Somewhere to Call Home (Love Inspired Historical) (21 page)

Michael waved his hand to dismiss her thanks and then brought it down to grasp the fingers she’d lowered. “I’m glad it all turned out well. After Mother voiced her fears, I knew something wasn’t right, and there was only one thing to do and that was to get to the bottom of it all. But as for saving a life...” He paused before bringing Violet’s fingers to his lips and then laying them against his cheek. He looked deep into her eyes and released a deep breath. “I think it was my life I saved, for if anything had happened to you, Vi, I don’t think I would have been able to forgive myself.”

“Michael, no. Don’t even talk like that.”

Michael pulled her into his arms and put his head against hers. “Violet, it is well past time that we talk about us. I can’t begin to tell you how I felt when Black pulled that gun on you. I thought for sure my heart would never beat again.”

“Oh, Michael—”

His fingertips sealed her lips as he shook his head. “Please let me finish.”

Violet nodded and he removed his hand to pull her closer. “I know I’m probably doing this badly, but after coming so close to losing you, I don’t want to wait one more minute before telling you how I feel about you, Violet. Luke is right. It’s time. I love you with all that I am and I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you don’t want to go back to Ashland. I want you to stay here and...if there is any way you think you could learn to love me, too, I—”

“Michael.” Violet’s hand reached out and she gently touched his cheek once more. “I think I began to fall in love with you from the moment I walked into the parlor that first night. I’ve loved you for a good while now, and I’ve only dreamed that you might come to care for me, too.”

Michael tipped her face up to his. “It seems we should have had this talk long before now. And I won’t let another moment go by without asking you to marry me. Will you be my wife, Vi?”

Violet’s heart flooded with happiness and love for this man. “Oh,” she breathed, “yes, Michael, I will be honored to marry you.”

“I love you with all my heart, Vi.” Michael’s head dipped and Violet stood on tiptoe as his lips grazed hers.

Suddenly, she realized that she finally had somewhere to call home. And it wasn’t in Virginia. It wasn’t New York City or even Heaton House. Home for Violet would always be right here in the circle of Michael’s arms.

Epilogue

Heaton House
December 20, 1895

V
iolet couldn’t believe her wedding day was finally here. Michael had wanted to marry right away, but to please his mother, who wanted to give them the wedding she’d never been able to plan for her daughter, they agreed to a December 20 date. After all she’d done for her, Violet was more than glad to grant her request.

And it’d worked out fine; it gave them time to find a home of their own only a few blocks away. Michael had given her permission to work until they started a family and Butterick had reciprocated by providing Violet’s wedding dress.

It was from their winter line, made of ivory satin and lace, and Mrs. Waters had made it for her. Violet felt beautiful in it, and as she stood at the landing at Heaton House, she thanked the Lord for the blessings He’d bestowed on her.

Now, Violet took a deep breath and held her bouquet with trembling fingers to her heart as Elizabeth straightened her skirts from behind.

“Just wait until Michael sees you,” Elizabeth whispered. “He’s going to fall in love all over again.”

Violet smiled just thinking of her husband-to-be. Michael would be all she’d ever hoped for in a husband. He was loving and kind, affectionate, honest and strong. Best of all, he loved the Lord as much as she did.

“I hope so. Because I think I fall in love with him more each day,” she whispered back.

She and Michael were going to spend a few days in her home in Ashland and try to decide whether to keep the house or sell it, then they’d return on Christmas Eve just in time to celebrate with Mrs. Heaton—Mother Heaton—and the boarders who’d been so happy for the two of them. The plan was to have everyone over to their house for New Year’s.

As the “Wedding March” began playing in the parlor below, Elizabeth gave her a quick hug and started down the stairs before her. Violet’s heart hammered against her ribs with each step she took as she followed her maid of honor down the stairs, into the foyer and on into the parlor.

She almost forgot to breathe as she saw Michael waiting for her, standing with Luke, his best man. They were in front of the Christmas tree his mother had made sure was up and decorated for this day. Garlands graced the mantel and the windows, and Violet couldn’t think of a better setting for a wedding.

Michael looked regal and so very handsome standing there in his tuxedo, the expression in his eyes touching her heart, drawing her to him, past their friends from Ashland, Mrs. Waters and several of her coworkers and Michael’s agents, too. Then there were Julia, John and Ben—the boarders she’d come to think of as family—and even Gretchen and Maida dressed in their finest and ready to serve the guests after the ceremony. How blessed they were to have so many friends.

She stopped beside Michael’s mother and placed a kiss on her cheek as she handed her a flower from her bouquet. Then she took her place beside Michael and they turned to the minister.

Her fingers trembled holding the bouquet and only Michael’s gaze kept her steady as they said their vows in front of the people they loved. They both promised to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives and she handed her bouquet to Elizabeth before Michael slid the ring that’d been her mother’s on her finger.

“I pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister said. “You may kiss your bride, Michael.”

Michael pushed back the veil and tipped Violet’s face up. “I love you, Vi. Today, tomorrow and forever.”

Violet barely got out, “I love you, too,” before her new husband claimed her lips in the sweetest kiss she’d ever known—the very first one as Mrs. Michael Heaton.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Handpicked Husband
by Winnie Griggs!

Dear Reader,

After 9/11, watching how New Yorkers handled it and reached out to one another, New York City became a real place to me, with people and families who cared deeply for each other.

I became increasingly interested in the history of the city and found that at the end of the nineteenth century women flocked to New York City, finding work as seamstresses, telephone operators, department store clerks and lamp makers. Trying to support themselves or help their families, many of these young women lived away from their loved ones for the first time. But where did they live? In my research, I found that many lived in boardinghouses, where some even found their mates.

Michael Heaton and Violet Burton are two lonely hearts who need someone to love. I hope you enjoy their love story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Blessings,

Janet Lee Barton

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

1. When Harlan Black offered to forgive the loan if Violet agreed to marry him, she turned him down, deciding she’d lose her home before marrying the likes of him. What do you think most women in that time period would have done? Do you think Violet did the right thing?
   

2. Finding it hard to trust a man, Violet isn’t really interested in finding a husband. Have you ever felt that way? How did you get past it?
   

3. Michael chose to search for his sister instead of staying in Virginia, and it prevented him from marrying the woman he loved. Did he do the right thing? Was his fiancée wrong or right in breaking off the engagement?
   

4. Even feeling that Lila doesn’t like her, Violet would like them to get along. Would you go out of your way to befriend someone who obviously didn’t like you? What do you think the Lord would want you to do?
   

5. Michael didn’t feel anyone would understand his need to look for his sister and help his mother after his fiancée broke the engagement. Did he have good reason to feel that way? Would you have felt the same way?
   

6. Sometimes things that happen in our past hinder our decisions in the future. How did past events hinder Violet and Michael’s relationship? How did they get past that problem and move ahead?
   

7. Violet and Lila feel totally opposite in how they view Mrs. Heaton taking in temporary boarders. What do you think about it? Would it be something you’d do?
   

8. When Michael finds out about Harlan and that he’s obsessed with finding Violet, he feels more responsible for her. Does that hinder his falling in love with her or make him realize that he really cares about her?
   

9. Michael’s fear is that Violet will return home once things are cleared up about her home. It keeps him from letting her know how he feels. Do you think he should have told her earlier? Or would you have done the same thing?
   

10. When Violet sees the tenements and the two little boys, her heart breaks for them and she has a hard time getting them out of her mind. Have you ever felt that way when you’ve seen poverty up close? Did it change you?
    

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical story.

You find illumination in days gone by.
Love Inspired Historical
stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.

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Chapter One

Northeast Texas, 1894

A
n ear-splitting shriek ricocheted through
the forest, startling a raucous cloud of blackbirds from the roadside trees.

“Easy, Trib.” Adam Barr patted the horse’s neck as the animal
shied.
What now?

The buggy behind him slowed to a stop, but Adam ignored it,
along with the uneasy questions from the three men seated inside. He’d promised
to escort the men from Philadelphia to Texas, not be their nursemaid.

The wailing continued and Adam fought the urge to tilt back his
head and answer with a wild, full-throated howl. He’d gritted his teeth so often
these past few days the muscles in his jaw hurt. Taking on this job when more
important business waited for him in Philadelphia had him in a foul mood, as his
companions could no doubt attest.

After six years of biding his time—six years, two months and
thirteen days to be exact—he’d thought he could finally pursue his goal without
distraction.

If this assignment had come from anyone but Judge
Madison...

Adam scanned the brush-skirted hardwoods lining the trail.
Whatever the source of that eerie sound, it was headed their way.

He eased his rifle from the scabbard. Anticipation stirred his
blood. He might have to employ his “company manners” with his three charges, but
this bellowing beast was another matter.

No telling what manner of creature roamed this forsaken
backwoods. The wail was too high-pitched to belong to a bear. A large cat
maybe?

He urged Trib closer to the trees. There seemed to be a pattern
to the sound, a certain mangled cadence. Almost as if—

Well, what do you know?

He leaned back. Not a wild animal after all. Too bad.

“Do you think it’s a wolf?”

Adam glanced over his shoulder. Chance’s expression, like his
tone, held more eagerness than worry. Did the kid think it would be some kind of
lark to face down a wolf? Of course, from what Judge Madison had told Adam, the
twenty-one-year-old was on this expedition precisely because he
was
prone to seek out trouble.

“Sounds more like an infernal wildcat.” Everett adjusted his
shirt cuff with exaggerated care, doing a creditable job of appearing
unconcerned. But his British accent was more pronounced now, something Adam
noticed happened when anything rattled the dandified cynic.

Mitchell, who controlled the skittish carriage horse with ease,
refrained from comment. Nothing unusual in that. The loose-limbed bear of a man
had spent most of the trip west with a sort of sleepy-eyed disinterest. What
was
different, however, was the subtle alertness
that radiated from him now, as if he were a cavalryman waiting for the enemy to
appear over the rise.

Another strident note drew Adam’s focus back to the roadside.
He didn’t bother to disabuse them of the notion that it might be a wild animal.
It’d do the pampered trio good to have something to worry about besides the
unorthodox plot they’d gotten themselves embroiled in.

“Perhaps you should get the carriage moving,” Everett said.
“I’m sure our escort can handle this better without us to distract him.”

“We shouldn’t abandon Mr. Barr,” Chance shot back. “He might
need—”

“This is about common sense,
Junior
, not courage,” Everett interrupted. “Besides, I do believe Mr.
Barr is more interested in getting rid of the lot of us than having us guard his
back.”

“I told you before—the name’s Chance, not Junior.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. Everett was right. Even if it had been a
grizzly headed this way, he’d rather face
that
than
listen to more of this petty bickering. This assignment couldn’t be over soon
enough to suit him.

A heartbeat later, the source of the ear-grating racket stepped
onto the roadside. As soon as the creature caught sight of them, the discordant
warble ceased.

“It’s a man!” Chance’s tone carried as much disappointment as
surprise.

“Not quite.” Adam didn’t blame the youth for the mistake. The
party responsible for that unmelodic braying wore baggy overalls and an equally
oversize shirt, both of which had seen better days. There was even a smudge of
dirt on one cheek to match those on the clothing.

But this was no man.

From Adam’s closer vantage, he spied a frizzy brown braid long
enough to brush the seat of the overalls. That, along with the slender neck and
hint of curves below, proclaimed this person as most definitely female. He
hesitated, though, to use the word
lady.
She
appeared more a disheveled forest waif than a civilized being.

The girl seemed as startled as the men in the carriage. But a
flicker of something else—disbelief? wariness?—shadowed her surprise.

Remembering he still cradled the rifle, Adam resheathed it and
tipped his hat. No point scaring her more than they already had.

Besides, she might be a good source of information.

He dug deep for the polite pleasantries that had grown rusty
with disuse. “Good afternoon, miss. My apologies if we startled you.”

“Good heavens, it’s a girl.” Chance’s
whispered-but-easily-heard comment only served to heighten the color in her
cheeks as she broke eye contact with Adam.

“Or what passes for one in this barbaric wilderness.” Everett
didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Do you think she speaks English?”

Adam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Did the men think just
because she looked like an uncivilized rube she didn’t have feelings?

But before he could say anything, the girl snapped out of her
slack-jawed immobility. Her lips compressed and her eyes flashed daggers. So,
there was more wildcat than rabbit in her, was there?

Instead of baring claws, however, she bent down to pluck a stem
of grass. Straightening, she favored them with a broad, neighborly grin as she
stuck the weed between her teeth.

But something in her stance told Adam the claws were there,
merely out of sight for now. He also noticed she didn’t step away from the
protection of the trees.

This girl was no fool. He mentally saluted her precaution, then
leaned back in the saddle, ready to enjoy whatever performance she had in store
for his companions.

“Howdy, gents.” Her words were drawn out in a thick, rustic
drawl. “I reckon I
was
a mite surprised at that, but
no harm done. We don’t get many strangers out this way, especially fancy-lookin’
gents like you ’uns.”

Her gaze flickered to Adam’s again. Some trick of the light
lent a luminosity to her irises, made them appear to change from green to blue
and back again. The image of a statue he’d admired in a museum years ago
shimmered through his memory. The scales of the dragon had seemed to glow, had
rippled with a fluidity of color that was mesmerizing.

This girl’s eyes were just like that.

She turned to the men behind him, and the spell was broken.
Adam collected himself, annoyed at the fanciful turn his thoughts had taken.
This trip must have worn on him more than he realized.

Mitchell remembered his manners first. “Are you all right,
miss?”

She slid the stem of grass to the other corner of her mouth
with bucolic nonchalance. As she did so, Adam saw her size up the speaker, no
doubt weighing Mitchell’s intimidating size against his concerned gaze.

She finally flashed a friendly grin. “Fit as a filly in a field
of clover. Why’d you ask?”

Let it go
, Adam silently advised.
But Mitchell apparently hadn’t figured out what was all too obvious to Adam.

“It’s just, well, that screeching we heard. I thought maybe
something had frightened you.”

Adam watched for her reaction with interest. Would she dissolve
into tears of mortification, or give Mitchell a blistering set-down for his
innocent blunder?

To his surprise, she did neither. Instead she winced and gave a
rueful smile. “My kinder friends call what you just heard a ‘joyful noise.’”

Adam tilted his hat back with one finger. A female who could
laugh at herself? Now
there
was a novelty.

Ruddy color crept into Mitchell’s face along with the belated
light of understanding. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean any disrespect.
I—”

She smiled and raised a hand. “Don’t fret none, mister. No
offense taken. Why do you think I wait ’til I’m out in the woods to really give
it my all?”

She looked around, including each of them in her gaze. “You
fellas lost? There’s not much out this way but trees and critters. If you’re
looking for the road to Bent Willow, you passed the turn about three miles
back.”

“Actually, we’re looking for Miss Regina Nash.” A flicker in
her expression told Adam she knew the name. “I understand she’s staying
somewhere out this way.” He’d hand it to the judge’s granddaughter, she’d taken
great pains to make it as difficult for him to find her as possible. But she
obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with if she thought a trek through the
woods would deter him.

The girl nodded, pulling the stem from her mouth and waving it
in the direction they’d been traveling. “Her place is about a twenty-minute ride
farther on. Can’t miss it.” She rolled the stem between her fingers, eyeing him
speculatively. “I was by there a bit ago, though, and it didn’t seem like they
was expecting company.”

He swallowed a sour laugh. “No, I don’t imagine they are.” He
watched her toss the blade of grass away, still intrigued by her in spite of
himself.

Goodness knows it didn’t have anything to do with her looks. In
that grubby getup and with smudges on her face, and her hair indifferently tamed
into a bushy braid, she lacked anything resembling sophistication or feminine
wiles. No, it was more the glimpse of personality he’d seen in her eyes, and the
complete lack of apology for her untidy appearance, even after the tactless
comments from the men in the carriage. The girl seemed a product of her
environment, completely lacking artifice or slyness.

“Do you live nearby?” he heard himself ask. “Can we give you a
ride?”

Now why had he made such an offer? It wasn’t like him to act
impulsively. Too late to retract the offer now, though.

“No, thanks. I’m headed that’a way.” She waved toward the trail
behind her.

Adam nodded with more relief than disappointment. As
interesting as this backwoods miss was, he didn’t have time for distractions
right now. The sooner he found Regina Nash, the sooner he could be done with
this mess.

“Then I suppose we’ll be on our way.” He gathered the reins.
“Good day.”

“Nice talking to you fellas.” She hooked her thumbs under the
straps of her overalls and rocked back on her heels. “Tell Miz Nash I said hello
when you see her.”

Adam raised a brow. “Who shall I say sends her greetings?”

“She’ll know.”

Being coy, was she? He’d already decided the girl wasn’t quite
as guileless as she seemed. That drawl was a bit too thick, that gleam in her
eyes a bit too knowing.

Not that he thought the worse of her for it. Under the
circumstances, she probably felt safer pretending to be simple. Living down to
their expectations, as it were.

He turned back to the carriage. “All right, gentlemen. Time to
move on.” But as he set Trib in motion, Adam felt her gaze on him, like a
prickle between his shoulder blades.

A moment later when he glanced back, however, she’d
disappeared.

He mentally offered a salute. It was as if, by getting him to
look back, she’d managed to have the last word.

Mitchell’s gaze followed Adam’s. “Who do you suppose she
was?”

Everett clapped Mitchell on the back. “So, you like an earthy
quality to your women, do you?”

Mitchell shot him a contemptuous glower. “The kind of woman I
like is none of your concern.”

Adam faced forward again, wondering why Everett took such
pleasure in needling his companions. Did he think his polished manner somehow
made him superior?

“Oh, she wasn’t so bad,” Chance offered. “Seemed a bit simple,
but she was friendly enough.”

Chance saw her as simple? Adam shook his head. Was he the only
one who’d glimpsed the intelligence in those changeable eyes?

“What does it matter?” Everett’s question had an irritable
edge. “Until Miss Nash makes her selection, none of us has any business looking
at another woman.”

A pall descended on the trio. The clink of harness and the
rattle of carriage wheels suddenly seemed unnaturally loud. The question of who
would be selected as the sacrificial lamb in this unorthodox lottery rode
alongside the carriage like a black-clad specter.

Would the man who drew the short straw
really
follow through with his end of the bargain? Adam shrugged off
any feelings of sympathy for their predicament. They’d known the terms before
they signed the contract.
His
only concern in this
matter was to see everything settled according to the judge’s wishes, and the
sooner the better.

For six eternal, nightmarish years, he’d waited for the day he
would be free to pursue the truth, to clear his reputation and unmask those who
had blackened it. The proof he needed was almost within reach now, he could feel
it. Soon, very soon, he’d be able to exonerate himself, to reclaim the life that
had been stolen from him.

But he couldn’t do it from Turnabout, Texas.

His frustration over being forced to put his own plans on hold
for even a day, much less four weeks, was burning a hole in his gut.

Not that he’d let on as much to anyone else. His ability to
maintain an unperturbed demeanor through any situation was a matter of pride to
him. And a major source of annoyance for his opponents.

It was an ability that had served him well in his years as a
trial lawyer. The drive to hold on to that one piece of himself, to not let them
take it away from him along with everything else, had helped keep him sane the
last six years.