Threads of Love

by Andrea Boeshaar

Poppa ignored his sisters’ teasing. “Jake, have you ever sailed?”

  “No, sir, can’t say as I have.”

  “Hmm . . . a pity you’re not staying even a day longer. I’d enjoy taking you out on the lake for a day. Zeb would join us, wouldn’t you, son.”

  “I suppose I would.” He didn’t sound too enthusiastic about the prospect.

  “We’d come along, wouldn’t we, Em?” Iris nudged her then looked at Jake. “Emily and I love adventure.”

  “Of course we’ll go—that is, if Poppa invites us.”

  “Well, I hate to disappoint,” Jake said, “but I’m expected in the Dawson County Courthouse one week from tomorrow.”

  Emily saw genuine remorse in his dark gaze.

  “That means I need to be on the eight-fifteen train Wednesday morning.”

  Reality took hold of Emily. Somehow, up until now, she’d been holding onto a thread of hope that Jake would stay in Manitowoc.

  But he lived elsewhere, in a rugged land, inaccessible to ships like those belonging to her family’s company. A land that Emily had only read about in textbooks or novels. Fallon, Montana. It sounded like another world.

  And as far as she was concerned, it might as well be.

  CHAPTER 10

  LATER JAKE DROVE Emily and Iris back into town in one of Mr. Ollie’s fine carriages. Emily allowed Iris to sit in the padded leather front seat beside Jake. She talked almost all the way, sharing one amusing story after the other about her experiences teaching fourth graders. Emily had to admit that she admired Iris’s theatrical abilities, which, tonight, were often rewarded with one of Jake’s low, rumbling chuckles.

  At last he pulled up across from the boardinghouse. Only a few riders and even fewer buggies rambled the residential street at this time of night. Lamps lit front windows, lending to the peaceful scene, although music and laughter from a not-too-distant shameful tavern carried on the cool, northeast breeze. Most establishments closed on Sunday, but with ships coming into port at all hours of the day and night, there were those who disregarded the Sabbath in order to help weary sailors spend their money.

  Jake climbed out and reached for Iris. He easily swung her down from the buggy. “Thank you for making this ride most entertaining, Miss Iris.”

  She giggled and touched her gloved hand to her nose, turning her head slightly and playing coy. “No Miss in my name. I’m trying to eliminate that word, remember?”

  Emily sighed. So much for subtlety.

  “Ah, that’s right.” The look in Jake’s eyes, evident beneath the glow of the tall streetlamp, told Emily she’d better speak to Iris . . . again.

  He extended his hand, and Emily took it. Jake lifted her from the carriage. When her feet touched the ground, she stepped back and straightened her skirt, righting the buckle on her wide belt. She and Iris had changed after their ride this afternoon.

  “I had a nice time meeting your family and getting reacquainted with some of them.”

  “I think you’re the first man to ever say that to me.”

  “I hope I’m—” He swallowed the rest of his reply. “You’ve got a nice family, Em.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do, even if they’re opinionated and love a good debate over politics.”

  Jake laughed. “That was my favorite part of the night.”

  A dim flash in her peripheral, and then Emily spotted Iris, waving from the porch of the boardinghouse. She’d turned on the outer front light.

  “I need to go. Good night, Jake.”

  Emily sent him a final glance and took two steps forward. Only too late she heard the jangle of harnesses. An oncoming buggy! But no time to run! Iris screamed out her name. Emily’s breath caught. She squeezed her eyes closed, every muscle taut, and prepared for impact.

  Then a jerk backward, threatening her balance . . .

  The buggy rattled past with only a warning called from the driver to watch where she was going.

  Safe!

  And then Emily found herself in Jake’s arms. She felt the warmth within its circumference. Her body sagged in relief, her shoulder leaning against his chest. Her head fell back, and she stared up at him. The brim of his hat shadowed the both of them. “Thank you, Jake.” Breathe. Breathe.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She felt the words close to her cheek.

  Moments ticked by, and he didn’t move. Emily sensed that he meant to kiss her. But not again. Not here. In front of Iris? The world?

  With hands on his forearms, Emily struggled, forcing her legs to support her. “I’m grateful . . . ”

  “Well, there’s no sense in you getting run over a second time this week.”

  She expelled an audible sigh, glad he lightened the moment. She even managed a smile.

  Iris ran from the porch. “Emily, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  Jake slowly released her.

  “I need to be more careful when crossing the street.” She felt foolish. “I teach my third graders to look both ways.”

  “Accidents happen.” Jake placed his hand on the small of her back as he walked Iris and her across the road. “Good night, ladies. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”

  “We’ll be ready.” Iris grabbed Emily’s hand and fairly dragged her across the walk and up the porch steps. “Oh, Em, you scared the liver out of me! I thought you were going to be killed!”

  “For a moment I thought so too.”

  “Thank God for Jake!”

  “Yes . . . ”

  Myriads of emotions tangled inside of Emily. Was it shameful to feel disappointed that he hadn’t kissed her? Disappointed, but immensely relieved that he didn’t? Iris would have been shocked and heartbroken. Emily would have lost her good reputation as well as her best friend and then . . . she might as well have passed on to glory just now.

  “But, listen, Iris . . . ” They paused at the front door. Emily tried to carefully order her words. “I don’t want your feelings to be hurt. Jake stated plainly that his job is a widow-maker. Remember? He’s not interested in marriage.”

  “Pshaw!”

  Emily gasped. “Iris!”

  “Well, honestly, Em. Most men say they’re not interested in marriage, but they change their minds.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I listen to testimonies at weddings. I overhear conversations—”

  “Eavesdrop?”

  “Of course not.” Iris tipped her head and the pink floral creation on her hat flopped to one side. “For instance, I simply walked by the hardware store a while back and heard one man say that he never planned on marrying and having seven children, but he did. What does that tell you?”

  “Oh, dear . . . ” Emily realized Iris didn’t plan on giving up on Jake so soon.

  “Stop fretting.”

  Did she have a choice?

  They entered the house, and Mrs. Hopper thumped her way up the narrow corridor with the aid of her cane. Her hair was flattened from pin curling, and her blue housecoat billowed slightly as Iris closed the inside door.

  “I heard a scream!” The elderly woman reached the small foyer. “What’s going on? Hooligans? I tell you this neighborhood isn’t safe anymore!”

  “No, Granny. Emily almost got trampled by a horse and buggy.

  Jake Edgerton saved her life.”

  “Wh–hat?”

  By now their housemates were lined up along the stairway rail. Emily wished the polished floor would open so she could hide from their scrutiny.

  “Isn’t he a hero? He captured a wanted man right here in Manitowoc and now he saved Em’s life.”

  The other ladies sounded impressed with their murmurs to one another.

  “But I’m fine, and I apologize for the disturbance.” Emily wished they’d all return to their rooms, because that’s where she was headed. “Good night, Mrs. Hopper.”

  “Good night, my dear.”

  No tongue-lashing?

  “G’night, Granny.
”

  Just behind her, Emily heard Iris give her grandmother a perfunctory kiss before catching up at the stairs.

  “Our Emily is still alive because of Deputy Edgerton.”

  “Iris, it wasn’t that much of a fuss.” Despite her statement, as she walked up each step, her fellow tenants touched her arm and shoulder and stated their gratefulness to Jake that she was still alive.

  Finally in the sanctity of their spacious room, Emily undressed. She reflected on the pleasant day, an uplifting message at church this morning, her ride on her horse Ginger, and of course Jake’s company.

  “Emily?”

  “Hmm?”

  Iris took a deep breath. “I have been doing some soul-searching lately.”

  “And?” Perhaps her reason had returned.

  “And I believe with all my heart that . . . ”

  “Yes?”

  Iris gave a decisive nod. “I believe that Jake is my . . . my destiny.”

  It would have been so easy to lean forward just a bit and place a kiss on Emily’s full, pink lips. So easy . . . but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not again. Not after their heart-to-heart talk on Friday night. But one thing’s for sure—Emily didn’t love Andy Anderson, and it was just as well since Andy had decided to move to Idaho and try his hand at potato farming. As he’d told Jake that morning after church, Andy planned to quit his job tomorrow and leave on Wednesday morning’s train with Jake.

  He kicked off his boots and collapsed onto the bed in his hotel room. Andy wasn’t the man for Em. He grinned. She could probably outride and outshoot the poor fellow!

  No, a man didn’t need a wife to compete with; he needed a woman to love and cherish. Andy was a dreamer. He needed a practical woman who could help him plant more than just potatoes.

  Lying across the bed, Jake put his arms over his head and stretched. His mind wandered back to Emily, as it often did the last couple of days. He wondered why she’d ever set her cap for Andy. Maybe because he spoke fluent Norwegian and had been a good friend of Eden’s? Jake guessed she probably didn’t know many men. Captain Sundberg would have seen to that.

  Jake smiled inwardly. He could well imagine Emily’s father scaring off prospective suitors. As for Emily, he’d say she still had special feelings for him . . . just as he harbored a curious longing for her. Was his presumption correct?

  Over the years he’d grown accustomed to figuring out people’s motives and intentions. At times his life depended on making accurate assessments, and Emily was easy for him to read.

  Lord, I want to act! But how could he? Courtship? Marriage? His life wasn’t exactly stable. Sometimes he stayed gone for days, and he’d dodged a bullet through the head on more than one occasion. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—bring Emily into that kind of environment.

  He thought of Ma. A man did not lose a mother that way and not wonder if he did something wrong. He knew he wasn’t responsible for her actions, but they’d wounded him just the same as if he had been.

  Jake’s gaze wandered the rented room, the heavy wine-colored drapes and papered walls. The Dunbars ran a fine hotel, quiet, clean, with a fresh pitcher of water on the stand twice a day. He should have known they were related to the Sundbergs. He’d learned tonight that Will Dunbar’s brother owned and managed this hotel and another one across town. Guess he could understand how Emily felt stifled in her quest for independence or some such nonsense.

  A grin tugged at his mouth just before Jake commanded his weary body up from the bed. He crossed the room, rolling up his sleeves, then poured water into the bowl. He made good use of the soap, cleaning his hands, splashing his face. He glanced in the dark-framed mirror above the washstand and noted the worry lines etched on his forehead. Beads of water trickled down to a jaw that would need a shave tomorrow morning. Reaching for the towel, he dried off and willed his features to relax. He thought over his pleasant afternoon and evening. Emily’s smile came to mind, her laughter, and the indignant sighs or tosses of her auburn head over her cousins’ teasing. If ever there was a woman for him . . .

  No! Jake tossed the towel onto the stand as reality hit hard once more. Courtship and marriage posed too many risks—

  The most deadly of them being the one to his heart.

  CHAPTER 11

  EMILY PLACED HER hands on her low back and stretched. The temperature had soared today along with the humidity.

  “Do you want to stop for a few minutes and rest?”

  She glanced at Bestamor and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “She always says that.” Iris turned from her perch on a stepstool, a rag in hand as she wiped out Ollie’s kitchen cupboards. “Even after she nearly got run over by that buggy last night.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. Iris had told everyone she encountered today about the incident, and Emily had grown tired of hearing it.

  Momma smiled. “My daughter has always kept her angels on their toes.” She stood at the sink, graying strands of her jute-brown hair plastered to her temples. She set more dishes into the soapy liquid. “Haven’t you, love?” Even though Momma had lived in America for the past twenty-five years, the British inflection in her voice was still quite evident.

  “Now, then, we will not tease Emily.” Besta put her arm around Emily’s shoulders. Leave it to her grandmother to come to her defense.

  “Takk.” Emily replied the thank you in Norwegian.

  Besta smiled, and the crinkles around her blue eyes multiplied. With her free hand she adjusted the scarf she’d placed over her snowy-white hair. “Er du klar til å skrubbe gulvet?”

  Emily nodded. “Yes, I’m ready to scrub the dining room floor.”

  “Good.” Momma spoke from over one slender shoulder. “The men will be wantin’ to bring in the carpets soon. Your father said it looks like rain.”

  Besta gave a nod, and Emily picked up the pail and headed for the dining room.

  Kneeling, she submerged her hand into the warm, soapy water and fished around until she found the scrub brush. As she made wide circular strokes on the hardwood floor, she thought of Jake. All day he seemed distant, avoiding her gaze—but she ought not be looking at him anyhow. It’s just that his manner toward her had changed, and she wondered why.

  After scrubbing a row across the room, Emily went back over it with a damp rag. She sat back. The wood gleamed. Now to finish the remaining three-quarters of the floor.

  In the midst of the next row Besta’s call reached her ears. “Andy Anderson is here. He is tying his horse to the hitch.”

  Iris dashed into the dining room.

  “Careful not to fall!” Emily sat back on her haunches.

  She skidded to a halt and wiped her hands on the apron she wore over her brown skirt. “Did you hear? Andy just arrived.” She made upward motions with her hand. “Quick. I’ll help you tidy yourself up so you’re presentable.”

  “He’s not here to see me, silly.” Emily pushed back the scarf on her head.

  “What if he is? Maybe he found out somehow that we’re here at Mr. Ollie’s, helping clean and prepare for his funeral tomorrow.”

  “Then he’ll have to leave his calling card.” Emily couldn’t keep the facetiousness to herself. “Folded at the top left corner, no less.”

  Iris snorted her both delicate and amused laugh.

  Moments later Andy’s voice wafted in from the foyer. Obviously Besta had met him at the door. Emily pressed her lips together and met Iris’s wide gaze.

  “Mr. Edgerton is outside somewhere,” Besta said. “Try out back.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sundberg.”

  A pause.

  “By the way, I quit my job at the aluminum factory today.”

  Iris gasped.

  Emily laid her forefinger against her own lips, signaling complete silence.

  “But why would you quit such a good job?”

  Crawling on all fours, Emily reached the edge of the room where she could just make out Andy’s stocky form.

  “I’ve
decided to be a wealthy potato farmer in Idaho.” He finger combed back locks of his toasty-brown hair. “I have purchased my train ticket. I leave tomorrow afternoon.”

  “So soon?”

  “The sooner the better. That’s what I came to tell Jake. You see, I originally planned to ride the eight-fifteen on Wednesday morning with him.”

  “What do your parents have to say about this?”

  “They’re happy for me. They wish me well.”

  Emily startled at the news, but she wished Andy well too. No sadness or disappointment. Just a strange apathy, which proved she’d never cared for him in the first place.

  Scooting back, her foot met up with an obstacle. A backward glance revealed black trousers. She instantly turned, sitting on her bottom, and stared up to find Jake. She tried not to show her grimace.

  “I understand I have a visitor.” He whispered, but an amused glint entered his gaze.

  Emily nodded and pointed over her shoulder, toward to the foyer.

  Jake hunkered down. “Sorry to have walked all over your just-washed floor.” His gaze said he was sorry about something more, perhaps about not telling her that Andy decided to leave Manitowoc.

  “No offense taken.” She mouthed the words more than uttered them. Her face felt on fire from the shame of having been caught eavesdropping.

  Jake stood and walked out of the room. She heard him greet Andy.

  Emily sprung to her feet, looked for Iris, and found her lurking near the butler’s pantry, a small area adjoining the kitchen and dining room. “You might have warned me about Jake’s approach.”

  “I didn’t hear him coming, either.” Iris looked as guilty as Emily felt. “I was trying to hear everything Andy said.” Her expression fell. “Oh, Emily, I’m so sorry for you. Andy’s leaving.”

  Emily wanted to say she didn’t care, but then admitting so might make Iris suspicious of her true feelings. So she shrugged.

  Iris pulled her into an embrace. “You poor thing. You’re so distraught, you can’t speak.”

  “Not distraught, Iris.”

  “Bereaved. Stricken. Heartbroken.”

  “No, no . . . ” Emily pushed back. “Iris, I’m—”