Margaret Brownley - [Rocky Creek 02] (31 page)

Mary Lou groaned and drove her fist against the tub’s tin side. “Not another instruction book.”

“This one I think you’ll approve,” Jenny said. “It’s the Bible, and it does not demand perfection.”

Mary Lou gaped at her. “You mean we don’t have to act like ladies anymore?”

“You most definitely
do
have to act like ladies,” Jenny said with mock gravity. “You just don’t have to be
perfect
.”

Mary Lou’s face grew still. “What you said about Jeff . . .” She swiped at a tear with her fingertip. “Did you mean it? Do you really like him?”

“I like him a lot.” Jenny glanced at Brenda, who had crawled to the foot of the bed to be closer to them. “I like
both
your young men.”

Brenda rewarded her with a beautiful smile.

Jenny turned back to her poor sister, and her heart softened. Mary Lou looked so miserable Jenny could no longer hold on to her anger. “Will you ever forgive me for giving you such a hard time?”

Mary Lou stared at her for a moment before reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “Only if you forgive me for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

Surprised but, more than anything, touched by Mary Lou’s apology, Jenny smiled. “Forgiven and forgotten.” She held the towel up with both hands.

“You better get out before you catch your death of cold.” Not that there was much chance of that in this heat.

Mary Lou stood, but before climbing out of the tub she caught sight of herself in the mirror. A look of horror crossed her face, followed by a piercing scream. “My life is ruined!”

Someone pounded on the wall and yelled out in a rough voice. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll personally see to it that your life is ruined for good!”

Jenny threw the towel around her sister and wrapped her in it. “Enough,” she ordered, her patience spent. “Not another word or I’ll take back every nice thing I said about your Mr. Trevor!”

It was nearly 3:00 a.m. before Mary Lou calmed down enough to fall asleep.

Though Jenny was tired, her mind remained active.

She sat at the desk and opened the Bible Sarah had given her. She read and reread several of the verses Reverend Wells had marked.
God is love
, she read, and the words washed over her like a warm tide.

She thumbed through the pages until she found the verse she studied daily.
The Lord’s plan shall prevail
.

She closed the Bible and leaned her head against the back of the chair. God certainly seemed to have a hand in planning her sisters’ futures. There simply was no other way to explain the way things worked out.

But what about Scooter and Jason? What were God’s plans for them?
And what plans do You have for me, Lord?

So many questions. So many things she didn’t know, didn’t understand.

The acrid smell of smoke drifted through the open window. Fortunately, the fire damage was confined to only the one room. Jenny had no idea what they would have done had the hotel burned down.

Hands on her face, she sighed. It had been an exhausting yet oddly exhilarating day. True, nothing had worked out as she had hoped. Yet in some strange way, things had worked out beyond her wildest expectations.

Mr. Trevor was kindhearted and certainly pleasing to the eye. Mr. Barrel had a puppy-dog quality that was hard to resist. Both men were churchgoing Christians. Most important, both were obviously head over heels in love. Her sisters were in good hands.

Jenny was happy for them though she couldn’t help but feel envious. How would it feel to be loved by a man? To be cherished and protected by him? A man willing to forgive the past. A man who loved her and wanted to care for her.

Tears burned her eyes. God loved her. That’s what the Bible said. Even if she
was
far from perfect.

But no earthly being could be expected to forgive what she had done to protect and care for her sisters, not even Rhett Armstrong. Stunned by the thought, she shook her head.
Now where did that come from?

Oh, she knew, she knew. She could deny it all she wanted, but she knew. She had fallen in love with the marshal. It was the only way to explain her throbbing pulse whenever he came near . . . the way her body trembled when he so much as walked past her window. She knew what time he left his office at night, what time he arrived in the morning. She’d gotten so good at tracking his comings and goings, she could pick out the sound of his horse’s hooves passing the hotel.

She shook the thought away. Mustn’t think about him. It wouldn’t do any good and it only deepened her pain. Must concentrate on her sisters. She had a double wedding to plan. Yes, yes, that’s what she must focus on.

When she was actively pursuing her plans, she didn’t have time to think about the past or anything else. Idle hands not only led to bad memories, but thoughts of Rhett and all the things she could never have. As long as she made lists, as long as she filled every moment with preparations, as long as she maintained a tight schedule, then and only then could she keep thoughts of Rhett at bay.

At the first light of dawn, she rose from the bed and rushed to her desk to grab her notebook. She’d hardly slept a wink, but she was anxious to work on the wedding invitations.

She reached across the desk to grab her pen. In her haste, she knocked the copy of
The Compleat and Authoritative Manual for Attracting and Procuring a Husband
on the floor. She stooped to pick it up. The book was written by Miss—
Miss!
—Abigail Jenkins. Probably a spinster!

She leafed through the dog-eared volume. Definitely a spinster. All the rules for choosing a husband and not one of them correct. Not one! Sarah was absolutely right. Jenny had been referring to the wrong book.

With a disgusted sigh, she tossed the book across the room. Instead of landing in the wastebasket as she intended, it bounced on the sill and flew out the open window.

A voice cried out from the street below.

“Oh!” Fearing she’d caused injury, she flung herself to the window.

Miss Emma Hogg stood directly below, looking none the worse for wear. Holding the book with one hand, she flipped the pages with the other.

Jenny leaned out of the window to apologize, but before she had a chance, the spinster stuffed the manual in her basket, looked around as if to make certain no one had seen her, and hurried away.

Jenny shook her head. Poor Miss Hogg. She probably thought the book was a gift from heaven.

She considered warning Redd, the spinster’s likely target, but decided against it. He was in no danger of losing his membership in The Society for the Protection and Preservation of Male Independence. Not as long as Miss Hogg followed Miss Jenkins’s advice.

Rhett swung open the door separating his office from the jail cells. Earlier he’d summoned Doc Myers to examine Maxwell and the doctor had spent an hour with the prisoner. Now he stepped into Rhett’s office with a grave nod and set his leather bag on the desk. White shirt rolled up at the sleeves, he drew out a handkerchief and mopped his sweaty forehead. He was clean-shaven except for his muttonchop sideburns, his hair parted in the middle.

“What do you think?” Rhett asked.

Myers pocketed his handkerchief and leaned against the desk, arms folded. The town’s doctor had two different colored eyes, one blue and the other brown, the result of a childhood carriage accident.

“I think it’s going to take a long time for him to dry out.”

It wasn’t the answer Rhett wanted. “What about a cure?”

“For alcoholism?” The doctor raised a dubious brow.

Rhett knew as well anyone that no easy cures existed for dipsomania or alcoholism, as it was called since the war, but they had to try. “I read about a doctor who chloroforms his patients. He keeps them unconscious until they dry out.”

The doctor shook his head, obviously disapproving of such methods. “There are all kinds of so-called cures,” he said. “Colloidal gold is the end-all cure at the moment. Far as I know, success is mixed at best.”

Rhett grimaced in frustration. “We’ve got to do something.”

“Nothing we do medically or otherwise will work unless Maxwell wants it to.”

“He hasn’t got a choice,” Rhett said, his voice brusque. The memory of Maxwell’s hateful words still rang in his ears. “He’s got two sons.”

“He has to want the cure, and he has to want it with everything he’s got,” the doctor insisted. “That’s the only way he’s going to stop drinking.” He reached for his bag and started for the door. “I’ll check him again tomorrow. How long do you plan to keep him locked up?”

Rhett slammed a fist into his open palm. “For however long it takes him to want the cure with everything he’s got.”

The next week was a nightmare that left Jenny ready to scream. Mary Lou refused to see anyone, including Trevor. She wouldn’t even leave the room for meals.

She moaned, groaned, and did nothing but complain. Even Brenda’s usual good nature was pushed to the limits.

Jenny was so desperate, she even tried to rent an extra room so that she and Brenda could get a decent night’s sleep, but no rooms were available.

One afternoon someone banged on their door. Before Jenny had a chance to open it, Jeff Trevor burst into the room. Too startled to offer an objection, Jenny could only stare as he stormed to the bed, which Mary Lou refused to leave.

“Get dressed!” he ordered.

Mary Lou tried to hide under the covers, but he yanked the blanket away.

“Don’t look at me,” she cried.

Jenny’s mouth dropped open. How dare he bully her sister! “Mr. Trevor, you may be her fiancé, but that does not give you the right to—”

Brenda stopped her. “Let him take her.”

Jenny started to protest, but Brenda grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the bed. “I need the rest,” she pleaded. “We both do.”

No further argument was necessary. Peace and quiet was too much of a temptation for Jenny to pass up.

Trevor sat on the bed by Mary Lou’s side and gently pulled her hands away from her face.

“Don’t,” Mary Lou pleaded, turning her head away. “I look horrible.”

“You look beautiful.” Fingers curved beneath her chin, he forced her to look up at him. This time Mary Lou didn’t fight him, but whether from surprise or surrender, Jenny didn’t know.

Most of the swelling had gone down, but she was still covered with pink bumps.

“I’m going to look at you,” he said, “and I plan to keep looking at you for the rest of my born days.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the most amazing transition occurred. Mary Lou’s face brightened as if lit from an inner source, and her mouth curved in a wide, open smile. Jenny couldn’t remember her ever looking more beautiful.

It was amazing. Not only was Trevor capable of managing sawmill emergencies, but he handled Mary Lou with the ease of a gentle breeze. Any lingering doubts Jenny had about the couple’s suitability vanished along with Mary Lou’s bad mood.

Brenda looked pleased with herself. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?”

Jenny smiled. Glad didn’t begin to describe how she felt. Both sisters knew enough to follow their hearts and find God’s plan for them. For that she would always be grateful.

As soon as Trevor left with Mary Lou, Jenny and Brenda fell into bed for some much-needed sleep.

In early July, Jenny woke to a shrill voice. “Extra, extra. Read all about it!”

Racing to the window, she lifted the sash and stuck her head outside. “What happened?”

Scooter gazed up at her, a canvas bag of newspapers slung on his back. Sarah and her husband had done a remarkable job in caring for him and his brother.

His shirt, trousers, and boots were obviously new and his hair neatly combed; he looked quite handsome. Grown-up, even. He and Jason were already attending Rocky Creek’s unofficial school and nothing pleased Jenny more.

Now he called up to her. “President Garfield was shot.”

“Oh, no!” Garfield had only been in office for four months. “Is he dead?”

Scooter shook his head. “No, but he’s hurt bad.”

“Save me a paper,” she said. “I’ll be right down.” She then hurried to get dressed.

By the time she ran downstairs for a paper, the shocking news had spread through town like wildfire.

Garfield’s condition was all anyone talked about for the next several days. Even Brenda and Mary Lou’s upcoming double wedding played second fiddle to the president. He was still alive, the bullet lodged somewhere in his chest. No one knew where, exactly, and how to locate the slug without causing further damage was the subject of much debate.

One night Jenny lay in her bed staring at the ceiling. She envied her sisters the ability to sleep in the stifling heat.

Loud voices rose from the street below. Jenny grimaced. Not again. Since the president had been shot, everyone was suddenly an expert in human anatomy.

“Those White House doctors don’t know beans,” someone shouted. “They should take that bullet out!”

“I say leave it in,” came another voice.

It was a growing controversy and everyone had an opinion. Even a man named Bell wanted to use his new telephone contraption to locate the bullet.

The argument escalated.

“Break it up!”

Hearing Rhett’s voice, Jenny’s breath caught in her chest. She slipped out of bed and ran to the window.

The men scattered, their voices fading in the distance. Only Rhett remained. He stood in the middle of the street, hands at his waist, looking up at her window. Though the room was dark and she was certain he couldn’t see her, she backed away. Heart pounding, she pressed her body against the wall.

She closed her eyes, shutting in the hot tears that gathered there. She imagined herself going to him. She imagined him kissing her like he kissed her twice before. Only this time, the kiss would be for all the right reasons.

The Lord has a plan
.

For me, God? For me? Even after everything I’ve done?

Wanting it so much to be true, she looked out the window again, thinking to call to him. Thinking to ask him to wait till she got dressed. Thinking to beg him to forgive her past sins enough to love her.