her. “But you should know that you’ve got a big ink spot on your—” But she’d already disappeared around the corner and out onto the busy sidewalk.
“—nose,” he finished and let out an aggravated sigh. He knew where he would find her. But that was for later. Now, he would go back inside that print shop, roll up his sleeves, and set to work. He’d promised her he wouldn’t go away, and he intended to start making good on that promise today.
*
There hadn’t been a good soaking rain for over a week. The grass was dry, prickling the back of Emily’s neck and itching against her bare ankles and heels. The sun’s rays dried the few drops of warm water that remained from when she’d splashed at the edge of the creek a few minutes ago.
Hot. Oh, yes, it was hot, and as she lay on her back with her eyes closed, soaking up the heat and sun, listening to the soft buzz and hum of insects, she was sweating clear through many layers of clothes. But that was good. Summer was supposed to be hot. It even smelled hot, like parched grass and stagnating, muddy water. Hot and lazy. Empty of worries and troubles.
A flutter of activity in the oak tree branches to her left made her crack one eye open to spy a pair of bluebirds perched on a low-hanging limb. They were side by side, the one a vivid blue with a burnished red breast and the other a shade lighter. A male and a female, taking a break from the serious business of food gathering and nest building to experience a few moments of quiet companionship. Emily closed her eyes again. For them, it was simple. Not so for her.
She tried to clear her mind, but it didn’t work. Instead, she thought back to the very beginning, to the day Ross showed up at her father’s shop looking for a job.
“Wish that boy would go away,” she whispered to herself. “If Papa won’t make him, then I will.”
And she’d almost succeeded, except for the fact that the boy, in his own quiet way, had proven to be almost as stubborn as she was. She wondered how differently her life would have turned out if, all those years ago, Ross had gone away like she’d wanted. Very differently, she knew, and she found that despite all their tribulations, she didn’t care for that idea at all.
There was a rustling sound far off to her right. She wasn’t alone. Someone was making his way down the steep, wooded embankment. “Whoa! Whoops! Look out!”
At his warning call, Emily pushed up onto her elbows to shade her eyes. Ross was scrambling down the little hill, sending a shower of loose pebbles and puffs of dry dirt ahead of him. It was an incongruous sight, Ross in his city clothes and shiny black shoes, trying to negotiate in bucolic surroundings, surroundings Emily associated with their barefooted childhood. Yet no more incongruous than she herself—a full-grown woman dressed in mourning black, shoeless, lying flat on her back in the grass.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Wearing a familiar grin, Ross brushed himself off and approached. “Nice place. Come here often?”
Ah, so he wanted to play games. That was fine. In fact, that suited Emily’s mood perfectly. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her voice and narrowed her gaze. “Go away.”
Ross hunkered down before her. “Does your pa know you come here every Saturday?”
“S
ure he knows. What business is it of yours?”
“It’s my business because I know it’s been you pulling those tricks on me at the shop.”
Emily wrinkled her nose, then lay back down again, closing her eyes and folding her arms across her chest. “You don’t have any proof of that.”
“I don’t need any. Your pa knows, too.”
“Did he say so?”
“Nope, but he knows just the same.”
“You’re lying. If he knew, he would have given me the dickens for it.”
“I hope he does.”
Emily lay silent for a moment, then smiled in satisfaction. “But he never did, you know. He never said one word about it.”
“That’s because he left us to work it out on our own. He was a smart man, your pa.”
Emily pushed up onto her elbows again. “Sure he was. And he had a smart daughter, too.”
Ross had settled down to sit beside her. He picked at some grass blades as he spoke. “Don’t I know it. Smart enough to rebuild his business and make a success of it. You know who stopped by after you left?”
“Who?”
“Old Jacob Groff. He plunked down his money and made your twentieth order for the day. He also said he’d take out a regular ad if you ever decide to start up the Gazette again. He doesn’t hold with your crazy notions about women getting the vote, but he thinks you have a knack for getting people’s attention. Everybody’s talking about that handbill.”
“Good,” Emily said.
“Maybe we could even try it.”
“Try what?”
“Start up the old Gazette again. I mean, after the job printing begins to earn a profit. Why not? We could start out as a weekly, and—”
“Wait a minute. What’s this ‘we’ stuff?”
“You and me.” Ross reached out to take her chin in his hand. “You and me. Married. With kids. And a house. And a business. And—”
Emily pushed his hand away and sat up. “I didn’t say I’d marry you. There are things to consider first.”
“Like what? I love you, and I think you feel the same about me. What else is there to consider?”
“Last week you were going to marry Johanna. This week you say you want to marry me.” Emily paused. Her next question didn’t come easy, but she had to pose it again and hope that he would tell her the truth this time. “Who will it be next week, Ross?”