What if Kate didn’t really like him, as Richard claimed she did? Sure the kisses were nice, more than nice, but since he’d just learned she’d lost her job over one of those . . . was she rushing into marriage only for security? And would she rush out if he didn’t meet her expectations?
He drummed his fingers against his seat’s back as Kate finished her chocolate pie. No, he couldn’t let his past disappointments with Lucy meddle with how he viewed Kate. If she’d wanted to marry him just for Anthony, she’d have thrown herself at him in Breton, and she could have gotten a teaching job somewhere else if all she wanted was security.
Kate set her fork down on her empty plate and held his gaze for half a minute. She then looked over at the hotel owner’s wife slowly cleaning a nearby table and sighed.
“Mrs. Studdard?” A maid came down the back stairs and whispered to the woman, who soon bustled away with the younger worker.
He breathed a sigh as if he’d just been let out of a box. “I’m sorry about you losing your job because of me. Are you wanting to teach again?”
She shook her head. “Teaching was just the best job I could find after I got to Missouri and realized I couldn’t marry Jasper.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Oh, I guess I never fully explained how I met Anthony and Lucinda. I’d come to Hartfield after answering an ad that Jasper’s brother—I later learned—put in the newspaper to get him a wife.”
She’d answered an ad? He could only think of one reason a woman would answer an ad saying she would marry, but he couldn’t imagine Kate as a mail-order bride. She certainly hadn’t acted desperate to marry him.
“I’d smelled alcohol on him when I first met him at the train station, but I told myself I’d imagined it. He seemed nice enough, but right before the ceremony I heard his brother laughing with a bunch of other men that a mail-order bride was the only way the town drunk could possibly get a wife so pretty.” Her face screwed up in disgust. “I was not going to marry a drunk.”
His arms turned numb with cold. She’d left a groom at the altar. One who had a problem with alcohol.
She shrugged. “Shortly after, I got a job helping the teachers at a school in Hartfield, and Anthony drew my attention—he only came to school once in a while and was always so sad when he did. One afternoon when I went to check on him, it happened to be after a night Richard had beaten Lucinda. Evidently, Anthony stayed home whenever Richard lost at the gambling tables and took his disappointment out on her.”
“You do realize—” Silas swallowed hard—“that I was the town drunk.”
“Were.” She nodded at him and smiled. Why had he turned so pale? She knew about his drinking problem already. Hadn’t she reassured him that afternoon with the whiskey that she didn’t condemn him? “I’m not going to marry a man who needs to change. After watching my sister try to change her husband, I know how unlikely it is a spouse will change to suit your preferences, but you’ve already stopped drinking.”
“I’ve lapsed before.”
She swallowed heavily. Poor man could certainly beat himself up over his failures. “I know, but I saw how badly you don’t want to do it again. I can help you be what you want to be, but making someone be something they don’t want to be is what’s unlikely.”
Silas sat silently, his shoulders tight and his chest puffed as if he expected her to throw a knife at his heart.
Had she hurt him? She clasped her hands and squared her shoulders. “What is it, Silas?”
“You were a mail-order bride.” His voice fell into a whisper.
“Yes.” Why was that such a disappointment? Lucinda had been a mail-order bride, and he’d not thought himself above marrying her. And his proposal to her now was for a marriage of convenience, though hopefully it wouldn’t take too long for him to fall in love with her. Judging by their kisses, it wouldn’t.
“You left a man you’d promised to marry.” If a spoon could crumple, the utensil in Silas’s hand would be a wad of silver.
“As I said, I found out his brother was the one who’d written, pretending to be him. He’d not even had the gumption to write me himself. Surely you see how wrong that was.”
“Oh.” His posture relaxed, but he still worried his lip. “But why were you a mail-order bride in the first place?”
A vise wrapped around her heart. She’d pursued Jasper to get out of marrying another man. Somehow she doubted Silas would welcome that news. She swallowed and kept her gaze even with his. “In general, I wanted to be more than some man’s housekeeper and Jasper—or rather, Leonard—assured me I’d have a maid and could work in their sign shop. He seemed enthusiastic about letting me help and promised me paint for my own use. . . . Sounds silly now.”
“So you didn’t know what kind of man he was.”
“No. That’s why I didn’t agree to marry you until I came here. I wanted to be sure of the man you were.” She’d lay a comforting hand on him, but he seemed so . . . distant. Were her explanations not getting through to him? “Though it was silly to believe you were anything other than what I saw in Breton.”
“So why were you looking to marry someone outside of Georgia? You’re beautiful. Surely plenty of men would’ve offered their hand.”
She forced herself not to look away. What would he think about Aiden if Jasper had ruffled him so much? “Uh . . . I was trying to get away from my family.”
“Your family?” His voice deepened dangerously.
Oh goodness. Maybe she should’ve admitted to Aiden first. She hadn’t been keeping anything a secret—just hadn’t thought it mattered much. “I . . . I had a fiancé in Georgia, a co-worker of my brother-in-law’s.” Aiden might have provided her with security, but he’d not wanted a family as much as he sought help with his career. Silas longed for family—with her and Anthony.
“A fiancé? Any more of those in your past?”
“No.” She tried to reach over and grab his hand, but he sat back, shaking his head slowly.
“Silas.” She took her hand back and huffed. “Things are different with you. There’s Anthony, and I’ve met you. I’ve put my mind to being here.”
“So you hadn’t met your first fiancé either?”
“Well, no.” Her voice faltered. “I’d met him.”
“And why didn’t you marry him?”
She swallowed a couple times. What was the real answer? She might have a good answer for jilting him now, but what had it been then? “I was young . . . and foolish.”
“How old were you?” He shoved a hand through his hair.
“Twenty-two.”
“And you’re now . . . ?”
She couldn’t hold his gaze any longer and dropped hers to the oil-stained tablecloth. “Twenty-five.”
“Just three years.”
She peeped up at him. “Can’t one grow a lot in three years?” Though she didn’t feel much different than her twenty-two-year-old self. “Perhaps I’ve learned running is rarely the answer.”
“Do you want to run now?” He looked at her with such intensity, she had to shift back.
He’d revealed his drinking habit, letting her see his weakness. She could hide hers, but then she’d be a liar. Hadn’t she thought about running throughout the entire train ride? “Sometimes,” she whispered.
He made a sound like a sad puppy dog.
“But it’s just a feeling, Silas. Don’t you think most people are nervous before they get married—even people who know each other better than we do?”
“What about your family?”
“My sister and brother-in-law?” At his nod, she shrugged. “What about them?”
“Do they know where you are?”
Her stomach suddenly dropped. This. This revelation would not help her situation at all. He was surely comparing her to Lucinda right now. “No. Though Peter wouldn’t care. He hit me, Silas. Whacked me with a broomstick when I didn’t perform up to snuff. I was just a kid when I came to live with them.”
&
nbsp; “Did your sister hit you too?”
“No, but I’m sure—”
“Does she know where you are?”
She willed herself to stay seated—leaving now certainly wouldn’t help her win him over. “No.”
“So you abandoned your sister to an abusive man without letting her know where you are? She doesn’t know if you’re dead or alive?”
“That makes me sound terrible.” She hated the grating self-pity in her voice.
“I don’t think you’re terrible, Kate.” He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled, his eyes moving back and forth as if calculating something. Her worth, perhaps? “Just maybe not the right woman for me.”
“What? You can’t mean that.” She strangled the skirt fabric in her hands. “We should think things—”
“Have you ever loved someone so much you felt as if they were a part of you—even if they weren’t the greatest person in the world, they were yours? The only family you had? And then they abandoned you without having the decency to tell you where they went?”
Her body trembled. Being an orphan was a little like that. “My parents’ deaths devastated me.”
“But they didn’t leave you on purpose.”
“No.” She pressed her lips back together.
“But you did. You left your sister and fiancés intentionally.”
“I had good reasons!” Didn’t she? Jasper, definitely, but Aiden . . . ? Though offering her a better life, he had planned on taking advantage of her.
“I’m sure when my mother left me at that orphanage she thought she had good reasons, but she never bothered to tell me what they were.”
If only she could tell him she’d written her sister—but she hadn’t. Violet had never acted sorry for how Peter treated her, so she’d convinced herself that her sister wouldn’t care about anything she did. And she certainly didn’t care one whit if Peter worried about where she’d run off to.
“Pretending my mother had good reasons didn’t help my five-year-old heart. There’s a crack there that’ll never mend, not with all the glue in the world. And then when Lucy left me . . .” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I have a nine-year-old boy to protect, to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”
“I love Anthony. I do.”
“I doubt my mother hated me. She kissed me on the top of the head before sending me into the boys’ home.” He released his grip on his spoon and nudged it onto the table.
“I might have run from an engagement, but I’d never run from a marriage. I wouldn’t!”
“If you can abandon blood, your own sister, without telling her where you went, then you could abandon me.” He shoved his chair back and stood.
She got up and grabbed his arm, but he pulled away.
His dark eyes wavered. “I’m sorry, Kate.”
The wedding. “What about Sunday?”
“I think—” He took in a deep gulp of air. “I think we should call things off for now.”
“But—”
“Can I get you two anything else?” Mrs. Studdard’s voice was entirely too cheerful and invasive.
“Here.” Silas took out several bills and handed them to her. “Keep the change.” He turned to walk toward the front.
“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Studdard looked at her with such a concerned expression she nearly gave in and blurted out everything.
She swallowed. “Hopefully.” With time. Surely. She’d just surprised him. “Excuse me.”
He was waiting outside by his wagon, his eyes shuttered. “I’ll see you to the boardinghouse.”
Kate wrapped her arms around herself. How could she endure a ride with him looking at her like that? The disappointment in her brother-in-law’s eyes didn’t come close to the wounded look Silas was sporting now. “I can walk, but please promise we’ll talk later.”
Surely when he got over the shock of her past, he’d see he was overreacting. But telling him he was overreacting now would be like telling him his emotions were meaningless. “I know you’re worried about me running away, but I have no intention of doing so.”
This would be the time to tell him she loved him, but she couldn’t do it. She cared, she wanted to love him, but it was too soon. She wouldn’t lie just to keep a man from leaving her.
Would Aiden and Jasper whoop with sadistic elation if they knew she now understood how it felt to be abandoned?
Silas gave her a long look that about tore her heart out, and then climbed up into the old wagon a neighbor had lent him. The moment he started down the road, she ran from town in the opposite direction.
If only she hadn’t been so good at running throughout her life, she might now be running to someplace that felt like home.
Chapter 18
Morning light steadily erased the cabin’s shadows. Silas’s head weighed heavy in his palms, and his elbows protested being smashed against the table’s hard wood.
In the loft, in his new bed, Anthony snored, a peaceful sound rasping against Silas’s inner turmoil.
He’d need to wake Anthony soon so he’d have enough time to walk to school. He’d been trying to draw Anthony out over breakfast the last several days, but at the moment, he’d rather not talk at all. He wasn’t sure he could keep a pleasant expression on his face or friendly banter going this morning.
Not that his son responded much to him lately. Anthony used no more words than necessary—with him anyway.
But he understood his son’s reticence. Hadn’t it taken him a long time to feel comfortable enough to talk to the adults in the mines and the mill when he was not much older than Anthony? Trust took time.
And yet, he’d trusted Kate too quickly.
How could he be certain she’d stay after what he’d learned? He might consider gambling with his own life, but Anthony’s?
Beyond trying to forge a relationship with his son, he didn’t want to worry about anything except his farm right now. Livestock and fences and repairs didn’t hurt to think about.
His aching heart told him to let Kate go and be done with women. The single men who played chess at the post office every week would certainly champion that decision, but his mind insisted he think things through before he talked to Kate again. He needed time for his heart to stabilize.
Or maybe the memories of her fiery kisses were wreaking havoc with his decision making.
The floorboards creaked above him. No more snoring.
He sighed. He should’ve had the biscuits and preserves on the table already, and a lunch packed for school. He’d only just started the coffee.
“Aren’t we having breakfast?” Anthony scratched his belly and yawned. His hair stood up like a rooster’s comb.
“Let me get it.” Silas pulled biscuits from the tin and grabbed a spoon for the jar of peach preserves he’d bought from a neighbor woman.
“When’s Miss Dawson coming? I bet she’d make us flapjacks.”
Yes, this question. He’d pondered what to tell him all night. Maybe he’d been too hasty. He should give her a chance to prove herself for Anthony’s sake, but he wouldn’t keep a quick wedding date just to make Anthony happy either.
If she stayed in Salt Flatts for a while or so, with no promise they’d reconcile, he might muster up enough faith to believe she’d stay for good. Lucy had only stayed for seven months. Should he make Kate wait that long?
He hated dealing with the uncertain future.
“I’m not sure when she’ll come.” There. That was true and shouldn’t worry the boy.
Anthony slathered more preserves than necessary on a broken biscuit and sighed. “I was hoping for sugared flapjacks on my birthday.”
Silas blinked. “When’s your birthday?”
“Next Wednesday.”
Great. The best gift he could give him was time with Kate—but only a few days after they were supposed to marry? How could he spend time with her so soon? Thankfully Anthony would leave for school in a little while, and Silas could tend animals and think. “What wou
ld you like to do on Wednesday? Maybe eat in town after school?”
“At the hotel?” When Silas nodded, Anthony’s eyes grew wide. “I can’t wait to tell Miss Dawson!”
Silas pressed his lips tight to keep from telling him she wasn’t invited. If he could work things out in his head, then courting her slowly could help him be certain of her. Maybe she’d run before he gathered the nerve to start where he should have—asking questions, not proposing marriage.
Why had God allowed him to become attached to a woman with her history? God knew their pasts and yet hadn’t warned him away until he’d kissed her two times too many.
Anthony shouldn’t learn of his trouble with Kate though. If they patched things up, he didn’t want Anthony anxious about her abandoning them one day. Which meant he’d have to invite her to Anthony’s birthday, ready to see her or not.
“What about getting frozen custard instead?” Sitting down with Kate while Mrs. Studdard hovered around them again didn’t sound fun, and ice cream would cost less. “We could get some at Frank’s Confectionary.”
“Ice cream?” The boy jumped from his chair, knocking it over. “I’ve never had ice cream before.” He ran over and hugged Silas.
He crushed his son to his chest. The boy wrenched loose within seconds, then ran for the ladder. Silas closed his eyes and imagined holding him a little longer. How long had it been since he’d been hugged? He couldn’t remember anyone hugging him after Jonesey had embraced him the night before he left the orphanage for the last time, and Lucy had never been very affectionate. . . .
And Anthony had only hugged him because he’d been promised an expensive dessert.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d break the bank buying ice cream with the hope that Anthony would wrap his arms around him again.
Maybe they’d be all right without Kate. The boy would warm up with time . . . or at least lots of ice cream.
“Miss Dawson!”
A Bride at Last Page 21