“I need to apologize.” Stella’s voice from the back seat jarred his nerves. She’d slept most of the trip, and the silence had been both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he’d longed to tell her that he hoped she meant what she had said at the gravesite. On the other, the silence had offered him time to think about the wounds his deceit would inflict. Okay, so maybe the quiet had only been a curse.
He glanced at her reflection in the windscreen. Was she crying? “Why would you possibly need my forgiveness?” He was the one owing her an apology.
“I told you that I would respect your feelings about Dr. Hazzard’s treatments. And if you felt uncomfortable, I wouldn’t stay.” Her voice cracked. “But I had no intention of following through with my promise. I wanted to be healed so badly that I treated you with contempt. I’m sorry.”
The road along the seaside gave way to the familiar shops and storefronts of San Francisco. Henry let the words of her apology sink in. Her treatment of him had left a sting, but he had never lived with the pain that was Stella’s constant companion. He turned onto a street lined with lavish estates. “You’re forgiven. I would never hold anything against you.”
Stella sighed, a sound that rattled Henry to the depths of his soul. “I’ve caused so much trouble. If I had listened to you, things could be as they always were. But even though I’ll be home, I have this premonition that nothing will be the same again.” She sniffed. “That we—That you won’t want anything to do with me now.”
“Stella, no matter what happens, and despite the hurtful truth I must tell you, please know that I have no regrets in coming for you when you needed me.” Confessions seemed to be the order of the day, and he must share his own. He pulled into the drive at the Burke estate, killed the motor, and turned to face her. Her tears strangled the air from his lungs. “I have to confess …” He reached for her bandaged hand, ignoring the impropriety of his actions. “I beg your forgiveness. I have deceived you for—”
“I’ve called the police. They’re looking for you.” Weston stomped toward the parked automobile. “How dare you steal my motorcar? I intend to press charges for your crime, you—” His gaze cut to Stella, and his jaw slacked. The fire in his eyes sputtered to a faint flicker. “My dear, you look dreadful. I had believed you were getting treatments for your headaches. What did they do to you?” He opened the door and held out his hand. “I’ll have Jane make you comfortable.”
Stella slipped her hand from Henry’s grasp then stepped out of the automobile into her uncle’s embrace. “Uncle Weston, please don’t punish Henry. I don’t know what happened, but I know that everything he did was for me.”
Weston wrapped his arms around her and met Henry’s gaze over her head. A mix of emotions warred behind his dark eyes. “I’ll drop the charges.” He rubbed her back. “For you, my dear.” His voice was soft and tender.
Maybe Henry had read their relationship all wrong. While Weston cared for money and position more than he ought, how could Henry have believed the man cared nothing for his niece? The compassion he showed her told Henry a different story than the one he’d convinced himself was true.
Henry climbed out of the motorcar. “I should go.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. His fingers brushed the cloth bag of herbs, and he pulled it out. In his haste to get her home, he’d forgotten them. “This is for you.” He extended the offering to Stella.
She took it from him, brow puckered. “What is this?” She held it to her nose and breathed in. “It smells awful.”
“I ran across an herbalist a week ago. Asked her if there was a cure for your migraines.” He met Stella’s dark eyes, teeming with emotion. “There’s no cure. But she said this herb—it’s called feverfew—might help if you steeped it in hot water like tea every morning.”
Tears glittered in Stella’s eyes. “Thank you.” The words were so faint he barely heard them.
Weston nodded his thanks, his own eyes glistening.
Henry kicked a rock on the ground, turned, and walked away. For the last time.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Stella glanced at her reflection in the gilded mirror above her dressing table as Jane wrestled with her hair. In the week since she’d arrived home, the hollows in her cheeks had begun to fill. Henry’s tea leaves had been a godsend. Since her first cup, only one headache had blossomed into a pain that sent her to bed early. A huge improvement from daily debilitation.
She met Jane’s gaze in the mirror, forced a smile, then focused on the bottle of perfume in front of her.
How she missed seeing Henry every day. Something had happened between him and Uncle Weston, although her uncle wouldn’t say what.
At least Henry had promised to accompany her to the trial in Washington State, but when that event would take place, she hadn’t the slightest idea. The prosecutors were still working to gather enough evidence to convict Dr. Hazzard, and they didn’t want to begin a trial without reasonable certainty they could receive a guilty verdict.
The two men who had buried her alive had fled the premises and were nowhere to be found by the time the police had arrived. She was fairly certain one had been Rollie Burfield, but since she hadn’t seen his face, the district attorney didn’t believe her recognition of his voice provided solid enough evidence to accuse Rollie of a crime. He claimed the knot on the back of his head was the result of a bar fight, and the authorities hadn’t contradicted him.
“You’re looking much better today, dearie.” Jane fastened a jeweled comb in Stella’s hair. “The bloom in your cheeks is returning.” Her shoulders sagged. “I just wish I hadn’t been in such support of Dr. Hazzard. Every night I wonder … if only I’d tried to stop you—”
Stella turned on the stool and took Jane’s hands. “Never mind that. I’m home, and that’s all that matters.”
Jane nodded. “I thank you for saying it. It’s good to have you home. The place wasn’t the same without you.”
Stella smiled. “I missed you too.”
Jane’s eyes glinted with mischief.
“You’re up to something. What is it?”
“I’ve got a letter for you.” Jane’s delighted grin warmed Stella’s chest. She handed her an envelope.
Familiar pointed handwriting decorated the front. Stella took the letter, and her heart wilted. After considering the matter further, she’d given up the notion that her mystery friend had abandoned her. No doubt his letters had been intercepted by Dr. Hazzard or Sam. But she couldn’t pick up writing again as if nothing had changed. A part of her used to think they might have a future together. Not anymore. Not as long as Henry breathed. But despite his talk of forgiveness, she hadn’t seen him since he brought her home. Part of that must be thanks to Uncle Weston’s temper, but Henry was a grown man with a mind of his own. If he wanted to talk to her, why not send a letter or a telegram? He must not wish to continue their friendship now that his employment had been terminated. But that wasn’t like him.
Stella forced a smile. “Don’t look so excited, Jane. It will come to nothing.” She set the message on her dressing table.
“You should at least read it.” Jane prodded her with a hairpin.
Stella slipped a single sheet from the envelope and unfolded it. Nothing he could write would change her mind or persuade her they could be more than friends. Or business partners if he agreed with her ideas for the children’s home.
She scanned the words.
My dearest Stella,
Meet me at Rodeo Beach tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. I’d like to talk about the children’s home. Your ideas are splendid. In a way, I’ve started helping children already. They were sort of thrown my way by the hand of Providence. I’ll bring them along. They could use a beach outing.
I look forward to seeing you at long last with no more secrets between us.
Yours very truly
Stella folded the page and fit it back into the envelope. Jane’s gaze nearly burned a hole in her skin. Stella jutted her chin. “He wants
to discuss a business matter.”
“Is that so?” Jane wrangled a wayward strand into place, a smile twitching her lips.
Stella closed the message into a drawer as her brain struggled to sort her varied feelings. The dream of making a difference in the lives of others flowed deep in her veins. Running a clothing manufacturer wasn’t enough despite the fact she played a minor part in the lives of her employees. The longing to touch individuals on a soul level far outshined the simple task of signing paychecks. But what if this man had more than a business partnership in mind? Though he’d never used the word love in his letters, his endearments and his tone had made her feel cherished. Like she mattered to him in a way she’d never mattered to anyone before. If the feelings he harbored for her traveled beyond friendship or business, how would she tell him she didn’t feel for him in that way? Would their uneven emotions clip the wings of their plans before they took flight?
“I don’t think I should meet him.” Stella smoothed her skirt.
“Are you running away from a difficult conversation?” Jane added a few jeweled pins to Stella’s hair in strategic places.
“Perhaps.”
“If you run away, you could be missing a golden opportunity.” She patted a stray curl. “Sometimes you’ve got to stand still and face what comes head-on. And trust that God will guide you.”
Stand still.
That command seemed to fit so many of life’s situations. When she’d finally given the outcome at Starvation Heights to God, he’d brought Henry to her rescue just as her circumstances were at their bleakest. Now, standing still required she meet the man she had written to for so long and tell him in person that she wished to help him make a home for needy children but nothing more. Running from her problems was just as much against God’s desire for her to stand still and see His handiwork as making weak attempts to fight for her own way.
“Will you go with me?” She squeezed Jane’s hand. “I don’t think I can do this alone.”
Jane offered a sad smile. “I wish I could, but some things in life must be handled without an audience.”
Stella chewed her lip. God, help me to know what to say.
“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Henry fumbled with his necktie while he stood in front of the mirror. Another failed attempt. He untangled the knot and started over.
“I’m more than sure.” Jane handed Daisy to him then motioned him closer.
With Daisy settled on his hip, Jane set his tie to rights and smoothed his collar.
“You look dashing. She’ll not refuse you.”
“But I lied to her.” He caught Rose by the shoulder as she passed and wiped jam off her cheek with his thumb. “She’ll never forgive me.”
“I think she may be able to look past it this once.” Jane snatched Robby’s shoes from the middle of the rug. “Will that boy never learn to put things where they belong? Miss Stella will have her hands full with this one. Robby!” She strode out of the room, waving the pair of shoes.
Even if Stella looked past his deception and agreed to go forward as partners in the children’s home, would Henry be satisfied with nothing more than a business relationship? He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. Not hardly. He’d marry her today if she’d take him.
Daisy glanced at him with wide blue eyes. “Sad?” Her chubby hand stroked his cheek.
At the sound of her tiny voice, tears sprang to his eyes. She’d finally spoken, and her word had been meant to comfort him. He hugged her tight. “I am a little sad. But I let myself down, and I’m paying the price for it now.”
Daisy kissed his cheek. “Wuv you.”
His heart swelled to bursting. “I love you too, little one.” He glanced at the wall clock. Time to start for the beach. “Are you ready to meet Miss Stella again?”
Daisy nodded, though her eyes registered no recognition of the name.
Was he ready to see her again with so much guilt hanging between them?
Chapter Thirty-Six
The salty breeze tugged a wispy curl from Stella’s braid and blustered it into her eyes. She tucked the stray strand behind her ear, keeping her focus on the path leading to the shore. Waves crashed against the rocks behind her. Any moment now, she would see him—her mysterious letter writer. Her eyelids drifted shut as she prayed for wisdom. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do, but aside from helping with his charity work—
Children’s shouts and giggles rode a gust from somewhere over the rise. Stella’s breath hitched. His idea to bring the children had been inspired. At least if emotions ran high, the little ones would serve as a distraction.
A boy wearing a gray suit and cap jogged down the hill, tugging a golden-haired girl behind him. As they neared, recognition stirred within her. Robby and Rose. The children she’d met that day in the alley. Her eyes pricked with unshed tears.
The mystery benefactor had said God brought these children to him. Her vision blurred as they ran to her and little Rose threw her arms around Stella’s waist. She’d given God so little credit for answering her prayers, but He’d been working all along. Even though she hadn’t seen or felt it happening. Stella hugged Rose close.
“How are you, my dear? I’ve prayed for you.”
Rose muttered something against Stella’s dress. Robby stooped, picked up a sand crab, and flashed a mischievous grin.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, young man, but I don’t like the look of it.” Stella tried to inject sternness into her quavering voice, but failed miserably. Still, Robby had the decency to blush three shades of red. “Where is your sister? Daisy?”
Robby pointed to the top of the hill. Dune grass fluttered, and a man’s head came into view. The brim of his hat shielded his face, but the broad shoulders and confident gait stilled the breath in Stella’s lungs.
She licked dry lips. It couldn’t be. Her vision misted.
But with each step the man took toward her, Stella’s heart beat faster. It was him. Henry.
With her hand pressed over her mouth, she tried biting back sobs to no avail.
Henry stopped a few yards away, whispered something to Daisy, and set her on the ground. She grasped his fingers in her little hand, and they walked the rest of the way together until they stood directly in front of her.
Stella thumbed tears from her eyes and patted Rose’s head, then the girl moved away to join her brother on the beach. Robby whooped and hollered, chasing a flock of gulls who then congregated farther down the beach, likely plotting their revenge.
“Stella.” Henry’s voice brought fresh tears. He crammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Pretended to be something—someone I’m not. As much as I love your passion for the children’s home, I have to say, it’s not what I want.” He swallowed hard and met her gaze. Then he took her hand. “I mean, it is what I want. But I wish …”
The words of his letters filtered through her mind and lifted her heart to new heights. Of course he’d written them. How could she have been so blind to think otherwise? Henry had always been her dearest friend, caring for her with a depth and constancy no one else showed. Her heart swelled. He wanted more than friendship.
“I don’t bring anything to the table.” His voice lowered along with his gaze. “I’ve no wealth to offer you, nothing you don’t already have. But I’d give you my whole heart, for what it’s worth.”
Stella squeezed his hand. “Henry, look at me.”
Their eyes met, and the raw emotion in his gaze sent her pulse thrashing.
“It is I who should apologize. All this time, you wrote me, knowing how desperately I needed a friend. But I was blind and arrogant. I thought you were beneath me.” She cringed at the ugly truth. How had she ever believed something so terribly wrong? “But as I examined my heart and my motives, I found that my character was lacking, not yours. I’m selfish, but I don’t want to remain this way. I want to put others first … just as you do. Truthfully, you are a far deal too good
for me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever known, and I don’t deserve you—”
Henry pulled her close and brushed his thumb against her cheek. “You keep talking of friendship.” He searched her eyes, and her stomach fluttered. “Please tell me I have a chance at more. I’ve loved you since we were children. And though we are so very different, I can’t keep quiet about it for another moment. You said in Washington that you loved me. I pray you meant that in a deeper way than friendship.”
“I do love you. As so much more than a friend. I didn’t know just how much for a long while. But Henry Clayton, you mean the world to me.” Time slowed and Stella rose on her toes. Her lips brushed Henry’s in a gentle kiss. His arms tightened around her, and warmth coursed through her veins. Loved. In his embrace, she felt deeply loved. And not for money or other superficial things, but for herself. Because Henry knew her flaws and loved her for them, not despite them.
A gentle tug on her skirt broke Stella from Henry’s kiss. She glanced down at little Daisy, who stood with one arm raised. “Up,” she said around the thumb in her mouth.
“Come here, my love.” Stella scooped her up and held her close. Then she cast a glance at Henry. “I know we intend to be more than business partners.” She tried and failed to hide a smile. “But I’d like to use the estate for the children’s home. I’ll be twenty-five next week, and it will be mine to do with as I please. Wouldn’t it be a good place for the children to run and play?”
“But your uncle?” Henry twined an arm around her waist.
“Leave him to me.” Stella rested her head on his shoulder and surveyed the glistening waves. Rose had Robby half buried beneath the sand with only his head and arms showing.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Henry kissed her cheek. “The children can be a handful, and I know you’re unwell.”
The Purple Nightgown Page 24