Ginny Aiken (33 page)

Eric had been right. Her brush with the squalid side of Hartville was having a dreadful effect on her life. Even though Letty’s motives were pure, her career was now in shambles.

While Eric became the town’s hero, Letty went down to four patients: Mrs. Stone, who was in excellent health; Mim, who’d recovered and needed no medical care; Daisy, who, now that her romance with Ford was in full bloom, insisted that when the time came someday, she wanted Letty at her birthings; and Randy, who, with her robust health and ever-increasing middle, remained loyal.

Letty began to wander through her clinic, cleaning surfaces that already gleamed, folding linens creased to perfection, scrubbing each glass she used for a drink of water. She even missed her chickens.

Although she longed for the busyness of her medical practice, that didn’t compare to the aching emptiness in her heart. She missed Eric. She missed seeing his mustache quirk up on one side before a smile bowed the entire hairy fringe. She missed his warm touch, his tender kisses.

She sat at the kitchen table and thought back on her life. As her mother had predicted, Letty was alone. Eric and the Pattersons were at the ranch, Douglas still hoping to find a family who would adopt all five. Letty had nothing to show besides a second failed medical practice and a broken heart.

She tried to help with the preparations for Hartville’s Silver Celebration, but the women at the fellowship hall snubbed her, and after several determined attempts, their rejection won out. Letty stopped offering her help in order to spare Adele Stone further embarrassment.

So she sat at home alone, with a heart so empty, so torn, that even Dr. Morgan didn’t know how to mend her own wounds. A tear fell on the tabletop.

“Lord God, will I ever erase the memories?” she whispered.

How could Eric turn his back on all they might have? Was a ghost more satisfying than her love?

She gave in to the tears she’d fought so hard. Rivers flowed down her face. Cries breached her throat, burning it with sadness.

“Father, was I so wrong to want to help those who needed help? To love a man?”

The silence held no answers, so she asked the question she most feared. “Jesus, are you asking me to surrender everything? Everything?”

Would she lose all she’d once had?

An acrid laugh escaped her lips. Was she deluding herself in thinking she’d had Eric’s feelings to lose? How could she know?

The silence grew deafening.

She clenched her fists, anger joining her anguish. She had to
know. Somehow she had to learn if for a fraction of time God had given her the desires of her heart.

The emptiness continued. God again withheld His response.

Well, then, she knew just how to find the answers to her questions. She knew where to find Eric.

Her preparations were brief. Soon she arrived at Randy’s elegant brick home, needing a favor she was sure her friend would grant. Moments after voicing her request, the two women climbed into Letty’s buggy and headed for Eric’s spread. As Randy chattered with what seemed forced brightness, Letty wondered what her friend thought of her boldness.

Then she decided it didn’t matter what Randy or anyone else thought. She had to know what Eric felt for her, if her imagination had conjured the images of . . . love. Yes, love.

At the ranch, Letty helped Randy cautiously exit the conveyance. The expectant mother went to find the children as Letty went to find the man who’d captured her heart.

She found him in the barn, wearing ancient brown trousers and a worn flannel shirt, pitching forkfuls of hay into a stall. His back muscles played under his shirt, maintaining the smooth rhythm of his work.

The sight of him strengthened her resolve. She longed to wrap her arms around his waist, to lay her head on his chest, and she needed to know if she’d ever have that right.

“Very busy today?” she asked.

He stopped. “Not especially. I’m sick of lying around, and my leg needs exercise. I can’t afford to let the muscle freeze up.”

Letty nodded and twisted her hands at her waist. This barn bore so many memories. It was quite fitting to find Eric here today.

“I wondered,” she began, butterflies flitting in her middle, “if you aren’t too busy, that is, if you would care to share my picnic? To celebrate the end of Dr. Medford, Bessie, and the Swartleys’ misdeeds.”

Eric studied her, his face unreadable. “That would be a pleasure,” he finally said, “especially on a warm spring day like today.”

Letty blushed, remembering her plans. “That’s what I thought. I heard of a spot—”

“I know just the place. Trust me.”

Eric hung the pitchfork from a hook on the wall. He strode to a tin bucket in the far corner and scrubbed his hands with the yellow soap by the pail. After drying his hands on a red and white piece of towel, he shook the rag and hung it on another hook. He then gestured for Letty to follow him.

“Wait!” she cried. “The basket. We mustn’t forget our food.”

Eric’s chuckle encouraged her. “So true,” he said, picking up the hamper Amelia had once purloined.

They left in companionable silence. Every so often Eric pointed out something of interest, items unnoticed by Letty with her thoughts so intent on her secret purpose.

After a short while, they came to a willow at the edge of Silver Creek. A few feet away, a group of shrubs, silvery in color, followed the water’s trace. The willow beckoned, offering shade in contrast to the brilliant sunlight.

“It’s lovely,” Letty murmured.

Eric flashed her a smile.

She spread a quilt inside the bower of the willow and set out their feast. A bowl of golden-brown chicken fragranced the breeze. Sliced-potato salad, pickles, and deviled eggs followed. Finally, after uncovering a quartet of biscuits, she withdrew a rare treat: her last jar of strawberry preserves.

“Wonderful,” Eric murmured.

“Mm-hmm,” Letty responded, uncovering the berries. “These are lovely. I brought three jars when I came out west—”

Eric’s expression dried up her words. He glanced from the berries to her mouth, to the berries again, and finally rested his gaze on her lips. Two steps brought him to her side. With one
hand he removed the jar from her trembling fingers; the other slipped around her waist.

His kiss was hungry, different from the other kisses they’d shared. It went on as time vanished, rushing wildness to Letty’s heart. And then its flavor changed. It mellowed, gentled, and she felt cherished and loved in a way she’d never known before. Joy and gladness soared through her, and she even thought she heard bells.

Too soon, or so it seemed, Eric pressed a soft touch on her lips and let her go. He smiled tentatively, unusual in the usually forceful man. He sat on the quilt and helped himself to the food.

For the first time since they’d met, he seemed at ease. His brow was smooth, his lips curved in the slightest smile. The creases at the corners weren’t as pronounced, and his breathing sounded even and deep. If nothing else, Letty had just given him the gift of a peaceful time.

But she needed more.

“Eric,” she said when they’d finished their meal.

He lifted his head.

“I need to speak with you. I mean, we have matters to discuss.”

He went through a metamorphosis. He frowned and clenched his jaw, and even his eyes seemed to darken.

Her determination refused to tremble. “This is difficult for me, you understand.” Not daring to meet his gaze, she stared at her fidgety hands. “Our situation can’t continue as it is. I care deeply for you, and I need to know—I need more.”

Eric sighed.

Letty studied a weed next to her foot. She pulled on its stem, and it bobbled precariously. She knew just how that tough little fellow felt. Here she sat, wobbling on the edge of expectation; one word from Eric, and surely she would topple.

“Please stop,” he finally said. “I know what you mean, and I take full responsibility.”

From beneath lowered lashes, Letty saw him stand. A tingle of awareness coursed through her, a rush of remembered feelings she had no business remembering just then. She looked him in the face and flinched. Eric was in pain. When he spoke, his voice matched his expression.

“I’m a flawed man, yet knowing I should stay away, I let my . . . affection for you defeat my common sense. You deserve a whole man. One who can care for you the way every woman needs.”

Letty stood. “But—”

He held up a hand. “Hear me out, please. I’ve told you my many failures.” He leaned against the willow’s trunk, his arm supporting his forehead in a posture of extreme exhaustion.

His voice came out rough. “After we spoke in the barn that day, I reconsidered the events that led to their deaths. Because of some things you said, I realized Martina was more responsible than I for her death. I began to think perhaps I’d been too hard on myself, and I tried to prove I wasn’t the failure I saw.”

He turned, rested his back against the tree trunk, and closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “Then matters went badly for you, and I failed to protect you from the venom of the town. You’re now virtually destitute—”

“No, Eric.” At his look, she bit her bottom lip, determined to hear him out.

A grimace twisted his mustache. “That’s not all. When Mrs. Patterson died and Slosh lost control, I took care of the children. I provided their basic needs. I thought I’d protect them where I’d failed to protect my son. And where did that lead? It led them straight to the loss of their father and their land. I failed them, too.”

Eric moved from the tree, his steps deliberate and heavy. He stopped just beyond its shadow, where a sunbeam kissed his hair with gold. Letty had never loved him more. She also knew he’d never been less hers.

“I can’t offer more than the kisses we’ve shared,” he said, his
voice tight, harsh. “Everything in me pushes me to you, but I can’t take a wedding vow again. I can’t promise to love, cherish, and protect. Not you nor any child we might have, and without that certainty, we can have nothing more.”

A vise tightened on Letty’s heart as Eric spoke. She’d lost. She’d taken a reckless gamble and had lost it all. Fleeting images of moments shared, of words spoken, of kisses exchanged went through her head in a vertiginous whirl.

Desperate to contain the tears that rushed to her eyes, she gathered her plates, bowls, and quilt. She wanted as much distance between her and Eric as possible.

He kept quiet; so did she. They had nothing more to say.

He again sought the shelter of the willow.

She walked away, his words ringing in her mind.
“I can’t offer more than the kisses we’ve shared. Without that certainty—”

Certainty.

Assurance.

Blessed assurance.

“Eric,” she murmured, “no one can offer perfect assurance. Only God can. Only God is in control.”

The sob caught in her throat made it hard to draw breath. Soon she had to stop to force air into her aching, empty lungs.

Empty. Yes, she was empty. Empty of hope, of dreams, of joy. She’d given them all to Eric, and he’d been unable to receive them.

She turned around one last time and studied the raw beauty of the land. A breeze rustled the silver shrubs, and the willow danced to the song of Silver Creek. No dancing or singing could touch Letty’s heart right then.

She gathered her courage and stole a last look at Eric. Although he remained within the circle of shade, he no longer stood but knelt at the foot of the weeping willow, holding his head in his hands.

She’d gambled, and it seemed they both had lost.

17

The rollicking tempo of a Viennese piece waltzed out of the entrance to Hartville’s Grand Hotel. As she approached the lobby, Letty experienced another nudge of nerves, and she asked herself yet again how she’d let Randy talk her into attending a ball.

She smiled. Randy had had formidable help once Mrs. Stone and Daisy joined in the gentle bullying.

But then, they weren’t the only guilty ones. She’d let vanity override her sensible side, and she’d had a gown made for the occasion. The dress hadn’t cost much. Randy had offered some “leftover” royal-blue brocade that “just happened” to match a remnant of silk she’d “fortuitously located.” “Coincidentally,” Mrs. Stone remembered “storing” a length of blue velvet no more than a shade darker than Randy’s offerings and promptly presented it to Letty. Of course, it made the perfect trim. In addition, Daisy found she had “extra” lace after making her gown from materials paid for by her wages from the newspaper.

Despite Letty’s every effort to refuse the bounty, her friends had maintained a united front, and she’d eventually succumbed to the tempting yards of exquisite fabric.

Amos’s wife, Mattie, an outstanding seamstress, had then cajoled Letty into trusting the dress to her gifted hands. The
most exquisite gown soon took shape, and tonight, with no one in particular for whom to wear such a garment, Letty looked better than she ever had.

Another gay piece began as the waltz came to an end.
Oh, honestly, Letitia. You can’t just stand here listening to the music and feeling sorry for yourself
. With a final tug to the bretelles that billowed at her shoulders and a determined swish to her blue silk train, Letty lifted her chin and sailed into the salon.

Dr. Letitia Morgan would bid Hartville a stylish farewell.