Wishing on Buttercups (21 page)

“I thought I wanted to remember—to know the truth—but now I’m not sure.” She whispered the words, hoping the sound of her voice would keep more memories at bay. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she swiped them away impatiently. “I don’t understand, God. Why did my family desert me or allow the Arapaho to take me? Why can’t I figure out what You want me to do?”

Beth waited, hoping and praying that quiet voice she had heard in the past would speak to her spirit again, but nothing came. Had even God abandoned her? The tears welled in earnest now, and she didn’t try to stem their tide. She hated being weak, hated crying, but the pain inside wouldn’t be denied. First her family, then Brent, now God. Would Aunt Wilma be next? A picture of Jeffery flashed through her mind, and she pushed it away. He wasn’t hers to claim.

Then why did a fresh wave of pain accompany the thought?

She needed to sleep and stop wallowing in self-pity. She was a grown woman with a promising career and an aunt who loved her. That should be enough. Besides, Brent had returned with a logical explanation of why he’d left and asked for another chance. Her heart should be rejoicing at the opportunity. It was what she’d longed for, for so many months.

But Jeffery’s expression haunted her memory. What had he been thinking when he’d walked into that room and spotted her with Brent? He’d swiftly schooled his features into a calm mask, making her wonder if she’d imagined the initial flash of disappointment.

Drawing in a deep breath, she willed herself to relax. This wasn’t the time to sort through the conflicting emotions where Jeffery and Brent were concerned.

There was so much she’d never fully remembered before. The Arapaho warrior who had found her had always been a shadowy, dark figure plucking her out of the ashes. Memories of the Arapaho family who’d cared for her continued to emerge, but she’d managed to block the pain that accompanied that time. The child she’d drawn who had fallen into the fire was her. Beth had known that but hadn’t wanted to face it. She had worked years to forget.

She wanted her mother. A rush of memories almost suffocated her. Tender hands had smoothed her hair, and a sweet tone lulled her to sleep. A laughing voice played games, whispering things into her ear that made her giggle. Mama had loved her at one time, so why had she left her behind? Papa—he was more of a hazy figure, a man who worked all the time and didn’t give many hugs. Had he been the reason her family abandoned her? Beth strove to remember. There was someone else—someone on the outer edge of her memory. She couldn’t quite pull the image back to where she could see it.

Another thought struck her with an almost physical blow. From the little she remembered, her mother had cared, and it was hard to believe she would abandon her child. Perhaps they had all died. If sickness took them while traveling west, it was possible no one on the train wanted to keep her. Deep inside she had known that might be the case but hadn’t wanted to face it. If she
had
been abandoned, at least there was the chance someone in her family might experience regret and still want to find her, all these years later. If they were dead, no hope remained.

Beth drove herself deeper into her pillow, determined to forget and go back to sleep. Too many years had passed. Somehow she must move on and make a new life, accepting the fact she would never have the answers she longed for. She clamped her teeth together. She’d cried enough tears in the past and wouldn’t do so again. Aunt Wilma loved her, and that had to suffice.

As she drifted into the haze of near sleep, a soft voice somewhere in the distance spoke.
“Trust Me; walk in My path, and I’ll show you the way.”
That voice again. The same one she’d heard weeks ago. It must be God; Beth knew that with a certainty now, although she had no idea why He deigned to speak to her. She had resisted Him over the years, but He persisted. Gently. Sweetly. Pulling her into the warm circle of His embrace. Trying to persuade her to accept … something. She had yet to understand what.

She rolled onto her side, and the fingers of peace cradled her. Maybe God had heard her in spite of everything.

Wilma raised her head from her reading and listened to the voices in the nearby foyer. Katherine Jacobs’s words were distinct, but the low rumble of a man’s response was unintelligible. Something in the timbre sent a pleasurable tremor through Wilma’s body.

Frances swept into the parlor, clutching her skirt off the floor and walking with a faster step than Wilma had seen in days. “There is a very handsome man in the parlor asking for you. I did not catch his name, but I heard him inquire after Mrs. Roberts.” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you keeping a secret from us, Wilma?”

“I beg your pardon?” Wilma felt like a hen holding an attacking predator at bay. What was Frances going on about this time? “I am not hiding anything, Frances, and I do not appreciate you accusing me of doing so. Now what is this foolishness about a man asking for me?”

“It is not foolishness. My goodness, you certainly are in a dither this morning. If you are not careful, you will give yourself heart palpitations.”

“Humph.” Wilma scowled. No one but Frances could get her feathers ruffled to this degree.

Katherine stepped into the room, her eyes alight. “Mrs. Roberts. I wasn’t sure if you were in or not. There’s a gentleman caller waiting for you in the foyer.”

Frances smirked. “What did I tell you, Wilma?”

Wilma rose to her feet, uncertainty increasing her heart rate. “Is he young? Black hair and dark eyes? Dressed like a gambler or some other no-account scoundrel?”

A man’s laughter echoed from the doorway of the room. “No. He’s old, has white hair and blue eyes, and dresses like a modestly retired doctor.”

Pure joy spun through Wilma. “Caleb!” She stood frozen to the floor in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that the only greeting you have for an old friend?” He opened his arms wide and moved toward her.

Wilma didn’t hesitate. She didn’t give a fig that Frances and Katherine both looked on. She flew into his arms and sighed as he enveloped her in a warm hug. How long had it been since she’d seen this man? At least a year, but she couldn’t remember exactly. She drew back and inspected him. The same twinkle, the same bushy brows and tousled hair, but silver instead of the darker gray edges she remembered. Yet it suited him. As did the mustache he sported above his smiling mouth. “You look wonderful.”

“As do you.” He gave her one last gentle squeeze, then drew back, surveying the two gaping women nearby. “Now why don’t you introduce me to these lovely ladies?”

Wilma felt color rise to her cheeks as she took in Frances’s knowing look. She’d never hear the end of the way she’d greeted Caleb. “Certainly. Dr. Caleb Marshall, please meet my landlady, Katherine Jacobs, and her mother, Frances Cooper. Frances is a friend and one I value highly.” She stifled a smile. Maybe the compliment would soften the inquisition she was certain to receive once they were alone. “Caleb is an old friend of the family. He and my husband practiced medicine together for several years.”

He took Frances’s hand in his and bowed over it, giving her a warm smile, then repeated the gesture with Katherine. “I am delighted to meet you both.” He turned to Katherine. “Might you have a small room tucked away under the eaves that you’re willing to rent for a week or two?”

Wilma beamed. “You’re staying? How lovely. Please, Caleb, tell us what brought you to the Oregon Territory? In your last letter you said—”

He held up his hand, and his expression sobered. “Let’s talk about that later, shall we?”

Frances’s brows rose.

“Of course, Caleb.” Wilma sensed her friend honing in on every word the doctor spoke like a prairie hawk hot on the trail of a mouse. She shot Frances an imploring look, praying she wouldn’t ask questions. How thoughtless to ask Caleb for details in front of the others. It must concern Beth. She couldn’t imagine him coming all this way for enjoyment. And certainly he wouldn’t have come only to see her.… Her heart beat a little faster at the possibility. Still, he’d been her husband’s business partner and a dear friend, nothing more.

Katherine gestured toward the stairs. “I do have a room, Dr. Marshall. I assume you must be tired after your long trip. Would you care to go up straightaway and freshen up or rest? Do you have bags that need to be brought in?”

He nodded. “They’re at the stage station. I asked the agent to hold everything until I could notify him where to deliver it. I wasn’t certain I’d find Wilma here, or that you’d have room for another boarder. Actually, I would love to take a walk and stretch my legs after days of sitting.” He held out his arm to Wilma. “Would you care to accompany me?”

“Very much. Let me get my wrap from my room and tell Beth I’m leaving.” Wilma hurried toward the stairs. If only she could have whisked Caleb away from Frances’s prying questions.

She stopped at her room to gather her wrap, then tapped on Beth’s door and poked her head inside. Her niece sat hunched over her desk, pencil in hand. “Beth, dear, an old friend has arrived, and I’m going out for a walk. I may be gone for an hour or two.”

Beth turned to face her. “Is it someone I know?”

Wilma hesitated, torn between telling her the full truth and setting her to worrying about why he’d come. “He’s a business associate of your uncle’s.” She nodded at the desk. “It looks like you’re busy with your work.”

“Yes, but I might take a walk as well. I’ve been sitting too long and dearly need to stretch.” She laid down her pencil and rubbed her neck.

“Oh.” Wilma started at the words. She couldn’t invite Beth along when she wasn’t sure what brought Caleb to Baker City. “Where were you thinking of going? The recent rain has made it too wet to sit on your hillside.”

“No, I was thinking of going to town and visiting a shop or two.” Beth didn’t quite meet Wilma’s eyes. “I’m not sure yet.”

“I see.” Wilma didn’t care for the hesitation in Beth’s reply, but she was in no position to pursue it, since she didn’t want to reveal all of her motives either. “Have a good time, then, and I’ll see you at supper.” She backed out of the room. Somehow she must get Caleb away from the house before Beth caught up with them. Almost racing down the hall, she caught herself and slowed. No need to give Frances something more to question later.

She walked sedately into the room and smiled. “I’m ready if you are, Caleb.”

Frances cocked an eyebrow. “I am disappointed. I was visiting with Dr. Marshall.”

Wilma’s heart lurched. She slipped her hand through Caleb’s arm. “We’ll have plenty of time to chat when we return. We should go while we still have good light.” She didn’t want to pull the man’s arm off, but urgency forced her out the door and down the steps so fast she almost tripped.

“What’s the hurry, Wilma?” Caleb panted beside her as she struck off along the path leading toward the hillside Beth enjoyed. “I wanted a walk, not a race.”

She slowed as they rounded the corner. “I’m sorry. I suppose I’m anxious to hear what brought you to town.” Squeezing his arm, she mustered her best smile. “And, I have to admit, getting you away from Frances Cooper was high on my list as well.”

Jeffery fingered the envelope stuffed in his pocket and scowled. He’d been traipsing up and down the streets of this town for the last half hour. With all that had been going on at the house lately, he hadn’t thought about picking up his mail for days. He sidestepped a woman carrying a baby and tipped his hat. “I beg your pardon, ma’am.” Better keep his mind on where he was going before he knocked someone over.

He wanted to head straight to the house to find Beth. Having a friend in town hadn’t been important when he first arrived, but lately the need pressed in on him with more force. His attempts to know Beth better seemed thwarted at every turn. Right when he’d hoped they might find common ground in their work, Brent Wentworth appeared. What was the man to her, anyway? An old friend or a beau perhaps? He prayed the man was visiting and would disappear as abruptly as he’d come.

The fragrance of chocolate made his mouth water, and he backed up, pausing outside the open door of a candy shop. It had been months since he’d tasted chocolate. He jingled the coins in his trouser pocket and grinned. Maybe he’d buy a few and see if Beth cared for a piece. Most women seemed to love the dark-colored candy and considered it a rare treat. He sauntered into the store, stopping before a glass case.