Читать книгу Heartland Wedding - Renee Ryan - Страница 12

“Why in the world would Matilda Johnson order you out of her store?” Emmeline Logan asked, hands on hips, blue eyes flashing. “Please, tell me it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

Afraid of what might spill from her mouth, Rebecca considered her words carefully. Although it had been less than an hour since she’d left the mercantile, she was sure the talk had begun about her and Pete. There was no way a woman like Matilda Johnson would hold her tongue for long. More likely, she would spread her gossip with the ugliest spin possible and as quickly as she could.

Needing a moment to gather her thoughts, Rebecca glanced out the kitchen window of the boardinghouse. She hardly noticed the clear rays of sunshine beaming across the chewed-up backyard, or the gaping holes that had once housed trees.

“Well?” Emmeline asked.

Rebecca drew in a quick breath and returned her attention to her friend. “Apparently, Matilda Johnson thinks that I lured Pete into his storm cellar during the tornado for unseemly purposes.”

“No.” Shock leaped into Emmeline’s eyes. “She didn’t actually say that.”

“She did.”

Emmeline sank into the chair behind her. “Why, that’s…awful.”

Until she’d seen the outrage on her friend’s face, until she’d heard the appalled disgust in Emmeline’s voice, Rebecca hadn’t realized how much she’d needed an ally. “It is rather awful, isn’t it?”

“Please, sit down.” Emmeline gestured to an empty chair facing her. “You must tell me everything that woman said, and then we’ll determine what to do next.”

With the bread dough rising and the pies she’d made for lunch baking in the oven, Rebecca wiped her hands on her apron and did as her friend requested. It would be nice to share her burden with someone willing to listen to her side of the story before making judgments.

“All right, start at the beginning.” Emmeline’s foot drummed out an impatient tap, tap, tap on the floor. Rebecca tried not to sigh. She recognized that expression on her friend’s face. Emmeline was about to take charge of the situation, just as she had with her own family after the tornado had hit their wagon train and stranded them in High Plains. Even before her father’s death in the storm, Emmeline’s mother had alternated between timidity and illness, leaving Emmeline in charge of her three younger siblings.

No wonder Emmeline glared at her with all that determination. It was just a part of who she was as a woman. Unfortunately, no matter how hard Rebecca thought over her words, she knew her friend wasn’t going to let her skirt over any of the details.

Just as she opened her mouth, Emmeline leaned forward. “All right, that’s enough stalling. How on earth did Matilda Johnson find out that you and Pete took cover together? I didn’t even know about that until you told me a few minutes ago.”

Rebecca’s heartbeat picked up speed, matching Emmeline’s frantic toe-tapping rhythm. Now that she had a sympathetic audience, she found herself hesitating. She didn’t want to create her own set of rumors, but the facts were unfortunately the facts. She’d spent time alone with an unmarried man in his storm cellar. “I’m afraid she suspected and I confirmed it. I didn’t think she’d turn something innocent into something ugly.”

“Oh, Rebecca, I’m just sick about this.”

“Emmeline, you have to believe me. We were only in that storm cellar a short while. And nothing inappropriate happened. Like I said earlier, Pete saved my life.”

Emmeline’s foot stilled. “Well, of course he did. Mrs. Johnson had no right to insinuate otherwise.”

No, she hadn’t had that right. But the damage was done. Rebecca’s reputation was most certainly ruined, or on its way to becoming so. She’d lived in High Plains almost seven months, long enough to know the power of Mrs. Johnson’s tongue.

Rebecca’s stomach curled inside itself at the thought. She’d never been accused of a moral misdeed. Not as a child in Norway, not on the ship across the Atlantic, not on the wagon train to High Plains. And yet, the shame burned through her all the same.

It didn’t matter that Pete had been a gentleman inside that storm cellar. It didn’t matter that he’d saved her life. Apparently, what did matter was that she’d been alone with him, without the benefit of a chaperone or anyone else to vouch for her innocence.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t—

Emmeline made a soft sound in her throat. “That woman didn’t accuse you of impropriety in front of anyone else, did she?”

“No.” Rebecca drew in a short breath. “I was the only one in the store at the time. Her daughter wasn’t even there.” But as soon as she spoke she remembered the other two ladies entering the mercantile just as Rebecca exited the building.

“Okay. Good. This situation is manageable.” Emmeline’s shoulders relaxed. “We can figure out a way to stop the gossip before it goes too far.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

“What do you mean, it’s too late?” Emmeline repeated carefully, her gaze wary.

Rebecca’s heart did a sudden roll in her chest. Clinging to the last thread of her dignity, she lifted her chin and told Emmeline the rest. “Two other ladies walked into the store just as I was leaving. I’ve seen them before. They’re friends of Mrs. Johnson’s, they…” She trailed off, not sure how to put her worst fears into words.

“Oh.” Emmeline’s eyes widened. “Oh. You think Mrs. Johnson already told them about you and Pete?”

“Of course she did.”

Emmeline caught Rebecca’s hands between hers and held on tightly. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, but we’re only speculating at the moment. You must talk to Pete about this.”

“I couldn’t.” Rebecca snatched her hands free, horrified at the prospect. “I’d be too mortified to discuss this with him.” Besides, she’d had her chance right after she’d left the mercantile. His obvious concern for her had only added to her shame.

“With all that’s happened to this town over the past month, I can’t understand how Matilda Johnson has time to spread lies.” Emmeline’s lip curled into an uncharacteristic snarl. “Well, it’s just mean.”

Rebecca nodded slowly. Yes, it was mean. But whatever the woman said at this point could not be unsaid. People would either believe the talk or they wouldn’t. And if her reputation was beyond repair, Rebecca would survive the devastation. Eventually. It wasn’t as if she’d been fully accepted by the community before this.

That did not mean she had found it in her heart to forgive Matilda Johnson. Not yet. Ever since she’d left the mercantile, Rebecca had struggled with her own evil thoughts toward the woman.

Lord, how do I overcome this unbearable anger? I know we’re called to love our enemies, but how do I love such a woman, especially when there’s only bitterness in my heart toward her?

Rebecca paused after her prayer, hoping for a swift transformation in her thinking. But she felt no different than before. There was still no love in her heart and certainly no forgiveness for a woman who had set out to believe the worst.

The question, of course, was why? Why did Matilda Johnson hate her so? The woman’s behavior simply made no sense.

Renewed bitterness swelled. The emotion was so frigid it leeched the warmth right out of Rebecca’s limbs. She rubbed her palms together, but she continued feeling cold inside. Deathly cold.

Reaching across the table, Emmeline touched her arm. Rebecca nearly jumped out of her chair at the unexpected contact. She blinked at the hand on her sleeve as though it was a foreign object.

Emmeline released her. “Rebecca?”

She lifted her head and looked into her friend’s clear blue eyes. The eyes of a pure soul, set off by a cloud of dark curls under her bonnet.

“You must know that I believe you and Pete did nothing wrong that day.”

Rebecca grew very still, afraid if she moved, even a little, she would burst into tears. But out of gratitude or shame, she didn’t know. “So you don’t believe I lured Pete into his storm cellar for my own unseemly purposes?”

“Of course not.” Emmeline batted the idea away with a slash of her hand.

For the first time that morning, the knots in Rebecca’s stomach began to uncurl. At least one person in town believed her innocence. Two, counting Pete. Three, if she added her brother to the list. Edward had known about her forced confinement with Pete from the beginning and hadn’t thought anything of it. He trusted Pete. He trusted Rebecca. That was the end of that.

But what if he hears the gossip? Would he talk to Pete about the matter? That would only add to Rebecca’s humiliation.

Not that Pete wouldn’t find out soon enough. Once Matilda Johnson started talking, people would surely listen, and then spread what they heard to others.

Rebecca rolled her fingers into fists, but then forced herself to relax. “Thank you, Emmeline. You have no idea how much your belief in me means.” Her voice quivered over the words.

Emmeline patted her hand. “You will always have my support. And my friendship.”

Rebecca saw the truth shining in her friend’s gaze. What more was there to say? “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Did you find any material for your new curtains?”

Emmeline hesitated a brief second before a smile broke across her face. “I did. But I left it in the parlor. I’ll just go retrieve it.” Without another word, she rushed from the kitchen in a half run, half skip.

Rebecca smiled after her friend. She looked happy, truly happy. Something Rebecca couldn’t have said a few weeks ago.

Emmeline had been through more than her share of hardships in the past month. She and her family had been part of the wagon train that had received a direct hit from the tornado. In a matter of minutes, the violent storm had robbed Emmeline of her father, turned her fifteen-year-old sister, Bess, mute with shock and sent Missy and Mikey, the eight-year-old orphan twins who’d been traveling with Emmeline’s family, vanishing into thin air. Everyone in town was most worried about the missing children. The fear was that Mikey and Missy had been stolen by Indians.

It was all so…terrible.

But the Lord had brought some good out of the tragedies Emmeline had endured. All starting with Will Logan, the owner of the Circle-L. He’d taken Emmeline and her family in when there’d been nowhere else for them to go. No one could have predicted—least of all Emmeline—that the handsome rancher would turn out to be the love of her life. Rebecca had attended their wedding just last week.

But before she could dwell any further on the particulars of the ceremony, Emmeline returned to the kitchen carrying a brown paper package with a white string tied around its middle. One look at her shining face and it was clear the Lord had blessed Emmeline Logan with an enduring love for her husband. Will and Emmeline’s courtship had been unusual, more whirlwind than smooth and steady, but there was no doubt the two were blissfully happy together.

“Here it is,” she said, setting the package on the table so she could pull the string free. With slow, careful movements, she then spread the paper aside one corner at a time.

“Oh, Emmeline.” Rebecca swept her fingers across the light blue material, stopping along the way to trace a bold ivory flower. Tears threatened to escape her eyes, but Rebecca blinked them ruthlessly back into place. “This pattern reminds me of your wedding dress. You were such a beautiful bride.”

Emmeline smiled sweetly. So sweetly, in fact, that Rebecca had to gulp down another bout of tears. But this time, her emotions were far more selfish. Like this morning when she’d seen Cassandra and Percival Walker together, Rebecca didn’t want to feel the swift pang of jealousy that snaked through her. Yet there it was, coiling around her heart with a steely grip.

What was wrong with her this morning? First bitterness. Then anger. Now jealousy of her two friends’ happiness.

She felt like a stranger in her own skin.

Clearly unaware of her troubled thoughts, Emmeline moved her hand across the fabric and stopped it beside Rebecca’s. “I told Will I didn’t need another set of curtains, but he wanted me to make my own mark on the new house. I mean, our new house. He liked this material best, said the color reminded him of the blue in my eyes.”

“He’s right.” Rebecca held on to her sigh. Barely. “This will look lovely in your new home.”

“I hope so,” she whispered. “For Will’s sake. I want to make my husband as happy as he’s made me.”

How Rebecca wanted a love like Will and Emmeline shared. Unfortunately, the one person who’d captured her attention was Pete Benjamin, a man whose devotion still belonged to his deceased wife.

If only Pete hadn’t been so kind to her after the tornado, she might have been able to put her feelings for him into perspective. But each night as she drifted off to sleep, Rebecca remembered every second of their time together after the storm.

He’d refused to abandon her as she’d searched for her brother. With a gentle hand on her arm, he had guided her past dangerous debris until they’d found Edward helping with cleanup on the edge of town. Pete had made sure she was in good hands before he’d joined the efforts himself.

At the memory of his kindness, she sucked in a shaky breath. Why was there such pain in her heart every time she thought of that day?

Clicking her tongue, Emmeline set the material on the table. “You’re not thinking about what Matilda Johnson said, are you?”

“Not at all.” Rebecca wiped her forehead with her fingertips. “Other than my reputation suffering a little, I’ve been very fortunate. I made it through the storm without a single loss or injury.”

Emmeline’s smile faded, and she sighed as she lowered herself into her chair again. “You’re right, of course. We need to focus on what we have, not what we’ve lost.”

In spite of her words, a stormy expression gathered in Emmeline’s gaze. It was the same faraway look Rebecca had seen in Bess’s eyes whenever someone asked her about the unaccounted time she’d gone missing after the tornado. The girl had been the last to see Mikey and Missy. If only Bess would talk.

It was Rebecca’s turn to squeeze Emmeline’s hand in sympathy. “How is your sister? Any developments?”

“None.” Emmeline’s eyebrows pulled into a frown. “She hasn’t made a sound, not a single peep.”

“What does Dr. Dempsey say?”

Emmeline lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “That he can’t find anything wrong with her. That in time she’ll recover completely. But it’s been a month and she still isn’t talking. And between you and me, Dr. Dempsey is…rather…” Her gaze darted around the room. “Old.”

Holding her friend’s gaze, Rebecca nodded slowly, unsure if she wanted to admit the sad truth aloud. But the facts were undeniable. Dr. Dempsey had just celebrated his eighty-second birthday. And ever since the tornado, he’d been overwhelmed with a workload a man half his age would find daunting. He’d had neither the time nor the energy to devote to Bess’s treatment.

“If only Bess would make a sound, a sigh…anything,” Emmeline said. “I’d feel more hopeful. But ever since we found her under that bush where she’d been thrown by the tornado, she just goes about her business without speaking. And every so often, I catch her staring into the distance as though she knows things the rest of us don’t. I’m afraid whatever is keeping her silent is too terrifying to contemplate.”

“You think she knows what happened to Mikey and Missy?”

“Yes. And I fear the news is dismal.” She shuddered. “After all, she was the last person to see them after I sent them all off together to find shelter from the storm. Suppose the memory of what happened to the children is too painful for her to face and that’s why she won’t speak? Oh, Rebecca, what if…what if…the twins are dead? Or worse. What if they’ve been kidnapped by Kansa Indians and turned into slaves?”

The hopelessness in Emmeline’s voice had Rebecca squeezing her hand again. “I pray you’re wrong on both counts.” Unfortunately, they both knew either scenario was possible.

“Me, too. But at least if they were kidnapped they’d still be alive.”

“True.”

As silence fell between them, Rebecca eyed her friend a moment, trying to decide if this was a good time to broach an idea she’d been mulling over for a while. “I’ve been thinking about something that might help Bess,” she began cautiously.

Emmeline raised an eyebrow in question. “Oh?”

“Maybe if you found something for her to focus on other than her painful memories she might relax enough to speak again.”

“I’ve thought of that already,” Emmeline said. “She helps me and our mother around the Circle-L ranch without protest, but whenever we start asking her questions about the storm, she either shakes her head or simply walks away.”

“Why don’t you let me try?”

An intrigued expression flitted across Emmeline’s face. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s see if Bess will agree to help me here in the boardinghouse kitchen.” She rose and went to check her pies. They still had a while to go. “I could use another set of hands since the storm displaced so many people, most of whom she knows from the wagon train. Maybe the change of scenery will nudge her recovery along.”

Emmeline tapped a finger against her chin. “Hmm, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try. Maybe I’ll…”

Her words trailed off, and she tilted her head at a slight angle. “Oh, Pete. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.”

“Not to worry, Emmeline.” There was an exaggerated pause. “I only just arrived.”

“Well, then, that explains it.” Smiling, Emmeline rose to her feet.

Rebecca followed suit, but she didn’t turn around right away. She needed a moment to swallow back the lump of emotion clogging her throat. Despite what she’d told Emmeline earlier, she’d expected Pete to seek her out once he heard the gossip. Expected it, and dreaded it. But now that he was here, in her kitchen, so soon after her altercation with Matilda Johnson, she had to fight back a wave of hysteria.

He’d heard the gossip; nothing else explained his presence here now.

But, glory, what was she going to say to him? How was she going to say it? Should she talk with him openly about their time together in his cellar? Should she pretend she hadn’t told Matilda Johnson the truth, innocent as her actions had been?

Should she run?

“Rebecca, we need to talk,” Pete said from behind her. His urgent tone could not be ignored. Her options had dwindled to one.

“Please,” he said in a much softer pitch.

A chill navigated along Rebecca’s spine. The sound of that deep, gravelly voice lowered to a mere whisper reminded her of the last time they’d been alone together and how gentle his words had become when she’d been in a state of panic over Edward’s safety.

When she still didn’t move, Emmeline gave her a nudge. “Go on,” she mouthed. “Talk to him.”

Rebecca slowly pivoted around. It took considerable fortitude to hold Pete’s gaze. She’d seen that look on his face before. It was the same intense expression he’d had when he’d practically dragged her into the storm cellar.

He remained silent, unmoving, holding her stare with unwavering concentration. A sure sign he was trying to hide his emotions behind an unreadable mask. But it was a mask. She’d seen glimpses of the real man behind the facade, the one who had put her fears ahead of his own in the storm cellar. Today, however, there was no softness in him, no warmth.

And just like that, she had her confirmation. He’d spoken with Matilda Johnson. Or…

Had something else happened, something far worse?

“Is it Edward?” Her stomach rolled inside itself. “Is he—”

“He’s fine.”

In spite of Pete’s quick assurance, something was wrong.

Her heart gave a momentary flutter.

In that instant, Rebecca understood why she’d avoided him ever since the storm. Something deep within her, something vulnerable and unrecognizable, wanted to know this man better.

She would never get the chance, of course. He was still mourning his wife and child. And no matter how noble his intentions were, Rebecca would not be second in anyone’s heart. Even if her suspicions about his reasons for calling on her proved to be correct.

This visit, so close behind her trip to the mercantile, could mean only one thing.

Pete Benjamin had come to do the right thing.

And she would have to tell him no.