Hearts Entwined: A Historical Romance Novella Collection

by Karen Witemeyer

  “How concerning?” Calvin slipped his arm under her shoulder as she coughed again.

  “She’s in the open air, so that’s good. He’ll listen to her lungs for a bit, might give her something to put some air in her stomach, cause her to vomit anything unwholesome. Maybe a stimulant.” He patted his shoulder. “Just help her over there. He’ll reexamine her and decide.” The doctor then forged back into the crowd.

  Calvin rubbed her back as she coughed again. She started in the direction of the wagon, and he fought to keep from yanking her to a standstill and holding her again. “You’ll be all right.” She had to be.

  “I’m sure I will.” She stopped to cough, and he continued patting her back, though it probably did no good. “Thank you for coming for me.”

  He tucked her closer as they started back up the slight incline. Her coughs were slowing. That had to be good, yes? “Please tell me you’ll go home now. Your home. Quit this job and be safe.”

  “Have I changed your mind about us, then?” She looked over at him with such hope that even her next round of coughs didn’t dim the light in her eyes.

  How was he to answer that when his thoughts were in such upheaval? Had she changed his mind? Some. Enough to get down on one knee and propose?

  “I can see the answer is still no.” She coughed again, but this time less forcefully. “In that case, I’ll come back tomorrow and help clean up.”

  He looked over his shoulder, and indeed, the firefighters pumping water from the nearby creek were shrinking the fire enough that the whole building wouldn’t be a loss. “You mean to tell me this hasn’t changed your mind?”

  “No.” She cleared her throat a few times, the cough she was likely suppressing roughening her words. “Nothing besides you choosing to love another would make me change my mind. Besides, I’ve done some good here.”

  He pulled her to a stop. “I can’t lie and say I’m not extremely . . . lucky to have your love, but I’m just an ordinary man. Nothing to interest a woman of quality like you. You could have your pick of suitors—your beauty, name, and sweet disposition could unite you to someone far better than I. Maybe you’ve imagined me to be something I’m not—”

  “No, I’ve seen what you refuse to see in yourself. In the same way you’ve seen what is good in me. You’re not worthless, Calvin. A man should not be judged by how much money he has or even might have. There are men of high social rank and wealth I wouldn’t marry because their character is deficient.”

  “But there are plenty of Kansas City men of both quality and wealth.”

  “I don’t love them.” She smothered a cough and then reached up to rub a thumb against the stubble along his jawline. “You are all the things I find attractive in a man. But even more than that, I love you because you think me valuable. You’ve been trying to keep me away for weeks, yet you just about ran into a burning building to find me. I know that no matter what happens in this life, you’ll be looking out for me. Even if I married another, I have no doubt you’d be praying I’d be happy.”

  “I do want you happy. I really do. That’s why—”

  She put a finger against his lips, and he closed his eyes, his voice shaky enough not to be trusted to continue.

  “I know you think not marrying me is what’s best for me. And in all other things, I’d heed your warning because I truly believe you do want to look out for me. But in this, you are wrong. I need you.” Her voice turned hoarse, the crackle from emotion, smoke damage, or both. “What better way for you to look out for me than being close to me, with me, beside me? Forever.” She inhaled sharply and coughed hard.

  He pulled her close and patted her back, not knowing if that would help, but what else could he do but stay beside her, with her, close to her? And he did indeed want to do that forever.

  He kissed the top of her head, taking in a deep breath, trying to smell the perfume of her soap beneath the pervasive smoke.

  If his mother hadn’t been the kind of woman to stay and tend her children through a time of misery, she wouldn’t have been the kind to rush into a burning building for a person she’d only known for a month, either.

  Marianne was not his mother. He had to quit comparing them.

  She laid a hand on his chest. “I’ll stop working if you can tell me you have no desire to marry me whatsoever.”

  Breathing grew difficult as he closed his eyes and held her tighter. He could say nothing of the sort.

  “I didn’t think so.” She backed away to cough again, then looked up into his eyes. “I know there could be hardship, but I think the joy we could give to each other outweighs the risk.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t shove away a lifetime of blessing because you fear trials. You’ll have them no matter what you do.”

  The simple act of having her in his arms was a blessing he didn’t deserve. Getting to love her for the rest of her life . . . he didn’t deserve that, either.

  But then, David’s friendship, his job, his salvation—they were all blessings he didn’t deserve, and nothing would compel him to shove those away.

  He’d wanted to save Marianne and himself from heartbreak, but was he keeping them from a joy he would never dare hope for?

  She took a step closer, and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her again.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said about not being worth my love.” Though she coughed, she kept talking. “So I thought about what makes gold more valuable than anything else shiny, like tin or glass—why your treatment of me feels different than all the other suitors I’ve had. And I decided that what makes something a treasure is its rarity and how it’s treated.” She put a hand against his chest. “You, Calvin, are the only man I’ve ever felt this way for, and that means you’re rare. As for how I treat you, it’s like the Bible story about the pearl. The farmer sold all he had to buy the land where he’d found a precious gem. I think you’re a treasure worth sacrificing for. Maybe no one else does, maybe not even you, but I do.”

  Since she’d stopped coughing, he tucked the treasure that was Marianne against his chest. When he’d stumbled upon this pearl of a woman, he’d been a fool, trying to encourage her to hand herself over to anyone else rather than give up all he had for her, fearing he might mishandle the precious thing she was, that their life together would tarnish her beauty.

  But her beauty wasn’t a superficial layer on the outside he could rub off. Agitation and trials would likely only make her more resplendent—like she was right now.

  Her coughing started again, and he forced himself to move forward with her so she could get medical attention. “Let’s get you to the doctor before you get worse.”

  She nodded, unable to talk after using all her breath to convince him that her love was steadfast and true.

  An older gentleman near the medical wagon came and took her by the shoulder. “I’m Dr. Costa.” He turned to Calvin. “Is this your wife?”

  For some reason, his mouth resisted answering with the truth. “No, she’s not. This is Marianne Lister.”

  “Oh.” The man’s white eyebrows rose quickly and then fell back down as he took in her clothing. “I didn’t expect to find a Lister in this chaos. Come. Let’s get you to the hospital. I’ll have someone call your family physician immediately.”

  The doctor took Marianne from his arms. . . . They’d never felt so empty.

  He’d always known she was a jewel among women. Now it was time he started treating her as such.

  Chapter

  9

  On the walk down to Calvin’s basement apartment, Marianne pulled her shawl tighter and loosed a small cough. Dr. Tallgrass had told her she’d recover, but he’d informed her in no uncertain terms that she was not to return to the factory. Not because he was concerned about her health, but rather because he’d been alarmed she’d stooped to such work in the first place.

  She had little hope her family’s physician would not contact her parents, but she still planned to move into the b
oardinghouse with Mrs. Smith. She could help the older woman save on rent and have more time to convince Calvin of her love. She was getting close to allaying his fears, wasn’t she? But if she couldn’t, at least she could mourn the loss of a future with him at the boardinghouse without her parents chastising her for it.

  But to do so, she’d have to find another job, since she’d been fired this morning.

  Probably Dr. Tallgrass’s doing, expecting a reward from her parents for looking out for her well-being.

  After she’d left the cotton mill, she’d tried to get a job at the linseed mill and the ice plant, but any place run by the Liscombes would not hire her. So she’d headed to the area surrounding Mrs. Smith’s boardinghouse to look for work, but there were no open positions.

  Dusk had arrived before she’d gotten any leads, and she’d tried not to think about how Calvin had said poverty was always lurking around the corner when one needed work to survive.

  Not that she needed to work, and doing so would make her peers consider her a fool. But the Bible story of the pearl and the farmer had whirled around in her head as she’d searched for employment. Though it was a parable about finding salvation, not love, that farmer had inspired her to keep going. He’d sold everything dear to him, knowing it was possible that by the time he returned, the owner could’ve already sold the land and he’d have lost the pearl.

  But the risk had been worth it.

  While turning the corner behind the Yandells’ house, she fingered the last piece of cotton she’d taken off the mill floor after saying good-bye to the Moore sisters and handing them her lunch. She walked toward Calvin’s trellis in order to tie on the last thread.

  But the closer she got, the slower she walked. The trellis stood empty of everything but the dying vine.

  Had he taken down all the strings she’d tied to prove her love? After the fire, she’d thought she truly had a chance with him, that if she could hold steady, he’d realize love was a blessing worth shucking fears to attain, but instead, he’d torn down every last memento of how much she cared, the evidence that she willingly lived humbly for a chance at his heart.

  She fingered her last cotton thread. Perhaps it no longer mattered that there would be no more cotton string to tie to his trellis. Perhaps there was no reason to upset her parents by moving out. Perhaps her pearl was lost forever.

  Her throat clogged at the thought that Calvin had counted the risk and ultimately found her unworthy.

  But even so, she still loved him.

  She let out a deep sigh and moved forward to tie on the last string she’d bother to put up, blinking back tears she would not shed.

  Calvin’s apartment door banged open and he burst through, shrugging on his coat as the door slammed behind him. “I was beginning to think you’d finally given up.”

  Was he coming out to tell her once again that she should? One of the tears she’d chosen not to loose rolled onto her cheek, betraying her.

  He stopped in front of her, his gaze roaming her face. “I just got back from your house. They assured me you were all right, but that didn’t stop me from shaking my head at you when your maid informed me you went to the mill this morning.”

  She didn’t trust her voice to small talk. Who cared about her health or where she worked, anyway? She glanced over at the trellis, bare of anything but the dying vine. “I see that the trellis has been . . . cleaned up.” She swallowed hard against a cough she was afraid might turn into a sob if she weren’t careful. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Yes.” He pulled something white from his pocket, took her hand, and placed it in her palm. “I made this for you.”

  She frowned at the small crocheted item. A terrible bit of needlework, the end threads loose and the item lopsided, though it looked like a . . . heart, sort of. She blinked against the confusion and looked up at him. “What is this?”

  “I took all your strings, tied them together, and crocheted a heart.”

  She couldn’t help the look of disbelief. “You crochet?”

  “No, rather, Mrs. Yandell told me what to do with her hook and I did it, since I wanted to be the one who actually made it.”

  “You made me a heart?”

  “Yeah.” He tore his gaze off the cockeyed item in her hand and looked into her eyes, his own mesmerizingly vulnerable and soft. “I’m not that farmer in the parable you told me about yesterday. I don’t have anything worth selling, and I don’t know how long it will take me to save enough for a decent house in a good neighborhood, but I hoped you’d be all right with me saving what I’d spend on an engagement ring and accept this heart instead.”

  “In place of an engagement ring?” she breathed, her own heartstrings feeling like they were being yanked in several directions at once.

  “Yes.” He curled his hand around hers. “If you’d offered your love to another man and he’d shoved it away, I’d have considered him a fool. I don’t want to be a fool anymore. I love you. I’ve loved you for years. I just couldn’t hope for your love in return, because you deserve so much better than what I can give you.”

  She blinked, attempting not to cry at the words she’d longed to hear.

  He caressed her cheek. “It might be a while before we can marry, though. I realized yesterday that I can trust you to stay through good times and bad, but I’d like to start out as well as we can. Once Mr. Kingsman learns I’m the reason you won’t be marrying David he’ll fire me, unless David can save my job. But even then, I’m not sure I should stay since I’d cause him problems, so I’ll need to search for another job, and then we’ll have to save up for a house—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips, her heart too full to hear any more of the obstacles he’d set up before them. “I’d marry you today, but if you need to feel more secure, I’ll wait, as long as you know that”—she leaned forward, only a breath away from his lips—“I intend to do whatever I can to hurry you up.” She tiptoed to close the distance between them. “I don’t need that much,” she whispered.

  The second her lips touched his, he dug his hands into her hair and kissed her with such passion, she couldn’t help but drop the heart in her hand. Though he may have told her to find someone more worthy to love only days ago, the longing in his touch and the hitch in his breathing proved the chemistry she’d felt for the past two years had been real.

  When he pulled away from her lips to place a line of kisses along the soft spot behind her ear, she leaned against him. “I do believe, Mr. Hochstetler, that you’ve just made my dreams come true.”

  He pulled back and laughed. “If I’m your dream come true, you should’ve dreamed bigger.”

  “Don’t you be laughing at my dreams.” She pulled back a little and thumped his upper arm. She couldn’t help the smile that stole over her face at him teasing her again, like he’d done before she’d almost messed everything up. “And since you’ve suggested I dream bigger, I shall.” She tiptoed up and put her nose against his. “I’ll pray God helps us get to the next part of my dream faster than you believe possible. Because I want to be your wife by Christmas.”

  “I’d forgo all Christmas presents for the rest of my life if that’s what I get this year.” He pulled her into an embrace. “I’m sorry I treated your love for me as less than the treasure it is. I assure you it wasn’t because I didn’t want it, but my whole life has been a study on why I wasn’t worth sticking around for. But you did stick around, even when I wouldn’t have blamed you for giving up. I’m sorry you had to go to such lengths to prove it, but I knew—still know, actually—that I’m not worthy of the extraordinary woman you are, but if you’re willing to love me anyway, I’m going to thank God and enjoy the gift.”

  “I’m nothing special,” she said, her words muffled by the thick layers of his coat.

  He scoffed, but that didn’t stop him from kissing her forehead. “There’s not a single man in Kansas City who believes my future bride is no one special.”

  Future b
ride. How often had her mother talked to her about her wedding, dreaming up lavish plans for tying the Kingsman and Lister fortunes together? And yet, none of those conversations had made her feel as happy as Calvin’s declaration that he planned to make her his.

  She wrapped her arms around him. “If you take away my wealth and my name, I’m nothing but an ordinary woman in love with an ordinary man, in pursuit of an extraordinary love.”

  “No longer a pursuit, Marianne.” He took her left hand and laid it upon his chest, where his heart thumped hard enough for her to feel it. “You long ago won my heart, and now you’ve convinced me I can truly have yours. So if God wills, every bit of the rest of me will follow in time.”

  Epilogue

  CHRISTMAS EVE

  You should’ve let me get you a new dress instead of wearing this old thing.” Mother swiped at the flounces as if dust still clung to the twenty-seven-year-old gown.

  “It’s fine, Mother.” Marianne turned, trying to catch a glimpse of the back of the burgundy dress in the full-length mirror. “It’s very sentimental, and what better dress to be married in than one that started a marriage I hope will be as fulfilling as my own?”

  “I’ve been telling all the ladies you wanted it for your ‘something old,’” Mother grumbled as she stood back and looked at her again. “It wasn’t more than my Sunday best back then, certainly not what you should be wearing.”

  Thankfully she stopped short of telling her Calvin wasn’t who she was supposed to be marrying, either.

  But thanks to David, upon his return from Teaville, he’d not only saved Calvin’s job but had promoted him to chief executive at Kingsman & Son—taking away much of Calvin’s fear and lessening her parents’ worry about becoming the laughingstock of their set.

  Plus, David had recently married a woman from Teaville, taking the teeth out of their parents’ favored argument about them belonging together.