by Indiana Wake
“When you look at it like that, I reckon I’m starting to feel real sorry for Marshall,” Suki said and looked suddenly less amused by it all. “That’s tough for anybody, isn’t it? But a kid?”
“But as you said, things are different now. We are all grown, aren’t we, and we can make changes.”
“So, you plan to be his friend, do you?” Suki said and Honey was relieved to see the glint returning to her pretty eyes.
“Yes, I’m starting to think I already am. Not just the whole business with the cowboys, but the fact that he came out to see me at the warehouse.”
“Wait a minute!” Suki said, sitting bolt upright and slamming her glass of peach tea down on the little table in front of them. “You never told me that.”
“I was just getting to that.”
“I knew you’d been to see him up at the big house, you didn’t tell me that he had come to see you. When was that?”
“Just a couple of days ago,” Honey said and couldn’t stop smiling.
“You’re blushing!” Suki said and squealed with delight.
“No, I’m not,” Honey said a little too defensively. “Well, maybe I am, but it’s you. You’re making me blush.”
“That’s ridiculous but carry on. What happened? Why did he come to see you?”
“He said he wanted to get out of the house. He’s been trapped in there ever since he injured his knee. He even asked me if I minded that he’d called in on me and I told him that I was pleased to see him.”
“I think you’re falling for your old enemy, Honey Goodman.”
“I think you might be right. Trust me to make life awkward for myself.”
“Why awkward?”
“It’s not just his family, is it? What about my own?”
“But your mama and daddy were nice to him, weren’t they? And I know your daddy will be grateful that Marshall rescued you, make no mistake about that.”
“It’s one thing to be respectful and grateful to a young man who’s been so brave, and quite another to accept your daughter falling for the son of a man who has tried time and again to pull the rug from beneath your feet. I just don’t know what my parents really would say and that’s the truth.”
“Well, what did they say about Marshall turning up to see you at the warehouse out of the blue like that?” Suki asked and retrieved her glass of peach tea. “Surely, they weren’t angry about it?”
“I didn’t tell them,” Honey said and winced; she’d never really kept a secret from her parents before and the idea of it did not sit comfortably with her.
“Oh dear, oh dear.” Suki said and chuckled wickedly. “Keeping secrets, huh? You really have got it bad, haven’t you?”
“I think I might have,” Honey admitted and felt her cheeks blush all over again.
Chapter 11
It wasn’t entirely unusual for Honey to wander off and do her own thing on a Sunday afternoon. As always, her parents had guests coming after church. They were such open and sociable people and Honey had always felt blessed to be their daughter. It had often felt, over the years, that the Goodman place was a hub, a kind of center of attraction for those who had travelled over the Oregon Trail all those years before. It was like their lives were entwined and Honey had always felt the warm spirit of community such things brought with them. She couldn’t help but think that, despite all his obvious advantages in life, poor Marshall had missed out on other things; vitally important things that money couldn’t buy.
Hopefully, however, things were about to change for him; for them both. When Honey had been returning from Suki Reynolds’ home the afternoon before, she had found a young man hovering in the tree-lined pathway down to her family home.
At first, her heart had begun to beat and her palms to perspire, for she was starkly reminded of her own fear that night when she had believed herself to be entirely alone and at the mercy of the cowboys. But she quickly pulled herself together; it was still bright daylight and she was on horseback; this was not the same thing at all. And she had walked this pathway all her life, she wasn’t about to make herself afraid to carry on as she had always done.
As she drew nearer, the young man smiled up at her and she realized that she recognized him. Although the two had never spoken, she remembered seeing him sitting outside her father’s warehouse in the wagon waiting for the master’s son. It was the stable lad, Jimmy, the one who had offered to drive Marshall wherever he wanted to go.
After a couple of minutes conversation, Jimmy had handed her a note from Marshall. He’d obviously not wanted to go right down to the house, and she wondered if that was Marshall’s doing or if Jimmy was just being a little cautious. Either way, Honey was glad. Suki was right, she really had kept a secret from her parents, and she wanted to find her own way to tell them the truth. Having one of Kirby Thornhill’s stable lads turn up with a note for their daughter was certainly not the way forward as far as Honey was concerned.
But the note from Marshall asking her to meet him down by the lake for a picnic on Sunday afternoon had been a real treat. The paper was already soft from so much handling for she had taken it out and studied every word of it time and time again. And even though she had hardly slept a wink all night, Honey felt bright and full of energy. She had smiled her way through the church service that morning, singing the hymns with such gusto that her mother had looked sideways at her at one point. She was so excited, she felt like a little girl, and she wondered if Marshall was as taken with her as she was with him. Of course, he was a young man made lonely by his circumstances and she could fully understand his need for a friend. However, she couldn’t help but hope that the handsome blue-eyed man wanted something a little more than simple friendship.
With Daniel and Carrie Macey coming to have Sunday dinner with the Goodman’s, her mother was too busy putting the finishing touches on the food to bother to quiz her daughter on where she was choosing to spend her afternoon. Honey simply said that she was heading out for a walk and her mother likely assumed that she would wander down to see Suki or any one of the many friends that Honey had.
As she made her way down to the lake on foot, Honey decided that she would deal with the guilt of her omission later. Her mother hadn’t asked, but there had been nothing to stop Honey telling. Still, she had the afternoon to look forward to and she didn’t want to spoil it with any internal wrangling.
As she walked through the trees, she could see the shining water of the lake in front of her. Coming out into the clearing, she could see that Marshall was already there waiting for her, a thick blanket spread out on the ground and a basket which no doubt contained the picnic food.
It hadn’t occurred to Honey to bring anything; she had been too excited by that note and the invitation. Thank goodness he hadn’t meant for her to bring the food, otherwise, she would have been a little embarrassed.
Over her last few steps, she looked down at herself; she was still wearing the pretty blue gingham dress she often wore for church; although, she had dispensed with the white straw hat with the little blue flower and ribbon attached to it. She was comfortable in what she was wearing, and she was confident that it was certainly pretty enough for a picnic by the lake.
“Marshall,” she called out to make him aware of her presence.
He had been sitting sideways on to her, staring out over the lake. He was contemplating something deeply, she could tell, and something about it had made him look mysterious. And handsome, of course, for he always looked handsome.
“I’m glad you could make it, Honey,” he said, rising to his feet like a gentleman.
“Don’t get up,” Honey said and grinned. “Your knee.”
“My knee’s a lot better,” he said and looked a little mischievous. “Although, my father doesn’t know that yet.”
“Did you ride down?” she said, looking all about her for any sign of a horse.
“No, Jimmy drove me.” He walked towards her, only limping a little. “I said he could have
a couple of hours to himself if he wanted, so he’s taken the wagon over to the other side of town. I think he’s got a girl there somewhere.” His smile was so warm and genuine that she realized he actually cared about his father’s servants.
“Lucky Jimmy,” Honey said and giggled. “I just realized, as I was making my way down, that I ought to have brought something with me,” she said, looking at the immense picnic basket.
“No, not at all, I have everything we need here. I invited you after all, didn’t I?”
“And I’m glad you did, Marshall.”
“You are?” he said and held her gaze for a moment in a way which made her feel just a little wobbly.
“Yes, I am.”
“So am I, Honey,” he said in a low, deep voice.
They stood for a moment or two just looking at one another before he finally took another step towards her and reached out for her hands. Honey raised her hands to meet his instinctively and felt a jolt of excitement when he held tightly to them.
She had touched him before, but that had been to help him balance, to help him make his painful way down to her parents’ home on the night the cowboys had attacked. This was very, very different and Honey found she couldn’t stop smiling.
Marshall smiled too, reacting to her, and pulled her towards him a little. When he kissed her, it was a curious mixture of something she fully expected and something she was entirely surprised by. His lips felt warm and smooth and she closed her eyes to enjoy every little sensation.
“Forgive me, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have just reached for you like that, Honey,” he said, although he continued to hold her hands. “You’ll think I’m no better than the cowboys.”
“You’re nothing like them, Marshall. And there is one very big difference.”
“And that is?”
“I didn’t want to kiss one of the cowboys,” she said and felt her cheeks blushing just a little. “But I do want to kiss you,” she said and closed her eyes as she waited for him to kiss her again.
Chapter 12
Honey’s heart and mind had been full of nothing but Marshall Thornhill for weeks. They had continued to meet whenever they could, neither one of them ever really broaching the subject of the awkward secrecy they had imposed upon themselves. For the most part, Honey didn’t think too much about it. She much preferred to think about Marshall and the wonderful, exciting newness of life.
He was a gentleman in every respect, and it only served to make him more and more attractive to her. They talked of life, dreams, and even about the old days at school when they were far from being friends. They had quickly overcome the guilt of looking back, deciding to stay rooted in the present. They had been children then, and loyalty to their parents had come first.
Secretly, Honey still disliked Marshall’s parents—although she would never have said as much to him. It wasn’t for any of the old reasons, but rather brand-new reasons unwittingly handed to her by Marshall himself. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that Kirby Thornhill was every bit the bully at home that he was around the town. He ran roughshod over his son’s dreams to the extent that he did not even know what they were. And as for Tessa Thornhill, Honey thought it unforgivable for a mother to have so little interest in the life of her only child.
As far as Honey could see, Marshall was a good man, one who was prepared to work hard, and one who deserved to have the life of his choosing.
Just as she was musing upon that very thing, Marshall came in to the warehouse. He was smiling and peering all about the place as if looking for her father.
“I’m on my own,” Honey said with a bright smile.
Without a word, Marshall hurried towards her, took her into his arms, and kissed her. Just as he was about to kiss her again, Honey heard the sound of footsteps outside and wriggled free.
“Someone’s coming,” she said and chuckled.
“Honey, I just came to tell you that…” her mother was already talking by the time she reached the door. “Oh, Marshall!” she said and smiled warmly through her surprise. “How nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Mrs. Goodman,” Marshall smiled back but Honey could detect a little uncertainty in his voice. “I hope you’re well,” he went on.
“Very well, Marshall. And how about you? How is your knee?” she asked, looking down at his leg as if she might find her answer there.
“It’s coming along nicely, Mrs. Goodman. I reckon I’ll soon be my old self again.”
“I was just coming to tell Honey that I was getting a little lunch ready for her. Why don’t you come down to the house, Marshall, and sit with us? I’ve made plenty, really.” Trinity Goodman seemed quite determined to have the young man sit down at her kitchen table again.
“Well, if you’re sure?” he said, his eyes darting to Honey.
“Yes, stay for lunch,” Honey said, not knowing whether to be pleased or nervous.
Honey put the sign up on the door to tell any would-be customers, those who did not realize that the Goodman’s took a break in the middle of the day, that she would be back in half an hour. Ordinarily, half an hour did not seem like very long to Honey but she thought that today it would be quite long enough. Her mama was a clever woman and there was not much which got past her. If Honey wasn’t careful, her mother would know in a heartbeat just exactly what was going on between her and Marshall.
The three of them walked down to the house together, Trinity Goodman taking the lead and Honey and Marshall sauntering along behind in deference to his injured knee. He looked sideways at her again and raised his eyebrows as if silently asking her if all was well, if this was all right. Honey smiled at him and narrowed her eyes, nodding just enough for him to see it.
“It’s nothing fancy, Marshall, just some freshly baked bread and some real good cheese I got in town this morning. Oh yes, and some tomatoes that I grew in the garden.” Her mother smiled and ushered Marshall and Honey into the kitchen. “Sit yourself down.”
“That bread sure does smell good, Mrs. Goodman,” Marshall said and Honey looked at him as he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
She realized then that this was not a simple platitude but the truth. He was enjoying the warm scent of the freshly baked bread and Honey wondered if he ever spent any time down in the kitchen of his father’s fine home when the cook was baking. Probably not, and it was unlikely that he had ever sat at the kitchen table while his own mother baked him something nice. It struck Honey that Marshall had missed out on so much warmth, so many of the simple things in life which stitch people together and provide comfort.
“Can you pour the peach tea, Honey?” Trinity said as she began to cut the freshly baked bread into thick slices.
“Sure, Mama,” Honey said and sauntered across the room to collect the jug her mother had set to one side.
She returned to the table, filling the glasses her mother had already put out, and felt Marshall’s eyes on her as she worked. When she set the jug down in the middle of the table, she looked at him. He was staring at her intently, his blue eyes so beautiful, and Honey felt the familiar fluttering in her stomach. The man sitting opposite her at her mother’s kitchen table was the man she wanted for life, and no mistake. Were things really as complicated as she had assumed them to be?
“So, how are you settling back in now that you’ve returned from university, Marshall?” Her mother chattered happily as she set a large plate of sliced bread and a dish of butter down on the table. “And help yourselves,” she added as she returned for the sliced tomatoes.
“I suppose it will take a little time for me to get used to things here again, Mrs. Goodman,” Marshall said conversationally. “I was away for almost four years.”
“Did you come home much during that time?”
“Perhaps not as much as I ought to have done.” He looked directly at Honey’s mother as she sat down, smiling, before continuing. “I think I was enjoying my freedom a little too much to return.” He added
with a mischievous shrug.
“You will soon settle down, Marshall. Are you picking up with old friends?” Trinity went on and Honey knew that her mother was digging for information, giving Honey the idea that she was not as far in the dark as she had thought.
“To be honest, I didn’t have so many old friends to begin with, and the ones I made at university have all gone back to their own lives now, which I suppose is inevitable.”
“Well, you are always welcome here, anytime you like.”
“That sure is kind of you, Mrs. Goodman,” Marshall said and Honey felt suddenly joyful.
Was everything going to work out for the best? Would her parents prove to be no obstacle at all to her happiness? At that moment, as if to test her theory to its very limits, her father came in through the kitchen door.
“You’re back early, Dillon,” her mother said brightly. “Are you all finished?”
“Yes, we should have the rest of that order coming in next week. It was just an oversight, a mistake in the paperwork.” Dillon Goodman took off his hat and hung it over a hook on the back of the kitchen door. “Have you got room for another one at the table?” he asked, smiling at Marshall before peering at the plate of bread and butter.
“Of course.” Her mother laughed as her father sat down at the table.
“It’s good to see you again, Marshall.” Her father smiled warmly and reached across the table to shake Marshall by the hand. “How’s that knee of yours doing? Not giving you too much trouble, I hope?”
“It’s coming along nicely, sir,” Marshall said and grinned.
“Well, tuck in everybody,” her mother said in everybody did just that.
Honey realized then that she ought to have trusted her parents all along. Even as a child, they had never meant for her to be at loggerheads with Marshall Thornhill. It was understandable that her young self had assumed such a thing, but she could see clearly now that there had never been any intention on the part of either her mother or father to see any child, even a child of Kirby Thornhill, excluded from the fun and friendship to be had in the schoolroom. If only she’d realized it then; if only the man she was falling for hadn’t suffered such loneliness as a little boy. And if only she hadn’t been a part of that.