Читать книгу Second Chance Love - Shannon Farrington - Страница 12

Chapter Four

David did as he had promised and carried the ladder outside. His heart was still pounding from the moment he’d held her. Elizabeth had come to him. He wanted that. He wanted to soothe her fears, be the strength she needed, the place where she found comfort.

But it isn’t me she is seeking.

He’d known the moment he’d heard the soft sigh escape her lips and felt her sketchbook pressed between them. Elizabeth was courting a memory. He shouldn’t have allowed it, for her sake and his. The instant his arms had closed around her, the desire to kiss her had been strong. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would have permitted him to do so.

You cad, he thought. She would slap your face if she knew what you were thinking. Perhaps she should. That would end this foolishness here and now.

He realized he was going to have to keep his distance from her. He would have to keep up his guard.

But just how am I going to do that?

He popped a peppermint drop into his mouth and bit down hard. Leaning the ladder against the front of the house, he then climbed to the roof. Careful inspection revealed two slate tiles were cracked, four were loose and several others were missing altogether. David craned his neck to view the tree spread out above him. There were other limbs that looked as though they would come down given one hard Maryland thunderstorm, but he wouldn’t see to them today. The clouds at present indicated the imminent coming of steady rain. The roof needed to be repaired, lest the Martin women wake to an ugly stain on their parlor ceiling.

He removed the oak limb. Perhaps the family had some spare tiles in the lean-to. If not, David would have to cover the roof until he could get new ones. He tried to keep his mind on the task at present, but it kept drifting to her.

Elizabeth’s drawings had surprised him. He had not known of her artistic abilities, and he suspected Jeremiah hadn’t, either, for his brother had never spoken of them even though he’d talked about her incessantly. Her work was as good as, if not better than, much of what David had seen in the papers. Many sketch artists could capture action, but she could convey the emotion. Love, laughter, pain, honor, he’d seen it all in the faces of her family members and the wounded soldiers she had drawn.

If Peter wants the series on the slave vote to be personal, Elizabeth could certainly do that. Her talents could help shape this state for the better.

But David couldn’t help but wonder if it was really the people of Baltimore he wished to benefit or himself. He reminded himself that there was no reason to worry about that now. She had, after all, declined his invitation, and he could tell by the sorrow in her eyes she didn’t have plans to change her mind anytime soon.

He descended the ladder and went to the lean-to, only to discover there were no tiles on hand. David did manage to find some oilskin cloth, so he covered the damaged portion of the roof. He was just about to put the ladder away when the front door opened. Elizabeth stepped out to the porch. In her hands was the promised glass of lemonade.

“How’s the roof?” she asked.

He told her. She paled when he said he would have to purchase the tiles.

“David, we—”

She stopped, but he knew exactly what she had been about to say. We can’t afford it.

He wanted to reassure her. “Elizabeth, you needn’t worry. I’ll see to the repairs.”

Her eyes widened in momentary relief, but the look quickly faded. “That’s very generous of you, but I can’t ask you to do so.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered. I know the financial situation at present is difficult.”

She blushed.

“Elizabeth, there is no shame in your family’s position. You aren’t the first woman to run low on funds because the war has lasted longer than anyone expected. Sadly, you probably won’t be the last.”

“I’ll come up with the money to buy the tiles myself. It will just take me a little time.”

“You haven’t got time. All it will take is one thunderstorm, and you’ll be facing serious water damage.”

“I know.” She bit her lower lip. “I just keep thinking George will be home soon. And when he returns to work...”

Even if the war ended tomorrow and her brother came back abled-bodied and clearheaded, David doubted a Confederate veteran would be able to simply slip back into his previous life. Too many employers feared the mark of disloyalty and the consequences it would bring. Businessmen would be careful about who they associated themselves with as long as the US Army occupied Baltimore. He didn’t tell her that, though.

“Tell you what,” he said instead, “let me see to the repairs for now, and your brother can settle up with me when he is able.”

David had no intention of actually making claim on any bills, but she didn’t need to know that, either. His suggestion seemed to please her. A look of appreciation filled her eyes. He tried not to think more of it than he should.

This is to be my business, he reminded himself. Roof tiles, loose molding, trimming tree limbs. Nothing more. “I’ll pick up the new tiles tomorrow when I finish at the paper,” he said.

She nodded. “Thank you, David. I appreciate your kindness. I know Mother and Trudy do, as well.” Then, offering to take the now empty lemonade glass, she turned and went back inside.

* * *

David returned as promised the following afternoon to repair the roof. After seeing to it, he quickly took leave. Elizabeth’s mother tried to get him to stay for supper, but he politely declined. Elizabeth was relieved that he had. After crying and falling into his arms yesterday, she preferred to limit the contact between them.

“I’ve an assignment for which I must prepare,” David explained to them. “An interview tomorrow with state delegates Nash and Van der Geld.”

Elizabeth knew the two men were bitter rivals. One supported slave owners’ rights, the other immediate abolition. She wondered how David would manage such an interview. “Are you interviewing them at the same time?”

He chuckled slightly. “No. I am smarter than that. It is to be separate interviews. If not, I doubt I’d get any questions asked. They’d be too busy arguing with one another.”

The thought crossed her mind that she could capture delegate Van der Geld’s likeness in a sketch quite easily. Elizabeth knew him personally. He was the father of her friend Rebekah. She dismissed the idea, however, as quickly as it came. She couldn’t cover the slave vote, for more reasons than one.

“I hope all goes well for you,” her mother then said to him. “I’m certain it will make for a nice article.”

David smiled. “Thank you. I suppose then I’ll see each of you on Sunday. I’m looking forward to the service.”

As he left, Elizabeth breathed a shallow sigh. Once more she had been reminded of her shortcomings. David might be eager to attend worship, but she most definitely was not. Crying at the church service would be even worse than breaking down at the funeral. Elizabeth wasn’t certain how she would manage to excuse herself from worship again this week, but she was counting on the fact that her mother would be so pleased with David’s attendance that she would be willing to accept Elizabeth’s excuse to stay home.