Winning Olivia's Heart

by Mary Davis

  Unable to wait until Sunday to talk to her, he’d figured a buggy ride was the perfect ruse. He hadn’t anticipated she’d be so worn-out from the week that she wouldn’t be able to stay awake. She obviously needed the rest, and he wouldn’t disturb her.

  He settled back in the seat and listened to her even breathing. He would enjoy this time of peace with her. For when she woke, she likely wouldn’t be too happy with him. So he would pretend all was well between them for now.

  In time, she would forget about the supper with Violet and forgive him. But he sensed that her resistance to him was something more. He would figure out what and fix that, as well.

  After half an hour, Troy knew it wouldn’t be proper to stay any longer. With his free hand, he managed to grip the reins, release the brake, and turn the horse back up the road. When he reined in at Liv’s house, she still hadn’t woken. He put it off a few minutes longer, enjoying the serenity.

  The time had come to bear the consequences of letting her sleep. He kissed the top of her head. “Liv?”

  Though her breathing changed, she didn’t stir.

  He jostled her. “Liv? Wake up.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she sat upright.

  He slipped his arm from around her before she noticed. “Wait there.” He grabbed the umbrella, jumped down, and came around to her side.

  She accepted his hand and stepped down.

  Holding her umbrella over them, he walked her onto the porch.

  Granny Bradshaw opened the door. “Troy, come in.”

  “Thank you, but I need to get the rig back.” He closed the umbrella and shook off the rain before handing it to Liv.

  She took it, thanked him, and disappeared inside.

  That had been peculiar. She hadn’t railed at him or shown any displeasure with him. This new docile Liv scared him.

  Maybe having worked a week would make her more amenable to his offer of help when he spoke with her tomorrow.

  * * *

  Olivia couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep in the buggy next to Troy yesterday. She did her best not to look at him today. Traveling to and from church and even at church hadn’t been a problem. But sitting across from him at their dinner table was another matter.

  She stood and collected the dirty dishes.

  Troy stood as well and picked up two plates. “I’ll help.”

  “That’s all right. I can manage.” She held her hand out for the plates he had.

  He flashed his dimpled smile and sauntered into the kitchen.

  Grrr. He was going to be difficult today. She would just have to order him out of the kitchen.

  After setting the plates on the counter, Troy rolled up his sleeves. “I’ll wash.”

  Her bluster left her. Her dry, cracked hands ached from extra laundry and packing salmon all week. She couldn’t turn him down. He was making himself a blessing.

  He shaved soap into the dishpan, poured in hot water from the kettle and slipped several dishes into the soapy water.

  She was about to warn him that the water was nearly scalding, but he plunged his hands in.

  She waited.

  He didn’t pull them out.

  “Isn’t that water too hot?”

  “A bit, but I don’t want it to get too cold before I finish.”

  Maybe it wasn’t as hot as she thought it was. But still hotter than she could stand.

  After Troy finished washing the dishes, he stood behind her and planted his hands on the counter on either side of her.

  She faced him. “What are you doing?” His nearness caused her heart to speed up and her breath to catch.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “You can talk from over there.” She pointed across the room.

  “I don’t want you running away from me.”

  Her anger flared, and she pushed on his arm. “Oh, let me go.”

  “Keep your voice down. You don’t want your mother and grandmother to come in here. What I have to say is not for them to hear. It’s for you alone. Unless you decide to tell them.”

  Mother and Gran didn’t need to be unnecessarily upset. Olivia settled back against the counter and folded her arms. Let him think his nearness had no affect on her. “What?”

  “I know why you took the job at the cannery and are taking in laundry and mending.”

  She straightened her shoulders. What did he know?

  “Your father’s money is gone.”

  How did he know?

  “I thought he’d had enough to last the three of you for years. The rent on this place is due. If you don’t pay, you’ll all be out on the street.”

  How did he know all that? “It’s none of your concern.”

  He gripped her shoulders. “It is my concern, because I love you.” He paused, studying her face.

  For an instant, she thought he might ask—no demand—to marry her. With small, tight motions, she shook her head.

  He drew in a deep breath. “I have money in the bank and have made a few good investments. I’ll pay your rent so you don’t have to work your fingers to the bone and still not have enough.”

  He wanted to help them? But what would it cost her? He would feel as though he would have the right to make demands on her time and attention. While dallying with every lady who looked his way.

  She stamped her foot and spoke in a whisper. “No. And you will not tell Mother and Gran. We’ll manage.”

  He grabbed her hands and turned them over. “Look at your hands.”

  They were red and chapped. She pulled them free and fisted them. “They aren’t so bad.” But they would be in time. She would also get used to the pain in time. Wouldn’t she?

  “You fell asleep in the buggy yesterday. For an hour. You are so exhausted.”

  She swatted his chest. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep.”

  Though he kept his voice low, it was tinged with anger. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “I’m not doing anything to myself. I’m doing it for them.” She pointed toward the parlor.

  “But you don’t have to. Let me help.”

  Tears burned her eyes, and she shook her head, more deliberately this time. “I need to do this myself.”

  “Why?”

  She didn’t want to depend on him or anyone else. The pain of abandonment when someone left was unbearable. She could depend on only herself. “I just do. Please go.”

  “That’s it?”

  She nodded.

  He stared at her a moment before releasing her. “You are too stubborn for your own good.” He yanked at his shirtsleeves to unroll them. “You are like an old mule sinking in the mud, refusing help.” He marched out of the kitchen and through the parlor.

  He didn’t even reply to Mother’s inquiry if all was well.

  Olivia’s unspent tears spilled over.

  She wasn’t stubborn.

  She was…

  She was…

  She slapped her tears away.

  She was not stubborn.

  Chapter 9

  On Monday, Troy sat in Nick’s trap outside the cannery. Waiting. He had fidgeted in his office all day, debating with himself whether or not to give Liv a ride home. He knew she would be tired. But he also knew she would likely cause a fuss, squaring her shoulders and insisting she could manage on her own. He had a mind to let her walk. Then she would come to her senses and allow him to help her.

  But here he was, waiting for her. He was still upset with her for not accepting his assistance. It would serve her right to walk home, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that to her. He would do what needed to be done whether she liked it or not.

  When the door to the cannery opened, Troy jumped down to intercept Liv. An overpowering odor of fish wafted out with the workers.

  Liv exited with another girl much younger than she was.

  He stood in her path. “Hello, Liv.”

  She stopped and tilted her head back to look at him.

  Her friend sta
red at him, too. “Oh, my.” She held out her hand. “I’m Sally.”

  Troy doffed his cap and gripped it with both hands to avoid taking Sally’s hand. He didn’t need that kind of trouble in front of Liv again. “I’m pleased to meet any friend of Olivia’s.”

  Sally shifted her gaze to Liv, waved, and walked away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Liv waved back but continued to stare at Troy.

  He couldn’t tell if she was trying to come up with a retort or trying to figure out what he was doing there. Or was she just too tired to speak? He held up his hand. “You don’t have to say a word. I have Nick’s trap here to take you home. You can either go nicely, like a lady, or I can throw you over my shoulder and toss you in. The choice is yours.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. Then she stepped over to the rig, held up a limp hand and waited.

  That had been easier than he thought it would be, without having to threaten to manhandle her a second time. He took her hand, assisted her up, and then settled in beside her. “You don’t have to say anything.” He snapped the reins. The trap lurched forward.

  He was tempted to talk her into accepting his help and quitting the cannery. But he’d told her she didn’t have to talk, so baiting her, though fun, would be unfair.

  At her house, he stopped and helped her down.

  She didn’t immediately hurry away from him but stood, looking down. He was about to ask if she was all right when she spoke. “Thank you.”

  That surprised him. “You’re welcome.”

  He brushed her lips with his to remind her whose girl she was. She didn’t resist or pull away. Nor did she lean into him as she normally did. She remained impassive. He supposed that was progress.

  She turned from him and walked up to her door without looking back. Walked might have been too generous. Shuffled would have been closer. She looked as though she might topple over.

  Why wouldn’t she just let him help her?

  Each day that week he drove her home in silence.

  Each day her “thank you” became more and more tired, until Friday, when it came out as a sigh. This life was beating her down. He couldn’t stand by and watch any longer. But what could he do?

  * * *

  The following Sunday at the conclusion of the service, Olivia sought out Mr. Ingers in the churchyard. She made sure Mother, Gran, and especially Troy were nowhere near her. “Mr. Ingers?”

  The portly older man smiled. “Good day, Miss Bradshaw.”

  “I wanted to let you know that we have some of the money for the rent. We might not have all we owe by the end of the month, but we will have most of it.” She hoped he would give them an extension. If not, she would have to consider asking to borrow money from Troy for what additional funds they required.

  “No need to worry.”

  “Then you’ll allow us a little more time?”

  “That won’t be necessary. Your rent is paid up, as well as next month’s.”

  A moment of relief flooded Olivia before dread pressed in on her. “What—how—who?”

  “Mr. Morrison. He asked me to go directly to him if there are any further issues.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Mr. Ingers looked taken aback. “He is a man, after all. You should be grateful. Good day.” He tipped his hat and walked away.

  Olivia fisted her hands. How dare Troy go behind her back? She should be grateful, but not after she had explicitly told Troy not to interfere. Though appreciative to not have the imminent worry of losing the roof over their heads, she was now forcibly indebted to him. Troy had acted without permission. Without consulting her. And Mr. Ingers thought that because Troy was a man, his actions were justified and he could do anything he wanted.

  “You ready to leave?”

  She spun to face Troy. “With you?”

  His pleasant expression turned to concern. “What is it?”

  She planted her fists on her hips. “You! You paid Mr. Ingers our rent.” Would he now force her to marry him?

  His concern turned to dismay. “I had hoped to be the one to tell you. I was going to bring it up at dinner.”

  She shook her index finger at him. “How dare you do this?”

  “What do you mean, how dare I? I did it for you.”

  “But I told you not to.”

  “You are unbelievable.”

  “I’ve never been so angry at you.”

  “Even when you caught Violet kissing me a year ago?”

  She couldn’t believe his audacity to bring that up. “That wasn’t anger—that was hurt. You cut my heart out. This is anger!” She stomped her foot on the grass.

  “You’re angry with me? I’m angry with you.”

  Liv glared. “Angry with me? For what?”

  “For not coming to me and telling me how bad things were. For not asking me for help. For being so stubborn.”

  She had intended to ask him for assistance if need be, but he’d taken that option away from her. “It was not your place to see to our debts. I will pay you back every penny.”

  “I won’t accept it. Anything you try to give me in payment will go straight into the Bradshaw account at the bank.”

  How was she supposed to be self-sufficient if he was going to do things for her? Without asking? “I don’t need your help.”

  “Yes, you do. You may not want it, but you need it. Let me help you.”

  “Evidently, you don’t require my permission. You’ve taken it upon yourself.”

  He straightened. “Yes, I did. For your own good. I won’t stand by and do nothing while you work yourself into an early grave. Not when I have the means to help.”

  Tears burned her eyes. “I don’t want your help.”

  He stretched out his arms. “Why not? Would you rather lose your home? Think about your mother and grandmother.”

  She was. That was the reason she had taken the job at the cannery and worked so hard. And why she knew she would need to go to him for help eventually. But she wanted to do it in her own time, not have it forced upon her. “I don’t want to depend on you—on anyone.”

  “Why not? Because you think something is going to happen to me because your father died?”

  She didn’t want to think about Father and his failings, so she nodded.

  “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

  She hated that he remained so calm while she battled every emotion inside her. “It could.” Just the thought hurt.

  “It’s not.”

  But it could. Look at Mother and Father.

  * * *

  Troy drew in a slow breath. He must remain calm. If he allowed his emotions to get as heated as Liv’s, that would only make matters worse. He took Liv’s hand, and she winced. He gripped her wrist and tugged off her white glove. “Look at this, Liv. Your hands are so raw you can hardly move them.” He hated seeing her like this.

  She pulled her hand away.

  “Now quit that silly job at the cannery. You don’t need it.”

  “Silly? You think me silly? You can’t tell me what to do.”

  He hadn’t been calling her silly. Why must she twist his words? His previously well-controlled emotions boiled over. “And you can’t tell me what to do.” He threw up his hands. “There is no reasoning with you anymore. We used to be able to talk. Now you take everything I say and turn it around. I’m through, Liv. I’m through. I can’t put up with your behavior any longer.” He walked away, needing time to bridle his anger.

  He stopped at the pump and jerked the handle up and down. If this were an open well, he would consider jumping in. The water flowed, splashing onto the ground at his feet, splattering mud on his boots. That’s how he felt with Liv these days. He wanted to throttle her. And he would, if he thought it would do any good.

  How had life gotten this way? All topsy-turvy. Less than three weeks ago, he had been euphoric and ready to propose. Now his life was utter chaos. He and Liv had never had a fight this bad before.
>
  The stream trickled to a stop. He pumped again, cupped his hands under the cool water and splashed his face. He took several deep breaths to tame his anger.

  Once he had control of his temper, he found Mrs. Bradshaw and Granny Bradshaw saying their farewells to Pastor Kearns. “Are you ladies ready to leave?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Granny Bradshaw stepped away from the back of the wheelchair.

  Mrs. Bradshaw tilted her head back to look up at him. “Where is Olivia? I thought she was with you.”

  He moved behind the chair so he wouldn’t have to face her. “I’m not sure where she’s off to.” She could have gone anywhere in the interim. “I’m sure she’ll be along in a minute.” But he doubted that. Liv was furious enough with him to walk around the entire island just to avoid him. And he hadn’t helped by letting his anger get the better of him.

  He pushed the wheelchair to the buggy, helped the two ladies in and fastened the chair onto the back. Glancing around the churchyard, he saw no sign of Liv. It would serve her right if he left her behind. Or maybe she’d already stormed off home.

  He gripped the side of the buggy to climb in but stopped at Mrs. Bradshaw’s touch. He looked into her concerned blue eyes and exhaled. “I’m going to see if Liv’s ready to go. I’ll be right back.”

  The gratitude on Mrs. Bradshaw’s face told him he’d made the right decision. He trotted off and found Liv right where he’d left her. “Your mother and grandmother are waiting for you in the buggy.”

  She sucked in a breath and jerked her head, having not heard him approach. “Oh.”

  Her red-rimmed eyes pulled at his heart.

  He opened his arms and stepped toward her. “Oh, Liv.”

  She stepped back, shaking her head.

  He stopped. “Be reasonable.”

  “Because you’re a man, you know what’s reasonable? You know what is best?”

  He didn’t want this argument starting all over again. He’d just gotten his anger under control. “Your family’s waiting. Now come along.”

  “I’ll walk home.”

  He should let her, but her mother would be disappointed. And Granny might pester him as to why. He didn’t want to explain this to them right now. It would be easier if Liv just came. “Your mother and grandmother expect you in the buggy. You will ride home with them. So you can either come on your own nicely, or I can throw you over my shoulder kicking and screaming. What’s it going to be?” This threat had worked before. But the last time he’d said it in jest. This time he would carry out the threat.