by Janet Dean
“I’m at fault, really. I upset him with my nagging, with asking too many questions. Rory hates being badgered.”
Carly bit back a sigh. Debby wasn’t listening, didn’t want to hear the warning. “I know you. You’re a sweet girl. I’m sure your questions are what any prospective bride would ask her groom. If you can’t talk to him now, how—”
“I need to go,” Debby said. “Grandpa’s probably finished with his errands and waiting for me in the wagon.”
Debby hustled toward the entrance and met Nate strolling in. He tipped his hat and held the door for her, then turned his gaze on Carly, a smile on his lips, warmth in his gaze.
The solid strength of the man gave her hope good men existed. If only Debby would examine the facts before it was too late. For, in her bones, Carly knew Rory was trouble.
* * *
Carly’s welcoming smile drew Nate to her like a well-aimed lariat. He longed to take her hand, to pull her close.
Instead he would focus on the reason he’d come. “From the way she scurried out, I’d say Miss Pence is upset.” He searched Carly’s upturned face. “Know what about?”
“Rory hasn’t set a wedding date. The more I hear about the man, the more I hope and pray she doesn’t marry him.”
If Rory and Stogsdill were one and the same, the lack of a wedding date meant the outlaw wasn’t in the area. Yet.
“I don’t understand what Debby sees in him.” He glanced around the shop. “Where’s Anna?”
“She looked exhausted when she came in this morning so I insisted she get away from the shop awhile,” Carly said, stacking the bolts of fabric on the counter and straightening their edges with precision, as if avoiding him. “She’s having tea with the Sample’s widowed daughter, Elnora.”
“That was thoughtful of you.”
“You sound surprised.” She looked up at him from realigning bolts of fabric.
Aware they were alone in the shop, Nate’s heart tripped in his chest. He took a step closer.
“Do you need to speak with Anna?” she said, gathering up the bolts and carrying them to a cabinet. “I’ll tell—”
“No, I came in to, uh, let you know I talked with Debby’s grandfather,” he said, struggling to stay focused on his mission, not on those mesmerizing eyes, not on her smile, not on the sunny, warm day outside the window, perfect to whisk her away on a picnic.
“What did Mr. Pence have to say?”
“I mentioned I’d met Debby at the shop and eased the conversation around to her engagement. Pence opened up, admitted he has little use for Rory, but suspects his granddaughter would run off if she’s forbidden to see him.”
Carly nodded. “I agree.”
“Why would she want to marry this guy? How much could she know about him?”
“I’m sure she has qualms but is ignoring her better judgment. She sees Rory as exciting, as a man who will take her away from a tedious life.”
“Better tedious than terrifying.”
“Undoubtedly, Rory has made Debby grand promises.” Carly sighed, the sound wrenching. “Too many women make that mistake. They want more, they want...to move forward in life. Sometimes when they want something so badly, they ignore the warning signs.”
Nate’s stomach tightened. “You speak as if you know this firsthand.”
She averted her gaze. “I just see Debby making a mistake. It worries me. I suspect Rory doesn’t treat her right, but she’s blaming herself and her grandparents, instead of putting the blame on him, where it belongs.”
“Why would a woman blame herself when a man doesn’t know how to be a good man?”
A bittersweet smile crossed Carly’s lips. “Sometimes in the rush to have her dream, a woman forgets to look at the truth.”
“What dream?”
A spark flickered in her eyes. “Oh, you know, having a kind, caring man to love and cherish her. Her personal White Knight. Her hero. They’d live in a pretty little cottage in the woods and he’d promise her they’ll fill it with flowers and babies and laughter...”
Carly looked at him hard, as if seeing inside him, extinguishing the light in her eyes. She smoothed a palm over a bolt of cloth, over and over again, as if seeking comfort in the soft fibers.
He laid a hand over hers, stopping her frantic movements. “Do you still believe in that dream?”
She raised her eyes, eyes filled with hurt. “We’re both too old for such nonsense, don’t you think?”
Nate wanted to agree. Knew deep in his heart that he did agree, but right now, staring into Carly’s soft, wounded gaze, he wanted to hold on to that dream. Hold on to the notion of flowers and babies and laughter. “I think we’re never too old to have that kind of happiness.” She tried to look away. He gently turned her face toward his. “Maybe there’s hope for us yet, Carly.”
“Maybe.” The word escaped her lips on a breath.
“You’re a remarkable woman.”
“I’m not someone to admire.”
He gaped at her. “You’re not serious.” But the misery clouding her pretty eyes said she was dead serious. “Why would you say that?”
She heaved a sigh. “All that’s happened are the consequences of the poor decisions I made.”
Carly didn’t blame him or Max for possibly losing the shop? “What do you mean?”
Her gaze darted away, focusing on some spot over his shoulder. “When my mother died, I was eleven. I took over the chores, but wasn’t much of a cook or housekeeper.”
“That’s a big job for a child.”
“I didn’t mind the work as much as...” She fiddled with her sleeve, as if looking for answers in the cotton.
“Tell me.”
She lifted her face to his. “My father treated me like a hired hand. No matter how hard I tried, nothing I did pleased him. By the time I was eighteen, I had perfected my skills as a seamstress and was desperate to escape.” Her eyes misted. “When I met Max, I, ah...”
“Saw him as the answer.”
“Yes, but more than that, I—” Carly sighed.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I...I was wooed by the shop. Got caught up in Max’s talk about what a success I’d make of the business. How his mother’s shop would live on. I disregarded the uneasy feeling I had about marrying him.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I see myself in Debby. The reason I know she’s making the same mistake.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Richards put on a phony face and manipulated you.”
“I worked hard and tried to be enough.” Her head drooped against his chest. “I was never enough. Not for my father. Not for Max.”
Her shoulders shook with a sob. As she quietly wept, her tears soaking the front of Nate’s shirt, his eyes stung, sharp and hot.
He held her close, stroking her hair, murmuring words of comfort, wanting to take away her heartache.
How could this wonderful, strong woman have believed such nonsense? “They were at fault, not you.”
She straightened, pulling away from his arms, avoiding his gaze. “I see now I settled for Max because underneath I didn’t believe I was enough for a truly good man.”
The pain in her voice told him she still believed those lies. He lifted her face to his and spoke past the lump in his throat. “I’ve never known anyone more deserving of a good man than you. You deserved to be treated with respect. I’m sorry you weren’t.”
She gave a nod and wiped at the tears on her cheeks.
Nate brushed two fingertips over her lips, so soft, parting now, rosy and beckoning. He wanted to kiss her badly. He wanted to be that good man she sought. He wanted to give her everything.
“You smell good,” she said, leaning in, as if she couldn’t get enough of his scent.
He touched the silky, fragrant strands of her hair. “You’re beautiful, Carly, inside and out.” He lowered his head, looking into her eyes for permission.
Her eyelids drifted closed. “Nate,” she whispered.
&nbs
p; His name, rolling off her lips, filled with longing, was all the invitation he needed.
With a moan, he pulled her to him, brushing his lips over hers. With Carly in his arms, the years of loneliness fled. As he deepened the kiss, Carly rose on tiptoe and slid her arms around his back. The touch of her soft curves shot through his veins, igniting the wild beat of his heart.
With a sigh, she broke away. “I...I have to work. I can’t get wrapped up in...”
“In what?”
She raised her forlorn gaze to his. “In foolish dreams.”
Her words extinguished the wild hope surging through him for a future with Carly. Nate wanted to do whatever he could to keep that happy look she’d worn, but she was right. It was a foolish dream—a foolhardy dream—to think he could be any woman’s knight.
“I should get to work, too.” He settled his hat in place and pivoted back. “You need to be careful, Carly.”
“Careful? Of what?”
Of men like me, he thought. Of men who could fall for you and break your heart.
“Of Rory. I suspect Rory’s the outlaw I’m after.”
Carly gasped. “Stogsdill?”
“Mr. Pence said Rory’s last name is Cummins, not one of the aliases Stogsdill uses. Still, Sheriff Truitt’s checking his stash of posters to see if Rory Cummins is wanted by the law. If he isn’t, it doesn’t mean he’s the salesman he claims.”
“Surely you don’t think Debby would knowingly marry an outlaw. She’s innocent. I’d stake my shop on that.”
At her claim, an awkward silence hung in the air, as they both realized the shop might not be Carly’s to wager.
“Normally, I wouldn’t tell you about my suspicions without definite proof, but with Debby coming into the shop, you and Anna need to be alert for any information about her fiancé, and let me know the minute you hear they’ve set a wedding date.”
“Does Anna know?”
“I told her this morning.” He leaned closer. “If Rory and Stogsdill are the same man, make no mistake about it, he’s dangerous. Should Rory accompany Debby to the shop, make an excuse and close, then find me or Sheriff Truitt.”
“But if you’re wrong and Rory’s not Stogsdill—”
“Assume he is.” Nate’s voice deepened to a rumble. “Promise you’ll come to the livery.”
“I will.” Carly bit her lip. “I hope Debby hasn’t fallen in love with a criminal.”
“Evil men prey on the innocent. The helpless. The naive. Outlaw isn’t stamped on their foreheads.”
Carly bit her lower lip. “A woman wants to believe the best in a man,” she said, then turned away, walked to the window, fleeing the question in his gaze. “If you’re right, what can we do to stop Debby from marrying him?”
“We won’t do anything to alert Debby and warn Rory away.”
She whirled to face him. “And what? Let her marry the man and ruin her life?”
He desperately wanted to soothe her alarm, to make her world right again. Despite everything, a part of him still wanted to believe in happy endings.
“I won’t let Debby hitch herself to a killer.” He touched her cheek. “And I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Can you stop either, Nate?”
Nate longed to say, “You can count on me.” But could she? Really? “I’ll do my best,” he vowed.
A lump knotted Nate’s throat. He’d tried to do his best before, yet he’d let down those he loved. Would he ever be free from the path he’d taken?
No matter how much he longed to settle down, he couldn’t get caught up in the fantasy. The reason he would never share that cottage in the woods.
Chapter Sixteen
Carly slid the needle between threads on the backside of the garment, putting the last tiny, invisible stitch in the hem of the voluminous skirt, then tying a knot and snipping the thread. This was by far the most beautiful ball gown Carly had ever created.
Her gaze swept the shop and the walk beyond. Seeing no one, she hurried to the full-length mirror and held the shimmering red confection in front of her, swaying to the tune of the Blue Danube waltz playing in her head, visualizing Nate’s strong arms around her, holding her close. His arms would cherish and protect, exactly as she’d felt during their kiss.
Her mind zipped back to the soft pressure of his lips on hers, the thrilling tingle that raised goose bumps on her arms and warmed her clear to her toes. That kiss suggested tomorrow. A relationship of permanence.
Would he kiss her again?
The bell jingled.
Carly dropped the dress and whirled to the door.
Anna stood in the entrance, smiling. “You should have a dress like that,” she said, pointing at the garment in a heap on the floor. “You looked so pretty, just now.”
Heat scorched Carly’s cheeks; what she deserved for getting caught up in a fantasy. She forced a laugh. “I have no need of such a fancy dress,” she said, gathering the garment up and laying it in the waiting box. “How was your visit with Mrs. Watkins?”
“The poor woman’s struggling,” Anna said, wiping snippets of fabric and thread from the counter and tossing them in the wastebasket. “I mainly listened.”
“I’m sure that helped more than you know.”
“She’s grateful her parents opened their home to her and Bonnie Sue. Too many widows are left with no money, no one to turn to, scrambling for a way to make ends meet.”
Anna didn’t say the words, but Carly knew Nate’s sister was referring to herself. If Carly lost the shop, how would she manage?
“I told Elnora you’re doing a wonderful job raising Henry alone. She’ll do the same.” Anna picked up two pieces of a bodice, then sat and pinned the shoulders together.
“I’m no one to pattern herself after.”
“Of course you are. You’re a terrific mother and handle a business, too.”
“I wouldn’t be able to handle this order without your help.” Carly struggled for the words she needed to say. “But, more than that, I consider you a friend.”
“I feel the same about you.”
“Not just a friend. A close friend.” Carly picked up a roll of lace for a nightgown and began pinning it to the cuffs. “I haven’t had a friend like that in years.”
“What do you mean?” Anna’s brow puckered. “Everyone in this town likes you.”
“I chat with acquaintances at church and in the shop. But I have no one I confide in like I do you.”
“Why is that?”
Carly’s hand stilled. “When I was married to Max, I didn’t want anyone to know my husband browbeat me. Most weren’t fooled.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I was ashamed.”
“The shame lay at Max’s feet, not yours.”
“Not entirely.” As soon as the words left Carly’s mouth, she wanted to pull them back.
“Why would you say that?”
In Anna’s eyes Carly saw warmth and acceptance of someone who cared. About her. Someone Carly could trust. “I rushed into marriage,” she said, blurting the confession out before she lost her courage. “On our wedding day, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Max showed me no tenderness, spoke not one affectionate word.” Carly returned her gaze to the nightdress in her lap, a pretty frivolous gown promising loving nights with a husband. But, not for her. She quickly looked away. “He rode out the next morning, giving me no idea when he’d return.”
Tears welled in Anna’s eyes. “What an awful man. I’m so sorry. But don’t believe you deserved that treatment,” Anna said, her tone without judgment, without criticism.
“There are consequences for what I did, for what Max did.” She raised her gaze to Anna. “Before you and I became friends, I pleaded with God to let me keep this shop.”
“Of course you did. You have a son to house and feed.”
“Max killed your husband—reason enough to lose the store,” Carly said in a voice as wobbly as a three-legged table.
“God’s not going to pun
ish you for Max’s sins.”
Tears brimmed in Carly’s eyes. “He might.”
“Gracious, why would you think that?”
Carly shook her head, unable to admit to Anna why she’d married Max. Carly could barely believe she’d admitted the truth to Nate.
Anna set aside her work and rose to her feet, then lumbered to Carly’s side. She laid a gentle hand on Carly’s shoulder and looked deep into her eyes. “The Good Lord never forsakes us. Whatever the judge decides with that deed, God has a plan. We may not know what it is, but you and Henry and I will be okay.”
Anna saw God’s hand in every ordinary thing. She meant to comfort Carly, but what she’d said were mere words. Words would not feed her son or put a roof over his head.
“You know,” Anna said, “if the judge rules the deed is legally mine, I’ll insist upon sharing the shop right down the middle.”
“Nate would never hear of it.”
“Not because he’s unfeeling about your situation,” Anna said. “He thinks the shop won’t provide enough income.”
“He’s right. This big wedding order is unusual.”
“Have you thought about expanding? Making hats maybe?”
“I don’t know the first thing about creating hats, except that milliners need special equipment I don’t have.” She nibbled her lower lip, thinking. “But stylish shoes might sell. Ladies in this town might appreciate a choice other than Stuffle Emporium’s humdrum clodhoppers.”
“Exactly. We’re resourceful women. With God’s help we can give ourselves a happy ending. Like a fairy tale.” Anna gave a confident smile, then picked up the bodice and sat at the sewing machine. Soon the whir of the machine filled the shop.
If only they could find a way to increase sales.
If only Carly could have that happy fairy-tale ending.
The memory of Nate’s kiss gripped her, all but cutting off her breath. If only—
She stiffened her spine, refusing to consider the cottage in the woods. Stories of knights rescuing damsels in danger were about as likely as the talking pigs in Henry’s storybook. Everyone knew, even her young son, fairy tales were fantasy.