Margaret Brownley - [Rocky Creek 02] (26 page)

Heart pounding, she stood staring at the note in her hand. The loud voices of three men sitting in the lobby arguing politics brought her out of her reverie. None of them paid attention to her.

Her world had suddenly done a flip-flop, yet everything around her looked and sounded amazingly the same.

She read the message again. Her hands shook and the words blurred, but the message was clear. Jeff had agreed to meet her. More than that, agreed to kiss her. The very thought took her breath away.

The last twenty-four hours had been crazy. First, there had been that business about leaving Rocky Creek, followed by news of Brenda’s engagement. By the time she realized she had made a terrible mistake in sending that letter to Jeff, it was too late. It had already left the hotel. All she could do was wait.

She’d hardly slept a wink last night. That morning she rushed through her lessons without argument or complaint, earning Jenny’s approval. Her sister would have been less delighted at Mary Lou’s sudden interest in Mr. Wordsworth had she known the real motivation. The sooner Mary Lou could complete her lessons, the faster she could escape downstairs to check for a message from Jeff.

By the end of the day, she’d practically given up hope of hearing from him. He’d obviously lost interest in her. Perhaps he was never really serious about her and was just using her for sport. Still, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to check at the reception desk one last time. Pretending to leave the room to attend to her nightly ablutions, she ran downstairs to the lobby.

At long last, the clerk thrust an envelope at her containing Mr. Trevor’s message.

Reading the note again, she then paced around the lobby in an effort to calm down. She didn’t dare return to her room in her present state. Jenny was bound to suspect something.

Having left her father’s pocket watch upstairs, she stopped to ask the clerk the time.

He pulled a watch from his vest. “Nine forty five,” he said.

“Thank you.”

In a little more than twenty-four hours, she would be in Jeff’s arms once again.

At noon the Rocky Creek Café buzzed with activity. Jenny, Brenda, and Mr. Barrel had to wait for a rowdy group of lumbermen to leave before they could be seated.

While they waited to be served, Jenny studied her list and chatted amicably about all the things that had to be done for the wedding. The list went on and on.

It suddenly occurred to her that she was talking to herself.

She’d asked Brenda and Mr. Barrel to join her at the café, along with Mary Lou, for all the good it did. Mary Lou had still not shown up, but that wasn’t the only problem. Jenny was doing all the work while Brenda and Mr. Barrel did nothing but gaze at each other. Neither showed any interest in the bill of fare.

Jenny laid her list down. “Do you know where your sister is?”

When Brenda didn’t answer, she rapped the table. That got Brenda’s attention.

“Your sister?” she asked again. “I asked her to join us.”

Brenda shrugged. “I have no idea. She’s been acting very strange lately.”

Jenny arched a brow. “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

Brenda gave her a strange look. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jenny said.

She tried to shake off the depression that colored everything gray. She loved watching Brenda and Mr. Barrel together, but her enjoyment wasn’t without pain. Their love for each other was like a bright beam illuminating the emptiness of her life. It was an emptiness that no amount of list-making, organizing, or busyness could fill.

“Perhaps we should go ahead and order.” Her cheerful voice belied her despair. She would sooner die than put a damper on Brenda’s happiness.

She looked around, but Redd had disappeared into the kitchen in back. With a sigh of impatience, she picked up her list again. Keep busy. Don’t think about anything but the wedding. And whatever you do, don’t think about Rhett.

“What about guests?” she asked, her voice strained. “Do you have any family you wish to invite, Mr. Barrel?”

He hesitated, a look of discomfort on his face. “You can call me Kip, ma’am,” he said.

Jenny nodded and when he made no effort to answer her question, she asked it again.

“What about your cousin in Haswell?” Brenda asked.

Surprised, Jenny asked, “You have family in Haswell?”

“Not really, ma’am. My family owns property in Haswell, which means they travel there on occasion for business,” he explained. “The truth is I don’t have much contact with my family.” It was obvious that it pained him to admit it. “They don’t approve of my singing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Brenda exclaimed. “You’re the best singer in the world.”

Barrel blushed. “Don’t tell my father that. He’s still furious at me for not going into the family cattle business.” He chuckled. “Every time I get close to a steer, I sneeze.” He gazed at Brenda with a look of wonder. “What does a beautiful woman like you see in the likes of me? An audience makes me screech, and cattle give me hives.”

Brenda gazed at him with a tender smile. “I see a beautiful soul and a loving heart.”

He patted her hand and smiled back at her.

Brenda’s forehead creased. “It would be a pity not to have your family share our happy day.”

“I don’t know.” He glanced at Jenny, then back to Brenda. “I’ll send them a telegram, but I doubt anyone will show up.”

Jenny checked off guests. “I talked to Mrs. Taylor this morning, and she’s coming to the hotel this afternoon to take measurements for your wedding dress. What about music?”

“We could ask the choir to sing,” Kip suggested, his eyes never leaving Brenda’s face.

“I want
you
to sing,” Brenda said. “Just you. And I want you to sing something romantic, from an opera. A
happy
opera.”

Kip shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said, his voice thick. “Whenever I sing solo in front of an audience, even the chickens run for cover. I told you what happened the last time I was onstage.”

“But you won’t be singing for an audience,” Brenda protested. “You’ll be singing to me.”

Kip looked taken aback for a moment. “I–I don’t know. I . . .”

Brenda put her hand on his. “I know you can do it,” she said. “It would please me so much.”

Kip hesitated. “I–I don’t want to ruin our wedding.”

“Nothing could possibly ruin our wedding,” Brenda said. She pointed to Jenny’s list. “You can check off music.”

Jenny doubted the wisdom of asking Kip to perform when he was so clearly uncomfortable with the idea, but she said nothing. “Let’s see . . . Next.”

Kip glanced at Brenda then turned to Jenny. “Ma’am, just so you know, the bank has agreed to give me a loan to purchase property outside of town. It’s a couple of acres with a small house, but we can add more rooms.”

Jenny took both their hands in hers and squeezed. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you both.” She released their hands with a loving smile.

Kip grinned back. “We were talking and—” He glanced at Brenda, who jumped in.

“We want you and Mary Lou to move in with us until you find a place of your own.”

Jenny was so touched that at first she couldn’t find her voice. “That’s very generous of you, but Mary Lou and I will be leaving town after the wedding. We’re going to Rockland Creek.”

Kip lifted his brows. “What’s in Rockland Creek?”

Brenda explained how the newspaper had misprinted the name of the town. “So instead of going to Rockland Creek, we ended up here.”

“People are always confusing the two towns,” Kip said. “Just think, if it wasn’t for that error, you and I might never have met. God sure does work in strange ways, doesn’t He?”

Jenny frowned but didn’t say a word. They were in Rocky Creek because of a simple misprint. God had nothing to do with it. Or did He?

Since she’d begun her daily Bible reading, she’d been questioning things she never questioned before. Looking back on the chaos of her life, she saw patterns. Things that had seemed accidental or random suddenly looked deliberate. Perhaps God really did bring them to Rocky Creek so Kip and Brenda could be together.

The door of the café opened and a grisly man stuck his head inside. “What does a man have to do ’round here to get hisself a shave and haircut?”

“I’m coming,” Kip said, rising. “Please excuse me, ladies, but duty calls.” With that he left.

In quick order, Brenda rose from her seat. “I’m going back to the hotel.”

“But you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said, then laughed. “I bet you never thought to hear those words come out of my mouth.”

Jenny grinned back at her. It did her heart good to see Brenda looking so happy. “Don’t forget, Mrs. Taylor and Mrs. Hitchcock are coming to talk about your wedding gown,” she called after her.

No sooner had Brenda left than Timber Joe limped into the café. Spotting her, he hobbled over to her table, his rifle flung over his shoulder.

“Do you mind if I have a word with you, ma’am?” he asked politely.

“Not at all,” she said. Obviously no one else wanted to keep her company.

He pulled the rifle strap from his shoulder and leaned his weapon against the table. He then pulled out a chair and sat down, stretching his wooden leg out in front of him.

He leaned forward in earnest. “I never heard back from you,” he said. “You know, after our interview and all.”

“I didn’t know how to reach you,” she said, which was true. The man didn’t seem to have a permanent home, or at least none that anyone knew about.

“That’s why I’m here. I wanted to save you the bother of tracking me down.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Neither did she wish to give him false hope. “I don’t know if you heard, but my sister Brenda is betrothed to Mr. Barrel.”

“That’s all everyone’s been talking about, ma’am. No one ever thought Barrel would pass muster. Kind of gives the rest of us hope, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes . . . eh.” She stirred uneasily in her chair.

“With your permission, I’d like to ask your other sister . . . Mary Lou . . . if she would accompany me on guard duty.”

Jenny wasn’t sure what that meant. “Guard duty?”

“I’ve got a post on yonder hill where I can keep an eye out for advancing Yankee troops. Someone has to protect this town from invading forces.”

She took a deep breath. Timber Joe was in worse shape than she thought. She could well imagine what Mary Lou would have to say about such an odd proposition.

“My sister would be most . . . flattered,” she said, choosing her words with care. “However, a fine soldier such as yourself deserves a more patient . . . uncomplaining, and compliant wife. Someone sympathetic to the Confederate cause.”

He gave a hearty nod. “That’s exactly what I need.”

“Yes, well . . .” She hated to say anything unpleasant about her sister, but she didn’t know how else to discourage him without hurting his feelings. “I’m afraid you’d find Mary Lou wanting on all accounts.”

His eyes shimmered with surprise. “Is that so, ma’am? I would never have guessed it to look at her.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” she said.

“Kind of reminds me of the Moon sisters,” he said.

“Who?”

“The Moon sisters. Ginnie and Lottie. Lottie was one of our best spies. Even fooled Stanton,” he said, referring to Abraham Lincoln’s wartime secretary of state.

“Nobody could have guessed by looking at her that she was a Confederate spy. Just like no one would have guessed your sister was a Union spy.”

Alarmed, Jenny covered her mouth with her fingertips. “I didn’t mean to suggest she was a spy.”

A rumor like that could hamper Mary Lou’s chances for marriage by cutting the pool of eligible men in half. The war was over and had been for a long time, but for many people, the North-and-South divide still existed.

“Don’t you worry, ma’am. Your shameful secret is safe with me.” He picked up his cap and placed it on his head. “Sure do appreciate your honesty,” he said. Gathering his rifle with one hand, he stood.

Despite his odd ways, she liked the man. “If you ever need company, I’d be happy to stand guard with you.”

“No offense, ma’am, but guard duty requires long hours of standing and doing nothing. I can tell by looking at you that you’re the restless type. But I appreciate the offer.” With that he flung his rifle over his shoulder and left.

Snatching up her notebook, she left the café too. She was so focused on all she had to do that she didn’t see Rhett until she plowed into him.

“
Oomph,
” he groaned, looking as startled as she was.

He steadied her with a hand to her arm, his eyes full of concern. “Are you all right?”

She was anything but all right, but she tried to hide her misery from his probing stare. “I’m fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He gazed at her a moment before pulling his hand away and stooping to pick up her notebook. He straightened and handed it to her. His hand brushing hers sent warm shivers up her arms.

“I heard about Brenda’s betrothal,” he said. “Kip’s a good man.”

She swallowed hard and bit her lip. She debated how much or how little to say. She finally decided it was best to clear the air.

“I know that my sisters asked you to”—she searched for the right word—“help them keep me from leaving Rocky Creek.”

He narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

“T– they had no right to tell you that I—”

“Had feelings for me?” he prompted, his eyes hooded.

Heat crept up her face. “They didn’t mean any harm.”

He stepped back. “And no harm was done.” His voice was as remote as the look on his face.

“I do apologize.”

He touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “Apology accepted.”

She watched him walk away and her heart squeezed in anguish. She fought the impulse to chase after him and . . . do what? Admit to the lie? Admit that she did, indeed, have feelings for him? Feelings that she could never act upon? Feelings that would require her to confess the truth about her past?

Holding on to what little resolve she had left, she hurried to the hotel.

Twenty-three