Where Wildflowers Bloom: A Novel (22 page)

B
y the time Faith arrived home that evening, she’d decided not to tell Grandpa about Mr. Allen’s desire to purchase the mercantile. She had questions about the cooper’s proposition, and they centered on Royal. He had to be the one who prompted the offer. When she saw him Sunday, she’d demand an explanation.

The stench of lye combined with the odor of burned bread overwhelmed her when she entered the house. Grandpa sat at a table in the parlor, writing. He smiled at her when she closed the door.

“It smells terrible in here,” she said. “What happened?”

“I think Amy had a mishap in the kitchen. Glad you’re home. I’d say she needs your help.”

Faith dropped her carryall next to the hall tree and hastened toward the source of the odors. A wash boiler sat on the stove, billowing steam. Amy sat at the kitchen table scraping at the charred surface of a pan of cornbread.

“Amy, what are you doing?”

She turned teary eyes toward Faith. “I thought I’d surprise you and have fresh bread ready for supper. But then I had to wash Sophia’s diapers, and I forgot about the oven temperature when I heated the stove. I’m so sorry.”

Faith dashed to the back door and flung it open. “Let’s get some air in here. I can’t breathe.”

Amy slumped in her chair. “You probably want me to leave.”

“Not at all.” Faith hugged her thin shoulders. How had Amy managed her home when Joel was alive? She couldn’t imagine deciding to heat a wash boiler on an afternoon when the temperatures hovered in the high nineties. She gave the girl a pat on the arm. “Why don’t you go see to Sophia while I prepare supper?”

Amy nodded and scurried from the room.

The surface of Pioneer Lake sparkled like scattered jewels. Faith leaned against the trunk of a white oak and emitted a deep sigh. Light filtered through the canopy of leaves, dappling her muslin skirt.

“That sounded heartfelt,” Royal said. “Did you have a trying morning?”

“I’ve had an unusual week.” She rummaged in the picnic basket and drew out a plate of shortbread. The cookies had dark brown edges. “Amy Dunsmuir’s been helping me with the cooking as a way to pay for her keep. But she’s easily distracted. When I arrive home in the evenings, I never know if we’ll have an edible meal, or one that’s cooked beyond a fare-thee-well.”

He selected a shortbread and took a bite. “A little charred. Not too bad.” He reclined on the quilt covering the grass, resting his weight on his elbows. A lock of black hair dropped over his forehead. Her pulse increased at the sight of his muscular body stretched out next to her. If only he weren’t so handsome . . .

“So you have both young Mrs. Dunsmuir and your grandfather to look after, not to mention the store. No wonder you’re tired. Have you given any more thought to selling the business?” His voice sounded casual, but his gaze sharpened.

Faith folded her arms across her chest. “I planned to ask you about that. It seems Mr. Allen visited the banker and told him he wanted to buy us out.” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you tell him we were ready to sell?”

Royal studied the cookie in his hand as though the answer to her question was written on its surface. After several moments he sat upright. “He knows we’re courting, and asked me what my intentions were.”

“You talk about me?” She felt herself flush. “How dare you!”

He dropped the shortbread onto the plate. “I’d never say anything improper, but I have mentioned how taken I am with you, and that your struggles worry me.”

Speechless, Faith tried to comprehend what he’d just said. She remembered her brother talking about his sweetheart before he left to join the Army. He’d left no doubt that he wanted to marry the girl when he came home. Was this the sort of conversation Royal had with his employer?

He slid closer, so that their shoulders touched. He slipped an arm around her waist. “I told Gil Allen that my intentions toward you were honorable. I said if you’d have me, I wanted you to be my wife.”

Her breath whooshed from her lungs. She met his intent gaze. “Are you asking me?”

“I’m asking you.” He cupped a hand around the back of her head and leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

She leaned against him. The elusive Royal Baxter had just proposed marriage—to her.

The throbbing of her pulse filled her throat. Her head screamed at her to say yes, but her heart hesitated. “You’ve taken me by surprise. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed each fingertip. “We’ll have the wedding just before we leave for Oregon.”

“There’s no time.”

“What?”

“June’s half over. By the time we’re wed, it will be too late to start west. According to the guidebooks—”

He nuzzled the palm of her hand with his lips. “We can winter over somewhere on the way and wait for spring.”

In spite of the logic of his statement, Faith felt like she was in a runaway carriage, headed downhill. She slipped from his embrace and gave him a shaky smile. “It’s too hard to think when you’re this close.”

“What’s there to think about? You know I’m drawn to you, and I believe you feel the same toward me. You’re a perfect partner for a new life in Oregon. Of course, in the meantime the mercantile will have to be sold. You realize that, don’t you?”

With a sense of unreality, she felt she was observing a stranger from a distance. He had no right to make decisions for her.

Apparently interpreting her silence for acquiescence, Royal leaned close. “Just imagine our home on Officer’s Row. You’d be an ideal major’s wife.”

But you’re not a major yet, she wanted to say. You’re a cooper with big ideas.

She reached for his hand. “Will you give me a little time? I have more to consider than my personal desires.”

A hurt expression crossed his features. “Take all the time you need.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be waiting.”

Faith sat close to his side on the ride home. His proposal spun through her mind until her thoughts bumped against a wall.

Royal hadn’t said he loved her.

When Faith entered the mercantile on Monday morning, she surveyed the large room with fresh vision. She tried to imagine how she would feel when she handed the keys to a new owner and left Noble Springs forever.

Rosemary’s arrival interrupted her musings. Faith rested her eyes on her friend’s bright face. Rosemary had blossomed since she’d begun helping at the store. A few of the women in town sought her out for advice, both regarding merchandise and her herbal remedies. And Curt—Faith took a deep breath. She’d fought down images of Curt ever since Royal left her at her door the previous afternoon. An almost-betrothed woman shouldn’t be thinking of anyone but her fiancé.

“Your head’s in the clouds today,” Rosemary said. “I’ve said good morning twice and you haven’t answered.”

“I’m sorry. My mind is elsewhere.” She stepped close to her friend and glanced around to be sure no customers approached. Thankfully the woodstove regulars hadn’t yet arrived. “Royal proposed marriage yesterday. He plans to go to Oregon and take me with him as his wife.”

Rosemary’s jaw dropped. “What did you say to him?”

“I asked for time to think about it.” She gestured at the room. “There’s Grandpa to consider, and Amy, and the store . . . and you.”

“You have to follow your heart. I have a feeling if you truly wanted to marry Royal, you’d have said yes in spite of the difficulties.”

“He took me so by surprise. I just wasn’t ready.” She walked to one of the chairs and sank down. “Royal said he’d wait.”

“But for how long?”

By the end of the week, Faith was no closer to a decision about Royal than she’d been on Sunday. She knew he worked long hours at the cooperage. Somehow not seeing him on a daily basis made it easier to ponder the issues raised by his proposal. Until she was sure of her choice, she wouldn’t mention marriage to Grandpa. He made no secret of his distrust of Royal. Faith trembled at the thought of broaching the subject.

As she rolled down the shades preparatory to closing the mercantile for the day, Mr. Slocum walked out of the storeroom. “Door’s bolted. Never saw nothing suspicious this afternoon.”

“It’s good of you and Mr. Grisbee to take turns staying every day, but it’s been two weeks since the money was taken. I’m sure the thief is long gone.”

“Doesn’t matter. Girl like you, alone here. Might give someone else ideas. Me and Harold will watch out for you.” He held the door open after she gathered her bonnet and carryall.

“You’re a blessing. Thank you.” She snapped the lock securing the door. “Until Monday, then.”

He tipped his battered felt hat and strode away.

She couldn’t imagine why she’d ever thought the two old men were nuisances. She’d come to appreciate them in spite of their gruff natures.

When she turned the corner and headed west toward home, she faced a molten ball of heat shimmering above the hills. Mentally, Faith crossed her fingers, hoping Amy hadn’t decided to cook anything that required a hot oven. A light supper of eggs and salad greens sounded perfect.

She sighed with relief as she left the boardwalk and hurried up the stone path to their door. Summer was a season to be endured with as much grace as possible. Once inside she could take off her boots, no matter what Grandpa said about the impropriety of going barefoot.

“Evening, Faith.” Curt’s voice called when she entered the house.

“I didn’t expect—” Faith stopped at the doorway to the parlor, shocked by the jealousy that sliced through her. Curt sat on the sofa near Amy, while Grandpa jiggled Sophia on his lap. Curt and Amy? She forced a pleasant smile.

He stood. “I wanted to talk to you this evening, so came on by after Rip closed the livery.”

“If you wanted to talk to me, why didn’t you go to the mercantile?” Her voice sounded sharper than she intended.

He raised an eyebrow. “Your house is closer. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Well, please talk then. I’m listening.”

“I meant later. We’ll go for a walk.”

She almost groaned at the thought of going back into the heat. “Let’s at least stay inside until sundown. It’s suffocating out there.”

Grandpa cleared his throat. “We’ve been waiting for you. Amy has supper ready.”

As if sensing the tension in the air, the girl sent Faith a hopeful look. “I made something from your mother’s recipe book—egg salad and greens.”