Threads of Love

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “I know . . . you’re fine.” Her pale green eyes deepened one shade. “But inside you’re really battling a torrent of tears.”

  Emily sent her gaze upward. “Not so much, Iris.” She spotted a wispy gray web in the corner. “But how about taking care of that?”

  Iris whirled around. “Oh, dear, and I just loathe spiders.”

  “It doesn’t appear the spider has been there for quite some time.”

  The heavy front door closed with a whoosh of air and Besta murmured something. Jake replied, “So it would seem.”

  Emily felt rooted in place. Iris too froze. And then a shudder of dismay traveled down Emily’s spine when she heard Jake walking back through the dining room. But he didn’t stop when he reached them.

  “There’ll be time to say your good-byes to Andy tomorrow.” He brushed past them with nary a glance. “He’ll be at the funeral.”

  A steady rain began shortly after the rugs and furniture were back into place and all the buckets dumped and rags wrung out. Momma and Besta had been through the house and rearranged artwork on the walls to cover paintings that Jake’s aunt and uncle took. Emily first assumed the valuables were the woman’s inheritance and didn’t think much of it, until Besta told her the real story, which she’d heard from Poppa, who, of course, heard it from Jake himself. Jake in all his benevolence had given his aunt and uncle whatever they wanted, but then he told them to leave. They did without argument, as they held no real sadness over Mr. Ollie’s death. The whole thing didn’t surprise Emily. She’d known for years that Jake’s aunt hadn’t cared about her father. Mr. Ollie once muttered that he’d spoiled Bettina rotten. Rotten to the core.

  Emily gathered the last of the supplies and met her family and Iris on the back porch. A sick, smoky smell from this afternoon’s burning lingered in the air. She spotted Jake immediately. He leaned casually against a wide, white pillar.

  “I can’t thank you all enough,” he said. “You’ve done over and above.”

  “It’s our pleasure to help.” Poppa stepped forward and shook Jake’s hand. “Anything else you need, let us know.”

  “I appreciate it.” He looked out over the blooming flower garden. “Once the rain lets up I’ll head back to the hotel, and if Emily and Iris want to ride along . . . ”

  “You’re not going anywhere without a hot meal.” Momma looked to Poppa for affirmation. “Besides, the girls want to wash up and change.”

  “Ah, yes, please stay to dinner, Jake. I won’t hear the last of it if you don’t.”

  “Well, then, I accept.” A smile spread across his face.

  He still hadn’t glanced her way, and Emily couldn’t figure out why. Not that she wanted any more moon eying, but she didn’t like the tension between them either. It couldn’t have been her eavesdropping, because he’d been acting strangely all day.

  She ran a hand over her hair, thinking maybe he didn’t look at her because she made a dismal sight in her oldest black skirt and one of Zeb’s outgrown shirts. She realized she’d lost her black scarf.

  “I forgot something.” She headed for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Inside, Emily ran through the house, searching, and finally found her fringed thing, lying on the rug in the upstairs hallway. She bent and grabbed it and caught her reflection in the large, ornate mirror on the wall. She didn’t appear any worse for wear, although in this light the shadow on her cheek looked more pronounced. Even so, her family knew she received her share of bumps and bruises. They’d seen her “shiner,” as Kate called it—and so had Jake.

  Still confused over his behavior, she hurried back down and outside. She stopped short when she saw that only Jake remained on the back porch.

  “Where’s everyone else?”

  “They made a run for the buggy. I said I’d wait for you and lock up.”

  “Iris didn’t wait for me?” Odd that she’d miss her chance at a few seconds alone with Jake.

  “Nope.”

  He still made no attempt to look at her as he turned the key in the back door lock. In fact, it seemed he made every attempt not to look at her.

  “Jake, have I offended you somehow?”

  “Nope.”

  His swift answer crimped her heart. “I think you owe me more of a reply than that. I thought we were friends.”

  He sank his dark gaze into her eyes. Finally a response! As she searched his face, trying to understand, his features softened.

  “I’m sorry, Em. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Well, that makes sense.”

  She moved toward the steps. A light spray from the rain moistened her face. How refreshing after the heat of the day.

  And then she remembered why she and everyone else here today had worked so hard. Mr. Ollie’s funeral tomorrow. Jake was probably overcome with sorrow as the day approached.

  “Jake—” She turned easily on the wooden porch. “—I’ve been insensitive, thinking only of my feelings. I worried all day that I offended you, when you’re obviously mourning the loss of your grandfather.”

  A slight nod in reply.

  “I have to admit feeling misty myself, being here today. I have a lot of fond memories of Mr. Ollie.” She smiled.

  For a long moment, neither spoke. A rhythm of raindrops drummed on the roof, covering the porch.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you Andy planned to leave. I figured it wasn’t my news to tell.”

  She’d almost forgotten about it. “Well . . . Andy made his decision, and far be it from me to stand in the way—like I even could. Andy doesn’t speak to me, as you know.”

  “And about that, Em . . . ”

  She tipped her head.

  “Your father and I talked today. He told me that he and Andy exchanged words some time ago regarding your, um, romantic interest in him.”

  “Poppa?” Emily felt herself pale. “What did he say to Andy?”

  “Oh, something about Andy making sure his intentions were honorable. I wouldn’t have said anything, but I know how hurt you’ve been by Andy’s behavior. I even told your father that I felt the need to mention it to you.”

  Her blood rushed back with gusto. “Well, that just figures!” She gave her scarf a sound shake. “If it’s up to him, I’ll die an old maid!”

  “Now, Em . . . ”

  “And it’s not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “I can see the smirk on your face.”

  “I’m sorry. The old maid remark tickled me.” He gave his head a wag. “You’re a beautiful young lady, Em.” He stared off in the direction of the woods. “When the right man comes along, neither your father nor brothers will be able to scare him off.”

  His words touched her deeply, and yet she felt somewhat baffled. “So, let me get this straight. Andy approached Poppa about courting me?”

  “Sounded like it never got that far.” Jake paused. “And Emily . . . ”

  “Yes?”

  “I too have been fairly warned.”

  “What?” Horror gripped her, not so much because Poppa spoke to Jake about her, but that Poppa had even noticed something undefined existed between them. “What did he say?”

  Jake hesitated, and for a moment Emily wondered if he’d tell her. “Your father said that the man who kisses his daughter marries her.”

  Her jaw dropped. “He had no right!”

  “He’s your father. He had every right.” Jake straightened. “And no man ought to be kissing you.”

  “No man ever has, except for you.” She backpedaled. “But you weren’t a man. We were children.”

  His expression lightened. “Look, Em, I’m not afraid of your father or your brothers. If I wanted to pursue you, I would. But I live in Montana and my work is—”

  “I know. It’s a widow-maker.”

  “It’s best if we keep a polite distance.”

  “You mean we haven’t been polite?” She felt mildly insulted. So they’d exchanged some token gl
ances. A dance. A private conversation in a very public place. So what?

  Nevertheless, Emily had everything to lose. If Iris found out about her attraction to Jake, she might feel double-crossed and never trust Emily again. She tossed her head. “I can be friends with you just like I’m friends with Andy.”

  Jake looked somewhat abashed. “Ah, yes . . . Andy. Your friendship has blossomed, hmm? Your side of it anyway.”

  Emily kept silent and held his narrowed gaze. Let him think what he would. Soon both men would be out of her life forever. What would it matter?

  Without another word Jake reached for the black umbrella residing near the porch rail. Emily didn’t bother waiting until he opened it. Whirling around, she ran down the porch steps and toward the buggy. Large raindrops pelted her from the gray sky, saturating her hair and baggy shirt. But Emily didn’t care if she got soaked.

  “Do I detect something of a cold shoulder from my daughter this evening?”

  “I’d say it’s more frosty than cold.” Jake relaxed in the black leather armchair and gazed at the sturgeon mounted over the blue-green mantel. The color suggested the depths of the Great Lake out of which the captain had fished the monster. With its long, whiskered mouth and armorlike skin it spanned at least six feet. Biggest fish he ever saw, alive or dead, next to a paddlefish.

  “So I gather you told Emily about our conversation this afternoon.”

  Jake glanced at the captain, noticing again his fine smoking jacket. “Emily asked, just like I said she would. She thought she’d offended me. I assured her she hadn’t.”

  “Hmm . . . so now she’s angry with me. Well, so be it. I’m her father, after all.”

  “I reminded her of that fact.” Jake’s curiosity gnawed at him. “No offense intended, but didn’t you expect this kind of reaction from Em?”

  “I suppose I didn’t.”

  Jake rolled a shoulder and wondered how he too could have been so wrong about her. “Captain, I think she still has a particular fondness for Andy Anderson.”

  A heavy frown settled on the captain’s brow as he turned the ’58 Remington in his hands, Jake’s gift to him as a remembrance of Granddad. “You think so? Andy?”

  “She didn’t deny it this afternoon.” Jake made a grave error when presuming a woman’s mind. He should’ve known better. But he’d let his emotions overrule his common sense. “I’m thinking Em just used me . . . ” That didn’t come out quite right. He cleared his throat and started over. “She used our friendship to make Andy jealous. Obviously it didn’t work.”

  “Emily doesn’t play those sorts of games.”

  All women play those sorts of games. “Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” The captain scrutinized the weapon in his hands. “Are you certain you want me to have this revolver? It’s quite collectable.”

  “I’m sure, as long as you don’t use it on me.” Jake grinned.

  The captain grunted. “No promises.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Especially where my daughter is concerned.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, not with me.”

  “Hmm . . . well, I think you’re mistaken about her feelings for Andy. He’s been Eden’s friend for years, and I’ve never detected any sort of chemistry between them.”

  Chemistry? Is that all? There existed some magnetic lightning between Emily and him. Jake sensed it when he’d seen her in town on Thursday, felt it again when they’d danced on Friday night. Couldn’t stop thinking about it all weekend.

  “Zeb is thrilled with his pistol . . . ”

  The captain’s voice drew Jake back to the present.

  “ . . . and Eden will be also.”

  “Good. Granddad would be pleased.”

  The captain stroked the shiny barrel. “We always admired Ollie’s collection.”

  Jake smiled. “He had a veritable arsenal. I’m taking plenty of weapons back with me.”

  A rustling of skirts, and Jake looked to see Mrs. Sundberg enter the study. He stood and politely took the tray containing two cups of rich-smelling coffee. He placed it on the rectangular table between the chairs.

  “As a boy I dreamed of firing this very gun.” The captain practiced his aim and pointed the unloaded weapon at the windows. “To my great disappointment I never got the chance, although I’ve fired myriad others, of course.”

  “Well, now you can shoot off that Remington to your heart’s content.” Jake grinned.

  “But not in the house, dear.” Mrs. Sundberg folded her slender arms. “That’s what I always told our children.”

  Jake’s smile widened.

  The captain chuckled and gazed at his wife. “Thank you for the coffee, darling.”

  Mrs. Sundberg replied with a hard stare before leaving the room and closing the door more forcefully than necessary.

  Jake sat. “Another cold shoulder, Captain?”

  He sighed. “So it would seem.” He set the Remington on the side table nearest to his chair. “Thank you for this keepsake.”

  “You’re welcome. I wanted you all to have something of Granddad’s.” Jake had bestowed two sets of his grandmother’s ear-bobs to the two Mrs. Sundbergs, the captain’s wife and his mother. Each looked pleased by the gift. And, of course, Emily got that necklace. He noticed she’d even worn it today while cleaning. Maybe she never took it off. Jake rather liked that idea.

  I’ve got to stop thinking about that woman.

  “Do you mind if I bring up some business?”

  Jake helped himself to coffee. “Don’t mind at all. What’s on your mind?”

  “I’ll get right to the point. I’d like to purchase your grandfather’s house.”

  Jake had prayed along those lines. Thank You, Lord! “That surely will simplify things.”

  “I thought you might be agreeable.”

  “I am.” If he could somehow know that his place passed back into the Sundbergs’ hands, Granddad would be pleased.

  “I’ll even incur any shipping expenses on furniture you’d like to keep, and I’ll dispose of whatever items you decide to leave behind.”

  “That makes things even simpler.”

  “Right now an acre of land in Manitowoc sells for roughly eighteen dollars and thirty-five cents.”

  Jake let out a long, slow whistle. “That much, huh? An acre will run you about a dollar-fifty to eight-fifty in Dawson County.” He thought of his father, once a farmer here in Wisconsin. He’d married Ma and then headed for Montana. “Hence the westward homesteading.”

  “Exactly.” The captain narrowed his gaze and pursed his lips. “Now, then, here’s my offer . . . ” He tapped the side of his chair.

  Jake sipped his hot coffee. “I’m listening.”

  CHAPTER 12

  WHEN THEY RETURNED to the boardinghouse Monday night, Emily collapsed into bed. If she’d thought her muscles hurt after the run-in with Jake last Thursday, they screamed at her now. She’d also caught something of a chill from the rain as the weather change brought a cold damp wind from off the lake.

  The bedroom door squeaked open and Iris entered. “I finished writing my article about Jake and Mr. Ollie.”

  How can she still have so much energy? Emily lolled her head in Iris’s direction. “That’s wonderful.”

  “I plan to drop it off at the newspaper tomorrow.” She stared at the sheet of paper in her hands. “If the editor publishes it, it’ll be too late for Mr. Ollie’s funeral service, of course, but it’ll make a nice article anyway.”

  “How thoughtful of you.”

  Iris held the paper to chest. “Jake said he wants a copy if it’s really published.”

  Emily forced a smile. “That’s quite the compliment, isn’t it?” Thanks to Poppa, she and Jake were barely speaking. Polite distance, indeed!

  Iris crossed the room and hung up her yellow housecoat. “We’d best get some sleep. Another busy day tomorrow, with Mr. Ollie’s funeral service. The church service begins at ten o’clock
, followed by the entombment and then the light luncheon at Mr. Ollie’s—or, rather, Jake’s.”

  “Or rather my father’s home and property, after tomorrow morning.” Besta had told her about it.

  Iris gasped and her slender hand fluttered at the throat of her gown. “No! Really?” Agape, she stared at the rose-papered wall, opposite their beds. “So that explains why your father and Jake were holed up in his study for so long after supper.”

  “That’s why, and I can’t tell you how happy my grandmother is about it. She said my grandfather, Sam Sundberg, would be thrilled if he could somehow know that the land he had once been given by Chief Oshkosh belonged to the Sundbergs once again. ”

  “What will your father do with that house?”

  Emily pushed herself up onto her elbows, which was no simple task. “Momma said Eden has a special girl now. We’ll meet her at Christmastime, and it’s likely that Eden will propose at that time—just like Poppa proposed marriage to Momma one Christmas Eve long ago. Momma thinks Eden will want the house as he plans to take over much of Poppa’s business.”

  “Eden is going to be married before you?”

  Emily dropped back down onto her pillow, feeling as dismal as the weather. “Everything is so unfair, Iris. I found out that Poppa scared Andy off.”

  “And now he’s leaving tomorrow for Idaho. Oh, you poor dear. Your heart is breaking, isn’t it?”

  “More than you’ll ever know, Iris.” Emily gazed at the familiar plaster ceiling with its spidery cracks. The image of Jake’s face appeared in her mind’s eye. She saw those weather-worn lines etched down from the dimples in his cheeks that made his jaw look more square and, yes, more rugged. She’d see his face forever. He was the only man she’d ever loved—and ever would. Andy had never evoked anything even remotely similar within her being. But Jake had won her heart of hearts ever since she was thirteen.

  “Write him a letter, Em. You can give it to him tomorrow.”

  “Jake?” She peered at Iris.

  “No, Andy.”

  Emily’s face heated as though the sun beat down on it at noontime and she’d forgotten a hat or bonnet. “I’m not up to letter writing tonight.”