Baby Karl.
Eric had failed his son before the child even drew breath, before he knew the sweetness of light, of life.
He had to stifle the feelings between Letty and him; they couldn’t take root and grow. Weak as he was, he had to find the strength to fight his soul-deep need for love.
Letty couldn’t wait for the church social. She hoped the evening would offer the opportunity to make new friends who might fill her time and thoughts. Maybe then she’d stop thinking of Eric.
Late Friday afternoon, she took a watered-silk dress in rosy plum from her trunk. She’d taken great care packing it; it scarcely needed a touch with the iron.
Spreading the garment across her bed, she remembered Mother insisting she have the dress made. Letty rarely indulged in frivolous luxuries, and although her serviceable skirts and shirtwaists suited her most of the time, tonight was a special occasion. Letty reveled in the beauty of plum silk and cream brocade.
She bathed in the large enameled tub in the lean-to off the kitchen. After the soak in violet-scented water, she dried off and donned her only corset. Though she abhorred the contraption, Letty had enough vanity to want the smallest waist possible for her beautiful gown—even if it did take contortions to lace up the corset.
She faced the looking glass over the washstand to do her hair. She piled the curls in a soft arrangement on the crown of her head, golden strands catching the lamplight and sparkling among the deeper brown. The rich plum of her dress set off her fair skin and reflected rose onto her cheeks. Behind her, the softer pinks and whites in the room offered her a perfect background.
Tonight, in this beautiful dress, Letty’s plain, gray eyes looked almost silver. Yes, indeed, the spinster doctor looked anything but dowdy tonight. Letty refused to acknowledge the reason for her excitement. As she flung her cape over her shoulders, she picked up a pretty beaded reticule.
She went straight to the fellowship hall at the church and hung her cape on the hall tree by the door. Happy chatter drew her inside.
The noise and bustle momentarily stunned her. Large lamps illuminated the room, and ladies in colorful clothes flitted like butterflies. In contrast, dark jackets lent the men a stark elegance. Clusters of folks leaned close to carry on conversations, and the perfume of food enticed a grumble from Letty’s neglected belly.
“Letty!” Randy’s soprano soared over the chatter. Her friend’s copper-colored hair reflected the light of the lamps. Oblivious to the people milling about, she cut a path to Letty. “You’re finally here!”
Letty laughed. “Finally, Randy? I’m not even late.”
Randy waved the comment aside. “I’m just so very happy to see you looking so lovely. That color is marvelous. You look more regal than England’s Queen Victoria.”
Letty glanced down. “My dress is nice, but I’m too small to manage regal.”
Tugging her friend along, Randy waded through the sea of people. “I’ve heard say Her Majesty is tiny, just like you, and I think you should always wear that shade. It makes your skin glow.”
Letty blushed. “Perhaps what you see is the lamplight on my skin.”
Then Randy stopped. Letty plowed into her back. She peeked around her friend and gasped.
Eric.
“Well, now,” Randy said, “we can get another opinion. Don’t you agree, Eric, that our doctor looks lovely tonight?”
Letty fought to keep from melting into a puddle of mortification. Eric, in a coffee-colored suit, stood before them, more handsome than ever. His jacket set off the crisp white of his shirt, a precisely knotted brown silk tie kept the shirt’s high collar closed, and in the lamplight his hair gleamed like old gold in contrast to his dark eyes—eyes fixed on her.
Letty’s cheeks blazed, and she studied her hands.
The moment lengthened. The hubbub faded. When Eric didn’t respond, Letty wondered if Randy’s question had offended him. Had he perhaps walked off? She looked up and wished she hadn’t.
She caught his gaze.
Letty’s middle fluttered. Heat wove through her veins. Then a titter to her right broke the spell.
She glanced at Randy, embarrassed by her lack of control. The expression on the redhead’s face made Letty again wish she’d kept her gaze fixed on the floor. Randy smiled gleefully at Eric and then at Letty, an almost parental pride on her features. Letty wanted to run back home.
“Well?” Randy asked again. “Isn’t Letty lovely?”
Eric hadn’t realized he’d been staring at Letty, but dressed like this she was a revelation. Her wholesome prettiness had appealed to him from the first. Tonight, though, her simple freshness had given way to stunning femininity.
She’d piled her dark hair high on her head, and her cheeks echoed the rose of her gown. He closed his eyes and shook his head in an effort to dispel the effect of her beauty. When he looked at her again, her gray eyes gleamed like silver, and he feared he might drown in their molten depths.
“Without a doubt, you’re an exquisite sight,” he finally said.
She looked away. “Thank you.”
“Well,” Randy chimed in. “Douglas seems to be looking for me. Enjoy yourselves!”
She dashed away, mischief in her green eyes.
Just wait until I catch up with Douglas Carlson, Eric thought. I’ll give the lawyer an earful about his wife’s latest prank.
Letty took a step away, and without thought, he caught her hand. “Please don’t go. It is a pleasure to see you tonight. You look lovely.”
Letty nodded but avoided his gaze. Again without thought, Eric reached out and lifted her chin with his other hand. She blushed a deeper shade.
“Randy’s tactics can irritate,” he added, hoping for a response. Unable to stop himself, he caressed the velvet curve of Letty’s jaw. She trembled, and he couldn’t help but think how different she seemed tonight. Letty was an intriguing mix of contrasts—medical practicality mixed with elegant femininity.
“Please don’t let it bother you. The compliments were sincere, Randy’s and mine. Especially mine.”
Letty’s gaze skittered up and at last met his. Eric enjoyed the shy delight he read there. Why did she affect him so strongly?
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Eric decided right then that he didn’t care why she affected him. He just knew she did and wished he had the right to pursue his interest. But he didn’t, and he had to put an end to it. Intending to release her, his fingers skimmed her jaw one more time.
Again she shimmered, but this time a responding tremor shook him. He tightened his hold on her hand, cursing his weakness.
“There you are, my dears,” said Mrs. Stone. “My husband is ready for the blessing. Come, I’ll show you to your table.”
Eric released her hand as if it were a hot cinder. His fingers felt scorched, singed.
Letty dropped her reticule. Thankful for something to do, he retrieved it. She took the purse, making sure they didn’t touch again.
Eric followed the women, refusing to let the appeal of Hartville’s new doctor capture him again. So focused was he on walking that he never noticed when Letty stopped. He bumped into her and instinctively wrapped his arms around her. The inadvertent embrace called forth the hunger he’d worked so hard to deny—comfort, companionship, love. No matter how hard he fought his need, Eric still longed for love again. One that would last.
Letty groaned.
His voice cracked. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She pointed toward Mrs. Stone.
Their voices mingled. “Oh, no!”
7
Mrs. Stone stood proudly in front of a table set for two. Round tables large enough for six or eight were the norm elsewhere, and Eric winced at the blatant matchmaking.
He squeezed Letty’s shoulders. “There’s little we can do but humor her. It would be worse to say anything.”
“I—” She paused and straightened her back, obviously calling on a reserve of dignity. “I agree, and
I apologize for the unfortunate situation. You likely had plans of your own. Please understand, this was not my doing.”
“Letty, look at me. There’s no question whose idea this is.”
“Thank you, Eric. I’ll try to make the evening as painless as possible.”
With a polite murmur for Mrs. Stone, Eric pulled out Letty’s chair. As he sat across from her, he sought her silver gaze. When she faced him, he said, “You’re not about to dose me with some insufferable remedy. We’re about to share a delightful meal. I, for one, anticipate a pleasant evening.”
She responded with a wry smile. “I’ve thanked and apologized a lot tonight. I’m not usually so awkward.”
“I know. You normally control every situation. It’s interesting to watch you when someone else is in control.”
“You are reprehensible, Mr. Wagner.”
“Perhaps, Dr. Morgan.”
“Most assuredly, sir.”
“Perhaps.”
Despite the inauspicious start, the evening went well. They enjoyed the tender roast, the well-seasoned vegetables, and the rich, sweet pie. As they savored fragrant cups of coffee, they noticed that other tables had been cleared away. People had broken off into groups, and Eric soon led Letty to a cluster of couples that included the Carlsons.
Randy bounded up. Eric thought her the least likely expectant mother, but Douglas had confided their news, and he had no reason to disbelieve his friend.
Randy shot Letty a sly glance. “I know. Why don’t we play charades? Letty said she loves the game.”
Letty groaned, suspecting more meddling.
“Oh, yes!” chimed a young lady, who winked at Randy.
Randy’s lips widened into a broad smile. “How about works of literature?”
A murmur of approval circled the group as a few others joined to play. Soon everyone had written a title on a slip of paper. One by one, the ladies made their choices. Letty was left for last.
When Randy held out the basket with the last slip of paper, Letty had good reason to mistrust the mischief in her friend’s eye. “You’re up to no good,” she whispered. “Again. Don’t think I won’t demand retribution.”
Randy giggled. “I’m sure you will, but first I’ll have my way.”
“That’s my fear.”
As Letty unfolded her slip, Eric leaned close. “What are you afraid of?”
Letty handed him the paper. “This.”
He frowned. “I have to speak to Douglas about his wife.”
“Not tonight.”
“True. Right now we can only hope for the best.”
Letty pointed at the title. “So how do you propose we perform Romeo and Juliet ? Star-crossed lovers, no less.”
Eric’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitched, and Letty wondered what bothered him more, the embarrassing situation or the memory of his own star-crossed, lost love.
“They do expect us to play,” she added.
And they did, to the enjoyment of those present. With cheeks scorching, Letty stood, and Eric knelt at her feet, emulating the balcony scene. Silence flooded the room. Wishing herself anywhere on earth but in this crowded hall, the object of everyone’s scrutiny, Letty tried to gaze at anything but the man at her feet.
She took Eric’s hand, and the touch of skin against skin sent the now-familiar tingle up her arm. He, too, gazed at her, unrelenting, his eyes demanding her attention.
Silence enveloped the large hall. The atmosphere mellowed, grew richer, like the nap of velvet. Letty’s pulse beat a foreign rhythm; her lonely heart took solace in Eric’s nearness. How she wished this were real, that Eric truly longed for her, but they were playing a game; only a fool would believe a charade.
Sadness made Letty close her eyes. The silence changed. She tugged at her hand when the other players pretended not to guess, but Eric tightened his grip, making her face him again.
“Let’s just do the death scene and be done with it,” he muttered, his jaw more blunt than she’d yet seen it.
All Letty wanted was to reach the safety of her pink and white bedroom. The best remedy for her ruffled nerves was the comfort of thick blankets and her well-used Bible, but she had to see this through. Then she’d seek sanctuary. “All right.”
When he stood, she again glanced around the room. They’d attracted quite a crowd. Eric dragged two chairs into the circle around them, clattering through the expectant silence. He sat and then gestured for her to take the seat at his side. She arranged her plum silk skirt and looked to him for further guidance.
To her dismay, he moved his chair closer, his solid arm against hers. He pointed to his shoulder, indicating she should place her head there.
“No,” she argued in a whisper.
“Let’s just finish.”
She peered at their audience. Mrs. Stone’s beaming smile made the decision for her. “Oh, go ahead.”
Eric pantomimed the taking of the poison.
Letty pretended to stab a dagger into her heart.
He flopped back in the chair, simulating death.
She held her breath and placed her cheek on Eric’s wool-covered shoulder. The impropriety distressed her even more.
She held the position for a second, long enough to feel Eric’s strength. His warmth seeped into her cheek, the spice of bay rum filled her senses, and longing stole into her heart.
Whispers rippled through the silence.
“What a lovely couple they make,” someone murmured.
Enough. She’d provided more than her share of entertainment. She stood.
“Romeo and Juliet,” called Randy. Her contrite expression said she knew she’d gone too far.
“It’s late,” said Letty. “Especially for a doctor with patients to see in the morning.”
Polite assent circled the group. She bid all a goodnight and headed for the doors.
“Letty! Please wait.” Bustling to her side, the pastor’s wife cut off her exit.
“Yes, Mrs. Stone. How may I help you?”
“No, no, dear. I wish to help you. It’s cold outside and very dark. You mustn’t walk home alone. Who knows what might happen, what with all those saloons, billiard halls, and other establishments on East Crawford. One can’t be too cautious.”
“But that’s all at the far end of town—”
Ignoring Letty’s words and manacling her wrist, Mrs. Stone dragged her back to the circle of chairs. “Eric,” she called, and Letty wished to die. “You do have your carriage this evening, right? Please see Dr. Morgan home.”
Eric looked taken aback. Letty cringed. What could he be thinking? She lived only a two-minute stroll away from the church.
After a curt nod for the pastor’s wife, he said, “My pleasure.”
“It’s not necessary,” Letty objected.
Neither Eric nor Mrs. Stone paid her the least attention.
She marched toward the doors, retrieved her cape, and put it on. “You could have refused,” she told Eric through clenched teeth.
“Of course,” he answered, a similar tang to his words. “Then I would have had to explain to Mrs. Stone and the whole congregation why I refused to see a lady home. The lady with whom I’d just acted out that stupid charade.”
In the ensuing silence, they walked to Letty’s house, neither willing to risk the intimacy of Eric’s rig. The temperature had dropped since the afternoon, and patches of ice lurked everywhere. Letty kept her gaze on the ground, afraid of what she might see in his face. Pristine snow glistened in the moonlight, sparkling more than the stars in the jet sky.
“Letty?”
“Yes,” she said, then her feet hit ice and flew out from under her. She wasn’t surprised—her world had tilted so far off balance that evening. The surprise came when strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.
The moon, full and round and pouring silver over the earth, glazed them with its luster, while elsewhere shadows shrouded corners in mystery. Silence swelled around them.
“Letty.
” Eric whispered this time.
She met his gaze, and her last scrap of sanity vanished. He touched her lips with his and spun her into a world she’d never known existed.
Without taking his lips from hers, Eric cupped her face and threaded his fingers into her hair. Letty’s pins slipped out.
The kiss went on, and on, and on.
Slowly, gently, he released her. Her eyes fluttered open. He reached for her hands and lowered them to her sides.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice a rough croak. “Go home. You’re almost there.”
His abrupt withdrawal hurt. Letty stood in the frigid night, unable to speak, unable to move. He walked away.
She heard his low, heartfelt curse.
In the days after the disastrous church social, Letty was so busy she had no time to think of Eric, much less remember their kiss.
One unusually quiet morning found her wondering what to do with her maturing chicks. Each time she entered the kitchen, the birds chased after her, pecking at the hem of her skirt. Too often they landed nips on her ankles.
“More’s the pity I can’t see you in my roaster as dinner,” she muttered, “no matter how unruly you are.”
As she stared at the fortunate fowl, a pounding at the door startled her. Glad for the distraction, she went to respond.
“Mrs. Stone! Are you hurt? Ill? Is the pastor well?”
“I’m fine, dear. It’s Elsa Richards who needs your help. The baby’s not coming as quickly as it should. We must hurry.”
Letty grabbed her bag and her ulster. “Let’s be on our way.”
Outside, Mrs. Stone hoisted her rotund body into the carriage and sat next to her husband. Letty wedged herself into the remaining space.
“You have no vehicle yet, do you, Dr. Morgan?” the pastor asked once the horse had resumed its pace.
“No, my savings are nearly depleted. And please, I’m Letty.”
Mrs. Stone weighed in. “I understood Eric had an unused buggy and was buying you a horse.”
“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable.”
Pastor Stone cast her a shrewd look.
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