He searched her eyes as if desperate for a response.
She couldn’t respond—she couldn’t even think straight. He had broken all his ties with his family and life in Chicago because of her. And then when he’d been given valuable property, he’d given that to her as well. And somewhere in his speech he’d slipped in something about a wedding.
“Repeat the part about the wedding.”
Chuckling, he cupped her chin with his hand. “I’m asking you to marry me, Amelia.”
“Sweet words, but why? If you have the land already, you don’t need—”
“Because I love you. I’ve loved you since you fainted in my office and looked up at me with your sky-blue eyes. Because I felt I had to return to Chicago I tried so very hard not to love you, but I can’t help it. I do.”
She wanted to believe him so very much, and yet doubts lingered. “If I say no, what happens to the property?”
He dropped his hands and stepped back. A muscle twitched along his jawline. She knew how hard he was clenching his teeth, trying not to show what emotion or frustration he was feeling. “If you say no, you can keep the deed and I walk away.”
“You would do that?”
“If that’s what you want. I haven’t put any effort into gaining clients here, so no one will miss me if I hang my shingle somewhere else. I hear they need attorneys out in the Territories, especially with statehood upon them. I’ll get by.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but his dark eyes said otherwise.
Taking one of her hands, he curled her fingers around the letter. “Keep this somewhere safe and you’ll never have to worry about some ornery attorney trying to chase you out of your home.”
As he walked toward his horse she shivered, already missing the warmth from his hand on her face. If she allowed him to leave, she would miss his warmth for the rest of her life.
“Wait.” She hurried to his side. “I don’t want you to leave.”
He faced her with his emotions hidden behind a somber curtain.
“You’re a hard person to love, Jeremy Moore, but somehow against my better judgment I’ve developed feelings for you as well.”
Hope flared in his eyes, yet he kept it in check.
She waved the deed he’d given her. “What if we didn’t have this?” She ripped it in half and then threw the pieces into the prairie wind while he watched in stunned silence. “What if we walked away and started fresh somewhere else, just the two of us?”
He swallowed hard and then blinked. A moment later he smiled. “I never knew what freedom was until I met you. For the first time in my life I don’t have someone looking over my shoulder or telling me what to do. You, on the other hand, could have gone anywhere you wanted, but you chose to stay here and ensure your staff and your father’s legacy were looked after. It doesn’t matter to me where we go, what we do, or who you bring as long as we do it together.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he glanced over her shoulder. “However, we should let your staff know what’s going on because it looks like they’re about to pummel me with bricks.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “You know they won’t.”
“Not if I keep holding you like this, anyway.”
Social convention dictated that she pull away from him. She snuggled closer instead. Secure in his arms, she closed her mind to everything else until a persistent nagging took hold of her thoughts.
Leaning back, she gazed up at him. “There’s one more thing you ought to know.” This close, she realized his eyes were lighter than she thought and flecked with gold that sparkled when he smiled. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
“Mmm-hmm. I’d like to know if you’re going to marry me.”
“Oh, didn’t I say?”
“No, I’m sure I would have remembered that.”
“I wouldn’t have let you forget it.” She’d never been one to exchange banter, and yet the simple teasing confirmed that she was well on her way to happiness.
“Ahem, Miss Amelia,” Williams interrupted in a loud voice. “Is there something you would like to tell us?”
She dragged herself away from Jeremy to find the workers and whatever staff were on hand that day waiting with animated expectation.
“Yes, please tell us, Miss Amelia.” Jeremy clasped his hands together. “We would all like to know.”
She licked her lips. She would give them more than they’d asked, and everything they needed. “Mr. Moore has asked me to marry him.”
Cheers went up.
“And what did you say?” Charlie called out.
“Yes.”
More cheers.
“Then we don’t have to leave?”
A hush fell over the group while many of them turned in Charlie’s direction.
The scene shimmered before Amelia as she realized the toll the fires and insecurity over the past couple of weeks must have taken on the young boy. She set her hand on the twelve-year-old’s shoulder. “No, Charlie, you don’t have to leave until you’re ready to go.”
His tremulous sigh was all she needed to know everything was going to work out.
Jeremy appeared at her side, his hand on her arm. “Amelia.”
“As a matter of fact”—she placed her hand over Jeremy’s as a token of assurance—“I found my father’s will, and in his own words it states that everything he owned passes on down to me. So you see”—she raised her hands to encompass them all—“this is our home and no one can make us leave.”
She smiled as her men slapped each other on the back.
Charlie stood alone looking like he would burst. She did the only thing she could. She wrapped him in her arms and hugged him tightly.
“Please tell me you weren’t just saying that,” Jeremy said later as they drove back to town.
“No, it’s true. When he altered my mother’s sewing box, he hid his will behind the velvet lining. I never would have found it if Williams hadn’t dropped the trunk in his haste to get it out of the burning house.”
He nudged his shoulder against her. “I’ve always liked Williams. He’s a good man.” A moment later, he chuckled. “So that’s why you ripped up Winston’s letter without a hint of remorse. My heart almost stopped right there.”
“You didn’t look worried.”
“No, because I was trying to show strength and courage. At least until you said yes.”
She linked her arm in his and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” She yawned. “Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because I’ve fallen in love with you, and I’m so exhausted I’d rather not go through it again.”
His chuckles warmed her heart.
Epilogue
Among the mixed scent of a multitude of flowers Amelia detected the faint odors of wallpaper paste, plaster, paint, and varnish. Not the fragrance she’d expected when she had dreamed of her wedding day, yet it signaled a new beginning. “There, I think you’re ready, dearie.” With one final adjustment of the veil, Rosie stepped back.
Amelia looked into her new mirror and wondered what Jeremy would think and feel as he saw her dressed in her lilac finery, the color specifically chosen to honor her father’s passing only half a year before. In tribute to her mother she wore the locket beneath her bodice where it nestled against her skin, and her pearl starburst brooch pinned to the lace on the outside for all the world to see.
A knock at her door heralded the arrival of Woodward, who had patiently answered her questions and given his time throughout her growing years and would now escort her into the future. He led her down the stairs and through the foyer, all new and different yet with enough familiar details to remind her of the home she’d loved before.
Outside she paused on the veranda and tried to capture the vivid scene before her. Two dozen white benches were filled with friends in colorful outfits. Their guests turned as she exited her new home. Behind them, the glass panes of the co
nservatory gleamed in the sunlight, hiding the new growth of resilient plants that had survived the scorching flames.
Soon the cranes would return, dancing for whatever reason cranes dance, in the same valley as before, or others; it didn’t matter to Amelia, as long as they returned. Like the plants and shrubs that were returning to the burned-out areas of the woods, bright green testaments to nature’s survival.
In contrast, the sorghum was ready for harvest, while the new and updated mill sat ready to receive the canes.
Cycles of life and death, of destruction and new beginnings. Of hope and love and the promise a new day brings. And with that realization she set aside all the disappointments of the past and looked to her future.
As if on cue, Jeremy left the minister’s side and walked toward her, his face embodying the same things she’d been feeling as she stood on the veranda appreciating the blessings in her life.
He reached the bottom of the steps and raised his open hand to her. “I love you. You are everything I didn’t know I wanted until you showed me the dancing cranes. God instilled in them the instinct to dance, to mate for life, and to always return home. Shall we follow their example and spend the rest of our lives together?”
She would have flown down the steps if her dress had allowed it, but soon enough she was by his side, heading toward the minister who would join them together, under God and before their friends, a testimony of how the sweetest love can grow when it seems that life is hopeless.
Anita Mae Draper historical romances are woven under the western skies of the Saskatchewan prairie where her love of research and genealogy yield fascinating truths that layer her writing with rich historical details. Her Christian faith is reflected in her stories of forgiveness and redemption as her characters struggle to find their way to that place in our heart we call home. Anita loves to correspond with her readers through any of the social media links found on her website at www.anitamaedraper.com.
Readers can enrich their reading experience by checking out Anita’s story boards on Pinterest at www.pinterest.com/anitamaedraper.
Hometown Heiress
by Patty Smith Hall
Chapter 1
Atlanta, 1895
It wasn’t every day a plum job dropped in Matthew Langley’s lap, but today looked to be his day. He studied the impeccably dressed gentleman opposite him and wondered how the man even knew him. Granted, Matt was making a name for himself at the Atlanta Journal and Constitution, but this was Senator George Evers. The man was already well respected in the Georgia political landscape. Why, he had almost single-handedly pushed the notion of the Cotton States and International Exposition through the state house, picking up financial backing as well as making a name for himself on the national political stage along the way. In some high-ranking circles, a possible run for the governorship was already being whispered about.
Today, Evers had given Matt the scoop he’d waited his entire career for. The senator would run for governor, and he’d offered Matt the plummy job of press liaison.
“I expected more of a response from my future press liaison than silence.” Evers’s salt-and-pepper eyebrows knitted together in slight annoyance.
Matt chuckled. “Even wordsmiths are rendered mute at times. Of course, I’m honored.” He paused to pick his next words carefully. “I’m just not sure why you picked me for this position. Many others are far more experienced in political journalism than I am. Take my editor, Mr. Taylor. He actually has experience on Capitol Hill.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of hiring you, young man?”
“No, I’m …” Matt wasn’t certain what point he was trying to make, only that the man needed to know he had other more experienced options. “It just seems a little unusual that you’d want a beat reporter to be in charge of your press office.”
Evers sat back and studied him for a long moment. “You did write those exposés concerning the social ills of our state that everyone is talking about, correct?”
Matt didn’t know where the senator was going with this. “Yes, sir.”
“And you’re moving people to respond. I tell you when I read your piece on the continued decline of the working class thirty years after the war and the effects of the recent depression, I thought you provided some extraordinary insight into the mind-set of the working poor.”
Not insights but realities. Ones he was very familiar with growing up on the outskirts of Athens. Some nights he hadn’t known where his next meal was coming from. “Thank you.”
“It made me want to storm the halls of the state capitol and get to work on legislation that would help our people.”
Exactly the kind of reaction Matt had hoped to provoke. He smiled slightly. “I’m glad it prompted you to act, sir.”
“A person would have to be dead not to feel for those people.” The senator hesitated for a moment. “I truly believe it was your article that was the deciding factor in my decision to run for governor.”
Matt wasn’t sure whether to believe the man—he was, after all, a politician—but he couldn’t deny the sense of pride he felt at the senator’s comment. “Thank you.”
“And it’s why I’m offering you the job as my press liaison rather than one of those other journalists you mentioned. You see, I believe my campaign should focus on the issues that plague our society like poverty and inhumane living conditions. Certainly, I can do some of that in the state senate, and I have. But there, I’m just one of many. As governor, I can influence the house and senate to consider these problems and write bills that can make a difference.”
The senator sounded earnest, but then most politicians did until they were elected. True, Evers had voted for a recent relief bill, but most of his record favored state industry leaders. “This is a mighty big shift in your public policy, more than a simple article could sway you to make.”
“Yes, well, I recently visited a friend. You might know him, Martin Eison.”
Who didn’t know of Mr. Eison? He owned the largest textile mills in south Georgia. Matt nodded. “I’ve heard of him.”
“Most people have. Anyway, I went to see him at his office and was stunned by what I found.” Evers leaned forward, his fingers white from their grip on the chair. “Children, some as young as five or six, on the floor of his mill. Some were running around barefoot, and I couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time any of them had eaten.”
Five years old! Matt’s temper spiked. Working in a mill wasn’t any place for a kid. He should know. “Did you confront Mr. Eison with your concerns?”
“Of course I did. Even told him the legal working age in Georgia was twelve. But Martin refused to be swayed. Said the children’s paychecks were the only thing keeping food on the family’s dinner table.”
Probably true, but still. To have a five-year-old running a machine. Even Mr. Perkinson, the owner of the mill where he’d worked as a boy, didn’t hire anyone younger than eight.
Matt studied the senator. Was he truly interested in improving the lives of the poor? Or was it just a way to win the governor’s mansion? “Well, I don’t think you should take on too much. Maybe focus on one hot-button issue like unsafe work conditions or low pay.”
“You’ve got a point there.” Evers tapped his finger against his lips as though rummaging through the possibilities, then glanced over at Matt. “After what I saw, I want to focus my attention on abolishing child labor.”
A tingle of excitement nestled in the pit of Matt’s stomach. It was a topic he himself was passionate about, but every article he’d turned in to his editor had been rejected for the same reason. He was too close to the subject matter to be objective.
Maybe this was his opportunity. His chance to help a young boy or girl not endure the same kind of childhood he’d had. “I think that will work well with the public.”
Evers leaned back in his chair. “I think you’re right, son, though it most likely won’t sit well with Martin.”
“He backe
d your last campaign, didn’t he?”
The man nodded, something almost sad in his expression. “Martin was like a brother to me and had been one of my staunchest supporters. We haven’t spoken since I confronted him about the children he employs in his mills. I have to admit I didn’t worry about the older children working there—Martin had always been good to them—but five-year-olds.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Martin claims he stood to lose his fortune if he complied with my request, though I don’t see how that’s possible. The entire operation is run by children.”
Matt sat back. Wasn’t this the reason he’d studied journalism in the first place? To help right the wrongs in society, to make a difference in the world? And here was a man willing to fight alongside him at great peril to his political career. “You know I’ll have to confirm everything you’ve told me.”
“Of course, and I have someone I think might be able to help you with that.” The senator reached down, opened his satchel, and pulled out a file. He handed it to Matt. “Dania Eison is extremely knowledgeable on this subject and could turn out to be a valuable asset.”
Matt looked at the file in his hands then back at Evers. “Dan…?”
“It’s pronounced Dan-ya. She’s heiress to the Eison textile mills. I don’t know how much she understands about the business—you know how young women with money are—but I’m sure if you ask her the right questions, she can confirm that there are young children working at the family mill.” The senator nodded. “Yes, I’d start with her.”
An heiress with no thought to the needs of others as long as her own comforts were met, the heartless creature. Yes, he’d like to meet Miss Eison and put her in her place. But he couldn’t just walk up to an heiress and start a conversation. “How can I make her acquaintance?”
“Oh, I’ve taken care of that.” Evers gripped the arms of the chair and pushed to his feet. “Dania is due to arrive tomorrow to attend the exposition and do some shopping in the city. I told her I’ve made arrangements for an escort while she’s here.”
The American Heiress Brides Collection Page 28