A Veiled Reflection (26 page)

“For the most part,” Mac replied, hoping the man would be content to move on to the present.

“And now you wish to marry my daughter.”

The statement was delivered in such a way that there seemed to be no need for reply. Mac looked Danvers in the eye. The sternness of his adversary's expression might have withered a less worthy opponent, but not Mac. To Mac, it was almost as if his grandfather had come back to life.

“Can you support a wife?” Danvers questioned.

“I can,” Mac answered in calm assurance.

“You say that very confidently,” Jillian's father replied. “Have you reason to believe this to be the case? Have you been married before?”

The question had come so unexpectedly that Mac nearly dropped his fork. He had no time to prepare a lie, so he simply told the truth. “Yes.”

Jillian did drop her fork. It clattered loudly onto the highly polished wooden floor. “Oh my,” she said apologetically. “Please forgive me.”

Kate quickly came and replaced the utensil, taking the dirty fork away before anyone could so much as comment on Mac's declaration.

Mac could see the stunned look on Jillian's face, even though she tried so hard to hide it. If he recognized it, no doubt her parents would as well.

“Perhaps you should explain,” Danvers stated as Kate and Louisa took away their plates in order to serve the next course.

Mac nodded. “I married quite young. A local girl from a wellregarded family was chosen by my grandfather for me to marry, and I found that it was not an unappealing idea to propose matrimony. We were married for less than a year.”

“What happened?” Gretchen Danvers asked. She all at once realized that she'd spoken aloud and bowed her head as if she'd committed some unforgivable breach of etiquette.

No doubt, Mac thought, Danvers liked his women silent. He smiled reassuringly at Gretchen as she glanced up. “She was a frail person. She caught pneumonia and died.”

“You were a doctor and you couldn't save her?” Danvers questioned. “I wasn't with her at the time. We had moved to the Arizona Territory. She had gone home to spend time with her parents. The life here made her homesick, and we both agreed it would do her well to make the trip.”

“Apparently you were in error.”

“Father!” Jillian declared. “That's hardly fair to say.”

Mac appreciated her defense, especially after springing such a surprise on her. “I was in error, sir,” he admitted. “I was in error about a great many things. Including the idea of taking one so young so far from home. And also in allowing my marriage to be arranged for me based on business rather than love.”

“Marriage is as much a business arrangement as anything you will ever know in life,” Danvers replied sternly. “Emotions and female notions will not hold a family together in hard times.”

“Neither will money,” Mac replied confidently.

The rest of the dinner passed in an awkward series of questions and answers. Mac felt drained of all energy by the time Danvers announced that he would like to retire for the evening.

Jillian and Mac escorted them to the hotel, and while Mac waited patiently, Jillian kissed her mother's cheek and bid her father goodnight. When they had gone and Jillian and Mac were left to themselves, Mac felt the need to apologize.

“Would you walk a bit with me?” he asked.

Jillian nodded. “If you'd like.” She sounded shy and hesitant.

“I feel I need to explain about Abigail.”

“Mac, you don't owe me any explanation,” Jillian countered. “After all, you're only going along with this to keep me out of hot water with my father.”

Mac took hold of her arm. “Please just hear me out. It's important that you know. I care about you, and I want to be completely honest.” Jillian looked up at him oddly but said nothing more. Mac drew a deep breath and began. “I didn't exactly tell the whole truth.”

“Oh?”

“Abigail and I did marry too young, and I did move us here, leaving her feeling completely distraught. The reason, however, had little to do with her parents and everything to do with another man in Philadelphia.”

“Oh, Mac, I'm sorry.”

Her heartfelt words warmed him and gave him the courage he needed to continue. “I was too. I thought I really loved her. I thought she really loved me. My grandfather saw it as a good match. He and Abigail's father were business partners, and they saw this as a joining of the power they had created. Abigail and I had been intended for each other for some time, and I had thought we both were keen for the idea.”

“Only she wasn't?” Jillian questioned softly. She looked up at him with such an expression of concern that Mac wanted to hold her close.

“She pretended to love me. It made a good cover for her escapades with the man she really loved. After we married and moved, however, I learned the truth of the matter.”

“How?”

“She had remained distant, weepy, and cold to me from the night of our wedding. She didn't want my love or affection. My attempts to romance her were rejected. She'd have nothing to do with me—nothing.” Jillian nodded knowingly, and Mac appreciated that she had taken his meaning without offense at the delicacy of the subject matter. “Two months after living this farce of a marriage, she could no longer hide the fact that she was pregnant. Unfortunately, the baby was not mine. She had been expecting even when we had married.”

“Oh, Mac, how betrayed you must have felt.”

He looked at her for a moment, pausing in their walk. “I vowed to never love again. Only now . . . now I see that was wrong.”

Jillian said nothing, but looked away quickly. “What did you do when you found out about her . . . her indiscretion?”

Mac began walking again, pulling her close alongside him. A full moon illuminated their path, and Jillian seemed in no hurry to be rid of his company. Mac relished the feel of her being so near. He longed to share his heart with her and explain everything in detail, but a part of him held back, fearful of the rejection that might come. Remembering the pain of the rejection that had come.

“I was willing to forgive her and accept the child as my own. It hurt me to realize that she had only married me out of obligation to her family, but I told her we could make a new start. She laughed at me and said she didn't want to start anything with me. She wanted to go home to the father of her child and make her life there. I told her I wouldn't give her a divorce, that I didn't believe in such things. She told me she'd find a way to make it happen. But she never had the chance.”

“What happened?” Jillian asked.

By now they had walked past the Harvey House and the train depot. The night air had grown cool, and seeing Jillian shiver, Mac decided it was time to take her home. He slipped his coat off and put it around her shoulders. Smiling her gratitude, Jillian pulled the coat close.

Turning back for the Harvey House, he continued. “She went home about three weeks before Christmas. Somewhere along the way she came down sick, and when she arrived in Philadelphia she was already quite ill. Her parents telegraphed to say that she was failing fast and that I should come right away. She never told them about the other man, and I never learned who he was. She died before I ever got to Philadelphia. There was an elaborate funeral, and hundreds of sympathetic people told me how sorry they were for my loss. They didn't know the half of it.

“Three weeks later, my grandfather had a heart attack and died. He left everything to me, surprisingly enough. I sold off most of the businesses and invested the money elsewhere. Then I kept what I wanted from the house and sold it as well. My elder sister wanted the place, so her husband bought it at a very reduced price. Then I split the money with my sisters and returned West.”

Mac began to walk toward the front of the Harvey House, but Jillian nodded in the direction of the back. “I'll go in back here,” she whispered. “That way I won't have to face everyone and answer all their questions.”

Mac nodded. “I hope I did the right thing in telling your father the truth.”

They came to stand outside the back door to the restaurant. Jillian turned and smiled up at Mac. “You did wonderfully. I couldn't have asked for more. I hope you know how sorry I am for the pain you suffered.” Her words were sincere and pierced to the heart. “No one should have to feel such rejection and hurt. I can't imagine that this wife of yours had any good sense at all—not if she put another in your place when she could have had you all along.”

Without realizing what he was doing, Mac reached out and pulled Jillian into his arms. He ached to hold her close. In fact, ever since she had thrown herself into his arms in fear that afternoon, Mac had longed to draw her back. She didn't protest his embrace, and when she turned her face up to look into his eyes, Mac felt certain that he saw a longing there to match his own. Perhaps it was just the moonlight, but he was willing to take the chance.

Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her tenderly. He felt her respond to his touch, felt her hands circle up to touch his neck. She wanted this kiss as much as he did, of this he was certain. Perhaps if he just told her the truth of his heart, she would open up to him and admit the same.

He pulled back just far enough to speak, but instead of seeing the expression of pleasure he had hoped for, Jillian looked almost pained. She shook her head and moved away from him as if he had somehow hurt her.

“I suppose you think me rather silly for doing that,” he said, trying to make light of the matter.

“I don't understand,” she said, barely whispering.

Mac shrugged, feeling like quite the cad. “It just dawned on me that your father, being the nosy sort of man he is, might ask you more intimate questions of our relationship. He would surely have expected me to kiss you by now. If he asks about it, now you can tell him the truth—that we have kissed.”

She nodded, but the pained expression remained. “I'm sure you're right. He's just that sort of man.”

Mac wanted to reach out again and hold her. She looked so lost and hurt. “You'd better go inside,” he muttered instead.

She nodded again and opened the back door. “Mac,” she said, pausing on the threshold.

“What?”

“I don't know how to manage all of this. I'm really confused. My father—the wedding—what are we going to do?”

He thought for a moment her words might hold more than the obvious meaning, then dismissed the idea as romantic nonsense. “It'll work itself out, Jilly. Don't worry about it.”

“I hope you're right, Mac.”

She went inside, leaving him to stand alone in the dark. “I hope I'm right too,” he murmured. “I pray I'm right.”

EIGHTEEN

TO JILLIAN'S ABSOLUTE HORROR, she learned that there was to be a party and street dance held in honor of the couples about to wed. Even Mary thought it a wonderful idea and showed up early Friday afternoon with Hope happily wrapped in a cradleboard. The baby seemed content enough, but Jillian's heart ached to hold her. Playing and fussing over the baby, Jillian realized how intensely she missed this little girl.

As the afternoon passed into evening and Jillian saw that there was no way to get out of the party, she resigned herself to play yet another scene in this senseless production she'd authored. She dressed carefully in a rose-colored gown her mother had brought from Kansas City. The silk taffeta gown had been designed with much more prestigious parties in mind, but Jillian knew it would make her mother feel good and perhaps it would even catch Mac's attention. She waited impatiently as Kate laced her corset tight enough to allow her to fit into the narrow-waisted creation. She had put on weight out here in Mr. Harvey's desert, but everyone told her she looked healthy and lovely.

Kate helped her with the dress, bringing it over Jillian's carefully styled blond hair. The gown fit perfectly, blooming out gracefully in yards and yards of shimmering skirt around Jillian's ankles.

“Oh, yar so beautiful,” Kate announced as she finished doing up the buttons.

“You don't think this neckline is too low?” Jillian questioned uncomfortably. After months of mostly wearing her modest uniform, the rounded, lace-edged neckline seemed a bit risque
.

“Yar not showing that much skin,” Kate said, adjusting Jillian's lacy capped sleeves. “This lace is like some me mum used to make.”

“It's certainly beautiful,” Jillian agreed. “No doubt my mother had it made by that sweet little Frenchwoman on Fifteenth Street.”

“What now?”

Jillian shook her head at Kate's puzzled expression. “Never mind. I wish this would all just go away.”

Kate laughed. “It's just pre-wedding jitters. All brides get 'em. Ya'll settle down well enough after Sunday.”

But Jillian knew that wasn't true. Sunday would no doubt be the worst day of all. She felt horribly guilty as she thought of Gwen and Zack's romantic notions and excitement. They were planning a real wedding. Their future together was more than the pleasant daydreams of an overactive imagination.