Regina Jennings Page 10

  “You’re sweet to stay with me while your mother talks to Dr. Trench. I don’t want to die in here alone.”

  “Nonsense. Your spell is over and you survived. You’ll be on your feet in no time.” Taking her handkerchief, Molly mopped the sweat from his cold brow, stunned by how suddenly her world had been upended. It only took seconds for her father to change from a blustering choleric to an invalid. What other changes loomed?

  “You have a good head on your shoulders,” he said. “I know I don’t give you credit often enough, but I never knew how to parent a girl. I tried to make you into something you weren’t. Can you forgive me, honey?”

  Molly squeezed his hand as tears sprang to her eyes. “Of course, Father. You had my best interests at heart. I know it’s hard for you to understand how I could be happy without—”

  Now his hold intensified.

  “Listen to me, Molly. Your mother needs you more than ever. We need you. What if I can’t work? What if I have another episode? We’ll lose everything. That’s a lot on your shoulders, but your brother is busy in Garber getting us new contracts. You are a reasonable woman. You understand it’d be counterproductive for him to return. We’re relying on you to do your duty. We’re trusting you to do your part.”

  Molly’s eyes dimmed. “You need water,” she whispered and extracted herself from his grip. Turning, she reached for the ceramic pitcher.

  Her father couldn’t force her to do anything. He couldn’t drive the wagon to Lockhart and cart off her trunks now. He couldn’t bully Mr. Travis into firing her while lying in his sickbed. In fact, her courthouse salary was more important than ever, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough to replace her father’s income.

  And he trusted her.

  She caught sight of herself in the mirror hanging over the bureau. Her blue eyes glowed, determined. How hard had she worked to prove herself to him? How long had she dreamt that he would someday acknowledge her intelligence and sense of responsibility?

  And now it was up to her.

  The door opened silently on oiled hinges. Doctor Trench looked from the bed to her and held the door open wide. Obediently, she rested the glass of water on the nightstand and left the room.

  When she entered the parlor, Bailey pushed off the mantel he was leaning against and swung his hands behind his back. Nicholas was standing behind the sofa, patting her mother’s shoulder as she cried into a dainty handkerchief. At Molly’s approach her sobs burst with fresh strength.

  “Did Dr. Trench tell you?” she asked. “The next attack will be stronger. Thomas must give up the business. No excitement. No competition. Nothing of the life he loves so. What will we do?”

  “We’ll do what the doctor says.” Nicholas squeezed his mother’s shoulder. “Keeping him calm will be of the utmost importance. The fewer disruptions for the family, the better.”

  “I suppose that’s what he’d want.” She sniffed. “You know your father. Take care of business and the rest will take care of itself.”

  Molly nodded, although she knew in her heart it wasn’t true. What happened at the courthouse between eight and six had little bearing on the rest of her life, but she certainly didn’t want to cross Mr. Travis now. “If you want me to work tomorrow, then Nick will have to take me. It’s getting late.”

  Adele faltered. With a glance toward her son she said, “I’d hoped he would stay to help with your father tonight.”

  “I’ll take her.”

  Molly had almost forgotten that Bailey was in the room, and when he spoke he didn’t sound like her young man—just a man who would do what needed to be done. He didn’t look away even as Mrs. Lovelace cast an uncertain glance toward Nicholas.

  “You shouldn’t have to worry about your daughter tonight. You have your hands full as it is, and I’m headed that way.” He held his hand out toward Nicholas. “You can trust me.”

  Nicholas let out a big breath and took the offered hand. “Thanks, Bailey. Dr. Trench will be leaving soon, and I don’t want Mother here alone. Besides, that wind is brutal.” He turned to Molly. “If Dr. Trench is right, Father will be raring to go in no time. That’s when life will get difficult. Until then, it’s best we carry on.”

  Bailey slipped out to prepare the surrey while Molly gathered her valise and a lap robe. The fashionable parlor was designed for a game of charades or a musical evening, but sorrow seemed to settle into the room quite comfortably once there. Molly shuddered. What else would change before she could make her way home?

  “We’ll pray that Dr. Trench is wrong.” Adele stood to wrap one arm around her daughter and the other around her son. “I don’t know what will happen to us if Thomas can’t work. We could put the mill on the market, but who would want to buy a business out here in Prairie Lea?” She patted Molly’s shoulder. “Unless someone with means had a powerful attachment to this family, we couldn’t hope to get enough out of it.”

  Molly stepped back. “Don’t worry, Mother. You’ll be fine. Everything is going to work out for the best. I promise.”

  The bare branches etched stark lines against the clouds. The horse kept his head low in defense against the sharp pellets of precipitation that fell against the lap robe in droplets. From the way they struck Bailey’s face, he could’ve sworn they were ice.

  Molly’s left cheek was red from the pelting, but she didn’t blink even at the gust of wind that nearly blew Bailey’s hat off.

  “What am I going to do?” she said at last. “Father is worried about the business, worried about the money, and he’s counting on me to take care of Mother.”

  Bailey’s neck tensed. “He’s desperate. He’s clutching at straws.”

  “But I could help. I’m not some emotional miss who faints away at trouble. I can do what needs to be done.” The space between them grew as she tucked her lap robe beneath her. “I can, can’t I? I can make myself do anything for my family.”

  How could he be so proud of her and so afraid for her in the same moment? “You don’t have to. I won’t let you.”

  “But what is right? What is noble? Do I sacrifice you, or do I ask my parents to forget all the sacrifices they’ve made?” She looked at him through tear-stained eyes, the blue startlingly clear. “How can I turn my back on my parents when they need me? I won’t be any help married to—”

  She stopped, her lips already formed around the word you.

  Bailey flexed his fingers. The promises he’d made to her family, to his church, and even to God didn’t fit the situation. Everything had changed. He’d waited too long for the perfect circumstances. He was out of time.

  “You can’t sell yourself on their behalf. You mustn’t listen to them.” His voice grew raspy as he prayed that his words would have the desired effect. Never before had the stakes been so high. “I love you. I will always love you, Molly Parmelia Lovelace. We will get through this together.”

  She looked down, lashes fluttering on her cheeks. “You’re the only man who has ever told me you love me, maybe the only man who ever will, but I have to consider everything. My decision affects more than the two of us.”

  He started to protest but closed his mouth with resolve. He’d been a gentleman, and he’d spun precariously close to disaster. He’d lose Molly if he didn’t do something to overcome her objections, and they both knew what would wipe them clean off the map. Even the horse had veered off the road onto the familiar detour. His heart hammered as he came to his decision. Molly needed his reassurance. She asked for his love. What boundaries wouldn’t he cross to save her for himself?

  Moving the reins to one hand, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. Molly looked up, her lips rising beneath his. “Molly, I . . .” Words failed him. All he had to do was lean close enough to inhale her lilac scent. Close enough to feel her warm breath.

  Was he too late? Had she already decided against him? At the first sweet taste of her lips, he realized it didn’t matter. This heat between them, this connection would carry
them through their doubts. He gave in to the force pulling him, deepening their kiss and speeding his heart. Ignoring the cold, Bailey dropped the reins and leaned her back against the surrey seat. Her bonnet caught on the bench and held until he untied the ribbon and tossed it to the side.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I feel so alone—so afraid I’m going to fail.”

  “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

  “I don’t see how.” She brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Saying it doesn’t make it so. I wish—”

  But he had wishes of his own. Instead of following a set of rules he’d invented, he had to listen to his heart. Reaching to his side, he set the buggy brake. He moved the lap robe out of his way and pulled her against him, enjoying the gasp she uttered before he took her breath away. He wasn’t playing. He was fighting a battle—turning a mighty tide. As much as he wanted to slow down, he couldn’t. Her weak protests did nothing to discourage him. How far was he willing to go?

  One lone prophet, some righteous remnant deep in his soul cried for sanity, for intervention, but he snuffed it out. There was too much at stake. God would have to forgive him, because he couldn’t lose her again. Only that was unacceptable.

  And now instead of pushing against him, she pulled him closer and held on as if she’d never let go.

  And he knew he’d won.

  A thrill raced through him as her hesitations vanished, and soon her porcelain skin was flushed with heat instead of cold. His fingers reached the buttons on the back of her bodice, and he contemplated the best way to proceed. He hadn’t wanted it to be like this, but it would still be special between them. As long as they were together, nothing else mattered. As long as she could never leave him.

  A twig snapped.

  “May I be of assistance?” A thunderous voice cut through the cold night air.

  Bailey yelped in surprise and bolted upright. Divine intervention? He fully expected to see an archangel, but the figure atop a horse lurking in the shadows little resembled anything celestial. If it was supernatural, it hailed from a realm warmer than the one to which Bailey had appealed, and he suddenly became aware of their isolated location.

  Dangerous on many accounts.

  9

  Molly gasped. The deep evening shadows hid the speaker from her view. Fearfully, she clutched at Bailey as he fumbled for a gun that wasn’t there. Good thing, for as the man rode toward them she could see that Sheriff Colton already had his pistol out.

  “Mr. Garner, Miss Lovelace. I didn’t expect to run into you so far off the road. Did your horse get away from you?”

  Molly pressed her hand against her chest, trying to rein in her runaway heart. Long seconds passed before Bailey could answer.

  “She’s fine now, but you gave me quite a scare, Sheriff.” Bailey took to his side of the surrey, leaving Molly to squirm into a more dignified position unaided. “Don’t like being caught unawares.”

  “I reckon not.” The man’s bushy brows rose over rheumy eyes. “You gotta keep your wits about you. No telling what kind of trouble you could stumble into.”

  The sheriff holstered his pistol as Molly fished her bonnet out from under the seat and crammed it onto her head. Even fully clothed and covered with the lap robe, she felt as exposed as Eve searching for fig leaves. With swollen lips and flushed face, there was no disguising her recent activity.

  Would Sheriff Colton tell her parents? It would kill her father.

  Poor Bailey pulled his coat tight, trying to cover the mess she’d made of his shirt.

  “I’ll ask again, do you need any assistance?” the sheriff growled.

  “No, sir,” Bailey said.

  “I wasn’t speaking to you. It’s the lady that’s my concern.”

  Molly cringed under his steely face. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  But she wasn’t.

  The sheriff nodded, pulled at a plug of tobacco, and situated it inside his bottom lip. “Why don’t we get you on the road. I don’t mind accompanying you to town.”

  Molly shot Bailey a sideways glance as he released the brake and chucked to the horse. What a dreadful ending to a disastrous day. She’d tried to escape from the memory of her father crumpled on the floor, but now he’d die for sure when he learned of her behavior. And what would’ve happened if the sheriff hadn’t intervened?

  All of her worries returned tenfold. Her father’s condition shifted even more responsibility to her shoulders. But who did she want at her side during this crisis? A stranger who knew no one and was unknown, or Bailey, whom she’d known since childhood and whose family had stuck by hers through thick and thin? If she didn’t decide tonight, the decision would be made for her.

  The night sounds, the howling wind scolded her. Irresponsible. Impure. Ungodly. All true, but also true was the love behind her weakness.

  Sheriff Colton’s mount fell into step next to the carriage. Bailey’s attempts to engage the sheriff in casual conversation were successful, but Molly wasn’t fooled. Despite his brave show, he was as overwhelmed as she.

  She shivered, once again feeling the cold and smelling a freeze in the air. The safety of her room called, but Molly knew she’d find no comfort there. She’d rather be humiliated with Bailey than banished alone until morning. If only he could stay with her. He was her best friend, and she needed him. No, he was more than a friend. Her heart belonged to Bailey, and it was time they do something about it.

  Before the wheels reached the ruts of the main road, Bailey had eased the sheriff’s concerns so that the man gave no indication of remembering the circumstances of their meeting.

  “The fish were biting, you say? I’ve never fished Mr. Schmidt’s pond. Does he stock it?” Bailey stole frequent glances her way. She gave him a half smile. He hadn’t forgotten her, although it would behoove both of them if Sheriff Colton did.

  “Yes, so don’t get caught out there without permission. That German gets angry.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t want to make any trouble.”

  “I’d appreciate it. Stepped into a hornet’s nest already this morning.” The sheriff’s mount nipped at their horse and was rewarded with a tail swipe in the face. “A man’s body was found just south of the creek on Tillerton’s land. A shooting.”

  “Shooting?” Molly gasped. “Who?”

  “Saul Nimenko. He moved here recently.”

  “Saul Nimenko?” She leaned forward to look at the lawman. “Saul Nimenko, northwest part of Prairie Lea? Sixteen dollars and twenty-two cents annual property tax?”

  His badge reflected the moonlight.

  “How well do you know Mr. Nimenko?”

  Bailey narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, how well do you know Mr. Nimenko?”

  “Never met him, but his tax payment was delivered to the office last month.”

  “And you happened to remember the amount?” Bailey wasn’t buying it.

  She sighed. “Does 324 Cibilo Street mean anything to you?”

  “That’s my address!” Sheriff Colton said.

  “Twenty-five dollars and fifteen cents.” She smoothed her skirt.

  “You’re wrong there, ma’am. It’s twenty-four something.”

  “That was last year.”

  The sheriff let a stream of tobacco fly across the dead grass. “I best have a talk with Mr. Travis.”

  As curious as she was about the body found on Anne Tillerton’s land, Molly had faced enough tragedy for one day. The freezing rain was going strong by the time they reached Lockhart. Looking for warmth, Molly moved closer to Bailey, but he scooted in the opposite direction and stayed there until they reached the boardinghouse.

  Would Carrie see her driven home in disgrace? Molly watched the windows of Mrs. Truman’s anxiously, knowing the girl must wonder what had kept her so late on a Wednesday night. The horse halted in front of the gate, and as expected, a lamp appeared through Carrie’s parted curtain. Molly blinked back the tears that threatened to reappear. Her rival wou
ld offer her no sympathy. Her father’s attack would hold no interest for her nosy friend compared to her conspicuous arrival.

  Bailey said his good-byes to the sheriff, but the man refused to depart.

  “I think I’ll wait to see Miss Lovelace safely inside.”

  So he hadn’t forgotten. Bailey climbed down and lifted her valise over the side. Taking her hand, he helped her find her footing and escorted her to the porch, all under the watchful, bloodshot eyes of Sheriff Colton.

  Bailey didn’t release her arm until they stood before the door.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Don’t leave,” she whispered.

  “I don’t have a choice.” He stole a glance over his shoulder.

  “I need you. Come back after he’s gone.” Molly rung the handles of her valise, dreading the empty room she’d be exiled to until morning. “Or even better, I’ll sneak out and meet you.”

  “You’d better not. I’ve been rescued from my folly once already. Let’s not test God any further.”

  She hung her head. Once again she’d soiled his conscience. He was right to keep his distance. Trouble followed her like goslings after a goose. But what did he mean? Was he giving up? They might have been foolish, but her decision remained intact. She chose Bailey, no matter what the circumstances. They would find a way. They must.

  “You best get inside. You’ve been in the cold too long already.”

  Should she tell him, right there on the porch? Right in front of the sheriff and an eavesdropping Carrie? Should she beg him to marry her before she made a mistake worse than the one the sheriff had saved them from?

  When she didn’t move, he twisted the knob and held the door open. Carrie hopped back, barely spared a hit when it swung wide.

  “Is that Bailey? Molly, where have you been and what’s the sheriff doing?” She held her wrapper tightly together, slippered foot tapping.