by Gina Welborn
He opened his mouth to point out she hadn’t answered his question, but the pain in her eyes caused him to restrain his response. Whatever was bothering her, she didn’t want to confide in him. Carline, too, had been circumspect in discussing Windsor’s courtship, her grief, and her controlling uncle. Neither of Jakob’s best friends wanted to talk to him.
His brother hadn’t had time either.
Had anyone in Helena noticed Jakob had been out of town for two weeks? Clearly none had because, aside from his parents and godparents, no one had greeted him with an enthusiastic I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you!
Jakob scooted closer to Yancey, wishing he could tell her about the train journey and about how little he’d slept since coming home because when he closed his eyes, he dreamed of Colette.
The silence stretched.
Yancey rested her head against his shoulder. The gardenias in her hair smelled nothing like the honeysuckle and lemon of Colette’s perfume, yet Colette was who he thought of, who he wished was sitting with him in a secluded gazebo. He closed his eyes and as the sweet afternoon wind swept across his face, listened to the quartet play “Home, Sweet Home.”
Coming home hadn’t been as sweet as he’d expected.
He had to fix it. He had to make things go back to the way they were before he left. That started with figuring out who had hurt Yancey. The last time he’d seen her this withdrawn was—
The notes! Jakob shifted on the bench to face Yancey. “Did you ever find out who wrote those notes to you and Carline warning you two to be silent? If not, I have time. I can look into it.” Starting with asking Madame Lestraude if she knew anything.
“I’ve decided to leave that entire situation in God’s sovereign hands.”
Yancey’s response stunned him silent. Never in her life had she left a situation “in God’s hands.” She solved them—for better or worse—herself. Except this one. She seemed at peace with her decision, too. They were friends. Almost like siblings. In the two weeks he’d been gone, Yancey had become a different person.
“It’s never going to go back to the way it was between us, is it?” he asked.
Tears filled her eyes. She blinked several times before she finally said, “Maybe not.”
“No one’s been the same since I returned.” But the words sounded hollow. He looked heavenward in recognition of the truth. “You’re all the same. It’s me who’s changed. I thought Helena needed me, but life continued on.”
“Of course it did.”
At the sound of Mrs. Hollenbeck’s voice, Jakob scrambled to his feet as a proper gentleman would.
Mrs. Hollenbeck stood in the middle of the paved path to the gazebo, tapping her cane on the ground and looking primed to dispense a lecture on hubris and humility. “Mr. Gunderson, I’ll deal with you in a moment.” Her gaze narrowed on Yancey. “It’s time.”
Jakob stayed quiet as Mrs. Hollenbeck consoled, chided, and challenged Yancey about helping Hale with the election.
Yancey rose from the seat. “You’re absolutely right.”
Mrs. Hollenbeck smiled. “Dear girl, of course I am. Now go. And smile.”
Yancey gave Jakob’s arm a little squeeze, then she headed back toward the wedding reception, not quite smiling, but neither did she look miserable anymore.
Jakob steadied himself for a similar lecture.
Time passed slowly as Mrs. Hollenbeck studied him. There were a million different things he could say to end the uncomfortable silence, and he also knew she would hush him just as she had in times past when she’d felt inclined to lecture him, whether he deserved it or not. Wisely, he said nothing.
Yet his uneasiness continued to grow.
She looked over her shoulder, then back at him. “I received a most intriguing letter, seeking information on Mr. Jakob Gunderson of Helena, the man responsible for the construction of The Import Company. The author of the letter is seeking a construction manager and is wondering if you would be interested.” Her arched brows rose. “Are you?”
“Maybe. What kind of building?”
Her lips twitched. “A museum and art studio.”
Colette.
“I’m not interested in working with her again.”
“You presume the letter was from a woman.”
“How do you know about Colette?”
“I have my ways.”
Of course she did. That was why Madame Lestraude chose Pauline Hollenbeck to join her rescue operation.
Jakob looked away from her observant gaze. He still loved Colette. As much as working on another construction project intrigued him, he wasn’t going to build her museum. He wasn’t going to willingly put himself through the torture of learning to get along with Colette and her husband. It wasn’t a matter of pride. Why willingly endure torture?
He stepped to the gazebo entrance and leaned against the wooden railing in the lazy, nothing-bothers-me manner people were used to seeing from him.
“Colette is engaged,” he said, and was impressed at how apathetic he sounded. “I’ve moved on.”
The corner of Mrs. Hollenbeck’s mouth flicked as if in amusement. “What you’re really saying is you fell out of love as quickly as you fell in. Convenient, that.”
“She’s engaged.” His voice had risen, but he didn’t care. “I have to fall out of love with her.”
Mrs. Hollenbeck nodded as if she understood, then her brow puckered in thought. “We seek love because we were created for relationships, and yet the more we love, the more we are wounded when those we love betray us. When they keep secrets from us. When they don’t fulfill their side of the bargain. When they stop treating us like we are their world.” She held silent for a long moment. “I believe God’s heart must be the most wounded of all.”
Jakob winced. And yet God continued to love and forgive Jakob.
Mrs. Hollenbeck looked at him knowingly. “That my precious niece is engaged conveniently makes it easier for you hold on to your anger and hurt, doesn’t it?”
Jakob stared at his fisted hands. Staying angry that Colette had lied about her engagement softened the pain he felt when he imagined their lives together. If he stopped being angry, then he’d become as weepy and pathetic as— Wait. Her precious niece?
He jerked his gaze to Mrs. Hollenbeck. “Did you say she’s your niece?”
Mrs. Hollenbeck nodded. “Miss Vanderpool-Vane of Denver. Her father is my younger brother.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Why?” She stepped closer and tapped the handle of her cane on his chest. “You take risks, and sometimes that’s a good thing. Sometimes it can cost a man his life.” She rested her cane on the ground, holding it with both hands. “I want you to stop working for our mutual friend. Get married. Have babies. Build something with someone.”
Jakob drew back. “Is my life more valuable than Finn’s?”
She rested her warm palm against his cheek. “Oh, dear boy, to your mother it is. To our mutual friend, not so much.” With that, she turned and started back to the wedding barbecue. She stopped where the dirt path ended and the lawn began. “William’s office is in the Vanderpool-Vane building,” she called out. “I informed him you would be arriving next week to discuss constructing his daughter’s museum. His oldest son is an architect.”
Jakob shook his head even though Mrs. Hollenbeck couldn’t see. How many times did he have to remind her? “I’m not chasing after your precious niece. She’s engaged.”
“Unforgiveness is a juicy bone.” Her head turned a fraction toward her shoulder, just enough for him to see her smile. “Be a warrior, Jakob. Fight for the future you want. Take a risk. Jump. You might like where you land.”
* * * *
Denver, Colorado
Vanderpool-Vane estate
Thursday, October 11
Colette laid the wate
rcolor landscape Lilies in June next to the graphic drawing of Pike’s Peak. She moved three steps back and studied the arrangement of art on each auction table. “Almost.” She quickly adjusted the spacing between the two watercolors. “Perfect.”
She turned around and gave the ballroom one final look. Flowers decorated every corner, in vases, pyramids, and garlands, and the morning light streaming through the stained-glass windows brightened the room, revealing every fallen leaf. Tomorrow night, during the Associated Charities of Denver Ball, the dim light from the chandeliers would prevent most of the attendees from spying fallen foliage, and yet she strolled about the room gathering the fallen leaves and petals. She could have one of the maids do this. But with all the other preparations they needed to focus on, cleaning up the ballroom floor was the least she could do to help.
This would be a ball to remember.
If only things had worked with Jakob, he could be here and they—
She shook her head to banish the thought before it finished forming. Life was too short to dwell on past mistakes and regret. Jakob had moved on. So would she. In time she’d cease longing for the strength of his arm to lean on, to cling to. In time, she’d forget how he made her laugh. How he made her feel loved.
In time, she might fall in love with someone else. No, she would. She refused to believe love only happened once in a person’s life.
Until her heart mended, she’d endure with the continual ache.
Colette knelt beside a ficus tree to gather the leaves around it and toss them into the plant’s limestone pot. She touched the soil to check if it was moist. It was. So she continued on around the ballroom, cleaning up the fallen petals and leaves.
As she neared the table holding the empty punch bowl, she spied a bouquet of violets that hadn’t been there when she entered the ballroom to set the artwork on the tables. How strange. She dropped the leaves she held in a potted fern, then stepped to the table. Next to the bouquet was an envelope with Colette written in the center in unfamiliar handwriting. She turned it over, broke the seal, and withdrew the flat card.
I would be honored if you saved me a dance.
Humph. She flipped the card over. Nothing. It couldn’t be from Robert. He was attending the opera with Beatrix tomorrow evening. Dear sweet Beatrix. What had begun as her extending empathy for a fellow wounded soul now looked to be blossoming into love. For Robert, too. Colette had never seen him so happy. Had he not been courting Colette, and had Beatrix not been involved in that ill-fated engagement with Mr. Smyth, Colette would have recognized how well suited Robert and Beatrix were.
With card and flowers in hand, Colette hurried out of the ballroom and down the hallway to her mother’s private parlor. “Mother, did you see who left—”
Colette halted on the threshold.
Her parents stood around the tea table, which was covered by sheets of paper as large as the table. Two of the four velvet chairs had been moved to the side to give her parents room to stand right up next to the paper.
Mother tapped the paper with her fingertip. “I like this.”
“I do, too.” Father finally looked up. “Letty, you need to see the building plans your brother drew up after discussing ideas with our new construction manager.”
“The plans include an amphitheater,” Mother added. “Mr. Gunderson recommended we purchase the lot adjacent to yours and turn it into a park with a surrounding garden and a cast-iron fountain. Grandfather Vanderpool already gifted the funds for the purchase.”
A strange weight pressed down on Colette’s chest, limiting her ability to take normal breaths. “W—who did you say?”
Her parents exchanged glances.
“Your grandfather?” Mother said with uncertainty.
Father touched Mother’s hand. “Darling, I think she’s referring to Jakob. You called him Mr. Gunderson again.”
“Did I? Force of habit, I suppose.” She looked at Colette. “Don’t just stand there. Come look at the plans.”
Colette didn’t move. Her breath shortened, her heart pounded against her ribs. The note she was clenching had to be from him. Had to. Yet she’d never shared his real name with them. She’d protected his privacy. “Mother, how do either of you know who Jakob Gunderson is?”
Mother blinked as if that was a strange question to ask. “I met him at your father’s office last week.”
“He’s been in Denver since last week?” Colette blurted out.
“I arrived Monday evening, to be precise,” came from behind her.
Colette whirled around. The force of seeing Jakob there nearly buckled her knees. His lips curved in that adorable, mischievous manner she too often daydreamed about. He stood there patiently while she collected herself, her thoughts, her breath. Wearing a khaki frock coat and sable trousers, he looked— She sighed. The only word coming to mind was perfect. Devastatingly handsome quickly followed. Then came—
“What are you doing here? In Denver,” she added.
“I had a scheduled meeting with William last Monday morning. Then Amity arrived and invited me to join them for lunch.” He raised the silver magnifying lens he was holding. “Do you mind if I give this to your father?”
Colette shook her head. Jakob was here. In her home. “You’re here.”
“Indeed I am. It’s good to see you again, Letty.” He gave the side of her arm a platonic pat, then strolled past her into Mother’s parlor. “Sir, it was in the library just where you said.”
“Excellent.” Father took the magnifying lens. He leaned over the building plans. “Jakob, what’s this?” He tapped the paper.
Colette watched in amazement as the three of them chatted like they’d known each other for years. Only family and intimate friends used her parents’ given names. Jakob used William and Amity with a well-practiced ease, as her parents used his name. How could Jakob have been in Denver since last week and neither of her parents tell her? Mother never went to Father’s office. They always met at a restaurant for lunch.
Unless her parents has more secrets.
Or Mother could have known all along about Father’s meeting with Jakob. Her parents were too clever for things to happen accidentally. They liked to make plans. They liked to give good gifts, especially to their children. To her. Because they loved her.
Bubbles of joy began in Colette’s chest and slowly spread to her face, warming her heart and growing her smile. Mother hadn’t said Mr. Gunderson because it was a “force of habit.”
“You three planned this.” Colette stepped into the parlor. She looked Father in the eye. “You contacted Jakob about building my museum. Was Aunt Pauline in on this, too?”
Father laced his fingers though Mother’s, and then he led her to where Colette stood. “What is family for, if not to meddle in each other’s lives?” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Your mother and I have given Jakob our permission to stop courting us,” Father said softly, “and to start courting you. The choice now is yours.”
Mother brushed her knuckles along Colette’s cheek. “Choose wisely.”
And then her parents strolled out of the parlor. The door closed with a click.
Colette turned to face Jakob, who still stood next to the table. She swallowed to ease the lump in her throat. “You did this for me?”
He nodded. “And for me.” His palm rested in the center of the architectural plans, his blue-eyed gaze locked on her. “I wanted to build something that would impact generations to come. Your father made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
Not the most romantic response.
His eyes twinkled, and that mischievous curve to his lips returned, promising this was only the beginning of something wonderful.
Colette pressed her lips to stop her smile from forming. It didn’t work. So she stepped forward to lay the dance-request note and violet bouquet atop the museum plans. “Then
what were these for?”
He shrugged. “I thought since you did such an excellent job on the train teaching me how to waltz, that I should show you my skill.”
“You already knew how to dance.”
His hands curled around hers. “I didn’t know how much I enjoyed dancing with you.”
“We’ve never danced.”
“Then we have the rest of our lives to remedy that.”
Joy, pure and unfettered, burst into her heart.
He drew her hands to his mouth, placing a kiss on her knuckles. “I love you, Colette. Most ardently.”
“Most ardently?”
He shrugged. “I read it in a book.”
“You read Pride and Prejudice?”
“All the way from Helena.”
She chuckled. “Why? I know of few men who’ve read it.”
“Ada said I needed to find the Mr. Darcy”—he dipped his chin toward his chest—“in here. Since I didn’t know who Mr. Darcy was, I figured I ought to find out. Apparently becoming like Mr. Darcy is the surest way to convince a girl to marry you.”
“I am impressed.”
“You are?”
Colette couldn’t contain the playful smile that spread across her lips. “Most ardently.”
His eyes grew warm, and his gaze lowered to her lips. He was going to kiss her. She could see it, sense it. Hope for it.
Before his lips could touch hers, the parlor door opened.
Colette looked to her parents. “You couldn’t wait one minute longer?”
Father grinned. Mother did, too.
As they strolled to the tea table, Jakob leaned close. “Save a waltz for me.”
“How about I save them all?” she whispered back.
“Now that’s what I like to hear from the future Mrs. Jakob Gunderson.”
Colette stood on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “Some rules are meant to be bent a little.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The orphanage in Anywhere with You is based on historical orphanages in St. Paul and Minneapolis. Before St. Joseph’s German Catholic Orphan Asylum in St. Paul, Minnesota, closed its doors in the 1960s, the Sisters of St. Benedict provided care for orphaned and neglected children for over a hundred years. Their work began as a “direct result of the vicissitudes of pioneer life, several Indian massacres, the Civil War, and epidemics which deprived children of parental care,” according to a history of the orphanage written by Sr. Claire Lynch, the first principal of Archbishop Brady High School. At its busiest, almost 300 children lived at the orphanage. In the 1960s, foster homes grew in favor of orphanages as long-term refuges for children. You can learn more about church-run orphan asylums in Adoption agencies, orphanages, and maternity homes: An historical directory, by Reg Niles (Garden City, New York: Phileas Deigh Corp, 1981).