Wishing on Buttercups (28 page)

Jeffery caught his breath. “Is it …?”

She giggled and waved it in the air. “Yes! It’s from
our
publisher. It has to be the issue with your story and my illustrations, don’t you think?”

Wonder pulsed through him. “But you have yet to open it. You brought it all the way from town and didn’t find out for sure?”

Beth swept into the parlor, her skirt billowing around her. “Of course not, silly. I would wager your copy is at the post office as well. I would have wanted you to wait. It’s only fair, since we both contributed.”

What an amazing woman.
He didn’t believe he knew anyone who would possess that kind of self-control. Jeffery waited as she sat on the sofa and arranged her skirts to the side, leaving him room to sit. “I would like to think I’d have done so, but I am not so sure I’d have been so considerate. Thank you.” He perched on the edge of the sofa and stared at the brown-paper parcel clutched in her slender fingers.

Beth plopped it down on his knees. “It’s your story, and it’s only right you open it.”

“What?” He stared at her, not certain he’d heard correctly. “You waited long enough.” He placed it back in her hands and leaned over the parcel. He inhaled the scent of jasmine, and his heart turned over. Her hair brushed his cheek, sending a ripple of desire through his body. Right now he’d give anything to take this woman in his arms and kiss her. “Please go ahead. Besides, I’m guessing the illustrations you drew are what will make my story shine.”

Beth searched his face, then nodded. “All right.” Slowly she peeled back the wrapper and revealed the front cover of
The Women’s Eastern Magazine
. She gasped.

Jeffery leaned closer. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Beth held out the magazine with shaking hands. “My picture.” She stared at the illustration of the boardinghouse set in a grove of trees.

His brows hunched together. “What?”

“This.” She held it up. “It’s mine.” Never had she dreamed they’d use her picture on the cover of this prestigious magazine. “And both of our names are at the bottom.”

Jeffery took it and gazed at the drawing. Long seconds ticked by. Finally, he raised his head, and deep admiration shone from his eyes. “Amazing. Your work will sell out this issue.”

Beth exhaled in relief. “You really think so?”

“Yes.” He placed the periodical back on her lap. “Let’s see if there’s more.”

Realization tempered the joy dancing inside. “I’m so sorry. I was caught up in the excitement of seeing the cover and forgot to look for your story. If it weren’t for your book, my art wouldn’t have been so prominently displayed.”

“Not true. Your work will stand the test of time, whether it is attached to a book or on its own. Never doubt that, Beth.”

Warmth stole into her cheeks, and she ducked her head.

He placed a finger under her chin, tipping it up. “I am very serious. You are a talented woman.”

The touch of his hand sent shivers running through her body. Was it right to feel this way? She hadn’t seen Brent the past couple of days and had come away from their last meeting more confused than ever. He’d sworn he’d been ill the day she’d waited at the restaurant and hadn’t been able to send word. She didn’t know what to think, and now Jeffery’s touch and nearness created a response she’d never thought she’d feel again.

“What’s wrong, Beth?” He released her chin. “You look so sad. Can I help?”

Beth started and pulled back. Those were the exact words she had said to Brent. He had denied anything was wrong, but the comments about his finances belied his adamant words. Why did she have to compare everything Jeffery did to Brent?

“Nothing,” she managed. “I’m sorry. I guess I felt bad that we haven’t looked at your story yet.”

It wasn’t a lie, but Jeffery frowned. An ache filled her chest, but there was no turning back time. Moving forward was best. The last thing she cared to do was let him know she’d been thinking of Brent, even if the comparison
had
leaned in Jeffery’s favor. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

Beth thumbed through the pages until a bold heading caught her eye: “Frontier Friendships.”

“Jeffery.” She breathed the word and ran her fingertips over the paper. “Look.” Awe filled her at the sight of his words in print. Having her illustration on the front was a thrill, but seeing the opening lines of Jeffery’s work was something more.
Honored
and
privileged
were the two words that came to mind—especially having her art woven together with his story. It really was true that things happened in real life that almost seemed too far-fetched to put in a story. Who would believe that two people would end up living in the same house and be hired by the same magazine located two thousand miles away? And, on top of that, to put the two together, each to complement the other? It was almost unbelievable.

Jeffery hadn’t moved since she’d placed the double-page spreads in his hands. He looked up, wonder shining from his dark eyes. “They put it in the center.” He flipped to the next page. “Five pages in all. Amazing. The first three chapters are here, along with two of your drawings.”

She squinted and looked closer. “Two? I sent them four.”

He swiveled the magazine so she could see it better. “They repeated the one of the house from the cover and this one of the valley, town, and mountains in the distance. You did a wonderful representation of Baker City. Anyone living here would recognize it.”

Her heart sank. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Do you think readers will assume I live here?”

He frowned. “Not necessarily. Would it bother you if they did?”

Beth shrugged. “I suppose it wouldn’t be terrible, but I’ve tried to stay anonymous. That’s why I use a pen name.”

“I still don’t quite understand that. Aren’t you proud of what you do? You’re so talented. I’d think you’d want everyone to know what you are capable of.”

She pulled away and settled against the sofa. Since meeting Jeffery, her confidence had risen, but she’d never told him her full story. He didn’t know about the ugly scars she still carried. She rubbed her forearm, feeling the raised flesh through the fabric, and ducked her head. “It’s … complicated, Jeffery.”

A gentle touch on her hair turned her around. Jeffery smiled. “Why don’t you believe in yourself, Beth? What are you so afraid of?” He took the hand that covered the hideous spot on her arm. “Won’t you let me help?”

The silence stretched out, and Beth forgot to breathe.

Jeffery leaned closer, his gaze capturing her own. “I care about you, Beth.”

She closed her eyes and felt his lips brush hers, ever so gently. She swayed toward him, suddenly longing to be held in his arms. His care ignited a smoldering fire that all of her months of caring for Brent had never stirred.

The front door banged open, and Aunt Wilma strode into the foyer. “Hello, anyone home?”

Warmth rushed into Beth’s face. “I’m sorry—so sorry.” She stood with effort. “I’m not what you think. Forgive me.” She felt as though hounds nipped at her skirt, snapping with sharp fangs at her tender flesh. Almost running, she dashed up the stairs and into her room, leaving Jeffery to deal with the rash of questions her aunt was certain to have.

“But I thought you didn’t have to go back to Baker City until the new bank is finished?” Isabelle hated the way her body shook and tried to steady her voice. She wasn’t ready for Steven to leave yet. Her strength ebbed and flowed like the tides she’d read about in a book but had never been privileged to see. Only one of the
many
regrets of her life.

Steven kissed her forehead, then straightened with a weary sigh. “I know, but we need a place to live if we’re going to move there. The bank doesn’t provide housing, and the town is growing faster than the buildings can be erected. We may have to stay in a hotel until we find something better.”

“Then why go now? Can’t we load the wagon and arrive before your job starts, and find something then?” She settled deeper into her rocker and tucked the lap robe around her waist. It seemed she was always cold nowadays, as they were well into fall with winter fast approaching in this high mountain valley.

Her son eased onto the only other chair in the living area of the cramped cabin. “I don’t want to put you through that, Ma. And it wouldn’t make sense to take all our belongings if we don’t know where we’ll live when we arrive. I need to do this. I’m sorry.”

Isabelle nodded. “I suppose you’re right. How long do you reckon you’ll be gone this time?”

“They want me to look over the progress at the bank, so I’ll be tied up two or three days with that, plus travel. No more than a week, at worst.”

“All right. Karen and Ina promised to stop in and keep me company. I wish I could go with you and see what it’s like. Get prepared, if you know what I mean?”

“I do, but you’re not strong enough. The move will be hard. We’ll camp on the trail one night if the travel wears you out.” He sighed. “Maybe I shouldn’t take this job. La Grande is growing too. I’m sure I can find something better here if I try.”

“No.” Isabelle said the word with more force than she’d planned, but if she hadn’t done so, she’d have grabbed on to his offer and not let go. She didn’t want to leave her home, even though it wasn’t large or fancy. Her friends were here, and leaving the farm a few years ago when her second husband died had almost done her in. The grief of his loss, leaving the land they both loved and couldn’t afford to hold on to, along with her ongoing illness, had almost put her into an early grave. “I won’t have you give up your opportunity for me. There’s no telling how many more months or years I have on this earth, and it’s not going to be wasted holding you back from your chosen career.”

“Don’t talk that way, Ma. You’re going to get well, and you aren’t holding me back. We’ll keep this cabin, and if you’re not happy in Baker City, we’ll return. I won’t stay any longer than I have to, and we’ll talk it over again next week.” He pushed to his feet. “I love you and want what’s best for you too.”

“Thank you, Son. I’m so blessed God didn’t take you when your father died.”

“I wish I could remember him better.” Steven straightened. “Most of my memories are with Papa Garvey instead of Father.”

“He would have been proud of you, as am I.” She waved her hand toward the door. “Now, get along with you so you don’t miss the stage, and I’ll see you when you come back.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Beth had to make a decision; she could wait no longer. After her talk with Jeffery, she’d left a note at the hotel desk telling Brent that she’d meet him this morning. She’d thought she’d loved Brent for so long that she wasn’t sure what to do with the growing affection for Jeffery. The memory of Jeffery’s tender kiss created an ache that extended clear to the tips of her toes.

They had more in common than she’d realized when they’d first met. She had thought him a stuffy, self-absorbed man with his head always in a book but had come to recognize a tender, humorous side. But that kiss put expectations and desires on the table that she didn’t care to face at the moment.

She gazed across the restaurant at the doorway, wondering if Brent would come. A number of things he’d said and done didn’t add up, and over the past few days her misgivings had grown. She was tired of sneaking around and keeping things from her aunt, and the thought that Jeffery might stumble on her and Brent again convulsed her stomach.

Brent wove his way through the tables and stopped beside her. He doffed his hat, then slipped into his chair. “You look lovely. I’m sorry I’m late. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”

“Not at all. Only five minutes or so.”

“Good.” He picked up a menu card and scanned it. “What would you like?”

She lifted a brow. “I’m not terribly hungry, and I know you need to save your money to pay your mother’s debts.”

A smile emerged. “Nonsense. If we can’t enjoy money occasionally, what good is it?”

“You seem in an exceptional mood today. Has something happened?”

He placed the card on the table. “I have a wonderful business opportunity that could get me out of debt and put me in very good shape financially.”