That afternoon, Mrs. Bloomfield called on Meredith.
“At church today I heard about your fall. I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well. Perhaps these will cheer you up.”
The bouquet that Mrs. Bloomfield placed in one of Amelia’s vases resembled Thatcher’s droopy ones.
“Thank you,” Meredith murmured.
“Oh dear. You are blue today, aren’t you?” Her friend seated herself on a nearby chair. “Is it more than just the ankle?”
Meredith gave a dismal nod and gazed off into space.
“Is it Thatcher again? What has he done this time?”
“It’s me. I railed at him. He hates me now.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t. Perhaps his feelings are just hurt or something.”
“I don’t think there’s much hope left between us. It’s better this way. But it’s so hard.”
“I understand. We won’t talk about it anymore, then.”
“Perhaps it’s time for me to return to New York City.”
“Oh, but you can’t go now. You must at least stay until after Pride Day.”
“Did you say Pride Day?”
Beatrice nodded enthusiastically.
Meredith moaned, “I have enough trouble with pride, and you celebrate it?”
Mrs. Bloomfield tilted her head. “It’s the day we clean up the town. We replace floors and sidewalks that the loggers tear up. Everyone chips in, and we clean up the whole town.”
“That is the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. You’re absolutely right. I wouldn’t want to miss a thing like that. It’ll make a wonderful story.”
Monday morning, things looked clearer to Meredith. Her ankle felt tender but strong enough to carry her weight. Jonah insisted that they take care of things at the newspaper office so Meredith could get her life back in order. He brought a wagon around from the stables.
The bell announced their arrival, and Meredith limped into the newsroom with a great deal of grace.
“I’ve come to settle some matters.” She coveted the closest chair to her. “May I sit?”
The editor-in-chief motioned toward the chair with a nod and glanced at Jonah, who hovered over Meredith. “Is there a problem?”
Meredith pulled several wrinkled pieces of paper from her portfolio and thrust them in the air. “These are threatening letters written to me. The boy who delivered them said that they came from you.” Her eyes settled on Mr. Ralston.
His face turned hateful. “Can’t take the truth, Miss Mears?”
“Let me see those.” The editor snapped the letters off the floor and leafed through them. When he was finished, he turned a condemning gaze on his male reporter. “This is the lowest thing I have ever seen. You’re fired.”
“No!” Meredith’s hand shot up in the air. “He stays. I quit. I’m leaving soon anyway.”
She turned toward Ralston. “But I want to set the record straight. I was never after your job. This has only been a temporary assignment. You knew that from the start. The logging camp was an assignment for McClure’s magazine. I don’t know why you hate me so, but I didn’t come to get you fired. I just came to tell you that I know you wrote those letters. You can quit writing them. You can have your job, and you’ll get your way soon enough. I’m leaving in September.”
She rose from her chair and faced the editor. “I’m through here, but I thank you for the work you’ve given me.”
“Wait a minute,” The editor said. “I’m not finished. Ralston, you’re still fired. That was the most ungentlemanly thing to do. I don’t need your kind representing this paper.”
The pale reporter glared at Meredith and at the editor. “I don’t need this cheap operation. And I surely don’t need a woman bossing me around. I quit.” He threw a few things together and started to leave; at the door he turned back, a wicked smirk on his face. “But you’re still a tramp and a liar, Miss Uppity.”
Jonah lunged toward the door.
“Jonah. Let it be,” Meredith said.
The reporter gave the photographer a parting hateful look and fled.
Jonah chased after him and returned within moments. “He’s gone.”
Meredith slumped back into the chair and dipped her head in her hands.
“I’m ashamed for the trouble he’s caused you, ma’am. I’ll get you something to drink. You look pale.” The editor left them to fetch the drink.
Jonah knelt beside Meredith’s chair and grinned up at her. “You were beautiful.”
She smiled. “So were you.”
The editor returned with a drink of water, and Meredith accepted it gratefully. He apologized again and said, “The job is yours, you know. On behalf of this town, we’d love for you to stay.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“No.” The editor’s hand shot up. “Don’t answer me today. You’re too distressed. Take your time and think about it.”
Meredith slept on it and the next day returned to the editor’s office.
“I appreciate your offer. I feel terrible to have cost you a valuable reporter, especially since I’m only staying until September. But in the meantime, I’d be glad to fill in if I can also work on my articles for McClure’s.”
“The facilities are at your disposal.”
“I won’t be going to the logging camp anymore,” Meredith said. “But I’ll be doing some research by mail and continuing the story. I plan to stop at a few camps on the trip home.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“So what’s my first assignment?”
“I thought we should do a blurb, ‘Reporter Leaves Town.’ Nothing too informative, unless it’s too painful.”
“I’ll get right on it, boss.”
Meredith worked hard at the newspaper. She did not ride back to the logging camp and did not run into Mr. Talbot, so things settled down for her in town.
Chapter 26
Two Saturdays passed from the time that Thatcher walked out of Meredith’s life. She had not seen him since. Each Saturday a tiny hope rose within her that maybe he would show up on her doorstep. But it never happened. It was Saturday again, and Meredith felt restless. She decided Jonah’s studio would provide a proper diversion.
It was raining, so she donned a jacket, but Amelia intercepted her by the door. “And where do you think you’re going in this rain?”
“Just to the studio to chat with Jonah. Want to come?”
“Oh. Well…” Amelia gazed longingly toward the studio, but her practical disposition won out in the end. “No. One foolish woman in this household is enough. You’ll need someone to nurse you again.”
Meredith giggled. “You’re probably right. But it’s not like I’m going far.”
“But it’s pouring.”
“And I’ll hurry,” Meredith said, before bursting outside.
“Watch your ankle!” Amelia shouted after her.
Meredith chuckled as she ran, but wisely kept her eyes downcast and watched her step, then danced up and down in the rain, waiting for Jonah to answer her knock.
“Come in,” he yelled.
She pushed open the door, and a gust of wind blew her in.
“Storm?” He could not stop his particular task without harming his photographs, but his eyes flashed concern. “What are you doing out in the rain?”
“Visiting you.”
He caught her playful mood. “I can see that. You’re dripping all over my floor.”
“So what are you working on?”
“Photographs of the dock. The ocean is a wonderful backdrop.”
“Mm-hmm. That schooner looks majestic sitting on top of that wave.”
“Unique, isn’t it?”
“So, Jonah.” She leisurely milled about the studio, fingering different things and looking at his finished works. “You’ve done a wonderful job with this studio. But where are you going to live after I leave?”
“Pardon?” His head bobbed up and down as he dipped paper in and out of a
solution.
“It wouldn’t look proper for you to live here alone with Amelia.”
He frowned. “I’ve given it some thought, but haven’t come up with a solution yet.”
“I have one,” she ventured. “Why don’t you marry her?”
The paper slipped from his hands and down into the pan of solution. “Now look what you’ve gone and done.”
She moved closer and leaned over his shoulder as he removed it. “Is it ruined?”
“Fortunately for you, it’s not.”
“So?”
“I guess that would be one possible solution.”
“Have you considered it?”
“I have.”
She giggled. “And?”
He smiled. “I rather like the idea.”
“You sly old fox, you.” She sidled up to him.
“Watch it. Stay back.”
“Well?” she pressed.
“A few weeks does not give a man enough time to court, propose, and marry, does it now?”
She laughed with delight and grabbed his arm. “Congratulations, old man.”
“Watch it now, Storm. Be careful there.”
“Maybe she’d let you stay at the mill. But you’d better start making your intentions known if you expect such a favor.”
His hands stopped midair, and his eyes lit with hope. “That’s a great idea. There’s plenty of room there. Surely there would be someplace… and Amelia does have the connections.” He grinned appreciatively at her. “Thanks, Storm.”
“You’re welcome.” She hugged his stiff body, for he held his soupy hands out away from her. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am. I love it here.”
“Good. Well, I’d better get back to the house. Talking with you has given me the lift I needed.”
She ran back to the house, and Amelia appeared almost as soon as the door opened. “See how wet you got! What’s a body to do?” she scolded.
Meredith gave her a sly smile. “Let’s sit by the fire, shall we? So I can dry off.”
The next day, a steady rain continued. Jonah dressed in a slicker and went to the stables around the corner. He returned with Amelia’s horse and carriage. Bundled up in summer coats, Meredith and Amelia scurried into the protection of the carriage. All the way to church, Amelia chatted on and on about how poor Jonah would be drenched.
“He’ll be fine. He’s dressed appropriately. Anyway, it makes him feel chivalrous to do this for us,” Meredith said.
“You think so?”
“I know Jonah. I’m sure of it.”
With that, Amelia seemed appeased.
At the small church, they scurried inside, allowing Jonah to take care of the horses and carriage. Spirits weren’t gloomy in spite of the weather; folks smiled and greeted each other as normal. When Meredith pulled her hooded cape back away from her face, she saw something that gave her a start. Across the entryway stood a dripping but handsome Thatcher Talbot.
Thatcher saw Meredith enter. Her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes almost took his breath away. Now he knew he had been a fool to come. He should have waited until she had gone back to New York. God would have understood. When her hands faltered and her gaze rested upon him, he looked away and engaged the nearest person in a conversation about the weather.
Meredith’s cheeks burned at Thatcher’s snub. She tried to look away, to enter into the conversation of the nearby circle of women. Her smile was weak, and her hands felt icy. She couldn’t tell how much time passed until they all shuffled into the sanctuary, and she tried to ignore Thatcher, but nevertheless, she noticed him sitting a few pews back on the opposite side.
Good. Out of sight. Now if I can only keep the back of my neck from turning red.
The sermon was on forgiveness and was most compelling. Meredith lost herself in the Word of God. The preacher explained no sin was too large to forgive. She would have to think about that. He explained that a person is saved by grace and since one sin is as bad as another, all can be forgiven by God and should be forgiven by man.
All too soon for Meredith, the service ended. Just as she knew they would, her rebellious eyes sought out Thatcher Talbot. It almost looked as though he were purposely waiting for her. Or was he waiting for the rain to slow? Her heart gave a foolish flutter, and before she could do a thing about it, her legs propelled her forward, down the center aisle.
Please someone stop me. Oh, where is Beatrice Bloomfield when I need her?
“Hello, Meredith.”
If he was so bold as to use her first name after what had passed between them, then she would be just as brave.
“Hello, Thatcher.”
He looked toward the window. “Quite the cloudburst.”
Thatcher looked so forlorn, so vulnerable. Meredith heard herself say, “Given the preacher’s sermon on forgiveness, I feel the fool standing here talking to you.”
He looked at his boots then up again. “Meredith…”
“I’m sorry for getting so angry,” she said.
“Me, too.”
There was a lengthy silence, and then she said, “Something’s been plaguing me since our last meeting.”
He arched his brows, leaned forward, and whispered, “Knowing us and our past experiences, I’m not sure this is a safe place to start another serious discussion.”
Her hand shot out and touched his arm briefly, and he quieted.
“Ask,” he said.
Her hand slipped back down to her side. She leaned close and whispered, “How did you know my name?”
“That bothered you, did it?”
She gave him an earnest nod. “It hurt, but I deserved it.”
“The day your horse appeared in camp without you, Jonah came riding up to the group of men gathered there. The bull asked him if he knew where you were. Jonah said, ‘You mean Storm?’ No one else caught it, but I’d always wondered what that middle initial stood for. The instant he said it, I knew.”
“I should have known. He calls me that all the time. It’s what I go by back home. But I told him I didn’t want people here to know. You might as well stamp volatile across my face in big red letters.”
Thatcher laughed. It grew quiet between them again for a while, and then he turned pensive. “I had to think of my father during the preacher’s sermon.”
“Me, too.” She waited and when he didn’t say anything more, she added, “When Charles was here,” she gave him a tentative glance, “he told me that my father is sorry for our argument. He actually sent Charles to see how I fared.” She shook her head. “It’s almost more than I can hope that things might improve with Father.”
He touched her arm. “Why, that’s wonderful news. You must believe.”
“I’ve been praying about it.”
“Then it must be God at work.”
“What about you? Will you ever return to your father to try and make amends?”
“You don’t know my father. But I have thought about it. I know I will someday. I just want the time to be right.”
“You’re praying about it then?”
“Yes, I am.”
Amelia interrupted them. “Jonah has our carriage. Are you ready, Meredith?”
“Yes. I’ll be right there.”
Meredith turned back to Thatcher. “I’m glad we had this talk.”
“I wish I could see you home. But all I have is a horse.”
“I’m leaving for New York very soon. It’s probably just as well.”
Thatcher watched her walk away, then hurry through the rain and climb into Mrs. Cooper’s carriage. He watched it slosh away, disappointed Meredith hadn’t invited him over for the afternoon.
Chapter 27
Thatcher ate his lunch at a table in the hotel’s dining room and gazed out the window. The street was deserted except for an occasional carriage or intrepid horseback rider. He didn’t relish riding back to camp in the rain; the ride from the church to the hotel had been bad enough.
“W
e have berry pie for dessert.”
Thatcher looked away from the steamy window just long enough to answer the waitress.
“Pie sounds good.”
The pie was just an excuse to put off the inevitable decision. Would he go see Meredith? At the church, she had said it was better if they didn’t pursue their relationship. But, he wondered, did she really mean it?
The waitress returned with his pie just as an unexpected patch of sun broke through the sky, and by the time he had eaten the last bite, the rain had ceased entirely. He paid for his meal and strode outside.
The air was rain scented with musty forest and wet soil odors. The eastern sky shone hopefully bright; he could probably make it to camp. To the west, the Cooper house lay beyond his vision, the sky dark and threatening.
He would return to camp.
The whole next week, Meredith wavered between wishing she had invited Thatcher over on Sunday to feeling confident that she had been right to discourage him.
Regardless, she kept busy. She sent Jonah to the logging camp with the conservation suggestions she had promised the bull and hand-delivered the same information to the mill. Her correspondence research was going well, her work at the newspaper, time consuming. The most interesting business at hand was also the talk of the town, Pride Day.
Finally, Saturday, the long-awaited and highly praised Pride Day arrived. The mill prepared and donated wagonloads of special materials for repairs. The mill owner drafted a blueprint of the areas needing repair and posted it on a sign in front of the general store on Main Street.
Main Street, the hub of activity, was one of the major areas that needed work. Jonah set up a tripod for his camera on the far side of the street. The mahogany camera was shined to a high gloss, and its brass hardware twinkled in the sunlight.
Meredith positioned her station of refreshments nearby. She kept the water barrel full and food tables of sandwiches and cookies ready for the working men. Meredith purposely wore a large-pocketed apron to stash writing supplies so she could jot down notes throughout the day.
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