Wistful in Wisconsin
Yours Truly: The Lovelorn Series
Marisa Masterson
Wistful in Wisconsin
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
The book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. All rights are reserved with the exceptions of quotes used in reviews. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage system without express written permission from the author.
Wistful in Wisconsin ©2020 Marisa Masterson
Cover Design by V. McKevitt
http://www.virginiamckevitt.com
Editing by Amy Petrowich
Formatting by Christine Sterling
1st Ed.
Table of Contents
Wistful in Wisconsin
Dedication
Chapter 1 The Chase
Chapter 2 The Purpose
Chapter 3 The Remembering
Chapter 4 The Surprise
Chapter 5 The Accusation
Chapter 6 The Wedding
Chapter 7 The Visitor
Chapter 8 The Election
Chapter 9 The Prisoner
Chapter 10 The Boss
Epilogue Autumn
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About this Series
Sneak Peek
Books by Marisa Masterson
About Marisa Masterson
Wistful in Wisconsin
Lilah Levitt made a terrible mistake when she answered a job advertisement for a hotel in Idyll Wood, Wisconsin. Kidnapped and carted off to a brothel in the North Woods, she barely escaped being abused. If not for Sheriff Fred Sittig, her situation would have been tragic.
No matter how often he tried to reason with Lilah, Sheriff Sittig could not get her to realize that she didn't love him. She was only grateful. After all, what would a beautiful and talented young woman want with a backwoods sheriff who could hardly read or write.
Unwilling to leave Idyll Wood, desperate to win the sheriff's love, Lilah Levitt writes a letter to the Lovelorn column for advice. The answer might shock them both and shake up the town of Idyll Wood in the process.
Dedication
To Becky Penberthy-Hovde
She wrote a letter and found love through an advertisement. Here’s to you, cousin.
Dear Lovelorn,
I dearly love newspapers. When a box arrived with oranges from California, I found your column in a newspaper packed amongst the fruit. You’re my last hope for advice on what to do.
How do I convince a man we’re in love? I’ve seen how he looks at me. I’m sure that’s longing in his eyes. Except, he either turns away or looks right through me.
Because of his heroism, saving my life in fact, the man is convinced that I am only grateful. Deluded, he called me before I returned to my home in Chicago.
Please, how can I open his eyes to the fact that we make a perfect couple?
Sincerely,
Wistful in Wisconsin
Dear Wistful,
Are you sure he returns your love? That he only needs a nudge? Be absolutely positive about that before you act on my advice.
To help your begrudging beau to see you as a couple, you need to be a couple. So, find out where he will be and when. Appear there and, as much as possible, attach yourself to him.
Prove he needs you. Take him some of your cooking or knit him a scarf. Remaining modest, fill a practical need for him to demonstrate how fitted you are to be his wife.
Above all else, be cheerful and attentive. Encourage him to share without burdening him with any concerns.
Yours Truly,
The Lovelorn
Chapter 1
The Chase
Hair stood on the back of Sheriff Fred Sittig’s neck. He wouldn’t look up. He willed himself to keep his eyes on the wanted posters in front of him.
Shoot! He couldn’t resist. Some instinct told him to find the eyes that watched him.
A pert little nose pressed against the only window of the sheriff’s office. Hands shielded the woman’s eyes so she could see into the building. A fog suddenly covered the window until a sleeve diligently wiped the cold glass.
It was her. Again! Even with the cool March sunshine behind her, he recognized that brown head. Especially with the sunlight bringing out that faint tint of red in it.
When she saw him look her way, the woman waved, flapping her mitten wildly like someone chasing away mosquitos. Fred also waved, but not in greeting. He was gesturing for her to go away. As usual, she mistook his meaning.
Her lips lifted, the grin spreading across her entire face. Then, she disappeared from the window.
Good! Maybe she finally got the message to leave him alone. It would be too much to hope. The woman always seemed to be wherever he went.
Sure enough, he was doomed to be disappointed. The door of the office eased slowly open with an elfin face appearing around it.
Not a bad looking face. If only he weren’t seeing so much of it lately. With a sigh, Fred stood to greet his visitor.
She moved into the room, her head slightly downturned. Nevertheless, he could see her sparkling eyes and the curl of her full lips as she grinned. He wondered if she were trying to be flirtatious or demure. Whichever, she didn’t quite pull it off.
Lilah Levitt lifted her head and faced the sheriff. “Good morning, Fred.” Here, she paused, waiting. When he didn’t return the greeting, only the slightest wisp of a frown flitted across those red lips.
Watching closely, he caught sight of it. Fred wanted to see her reaction. It was, of course, the only reason he was staring at her lips. At least, that’s what he told himself.
At his attention, a dimple appeared in each of her cheeks as she smiled at him. “I’ve brought you a sweet to get you through the morning.”
He hadn’t noticed the basket hung over her arm. Not with his eyes fixed on her face. Now, he watched as she pulled a plate from under the checked covering. Thick icing topped two tall cinnamon rolls.
Yesterday, it had been some of the best muffins he’d ever had the privilege to taste. Was this going to become an everyday thing?
He sat as she moved to the small stove. There, she emptied his coffee into a slop bucket and refilled the pot with fresh water. He couldn’t see what she added, besides coffee. Whatever she did, his coffee never tasted like hers. The woman certainly knew her way around a kitchen.
His lips watered to bite into the fragrant roll. Before he did, something needed to be said between them. Again.
Fred roughened his voice, not wanting to sound grateful or eager for her cooking. “You don’t need to pay me back for rescuing you. It’s part of my job.”
The twinkle disappeared from her eyes. A sudden storm flashed in them before she bowed her head, hiding her expression from him. As he watched, a sort of tremor traveled through her small body.
When she lifted her face to him, none of the agony showed. She wore a mask of calm resolve.
“I am not trying to reward you, sheriff. I only wanted to share a few treats from the batch of rolls I baked today.”
Neither spoke as they faced off, measuring each other. While her lips remained serene, she did quirk an eyebrow in challenge.
He wanted to smack a hand to his forehead. Why was he still watching those lips?
The coffee pot belched fragrantly, almost ready for them to enjoy a cup. Behind him, the door to the jail at the back of th
e building stood open.
From inside, a voice groaned. “Sure could do with a cup of that, Fred. My head’s gonna explode.”
Moving away from the petite woman, the sheriff moved to the door. “I’m not surprised with the way you tied one on last night, Murph.”
Lilah stood behind Fred. The lemon scent from her soap filled his nostrils. There was a pleasing smell beside that, one all her own. It had him shifting restlessly.
Probably that was the reason he barked at her. “What ya want, being back here?”
She raised a chipped mug, smiling. “Coffee’s ready. I brought it to help poor Mr. Murphy’s head.”
Her upbeat, high voice drew a groan from the man in the cell. Fred chuckled and unlocked the door. Taking the cup from her, he set it on the small table inside before leaving the cell.
When he spoke, his tone still held hints of a suppressed laugh. “Come on. I want a cup of that coffee before you give it all away.”
Lilah stared at him oddly but didn’t speak. When he raised an eyebrow, she only lowered her gaze slightly and fluttered her lashes.
That brought a tortured sigh from him. “Why the look? Did I do something strange?”
Did he imagine that ghost of a frown? She looked up with the same insipid smile, obviously not upset, so he must have imagined that expression.
She chirped in her girlish voice, “I just wondered why you didn’t lock the cell.”
Fred shrugged. “Murph’s sober so he’ll come out, pay his dollar fine, and leave. Happens at least three times a week.”
For a moment, the fake cheerfulness deserted her as she answered in a lower voice, one that felt like fingers stroking velvet. “What horror must drive that poor man! It’s not easy getting past terrible things that happen in life.”
In a murmur she added, “I should know.”
Nodding, Fred spoke with an equally somber whisper. “Some nights I wake in a cold sweat as I see Sheriff Redmond’s body crumple, the gun I hold still smoking. No way to reason away fear and guilt in the dead of night.”
She didn’t speak and he took advantage of that to prod her. “How are you coping with your own horror?”
It seemed to him that she donned an invisible mask. One minute she was sincere, the next a nitwit with a chirping voice. “Oh my! Sheriff, I couldn’t be better. But tell me more about what troubles you.”
He shook his head and moved to the stove. Once he had his cup of coffee, the irritated man sat behind his desk. Taking one smooth-tasting sip, he reached for a cinnamon roll.
Before he could take a bite, Murphy loped into the room. In one motion, the man plunked a dollar on the desk and grabbed the remaining roll.
“I’d think a man as liquored up as you were last night wouldn’t be able to eat this morning.”
Murphy’s eyes widened, eyes that surprisingly held none of the redness Fred saw in drunks. “I’d have to be a breath away from dead to miss out on one of Miss Lilah’s sweet treats.” With a gruff laugh, the drunk left the sheriff’s office.
Silently Fred agreed. Her baking was that good. Something nagged at his mind about the way Murph moved, not at all like a man with a hangover.
With a shake of his head, he dismissed it and focused on Lilah. If only the woman would stop following him and speaking in that fake voice.
An idea popped into his head. Myra!
His brother’s wife had a tender way with people. She might be able to talk this woman out of whatever strange idea had fixed in her mind. At least Myra might be able to find out why the woman insisted on using that awful voice.
Setting the uneaten roll back on the plate, he looked at the woman. “I appreciate all the attention you give me. It makes me ashamed to ask you for anything else.”
Delight curved her lips upward as she took the bait. “Please, ask. I have plenty of free time to do whatever you need.”
Just like that, she fell into his trap. “My brother’s wife, Myra, has four children and a new baby. She’s looked mighty tired. I wish someone would go out a couple times a week to help her.”
The woman twined her hands together, holding them in front of her in an almost prayerfully manner. “Your family! I would love to get to know your family better. When could I go see her?”
“I reckon any time right after dinner. That’s the noon meal, in case you didn’t know, city girl.” His teasing had her blushing as she batted her lashes at him.
Did she know, he wondered, that it looked like her eyes were chasing away flies? He found her sincere looks and low, sensual voice more alluring. Not that he would ever tell her that.
Oh, and her scent. He would definitely never tell her that!
He strained to hear the soft words. “But, I can’t just go out with no invitation.”
That pulled a quiet laugh from him. “I didn’t know you had a shy bone in your body. Go ahead and just tell her I sent you to help.” Then he whispered conspiratorially, “She could use a friend.”
Her eyes widened at that. “Doesn’t she have childhood friends to visit her?”
Shaking his head, Fred kept his voice low as he answered her. She was using a normal voice, and he didn’t want to break the spell.
“She’s like you. Someone who came here as an adult.” He couldn’t resist voicing the question. Leaning across the desk he watched her as he asked, “Why did you return to Idyll Wood? Especially after…”
His whispered words trailed off since his mind couldn’t summon up a euphemism for what she experienced. Watching Lilah closely, he caught a quick glimpse of torment. Anguish twisted her mouth briefly. In less time than it took to snap his fingers, she had that idiotic smile back in place.
Like a spring bounced her upward, she rose from her chair in front of his desk. She chirped her goodbye, fake voice and false smile in place. Lilah seemed to run out the door, basket swaying on her arm.
She was running from what? Him or his question? He’d asked that question before. Those times he’d never referred to the horror she’d lived through. Even so, she’d never answered it.
Why had she returned? Certainly not because she was in love with him. That was all hero worship because he’d rescued her from the brothel.
On the street in front of the jailhouse, Lilah Levitt breathed deeply. Cold air tickled her lungs. Tipping her face upward, she gloried in the weak Wisconsin sunshine that touched her. She was outside, safe and living near the man she loved.
She hurried along the boardwalk, resisting the urge to hug herself with joy. Darling Fred had asked about her. His voice had been so tender and caring. Truly, he’d shown her his love quite clearly today. She lived for those little glimpses.
Lilah knew she shouldn’t rush. People might think she was running from something. After all, she’d been trained to glide with a graceful stride at Miss Pomeroy’s Academy for Young Ladies. Before her first arrival in Idyll Wood, she walked that way. But, since Fred freed her from that place—
A shudder ran through her. For the briefest of moments, she felt rough female hands pinning her down. Suddenly, her feet took control. She was running to the mercantile, looking over her shoulder as if the brothel guards had found her.
She threw open the heavy wooden door, setting the bell above it ringing. Carl Sittig looked up with rounded eyes. When he recognized her, he only shook his head and called for his wife.
“Merrilee! Come out and help Miss Levitt, please.”
He nodded once in Lilah’s direction before returning to the open ledger on the long counter. Not waiting for kind Mrs. Sittig to help her, she moved to the back of the store and searched the shelves. Mr. Sittig kept a spot for home-canned foods. She studied the blue-tinged jars, looking for just the right—
She found them! Peaches. What man could resist a peach pie?
“Exactly right! I know my Carl loves peach pie.”
Lilah jumped. Truly, she didn’t know what startled her more, the woman’s unexpected approach or that she knew Lilah’s thoughts.
>
Without thinking first, Lilah blurted out her question. “How did you know I was planning a peach pie?”
Merrilee Sittig’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you know you were speaking out loud?” She folded her hands in front of her waist. “I am sorry if I intruded, Miss Levitt.”
Lilah quickly reassured the other woman. “No, of course not. And, no, I didn’t realize I’d picked up that habit.”
She let out a tsk. “I’ve only lived alone for two months. What will I be like in another two if Fred doesn’t—”
Her pale skin caught fire and burned. Lilah ducked her head, clenching her small hands. “Please, forget what I said a moment ago.”
Reaching out, Merrilee looped an arm through Lilah’s. She crooned her words. Her tone carried the fear that Lilah might burst into tears. “Come with me. We’ll have a cup of tea and talk.”
Willingly, Lilah followed her. She hadn’t had any invitations since coming back to Idyll Wood. Too many people knew what had happened to her. She’d never have returned to this tiny, unfriendly town if Fred wasn’t here.
Merrilee Sittig’s overture of friendship was certainly a God send. And not just because she was a member of Fred’s family. Lilah was lonely.
Lilah followed her around the counter and up a set of stairs set in a room behind the store. At the top, Merrilee opened a door and led her into a combination kitchen and dining room. It felt more cozy than small and Lilah sensed a welcoming hominess to it.
“Please, sit at the table while I set the kettle to boiling.” Her hostess indicated a chair across from the spot where they now stood. Lilah moved to it gracefully, spreading her skirt and petticoats as she sat.
Before turning away, Merrilee grinned at her. “You remind me of a teacher I had when I attended a day school for young ladies. She so tried to imbue some of that same grace into me.”
Her words ended with a sigh. “I’m afraid it didn’t work. Still, I’m happy with my ordinary life.”
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