Her Safe Harbor: Prairie Romance (Crawford Family Book 4) (6 page)

“Yes,” he said, and stood. “It has been a lovely evening,
especially becoming reacquainted with your sister, Jolene, but I have a very
early day tomorrow and will make my good-byes now. Thank you for having me.”

“You’ll be a guest here often, I imagine,” Jolene said.
“There will be no need to stand on formality here any more than there was at
the Hacienda.”

“And you shouldn’t find me wandering around the Capital in
chaps, boots, spurs, and a layer of Texas dirt, so there’ll be no need for you
to remind me of the correct dinner attire.”

Max laughed, and Jolene smiled a wry smile. “Let’s hope not,
Zebidiah. We can thank your sister for that, I suppose.”

Zeb turned to Jennifer. “It’s been very good seeing you
again.”

She smiled. “And you as well.”

“I’ll see you out, Zeb,” Max said, and the two men left the
room.

“It is very late and I am—” Jennifer began.

“What is this about Father hitting you? Why did Zebidiah ask
you that?” Jolene demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jennifer said.

“When I came in the room you were very upset and said
something about Father laying a hand on you. What is going on, Jennifer?”

Jennifer smiled and kissed her sister’s cheek. “You are
imaging things, Jolene. I am off to bed.”

Jennifer climbed the steps to her room weary and furious
that Zeb Moran had nearly given her away, and as equally confused as to why she
cared if he did. She’d intended to tell Jolene, hadn’t she? But Jolene was
expecting and Max was very busy. She would not interrupt their lives with this
small matter. Jeffrey Rothchild was gone from her life and most likely charming
some other unfortunate young lady at this very moment.

* * *

“I still cannot believe we are
finally here,” Julia Crawford Shelling said to her sisters, now that she was
settled in Jolene’s sitting room after arriving from South Dakota late in the
morning. “Traveling with children can be an adventure.”

“I’m sure it can,” Jolene agreed. “But I am very, very glad
you made the trip. It means quite a bit to me and Maximillian.”

“Jillian seems to be doing very well, especially considering
she is fifteen years old,” Jennifer said. “I did not think it was possible for
her to be more beautiful than she was as a child, but she is. She is lovely.”

“Jake says he is dreading when young men begin to come
around,” Julia said with a laugh. “He will be standing on the porch with a
shotgun much of the time.”

“Maximillian will be the same with Melinda. Perhaps that is
why he and Jake seemed to get along well right away. They are together in
Maximillian’s study now with trays of food and coffee,” Jolene said.

“Thank you so much for arranging extra staff to take care of
Jacob and Mary Lou, Jolene,” Julia said. “I have help with laundry and cleaning
at home, but otherwise I am with the children all the time. Which I love, of
course, and Jillian does help, but this is a rare treat and I am going to enjoy
the peace while I can!”

“Melinda and Jillian seem to be enjoying each other’s
company,” Jennifer observed. “I saw them in Melinda’s room, their heads bent
over a book.”

“This is good for them both, I believe,” Jolene replied.
“Perhaps they will begin writing to each other.”

Jennifer watched Jolene and Julia smile at each other, and
it was astonishing considering their shared past. Jennifer was glad that they
seemed to have let their hurts and agonies go and were now able to be happy for
each other.

“Someone has to tell me—what is going on with Mother and
Father?” Julia asked, then turned to Jennifer. “Your last letter said that
Mother wasn’t feeling well. What is it?”

“I don’t know. But I know of two times that she has been in
so much pain that she has been bent over at the waist.”

“What does Father say?” Jolene asked.

“Nothing. He said he does not know anything and will not
press Mildred for details.”

“Mildred would never reveal any information. She is
completely loyal to Mother,” Jolene said and took a deep breath. “As much as I
dislike the idea, I’m afraid I need to go to Boston.”

“Really, Jolene? You will go back?” Julia asked.

Jolene nodded. “Maximillian’s family is in Boston, and his
father is not doing well according to his sister Eugenia’s letters. I know he
is worried about him and I want to meet them both, and Melinda has not seen her
grandparents since she was very small. And now Mother is ill and Jennifer is
concerned for Father. I feel I must go.”

Julia’s eyes filled with tears. “I cannot. I cannot go.”

“Then you must not,” Jolene reassured. “It would be a
difficult enough time without forcing your husband and children to be subject
to Mother’s machinations. I will settle Melinda at her grandmother’s or her
aunt’s and stay at Willow Tree. What do you think, Jennifer?”

Jennifer stared at Jolene in shock. She did not believe
either of her sisters would voluntarily go back to Willow Tree. “But why
Jolene? There will be nothing but heartache and anger.”

“Perhaps. But maybe it is time for some honesty. I wish to
see how Mother fares, and I realize I am missing my own father after being so
worried about Maximillian’s.”

“Maybe I will begin writing Father. He has written me
recently to apologize, and on several other occasions as well. I miss him
dreadfully, too, even after all the troubles he caused Jake and me,” Julia
said, and wiped her eyes. “I cannot say the same of Mother. I am sorry to say I
hope I never see her again.”

“It is understandable,” Jennifer said. “I will convey your
regards to Father, Julia. He wanted me to tell you how sorry he was to not be
able to make this trip. That he is very proud of Max and Jolene and that he
misses you and would have wanted to apologize in person and meet his
grandchildren. I think he particularly wanted to see Jillian again.”

Chapter Six

“I have not danced like this in
ages!” Julia said to her husband, Jake, and Jennifer as they stood to the side
of the ballroom on the evening of Max’s swearing in.

“And you look as pretty as a picture in that new dress,”
Jake replied, and dropped a kiss on his wife’s cheek.

“We had an exceptionally enjoyable time at Jolene’s
dressmaker,” Jennifer confessed with a smile. “The seamstress must have thought
us ridiculous with all of our laughter and giggling.”

Jennifer looked around at the ballroom as she tapped her
foot to the music. Two-story windows graced one entire side, with layers of
cascading draperies in yellow and blue. Dozens and dozens of couples twirled
their way around the gleaming wood floors to the sounds of the orchestra’s
music. She was wearing a new dark red gown with a daringly low neckline and
lace sleeves, and enjoying herself immensely at the celebration ball for Max’s
election. She knew very few guests and would never remember all of the men and
women Jolene had introduced her to, but she would remember the admiring gazes
from some of the young men she’d been introduced to. She’d been asked to dance
every dance so far.

“Good evening, Jennifer,” Zeb Moran said just as a waltz was
forming. “May I have this dance?”

All the good humor and gayness drained from Jennifer’s face
as she was reminded of her shame, and her secrets. She had tried not to let
herself think of Zeb, even though she compared all of the men she met that
evening to him and found them lacking. Not every young man could be thin-hipped
and broad shouldered like Zeb, she said to herself. Not many men had his light
brown hair that melted to blond at the crown or pale blue eyes that focused
completely on her as he spoke.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, and handed her glass of
lemonade to Julia, who winked at her.

Zeb was a good dancer, and just the right height for her,
swinging her around the dance floor with ease, maneuvering them through the
throng and past older sedate couples who were moving slowly, without taking his
eyes off of her.

“Are you enjoying Washington?” she asked.

“I miss Texas, but yes, I am enjoying Washington. I have the
greatest regards for your brother-in-law, and am honored to serve him.”

“I imagine you are very good at your work.”

“I like to think so, but . . .”

He stopped midsentence as he pulled her close to his chest
as a very large man stumbled by, knocking other dancers out of the way.

“What a clumsy fool!” Zeb groused, and released her to her
natural dance position. “Too much whiskey, I’d say.”

Jennifer took short breaths and concentrated on not
fainting. Zeb had pulled her close by reaching around her and grabbing her by
her side, exactly where Jeffrey had hit her the night at the theatre. It was
all she could do not to cry out, but even still she winced in pain. Within
moments, she found herself whisked through double doors and on to the side
patio. Zeb immediately took off his jacket, set it about her shoulders, and led
her to a stone bench.

“I am so terribly sorry, Jennifer,” he said as he knelt
before her. “I’ve hurt you. Tell me what I can do?”

She shook her head. “I will be fine. I just need a moment to
catch my breath.”

“Did I step on your foot? I’m a clumsy oaf in these new
boots and was in a hurry to get you out of the way of that lumbering drunk.”

“You did not step on my foot, Zeb,” she said, and willed
herself to smile. “It is nothing.”

He stared at her. “Did I hurt you when I pulled you out of
the way? When I touched you here?” he asked and gently reached under her arm.

She took in a quick, halting breath as his finger touched
her ribs and closed her eyes.

He picked up her hands from her lap and held them in a loose
grip. “Easy,” he whispered. “Take your time and breathe through the pain.
Easy.”

Jennifer concentrated on the quiet soothing rhythm of his
voice, taking shallow breaths and allowing her racing heart to slow. “Is this
how you calm horses when they are agitated?”

Zeb chuckled softly. “It is, but I’d never in a lifetime
compare you to a mare.”

“I am glad to hear that,” she said, finally opening her eyes
and seeing that his face was inches from hers.

“How do you know how I talk to horses?”

“I watched you from my room at the Hacienda when you were in
the corral. I saw you get close to a bucking, agitated horse and rub its head
and soon the horse was calm and putting its nose in your palm.”

“I’m flattered you paid such close attention.”

Jennifer’s breathing quickened but not from pain. His eyes
had dropped to her lips as they parted, allowing her to survey his face, his
tan skin against the white of his collar, and the gold flecks in the blue of
his eyes. She smelled shaving soap and lifted her hand to his cheek. He sucked
in a breath.

“How did you chip your tooth?” she asked as she ran her
thumb over his lower lip. He smiled.

“Fistfighting,” he said, bringing his eyes to hers. “I was a
hellion.”

 She met his gaze, feeling the heat of his look down to the
pit of her stomach, and lower. She licked her lips, and Zeb stood abruptly.

“Would you like to go to your rooms? Are you able to walk?”
he asked.

“Just take me inside,” she said, recovering her composure,
and realizing how very close she had come to kissing him. She nearly touched
her lips to his! And she had touched his lip with her thumb and found it warm
and soft as compared to the bristles of his beard on his cheeks.
Zeb Moran
is all that is solid and right
, she thought to herself, unbidden.

* * *

Jennifer stopped just before
stepping inside the ballroom, and turned to him. “You have been very kind and
have asked me no questions. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, gazing down at her. Whatever
her reasons, be they right or wrong, she was bearing her burdens alone, and he
admired her strength. He’d nearly kissed her as she sat on the stone bench and
laid her hand on his cheek. It had taken all his considerable discipline to
remember this woman was in pain and bearing some hidden terrors, and he had no
right to upset her fragile equilibrium. If she chose to tell him, he would
listen patiently, and be her champion if she asked. But then it occurred to him
that the bruising he’d seen in the moonlight at the Hacienda months ago would
have likely faded. Meaning she had been hit again. How could he allow it to
continue?

“Why don’t we find the punch bowl and a place to sit down?”
he asked.

Zeb seated her at one of the small tables in the anteroom
where uniformed staff were serving lemonade and stronger spirits.

“How have you found Washington?” he asked after being served
cold drinks.

“Max took Melinda and me to the Capitol building and to some
other sites nearby. I find the history of the city very interesting. And I’ve
accompanied Jolene, and my sister Julia, and her daughter Jillian, now that
they have arrived, and Jolene’s sister-in-law Eugenia, to some of the famous
shops.”

“I am glad you are enjoying yourself. I wonder how Jolene
had the time to arrange my house and its furnishings and staff with the
festivities she needed to supervise here, but I have seen my sister in action
managing my father’s household and our family’s obligations at church and in
the community. I stay out of her way unless I am given a direct order,” Zeb
added with a smile.

“Jolene is very good at all that. I am not, and thankfully
am not called upon to do it often.”

Zeb laughed. “What are your interests? Do you volunteer with
a hospital or your church as so many young ladies do?”

“I do not.”

“Do you enjoy music, perhaps play an instrument?”

“No.”

He wondered if the pain in her side had returned as she was
sitting very still and looking at her hands where they held a glass of
lemonade. He was content to be quiet with her, though, even in the bustle of
the festivities all around them. He realized he would perhaps be content with
her anywhere. She looked up at him then, her cheeks flushed.

“I go to my family’s business four days a week, the Crawford
Bank that is, and greet important customers as they arrive for appointments
with my father and with vice presidents of the bank,” Jennifer said, and then
squared her shoulders, looking at him directly. “And I unravel difficult
accounts that cannot be balanced by the clerks. I have an assistant, O’Brien,
and we tally rows and sheets of figures, looking for errors.”

“You’re an accountant?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never called myself that. I go to the
bank to help my father.”

“I am in awe, Jennifer. I cannot remember or add five
numbers in a row, and you do pages of them in your head?”

“We also use a new addition machine from the Burroughs
Company. It’s very exciting actually. I can tally . . . oh, do forgive me, I
don’t mean to prattle on.”

Zeb had never seen Jennifer Crawford as animated and engaged
as she was when she began to talk about her work. She was staring at him now
with pleading eyes, as if starved to have someone listen to her. He shook his
head and reached for her hands. “Please, do go on. I’m very interested. I want
to hear about what you do.”

Jennifer told him more about the new addition machine and
how she used it to spot errors. She said numbers were natural for her and
sometimes she knew instinctively where to uncover mathematical mistakes within
a complicated portfolio, and that seeing pages and pages of figures was
exciting to her. Zeb was fascinated and surprised; if he were truthful, he
would have never guessed Jennifer Crawford had such a hidden passion.

“I was at the top of my graduating class for mathematics at
the Ramsey School when I finished my studies there. Oh, dear, I did not mean to
be a braggart,” she said finally, as a blush climbed her face. “I really have
gone on and on. They are serving supper and I have kept us back.”

“I could always tell you were very clever, Jennifer, but I
had no idea you were brilliant. I should have known, though. As my mother would
often say when she was alive, ‘still waters run deep.’ Let us go into supper
now because everyone else will be seated and I can arrive with the most
beautiful and the most talented lady at the ball on my arm. It will do my ego
good.”

She laughed. A light, musical sound free from worry and
concern. “You are a flatterer, Zebidiah Moran.”

I am a man falling for a woman
, he thought.

* * *

“Zebidiah Moran is very handsome,
and he is clearly very interested in you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you
last night,” Julia said to Jennifer as Eliza fixed her hair in her sleeping
room the morning following the ball.

“He is very handsome,” Jennifer conceded.

“And I saw that you were whisked out the door of the
ballroom and gone for ten minutes or more. Was he stealing a kiss?”

“He . . . stepped on my toes and just took me outside to
catch my breath.”

“
Hmmm
,” Julia said as she turned to the door from
where she sat on Jennifer’s bed. “Whatever is that noise? Is that Max
shouting?”

“I think it is.”

“How peculiar!”

Julia and Jennifer stepped into the hallway and saw Max
striding toward them. He stopped, turned back to the closed door of his wife’s
room, and shouted, “This is not over, Jolene Crawford Shelby! By damn, it is
not over.” He turned to Julia and Jennifer. “Good morning, ladies, and pardon
my coarse language. I’m sorry you have to witness your sister and me have one
of our rare tiffs, but she can be the most stubborn, inflexible woman and on
this subject, I don’t intend to give in!”

Max stomped by and Julia and Jennifer hurried down the
hallway to Jolene’s rooms.

“Whatever is going on, Jolene?” Julia asked once inside.
“Max is furious!”

Jolene was stretched out on a settee near the window,
wearing a voluminous white silk robe embroidered with tiny pink roses and
matching slippers. She shrugged. “Maximillian is unhappy I am going to Boston.
He
forbade
it, he said. How ridiculous he is being all because I am
expecting.”

Julia laughed.

“Perhaps you should not go, Jolene. Max is very angry,”
Jennifer cautioned.

“And his anger will be dealt with by him, not I,” she said.
“I told him that your maid would be with us and if he wanted to send a
manservant for the train trip, I would allow it to ease his worries.”

All three women turned when they heard doors slam from
somewhere belowstairs.

“I don’t think that eased his worries,” Julia said.

Jolene raised her brows. “I won’t be bullied. I’m an adult
woman in 1893 with the intelligence and wherewithal to board a train and arrive
unscathed in the city of Boston, the city I grew up in and still know
intimately. And anyway, Father will send a carriage to the station, so there
would be no concerns about my safety or how we would get around.”

Jolene’s bedroom door banged open and Julia and Jennifer
turned with a start. Max stood there, red-faced and angry.

“I can’t take the worry, Jolene,” he shouted. “I can’t take
it. If you insist on this, I will excuse myself from my Senate duties and
escort you.”

“You would miss all the important votes that you have been
working so diligently on? Why can’t a manservant accompany us? It would not be
unusual, and he could report back to you the following day that we had arrived
and that he had turned his guardianship of us over to my father.”

“I can’t trust just anyone with you, and the baby, and
Melinda, and Jennifer, too,” Max insisted, looking suddenly arrested and
hurrying from the room.

Jolene picked at her robe and looked at her sisters.
“Marriage can be a trial, especially if one is in love with one’s husband.
Maximillian shouts and slams doors to display his displeasure. I tell him he is
far too earthy to be a real gentleman.”