When Love Calls (37 page)

“Do you have any idea how lovely you are tonight? I think every man here has his eye on you.” Lincoln spun her in a circle. “I hope you’ll squeeze in a few more dances with me.”

Her skirt swished against her legs. “If it was up to me, you could have them all.”

“I wish I could. But even with her modern ways, I’m afraid my aunt would point out that faux pas.” He drew her closer. “Just remember who you belong to.”

Belong to? Normally such a phrase would raise Hannah’s hackles, but she found it stirred something entirely new inside her. She risked a quick glance upward, her heart hammering in her throat when she caught a glimpse of the heat in his eyes.

All too soon, the waltz came to an end, and Lincoln surrendered her to the next gentleman. To her surprise, Cedric claimed the next dance. He apologized for his boorish behavior at the Williamses’ dinner party and begged her forgiveness.

Shortly after that dance, Albert asked her to join him on the dance floor. Although reluctant at first, she agreed and found him to be a remarkable dancer.

Near the end of the dance, he tightened his hold on her. “Did you give Lincoln the message I gave you the other day?”

Hannah looked into his eyes, trying to guess if this question was coming from the angry Albert or the friendly one who’d been making polite conversation. She decided it was the latter. “He’s not trying to replace you as Pete’s son, Albert. Your father is his mentor and friend. He cares about your whole family.”

Albert swung her in a wide circle and laughed wryly. “It doesn’t make a difference anymore.”

“Because you’ll be returning to college this fall?”

“No, because I’ve got things under control now.” He laughed again. “Miss Gregory, I’ve learned to accept the way things are and deal with them accordingly.” He whirled her around, his eyes alight. “You’re truly a vision. I can see why Lincoln is so enamored with you. He’s a lucky man.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“I suppose that’s true as well.”

Did he mean that? She studied his features, but he gave nothing away. She found herself relaxing as they danced. None of the strangeness that sometimes accompanied Pete’s son seemed to be present tonight. Was this the young man who’d been accepted to Yale? Perhaps Lincoln was right about him being cured.

Still, she didn’t want to be naive. If he was the arsonist, she had to know. A few questions and she’d have her answers. Lincoln would chastise her for taking chances, but if Albert were guilty, he’d never do anything to her here.

“Albert.” She swallowed. “May I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What kind of person do you believe is setting the fires?”

His eyes never left hers, nor did his body stiffen in response to her question. He smiled and let out a chuckle. “I suppose the man must be mad. Am I on your list?”

“No, of course not.”

“Come now, Miss Gregory. I’d understand if I was.” The song neared its end, and their steps slowed. “But I can assure you, my dear, you have nothing to fear from me.”

Relief flooded over her. Surely she didn’t need to speak to Lincoln about this man if he could speak so sincerely in answer to her question. Lincoln himself had taught her to watch a person’s body for clues to see if they were lying, and she hadn’t seen one flicker that indicated subterfuge.

She released a slow breath and sent up a silent prayer of thanks. She’d handled the situation without Lincoln ever having to know her fears.

When the dance concluded, Albert bowed over her hand. “Thank you. And if you find yourself in need of a partner in the future, I’d be happy to accept the position.”

Needing a reprieve, Hannah sat the next dance out and found an empty chair in the reception room.

Lincoln spotted her and brought her a cup of fruit punch. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much, but my feet needed a break.” She glanced down at her new slippers peeking from beneath the hem of her gown.

“Yours?” Lincoln laughed. “You didn’t dance with graceless Grace.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.” He took her empty cup and set it on a servant’s silver tray. He held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”

She slipped her hand in his and smiled. “If I step on your toe, are you going to start calling me Hannah the horse?”

“Nay.” He mimicked the sound of a horse.

With a giggle, she let the magic carry them away once again.

Tired but happy, Lincoln helped his aunt out of the carriage, then Hannah. The plan was to drop Aunt Sam off at his home and collect Tessa and Charlotte, who’d spent the evening there with Maureen.

“We’ll probably have to waken my sisters.” Hannah stifled a yawn behind her gloved hand.

Beneath the full moon, Hannah’s face shone like an angel’s. What a lucky man he was.

He started up the walkway toward the house and halted. Why was Albert out for a walk in his neighborhood?

Aunt Sam spotted him too. “Is that—”

Hannah gasped.

Boom!

He flew backward and hit the ground hard. The earth shook.

Rolling over, he searched for Hannah and his aunt. He found Aunt Sam first. She’d ended up a yard from him. “You okay?”

“I think so.” She looked around. “Where’s Hannah?”

He spotted her in the yard—lying dark and still.

 45 

Fuzziness faded. Hannah sat up and rubbed her aching head with the palm of her hand. What had happened?

“Are you all right?” Lincoln sounded far away.

She shook her head and it cleared. An explosion. Albert. The house.

Her sisters!

She jumped to her feet and stumbled. Lincoln caught her.

Flames engulfed the porch.

“Let me go! They’re in there!”

“You can’t go in that way. I’ll get them.” He thrust her into Aunt Sam’s arms. “Stay here.”

She fought Aunt Sam’s hold.

“He’ll get them. Trust him, Hannah.”

Trust him.
The words hit her like a second blast, and her body trembled. If she’d have trusted him, none of this would have happened. Why hadn’t she told him what she knew?

Aunt Sam pulled her close. “He’ll get them all out.”

The clang of the fire bell sounded in the distance, but she barely heard it over the din of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Please, God, don’t take them too!

Throwing the back door wide open, Lincoln plunged into his home. Smoke billowed toward the opening he created.

“Charlotte! Tess! Maureen!”

No answer. What if they’d been knocked out by the explosion? Where would they have been?

Keeping low, he felt his way through the kitchen and into the dining room. Despite his lungs aching for fresh air, he pressed harder. He’d promised Hannah. “Charlotte!”

“Here.”

The voice was faint. In the parlor? Of course. None of the three were familiar enough with the house to know how to get out any way other than the front door.

He found Charlotte and Maureen first. Thankfully, the women had had the sense to cover their mouths and keep to the ground. “Stay down. We’ll crawl out. I’ll lead you.” Passing through the hall, he felt the heat from the fire destroying the front of his house. “Hurry.”

At last they reached the back door. He helped Charlotte and Maureen out. Where was Tessa?

His lungs burned, but he had no choice. After taking a deep breath, he plunged back inside and found Tessa lying yards from the door. Lifting her into his arms, he bolted for the door.

Lord, save her. Hannah can’t lose anyone else.

Tessa began to cough as soon as they rounded the corner of the house. Hannah ran to meet them. As soon as he deposited Tessa on the ground, Hannah helped her hacking sister sit up. Still sounding nearly hysterical, she said, “This is all my fault. This is all my fault.”

Dropping his hands to his knees, Lincoln drank in great gulps of air. Smoke clogged his throat, and he fought to clear it. He couldn’t let Hannah go on like this. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and a coughing spasm seized him. It seemed like eternity before it passed. “This is not your fault.”

She looked up at him. Even in the moonlight, he saw the anguish in her eyes. “It is. I knew Albert was the arsonist.”

“You knew? How could you know?”

“I overheard someone on the phone. They were worried it was him.”

Anger and confusion surged through him like the fire consuming his home. She knew? And she’d kept quiet about it? Why would she do that?

Because that’s what Hannah did. She liked to be in control, and because of that, her sisters had almost died.

“Who?” he demanded, broiling inside. “Who did you overhear?”

“Please don’t make me tell you.” Her voice cracked.

“Who did you overhear?” His voice grew louder, and he shook off Aunt Sam’s restraining hand. “Tell me, Hannah!”

“Pete and Elise,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I should have trusted you. It’s just—”

“You thought you could handle it all on your own—again.” He jabbed his finger toward the firemen fighting the flames. Betrayal, raw and cutting, sliced through his heart. “And now look what you’ve done.”

 46 

Heart splintering, Hannah removed her smoky purple gown and sank onto her bed. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away. She squeezed her eyes closed, hoping to block out the image of the fire. Instead, the expression of betrayal on Lincoln’s face was branded on her memory.

In the far bed, Tessa still coughed, but the doctor said she’d be fine. Even in his anger, Lincoln had seen that the three of them were taken home and had sent a doctor to check on them. She’d waved off the physician’s ministrations but was quite relieved to hear her sisters wouldn’t suffer any long-term effects from her mistakes.

But she would.

Even if Lincoln could somehow forgive her, she’d never be able to forgive herself. She recalled the flames devouring Lincoln’s home. The firemen had put the fire out before she’d left, but the porch was gone and the front of the house was badly damaged. Could it be repaired?

Probably much more easily than her relationship with Lincoln.

Fresh sobs wracked her body. Finally, her energy spent, she let exhaustion claim her. Tomorrow she’d face the day like she always had—alone.

The room at the Kirkwood Hotel had a most inviting bed, but Lincoln couldn’t imagine going to sleep right now. He sat down on the bed and removed his shoes. He tossed them across the room, harder than necessary. First one and then the other clunked against the wall. His home was near ruins. He’d been targeted by his mentor’s son, whom the detectives would soon arrest, and the woman he loved had withheld the knowledge that could have prevented the whole fiasco.

Why?

He yanked at his bow tie and let it fall to the floor. His lungs hurt, but not half as much as his heart. That same independent spirit he loved in Hannah now made him cringe. It made her believe she had to take on the world and prove herself. She thought she had to conquer any obstacle and take any risk that came her way. Well, he’d tried to convince her otherwise, and he was tired of his words not going any deeper than the blister on his hand. Loving her cost him too much, and he wasn’t referring to his home.

Falling back onto the pillows, he sighed. Always, Hannah clung to a little piece of herself—a stubborn, “I can handle it” attitude marked by an inability to trust him.

He punched the pillow beneath his head into submission. If he couldn’t have her whole heart, he didn’t want any of it.

Every muscle on Hannah’s five-foot-six-inch frame still ached from being thrown by the explosion, but her greatest ache ran much deeper. She took her place at the courthouse switchboard and adjusted her headset without a word.

Jo eyed her critically. “All right. Out with it. What happened?”

“Even if it involves something I overheard on the telephone lines?”

“Yes, even then.” Jo settled back, apparently ready to listen.

Hannah briefly gave her fellow operator and friend a description of the weekend, including her own role in not telling anyone what she’d overheard on the telephone lines.

“It was the rule, and I couldn’t break it.” Hannah knew Jo, of all people, would understand.

“Interesting.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I find it surprising that a woman who breaks the rules whenever she sees fit chose to obey this one.”

“But—”

Jo broke her off to connect a call. When she’d completed it, she turned back to Hannah. “Answer this. Did you pray even once about whether you should tell me or Lincoln or anyone else about this call?”

“No, there was nothing for sure. I thought I could find out if it was true or not.”

“
You
thought
you
could find out the truth?” Jo gave her a weak smile. “Hannah, I think you’ve got a bad case of self-reliance and not God-reliance.”

“But what’s wrong with that? Ruth was self-reliant. She insisted on going with Naomi. She gleaned in the fields. She went to the threshing floor.”

“And she listened to the council of Naomi and to Boaz, and she made Naomi’s God her God.” Jo patted Hannah’s arm. “Your world got turned upside down when you lost your parents, and you were doing everything you could to get it back in control. But I think if you look inside yourself, you might see that Lincoln wasn’t the only one you stopped trusting.”

Hannah moved too quickly and winced. She bit her lip. “You think I stopped trusting God?”

Jo pointed to Hannah’s switchboard. “I think you’ve been holding the plug in your hands but not completing the call. You’re scared.”

Was Jo right? Why hadn’t she prayed about whether to tell Lincoln, and why hadn’t she broken the rules? It didn’t make sense. Could she be scared? Had she been afraid to take the biggest risk of all—giving her heart away?

She rubbed her aching temples. She’d asked God to help her learn to love Lincoln completely, but if this was the answer to her prayers, why had it come too late?