by Anthology
He would never see her again. He’d lived twenty-seven years and traveled thousands of miles, finally falling in love. Only to find that love crushed before it had a chance to bloom.
Bloody hell, he sounded like one of those poets Tilford admired.
After a while, Tilford pulled back the flap of the tent and crouched at the entrance. “Come inside,” he entreated. Behind him, the gloom of a cloudy day had given way to the gloom of a rainy twilight.
“No,” James replied. “I fear the cheer of the fire might dent my dour mood.”
“Sir—” Tilford cleared his throat and began again. “Get inside and stop acting like a limp-witted lout.”
James popped up on his elbows. “Tilford? Did you just say that to me?”
His friend’s grin was enormous. “I’ve thought it a few times over the years, so I thought I’d try it out loud for once.”
“Do not trouble yourself over lost opportunities—I was able to see the sentiment in your eyes most of those times.” James stood and they trudged to the cabin together.
Inside, Tilford hung his wet coat on a hook by the stove and built up the fire while James poured the celebratory bottle of bourbon into two tin cups. Helene and Mattie had not been impressed with the drink, so there was plenty left.
After taking a cup, Tilford waved at Helene’s chair. “Get comfortable and tell me your troubles.”
James sat. “I’m leaving. Especially after today.”
Tilford lifted an eyebrow.
James fortified himself with a large swallow of bourbon and stared at the gyrating flames of the fire. “It appears I have much deeper feelings for Mrs. Jensen than I ever imagined and, ironically, it appears she has even less feelings for me than I imagined.”
“Oh, now, this is getting interesting.” Tilford crossed one leg over the other and waved his hand as if to say, Go on.
James hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But then he sighed. Why make friends if he wasn’t willing to confide? “I realized today I—” The words were more difficult to say out loud than he would have thought. They meant nothing though—unrequited love wasn’t really love, was it? God, he was turning indecipherable again. Must be the bourbon. Let the bourbon speak then. “I love her.”
“Hmm.”
Tilford said no more. James waited, the logs crackled and hissed, raindrops plopped onto the roof, but nothing more was forthcoming. The other man simply took another drink and contemplated the fire. Very well. “However, her feelings aren’t quite so romantic. She made me a rather bold proposition.”
Tilford turned sharp blue eyes to him. “Was this before or after you declared your love?”
“I didn’t get a chance to. I had only just realized how I felt when she made her… offer. I turned her down.” No need to mention the inelegance of those words. “I tried to speak with her again, but she would have none of it. She came here today intent on seducing me and when I refused, she wanted nothing more to do with me.”
“I’m resisting the urge to punch you again.”
“Tilford!”
“Mrs. Jensen deserves to take a swing at you, though I doubt she ever will.” Tilford tossed back the rest of his bourbon and stared James down. “She did not come here today to seduce you, for God’s sakes. Did you see what she was wearing? How she had her hair scraped back?”
“Fine. You’re right.” James pushed out of his chair and stalked to the far side of the room. “But that doesn’t mean she feels anything more for me than lust. And, I know you don’t owe me your loyalty, but it would be nice if you took my side for once, since we are friends. Supposedly.”
Tilford stood and faced him, his eyes flashing with an intensity James had never seen before. “I won’t take your side when you’re acting like an idiot. You are treating Mrs. Jensen exactly the way you treated me. You goaded me into quitting without ever once talking to me.”
“I tried to get you to share your thoughts and feelings a number of times!”
“But did you ever tell me how you felt?” A muscle in Tilford’s jaw twitched. “We aren’t going to debate the fairness or the rightness of the situation at this time, but you have the upper hand, Caldwell. With me, with Mrs. Jensen. You need to be the one to take the risk. Tell her you love her.”
She’d already rejected him in so many ways. James threw up his hands. “What’s the point?”
Tilford’s expression softened. “The point is to spend your life with the woman you love instead of sailing away without saying a word about your feelings. Do you really want to leave without telling her, without giving her a choice of whether or not to love you back?”
Choices. He’d said all along Mattie deserved a choice. He’d also assumed all along she’d already made hers in regards to him. But his father had always said the best choices were those made with all the facts known.
The fact was he loved Mattie. And he didn’t want today to be the last time he ever saw her. He didn’t want her thinking he didn’t desire her, all of her—heart, mind, body.
Damnation, Tilford was right.
James looked up. Tilford wasn’t grinning, but satisfaction burned bright in his eyes, just as it had so many times over the years.
“I’m going to see her in the morning.”
Tilford hoisted his cup. “A wise decision.”
Chapter 7
James woke at daybreak. Tilford, bless his happily betrothed soul, slept on, so James fixed a cup of tea and then removed himself to the tent. The clouds had not completely spent themselves yet; the steady rhythm of rainfall accompanied the rasp of his knife as he went to work on a new piece of wood.
At last, after not much progress on the carving and many, many distracting thoughts of Mattie, the morning had advanced enough that he might politely call upon her. He informed Tilford of his intentions, received tidings of luck from his friend, and set off into the woods.
The forest was almost mystical. Here raindrops fell arrhythmically, their path interrupted by branches and bushes, and newly grown leaves glistened with water. The earthy scent of damp soil tinged with cedar and pine filled his nose. The sights, the smells, the sounds swirled around him, so familiar and comforting now. James felt emboldened. He’d never made a decision he was more certain of—he and Mattie belonged together. Once she knew he loved her, her choice would be easy.
He walked out of the woods and stopped in his tracks, ignoring the rain now battering his face. Puget Sound stretched out before him, surrounded by hills and towering trees. Despite the grey coloring the clouds and water, this place was beautiful. He could just imagine it in a few years—a busy port surrounded by a graceful city spread out over the hillsides. Probably not as grand as the “New York of the West” Messrs. Denny and Boren envisioned, but still, Seattle could grow into a nice place to live. With the right person. His gaze landed on the smattering of cabins on the flat land to the south. Mattie was within reach. He loped down the hill toward the Jensens’ homestead.
He’d worn his best coat and trousers, and the extra, unmarred pair of boots he’d thankfully brought from Baltimore, but he’d still look like a sopping mess by the time he arrived. Ah well, life in the northwest. Mattie had always been wholly unimpressed with his aristocratic background anyway.
As he approached the cabin, Bjorn tore around the side of the building, barking. The dog sloshed through the mud and jumped at James. He grabbed the dog’s paws away from his coat, but the damage had already been done. James laughed, holding onto Bjorn while the dog danced around on its hind legs and barked like mad.
The door to the house flew open. Both James and the dog looked over. Mattie stood there, her gaze bouncing from one to the other of them. There might have been a flash of… warmth in her eyes, or James might have imagined it, for her expression fell quickly.
“Bjorn, down!”
James gently shoved the dog away. “It’s all right. I rather enjoy a fervent welcome every now and then.” Enough about the dog, though. He needed t
o strike before Mattie slammed the door on him. He tipped his hat. “I would be honored if I might speak with you for a few minutes, Mrs. Jensen.”
One of her slim eyebrows rose and James could just hear her saying, For heaven’s sakes, this isn’t London and I am not the queen.
He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. “Please?”
She stared at the rivulets of water coursing over the ground. “Everyone is home right now.”
That wasn’t a “no.” It was an excuse, but not a rejection. James glanced around helplessly; the only public building in Seattle was the sawmill cookhouse, not ideal for his purpose. So, with water dripping off the brim of his hat, he cocked up one side of his mouth and asked, “Would you care to take a walk on this fine day?”
She looked up from beneath her lashes and her mouth twisted in a painful way that told James she was trying not to be amused. She didn’t say anything for the longest time.
“One moment.” She turned back inside, muttering something he couldn’t quite hear.
That, too, wasn’t a refusal. However, James didn’t feel nearly as confident as he had while walking over here. He held his breath, wondering if she would come back or leave him standing there like a fool. Bjorn sat beside him, as if he too were waiting for Mattie. The rain continued to fall, soaking them both. Eventually James had to breathe, though his heartbeat became more and more erratic the longer he waited.
At last the door opened again and, thankfully, Magnus Jensen did not step out, ready to run James off. No, Mattie stood there, settling a black cloak around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. James took a steady breath and offered his hand. She looked at it for a moment and then tentatively looped her hand around his arm. God, how he wanted to pull her in close and kiss her. To forget all the words and show her how he felt. But according to Tilford, actions could be misconstrued much more than words. Looking down at Mattie’s soft white hand resting on the sleeve of coat, seeing the trust she’d offered in coming out to him, he knew he owed her the words.
After telling Bjorn to stay, he steered her away from the Jensens’ cabin, towards the woods to the south. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Giving me the time of day. You were gone for such a long while, I wasn’t certain you’d come back.”
“I had to fight my better judgment.”
James laughed. He couldn’t put on airs around Mattie if he tried.
She glanced at him around the edge of her hood. “Mr. Tilford told us he resigned. He also explained how you gave him your claim. That was generous of you.”
He shrugged off this unexpected praise. “I want Tilford to be happy. I want him to make of his life what he will.” James reached over and briefly touched her hand. “Mattie, I value your opinion. Do you—do you really think I could make and sell furniture?”
The fingers clasping his arm relaxed just the tiniest bit. “You have the skill. Helene waxed on and on to her sister about those chairs. Oda wants a rocking chair; she and Magnus are expecting a baby this autumn.”
His chest swelled at her confidence in him.
Then she shrugged. “However, you’re leaving tomorrow, so it doesn’t matter what Oda wants.”
Now was the moment. “Whether or not I leave is entirely dependent on you, Mattie.”
She turned her head away from him. “I suppose you could set up shop in Baltimore, though. People there need furniture too. You won’t have a ready supply of wood and there will be more competition, but I think what you produce—”
In one swift movement James slipped his hand up to capture hers and spun around to face her, forcing her to stop. “Your belief in my abilities means more to me than you know, but I am not going to let you ignore what I just said.”
She stared at his sodden cravat, seemingly unaware of the curtain of rain falling between them. “There’s nothing more to say about…”
“Us? I have plenty to say. Things I should have said last night, but they weren’t clear in my mind.”
Her gaze skittered left to right. She looked as if she wanted to run. Wanted to take refuge in her grief. And she could do those things, if she so chose, after he had his say. James reached for her other hand, anchoring her to him.
He squeezed her fingers and she lifted her eyes to his. “I want you, Mattie. I do. But I don’t merely want you in my bed. I want you in my life. I want you to put me in my place at least twice a day. I want your dog to join us for tea every day. I want you to help me start Caldwell’s Fine Furnishings…” He took a steadying breath and looked right into those beautiful brown eyes. “I love you, Mattie Jensen.”
She swallowed, but didn’t move another muscle.
Good. She was still here and she hadn’t rejected him. Yet. God, did she look terrified, though. That had him the most worried—that she would let her fear rule her decision. Or that she simply didn’t care for him at all.
However, he wasn’t leaving this meadow until he knew for certain. “I didn’t learn much in my time studying the law, but I’ve come to realize I’ve learned much just by living here in America. The most important of which is that everyone deserves to choose how they live.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m not sure why I never applied that to myself…”
Her clenched fingers relaxed a little. She was probably glad he was doing all the talking.
He stood up straighter. “I want to marry you, Mathilda Anne Porter Jensen. We can live anywhere you want. If you want to go home to Indiana, I’ll happily go with you. If you want to stay in this mossy paradise, I’ll resign myself to being wet most of the time. The land next to Tilford is available to claim.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, trying to ease her trepidation. “More than anything, I want to be with you. The choice is yours, though.”
Now that the words were out, he could kiss her, right? A little persuasion never hurt, especially when she pursed her lips like that, ready to reject him. He slipped his hand inside her hood and cradled her head, pulling her close. She tasted of rain and cinnamon; Helene must have been baking again. She didn’t resist, but didn’t throw herself into this kiss the way she had the others. He followed her lead and kept it gentle. She pulled away first, but then came back to seal her lips to his one last time before she stepped back.
“I love you, Mattie. Don’t forget that.”
“I need time to think,” she whispered.
“We are out of time. I leave tomorrow. Please, tell me what’s in your heart.” It had been too much to hope she’d say yes and leap into his arms.
She took another step back and his stomach soured. Mattie, please. He couldn’t make himself plead out loud. This was her choice. He’d said all he could.
Silence and rain and all the pain she’d already lived through filled the space between them.
At last her features crumpled and she shook her head. “I can’t. I just want to go home.”
Fool that he was, he’d been smart enough to know this would be her answer. He tipped his hat to her and turned away, praying he wouldn’t lose control until he was deep into the woods and beyond her hearing.
He walked away without another word. Mattie whipped a hand to her mouth to force back a sob. Water cascaded down her face anyway. Rain and tears mixed together. An image of the men in her life who had offered her a taunting glimpse of love flashed before her—Daniel, who had promised to love her to the end of her days; her brother Will, who’d sacrificed his life at home so she’d have family close by; the baby who’d opened her heart to a mother’s love. They had all been ripped away from her.
Her chest throbbed with pain. She choked back another sob, burning her throat.
James loved her. And she—
She loved him. But she couldn’t marry him. If he were to ever die, the heartache would be beyond bearing.
His broad, wet shoulders were getting smaller and smaller. He was almost to the forest now. Beneath her cloak, she rubbed her chest. The pain had hit an excruciating crescendo.
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For all your suffering, he might as well be dead.
She sucked in a breath.
How true. Losing him like this was just as agonizing. She was letting him go when she should be holding him tight.
She had never regretted a single minute spent with Daniel, Will, or her son. Regretted coming out here, yes. Regretted their deaths, God, yes. But not the life she’d lived with them.
Mattie picked up her skirts and ran. James was no longer visible; the tall evergreens had swallowed him up. She slipped in the wet grass. Once on her feet again, she called out, “James!”
No answer. She ran on until she reached the first tree. Steadying herself against it, she called his name again.
When he turned in response, she spotted him. She pushed away from the tree and hurried toward him. His eyes were wide in surprise, but when she threw herself at him, he opened his arms and caught her.
“Mattie?”
She wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head on his wet, muddy chest. Her heart was beating wildly and she could hear his doing the same. “I want to go home.”
“I know. You said.” His voice was bitter but she couldn’t fail to notice—no, glory in—the fact that his arms anchored her to him.
Ignoring the drops of water assaulting her face, she ventured a smile. “Well, I’m home.”
“Oh, Mattie…” The darkness faded from his eyes, leaving them as bright and green as the forest.
“This is the only place I want to be.” She took his face between her hands. “I love you, James Caldwell, and I’m five times a fool for letting you get even this far away. I want to marry you, I want to live here and help you make furniture, I want to raise our family right next to Tilford and Helene, I want—”
He silenced her with a kiss so delicious she didn’t speak again for a good long while.
Finally, he raised his head and grinned. “Don’t ever tell me you don’t know the right words to say. That was perfect. Although, my love, the delay nearly killed me, and if you ever…”