Lorna Seilstad

by When Love Calls

  More than once, Hannah almost ducked as he swung his massive arms about. “Given the events of late, I imagine a disgruntled employee might draw the attention of the investigators. Have you been questioned?”

  In one stride, he stepped so close she was within arm’s reach. He glared down at her. “Are you accusing me?”

  “No, sir, why would I do that? Walt’s the one who’s been charged.”

  “Good, ’cause he’s the one who did it.” He motioned with his hand. “Go on. Git out of here and leave us be.”

  Hannah hurried to her bicycle and turned it toward the path.

  George stepped in her way. “You best keep your mouth shut, Hannah, and not stir up any trouble, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Are you speaking for yourself or your father?”

  He looked back toward his father and then at her. “Both.”

  She mounted the velocipede. “In case you haven’t noticed, George, keeping my mouth shut isn’t one of my strong suits.”

  “Charlotte won’t believe you even if you tell her about me.”

  She gave a wry laugh. “We’ll see about that.”

  Where was Hannah?

  Lincoln walked to the end of the block and looked both directions. An uneasy feeling tugged at him. When he’d arrived around six, Charlotte had told him Hannah had taken the bicycle about an hour earlier, saying she had an errand to run. She’d never been late to any of their planned activities before, so what was keeping her now? Did she have an accident on the bicycle somewhere? He could go look for her, but where would he start?

  A dot in the distance appeared and took shape. She rode in his direction, and the closer she came, the more he relaxed. She’d probably lost track of time while shopping, or her errand took longer than she’d planned.

  She pulled up beside him and stopped. “Is it supper time already? What are you doing all the way down the block from the house?”

  “Looking for you.” He cocked his head to the side. “I was getting worried. Is everything all right?”

  “Yes and no.” She dismounted and glanced toward the house. “Can we talk about it after supper? I’m sure the girls are starving.”

  Everything in Lincoln wanted to make her stay and explain what she meant, but he kept reminding himself that love is patient. He took the two-wheeler from her to push it home while they walked.

  “Did you see Walt?” he asked.

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “That’s what we need to talk about.”

  Even though Charlotte had made a delicious supper of chicken and dumplings, spinach, and strawberries for dessert, Lincoln scarcely thought of what he was eating. The possibilities Hannah had implied kept tumbling in his mind.

  He prayed Walt had given her a name. Although Lincoln hadn’t said anything, he had other fears about whom it might be. He’d considered sharing his concerns with Hannah but decided he didn’t want to frighten her with doubtful possibilities.

  Ever since their night at the Williamses’ home, he’d been second-guessing the fire. Both Cedric and Albert had departed before the fire started, and given Albert’s history, anything was possible. He pushed the thought aside. If Pete was concerned about Albert’s involvement, he’d say something, and Pete knew his son better than anyone.

  After washing up the supper dishes, Lincoln suggested he and Hannah go for a drive. Once they reached Ingersoll Park, he took her hand and directed her down the path leading to the lake. They walked in silence for several minutes.

  When they reached the lake, he drew her toward the white bridge that spanned the still, blue waters. Their shoes clattered against the bridge’s wooden slats, the only noise save the honking of some geese nearby.

  “You’ve kept me in suspense long enough, I think,” Lincoln said. They stopped beneath a latticed cover at the center of the bridge, and he turned to her. “What did Walt tell you? Did he give you a name?”

  “He did.” Tears filled her eyes.

  Lincoln’s heart stuttered. “Hannah, who is it?”

  “One of the men who’d been blacklisted by Western Union—Joe Donnelly.”

  “And?” He kept his voice calm, as he’d learned to do when a reluctant witness was on the stand. But why did this upset her to the point of tears?

  “He’s George’s father.”

  “There are other Donnellys in the city. Are you sure?”

  She nodded and turned toward the lake. Placing her hands on the railing, she stared out an arched window in the bridge’s covering. “I know because I went to his house and checked.”

  “You went there? Alone?” A vice gripped his chest. How could Hannah do something so dangerous? His voice rose. “He could be the arsonist. What were you thinking?”

  “For Charlotte’s sake, I had to know if he was related to George.” She let go of the railing and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “And you didn’t think I would go to his house to find out if it was George’s father, or even that we could go there together?” His chest heaved, and he struck the railing with his fist. The lattice overhead vibrated. “No, of course you didn’t think that, because you’re so all-fired determined to do it all on your own. Like always. When are you going to realize you’re not on your own anymore? How are we ever going to have a relationship if you keep living as if I’m not there for you?”

  “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

  “Am I?” He held her shoulders. “Don’t you realize the kind of danger you put yourself in? If he’s the arsonist, he likes to blow things up for fun, and now he knows you suspect him.”

  She turned, lips drawn tight like the strings of a purse. “I’m not ignorant. I let Mr. Donnelly believe I was there because of Charlotte and George’s relationship.”

  “Then you said nothing about the fires?”

  “I only asked if he once worked for Western Union, as Walt had said he did, and pointed out that a disgruntled former employee might draw some attention in a case like this.”

  “You didn’t.” He rubbed his aching temple. “Hannah, you might as well have accused the man.”

  She stiffened. “But I didn’t accuse him.”

  “Then what did he say?”

  “He said Walt was guilty.” With steely determination, she met his gaze. “And he suggested I leave.”

  “That’s all?” He narrowed his eyes. Hannah was hiding something. “Did George add anything?”

  Her eyes flicked downward, then back at him. “He might have told me to keep my mouth shut—but I believe he was mostly referring to what I’d seen involving him and not the fires.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When I arrived.” Her cheeks reddened. “I found him kissing a girl outside the house.”

  “The cad.” He rubbed his collarbone, his breath coming quick. “The sooner he’s out of Charlotte’s life, the better.” Never before had Lincoln wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands as much as he did at this moment. He needed the facts, and he needed to get them now. He knew only one way to do that.

  “So.” He assumed his courtroom persona. “Let me get this straight. After weeks of Walt refusing to give us the name of the man he believes might be setting the fires, you got him to finally disclose it. Then, without telling anyone—especially me, his attorney and the man who loves you—where you were going, you found the man’s address and went there, only to discover that his son, who’s been seeing your sister, was kissing another girl.”

  She started to speak, but he held up his hand. “Then, instead of simply leaving, not only did you let the suspected arsonist know that you are friends with the man who’s accused of setting the fires, but you also made sure he was aware he’d make an excellent suspect.”

  His mouth rigid, his jaw flexing, he went on. “And I’m taking a wild guess here, but when George told you to keep your mouth shut, he did mean both about his dad and about his little kissing scene, and you let him know yo
u had no intention of being quiet about either. Would you say that was an accurate summary?”

  She flinched, then squared her shoulders. “Don’t make it sound like I’m on trial.”

  His voice, hard as steel, grew louder. Anger tinted his words. “I’ll do what I want. You certainly do.”

  If her glare could start a fire, he’d be ablaze.

  Let her be mad. Let her stew about it. It served her right.

  Love is patient. Love is kind.

  The words hit him again. Obviously, Paul hadn’t dealt with a Hannah Gregory before he wrote that.

  He drew in a long breath and released it slowly. When he spoke, he forced his voice to come out softer. “Why didn’t you let me take you? Then we could have gone to talk to him together.”

  “You wouldn’t have let me go with you to talk to him if I’d spoken to you first, and we both know it.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. She wasn’t making this easy. “But Hannah, don’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve given him a warning. If there’s any evidence at his home linking him to the crime, he’ll know to destroy it now, and if he is questioned or arrested, he’ll be pointing his dynamite-holding fingers right at you.”

  She blinked, and her voice grew quiet. “I didn’t think about that.” Her chin quivered, and she covered it with her hand. “George knows where we live. If something happens to Charlotte or Tess—”

  He drew her into his arms and tucked her head against his shoulder. “Shhh. We’ll figure this out. You’re right, I wouldn’t have let you go, and then we’d not have learned about George and the other girl. That’s important too, but we’ve got to learn to trust each other.”

  “I know,” she mumbled into his shirt. “What if he comes to the house?”

  “It’ll be okay. I don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you or the girls, but I wanted you to see how much danger you put yourself in.”

  She tipped her head up toward his, her hazel eyes awash in tears. “I’m sorry. I should have come to you.”

  “Do you like my hair?”

  “What?” She tilted her head to the side, revealing her creamy neck. “Why are you asking that now?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, very much.”

  “Good. Next time you think of going off all by yourself on some tangent, think how my nice head of brown hair will be turning gray if you don’t stop scaring me.”

  Her lips curled in a genuine smile. She lifted her hand and touched the hair at his temple. “I think I’d like you gray too.”

  He captured her hand in his and kissed the fingertips. “And if I have my way, someday you’ll get to find out if you do.”

  A look that gave Lincoln goose bumps crossed Hannah’s face. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and he could no more keep from kissing her than keep her from taking chances. His lips claimed hers in a hot, velvety moment. Could she feel his love? Did she realize he’d do anything to protect her? Would she ever trust him with that corner of her heart just beyond his grasp?

  He wrapped his hands around her waist, drawing her closer, letting his lips say what his words could not. He dotted kisses on her jawline, and she tipped her head, giving him access to her neck. His lips moved restlessly across her neck, and he felt her body shudder against him.

  Drawing on every ounce of self-control, he cupped her face in his hands and pulled away. Her flushed face and swollen lips made him want to take her in his arms all over again, every day, for the rest of his life.

  She looked bewildered at the loss of his kisses. Lincoln smiled. Hannah had no idea what she stirred in him.

  He touched his lips to her forehead and drew her against his chest. The almond scent of her maple-syrup-colored hair reached him. Gently moving his thumb, he drew circles on the back of her neck.

  When had she won his heart? That first day they met, when she so bravely spoke to him? When she came to ask for help for her friend? When she pulled him into the lake?

  It wasn’t one moment. It was a hundred little ones. And he hoped there’d be a lifetime more to come.

  42

  Another kiss at the door left Hannah breathless. She entered the house, closed the door, and leaned against the solid wood. She pressed two fingers to her lips while she held her other hand against her stomach, and warmth shot to her still-tingling limbs.

  Lord, please help me be worthy of Lincoln’s love.

  She wanted his love more than anything, but she could feel a reluctant tug even in the afterglow of his touch. How did she explain what was holding her back? Would he understand she was afraid of losing herself? What if she had to give up all control to a man? Even if it were Lincoln?

  “There you are.” Tessa rounded the corner. “When did you get home, and why are you standing there looking all weird?”

  Hannah pushed away from the door. “Did you need something, Tess?”

  “I wanted to show you the new headline and story I found.” She held out a clipping.

  The headline drew Hannah in—“Boy tells of awful plotting.” Hannah scanned the article. At the top, Tessa had penciled in a February date. Hannah was shocked to learn about a son reporting that his mother planned to murder many with her infernal machine of terrible power.

  She glanced at Tessa. “Have you seen other articles on this court case?”

  “Oh, sure, they were in the newspaper all the time back then.” She pointed a finger toward the clipping. “But this one had the best story and description of the infernal device. Can you imagine a woman plotting to kill a judge?”

  Could their arsonist have read articles like these? Enough detail was given that someone with some knowledge of science and a bit of creativity could construct one of these devices. She closed her eyes and tried to picture what she’d seen in Albert’s workroom. It all seemed like a blur. Perhaps if she could speak with Albert alone, she could feign an interest in these articles and gauge his reaction.

  “Thank you, Tessa. I’ll show this to Lincoln to see if it might be related to the arson case.” She kissed her sister’s cheek. “You head off to bed. I want to talk to Charlotte alone for a few minutes.”

  Tessa frowned but trotted up the stairs.

  Hannah sent up a silent prayer of thanks and headed into the parlor. Charlotte sat in an armchair, reading a copy of Ladies’ Home Journal. Rosie had brought over several issues the other day.

  Charlotte looked up and smiled. “Did you enjoy your drive?”

  “Yes, we did.” Hannah sat down on the couch. “How are you doing? I know you were angry with me. Are you still?”

  Charlotte closed her magazine. “Mostly not. I can see that maybe I wasn’t really acting like myself.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Hannah sighed. How should she proceed? Charlotte was going to be devastated. Hannah prayed God would give her wisdom and temper her words. “Have you heard from George at all?”

  Her sister shook her head. “He doesn’t care much for writing, even in school, and this time apart has given me a lot of time to think.”

  “I’m glad, but you should know I went to George’s house today.”

  “You did?” Charlotte’s round eyes lit up. “Did he send a message?”

  “Sort of.”

  Charlotte’s brows drew together. “Hannah, what is it? Is something wrong?”

  “When I arrived, I saw him kissing another girl.”

  “Maybe she was a cousin.” Charlotte’s voice caught. She stood and walked to the mantel. Unshed tears filled her eyes.

  “You don’t kiss a cousin in that manner.”

  Tears rolled down Charlotte’s cheeks. After a few seconds, she swiped them away with the back of her hand, took a deep breath, and pushed her shoulders back.

  “It’s not me.” Her eyes were wide. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” A bubble of laughter erupted from her throat.

  Was her sister going insane? “Charlotte?” Hannah asked. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m perf
ect.” She stood and spun in a circle like a little girl in a meadow. “Don’t you see? I’m perfectly fine the way I am.”

  “Honey, what are you talking about?”

  She stopped and clasped her hands to her chest. “All this time, I’ve been trying to be what he wanted me to be. I was trying to make him happy. But it isn’t that I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or fast enough. I let him try to remake me. I tried to become more lovable for him, but it would never have been enough. I wasn’t even there this time, and he didn’t care enough to wait two weeks for me.”

  “That’s exactly right, but—”

  “Never again.” Charlotte took Hannah’s hands and pulled her to her feet. “From here on out, I’m not changing for anyone, ever again. I’m going to be who God made me to be. Period.”

  “And what does this new woman want?”

  Charlotte lifted her chin. “I’m Charlotte Gregory, and I want to go to Fannie Farmer’s School of Cookery.”

  “And I promise to see that you do.”

  The bright June sunshine contrasted with the dark interior of the jail. It took Lincoln’s eyes a few minutes to adjust before he could ask to see Walt Calloway.

  The jailer’s keys jangled as he unlocked the cell and motioned Lincoln inside. After snagging a chair from the hall, Lincoln entered and set the chair down. The door clanged shut, and he heard the familiar rattling of keys as the jailer locked the door behind him.

  Walt sat up on his cot. “Good news?”

  “That’s up to you.” He straddled the chair. “Do you know what Hannah did after you gave her Donnelly’s name?”

  “I told her to tell you.” Walt rubbed his whiskered chin. “But I can tell by the look on your face she didn’t. Please tell me she did not go there alone.”

  “She did.”

  “I can’t believe she did that. I specifically told her not to.”

  “And you thought that would work? How long have you known her?” The muscle in his jaw ticked, and his frustration threatened to give way to anger. But his anger would be misplaced. No matter how hard he wanted to make it Walt’s fault, Hannah had put herself and the case at risk, not Walt. She’d made the choice all on her own, and she’d do it again if the opportunity arose. That was why he had to convince Walt to cooperate with him.