A Bride at Last (28 page)

“How old were you?” He shoved a hand through his hair.

“Twenty-two.”

“And you’re now . . . ?”

She couldn’t hold his gaze any longer and dropped hers to the oil-stained tablecloth. “Twenty-five.”

“Just three years.”

She peeped up at him. “Can’t one grow a lot in three years?” Though she didn’t feel much different than her twenty-two-year-old self. “Perhaps I’ve learned running is rarely the answer.”

“Do you want to run now?” He looked at her with such intensity, she had to shift back.

He’d revealed his drinking habit, letting her see his weakness. She could hide hers, but then she’d be a liar. Hadn’t she thought about running throughout the entire train ride? “Sometimes,” she whispered.

He made a sound like a sad puppy dog.

“But it’s just a feeling, Silas. Don’t you think most people are nervous before they get married—even people who know each other better than we do?”

“What about your family?”

“My sister and brother-in-law?” At his nod, she shrugged. “What about them?”

“Do they know where you are?”

Her stomach suddenly dropped.
This.
This revelation would not help her situation at all. He was surely comparing her to Lucinda right now. “No. Though Peter wouldn’t care. He hit me, Silas. Whacked me with a broomstick when I didn’t perform up to snuff. I was just a kid when I came to live with them.”

“Did your sister hit you too?”

“No, but I’m sure—”

“Does she know where you are?”

She willed herself to stay seated—leaving now certainly wouldn’t help her win him over. “No.”

“So you abandoned your sister to an abusive man without letting her know where you are? She doesn’t know if you’re dead or alive?”

“That makes me sound terrible.” She hated the grating self-pity in her voice.

“I don’t think you’re terrible, Kate.” He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled, his eyes moving back and forth as if calculating something. Her worth, perhaps? “Just maybe not the right woman for me.”

“What? You can’t mean that.” She strangled the skirt fabric in her hands. “We should think things—”

“Have you ever loved someone so much you felt as if they were a part of you—even if they weren’t the greatest person in the world, they were yours? The only family you had? And then they abandoned you without having the decency to tell you where they went?”

Her body trembled. Being an orphan was a little like that. “My parents’ deaths devastated me.”

“But they didn’t leave you on purpose.”

“No.” She pressed her lips back together.

“But you did. You left your sister and fiancés intentionally.”

“I had good reasons!” Didn’t she? Jasper, definitely, but Aiden . . . ? Though offering her a better life, he had planned on taking advantage of her.

“I’m sure when my mother left me at that orphanage she thought she had good reasons, but she never bothered to tell me what they were.”

If only she could tell him she’d written her sister—but she hadn’t. Violet had never acted sorry for how Peter treated her, so she’d convinced herself that her sister wouldn’t care about anything she did. And she certainly didn’t care one whit if Peter worried about where she’d run off to.

“Pretending my mother had good reasons didn’t help my five-year-old heart. There’s a crack there that’ll never mend, not with all the glue in the world. And then when Lucy left me . . .” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I have a nine-year-old boy to protect, to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

“I love Anthony. I do.”

“I doubt my mother hated me. She kissed me on the top of the head before sending me into the boys’ home.” He released his grip on his spoon and nudged it onto the table.

“I might have run from an engagement, but I’d never run from a marriage. I wouldn’t!”

“If you can abandon blood, your own sister, without telling
her where you went, then you could abandon me.” He shoved his chair back and stood.

She got up and grabbed his arm, but he pulled away.

His dark eyes wavered. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

The wedding. “What about Sunday?”

“I think—” He took in a deep gulp of air. “I think we should call things off for now.”

“But—”

“Can I get you two anything else?” Mrs. Studdard’s voice was entirely too cheerful and invasive.

“Here.” Silas took out several bills and handed them to her. “Keep the change.” He turned to walk toward the front.

“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Studdard looked at her with such a concerned expression she nearly gave in and blurted out everything.

She swallowed. “Hopefully.” With time. Surely. She’d just surprised him. “Excuse me.”

He was waiting outside by his wagon, his eyes shuttered. “I’ll see you to the boardinghouse.”

Kate wrapped her arms around herself. How could she endure a ride with him looking at her like that? The disappointment in her brother-in-law’s eyes didn’t come close to the wounded look Silas was sporting now. “I can walk, but please promise we’ll talk later.”

Surely when he got over the shock of her past, he’d see he was overreacting. But telling him he was overreacting now would be like telling him his emotions were meaningless. “I know you’re worried about me running away, but I have no intention of doing so.”

This would be the time to tell him she loved him, but she couldn’t do it. She cared, she wanted to love him, but it was too soon. She wouldn’t lie just to keep a man from leaving her.

Would Aiden and Jasper whoop with sadistic elation if they knew she now understood how it felt to be abandoned?

Silas gave her a long look that about tore her heart out, and then climbed up into the old wagon a neighbor had lent him. The moment he started down the road, she ran from town in the opposite direction.

If only she hadn’t been so good at running throughout her life, she might now be running to someplace that felt like home.

Chapter 18

Morning light steadily erased the cabin’s shadows. Silas’s head weighed heavy in his palms, and his elbows protested being smashed against the table’s hard wood.

In the loft, in his new bed, Anthony snored, a peaceful sound rasping against Silas’s inner turmoil.

He’d need to wake Anthony soon so he’d have enough time to walk to school. He’d been trying to draw Anthony out over breakfast the last several days, but at the moment, he’d rather not talk at all. He wasn’t sure he could keep a pleasant expression on his face or friendly banter going this morning.

Not that his son responded much to him lately. Anthony used no more words than necessary—with him anyway.

But he understood his son’s reticence. Hadn’t it taken him a long time to feel comfortable enough to talk to the adults in the mines and the mill when he was not much older than Anthony? Trust took time.

And yet, he’d trusted Kate too quickly.

How could he be certain she’d stay after what he’d learned? He might consider gambling with his own life, but Anthony’s?

Beyond trying to forge a relationship with his son, he didn’t
want to worry about anything except his farm right now. Livestock and fences and repairs didn’t hurt to think about.

His aching heart told him to let Kate go and be done with women. The single men who played chess at the post office every week would certainly champion that decision, but his mind insisted he think things through before he talked to Kate again. He needed time for his heart to stabilize.

Or maybe the memories of her fiery kisses were wreaking havoc with his decision making.

The floorboards creaked above him. No more snoring.

He sighed. He should’ve had the biscuits and preserves on the table already, and a lunch packed for school. He’d only just started the coffee.

“Aren’t we having breakfast?” Anthony scratched his belly and yawned. His hair stood up like a rooster’s comb.

“Let me get it.” Silas pulled biscuits from the tin and grabbed a spoon for the jar of peach preserves he’d bought from a neighbor woman.

“When’s Miss Dawson coming? I bet she’d make us flapjacks.”

Yes, this question. He’d pondered what to tell him all night. Maybe he’d been too hasty. He should give her a chance to prove herself for Anthony’s sake, but he wouldn’t keep a quick wedding date just to make Anthony happy either.

If she stayed in Salt Flatts for a while or so, with no promise they’d reconcile, he might muster up enough faith to believe she’d stay for good. Lucy had only stayed for seven months. Should he make Kate wait that long?

He hated dealing with the uncertain future.

“I’m not sure when she’ll come.” There. That was true and shouldn’t worry the boy.

Anthony slathered more preserves than necessary on a broken biscuit and sighed. “I was hoping for sugared flapjacks on my birthday.”

Silas blinked. “When’s your birthday?”

“Next Wednesday.”

Great. The best gift he could give him was time with Kate—but only a few days after they were supposed to marry? How could he spend time with her so soon? Thankfully Anthony would leave for school in a little while, and Silas could tend animals and think. “What would you like to do on Wednesday? Maybe eat in town after school?”

“At the hotel?” When Silas nodded, Anthony’s eyes grew wide. “I can’t wait to tell Miss Dawson!”

Silas pressed his lips tight to keep from telling him she wasn’t invited. If he could work things out in his head, then courting her slowly could help him be certain of her. Maybe she’d run before he gathered the nerve to start where he should have—asking questions, not proposing marriage.

Why had God allowed him to become attached to a woman with her history? God knew their pasts and yet hadn’t warned him away until he’d kissed her two times too many.

Anthony shouldn’t learn of his trouble with Kate though. If they patched things up, he didn’t want Anthony anxious about her abandoning them one day. Which meant he’d have to invite her to Anthony’s birthday, ready to see her or not.

“What about getting frozen custard instead?” Sitting down with Kate while Mrs. Studdard hovered around them again didn’t sound fun, and ice cream would cost less. “We could get some at Frank’s Confectionary.”

“Ice cream?” The boy jumped from his chair, knocking it over. “I’ve never had ice cream before.” He ran over and hugged Silas.

He crushed his son to his chest. The boy wrenched loose within seconds, then ran for the ladder. Silas closed his eyes and imagined holding him a little longer. How long had it been since he’d been hugged? He couldn’t remember anyone hugging him after Jonesey had embraced him the night before he
left the orphanage for the last time, and Lucy had never been very affectionate. . . .

And Anthony had only hugged him because he’d been promised an expensive dessert.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d break the bank buying ice cream with the hope that Anthony would wrap his arms around him again.

Maybe they’d be all right without Kate. The boy would warm up with time . . . or at least lots of ice cream.

“Miss Dawson!”

Anthony zipped in through the door into the boardinghouse’s parlor, where Kate had worked all afternoon trying to attach the sleeves of her new gown. She’d already reworked them twice. A shame to leave the dress undone, even if she never wore it for a wedding.

Anthony skidded to a halt in front of her. “Mr. Jonesey said we could have ice cream next Wednesday after school.”

“What?” The needle pricked her finger, and she sucked air through her teeth.

“For my birthday.” He practically bounced on his toes. “Have you had ice cream before?”

And she’d thought Anthony would’ve been devastated once he learned they’d called off the wedding, but it seemed that ice cream made everything better for a child—if only it could make things better for her.

“Well, have you?”

She forced a smile on her face to match his—just the shape, not the joy behind it. “Once, when I was your age.” After that, her brother-in-law deemed it a luxury wasted on her and never gave her pocket change again. “It’s wonderful stuff, a good birthday present.” She’d intended to bake him cookies. Her
mother had always made her cookies for breakfast on her birthday, and she’d looked forward to starting the tradition with Anthony.

She tried to keep her face cheerful so as not to dull his excitement, but all she wanted to do was go upstairs and cry.

Especially since the boy didn’t seem to care she wasn’t marrying his pa anymore. Maybe he’d warmed up enough to Silas already that he didn’t need her. Her breath hitched.

“It’s hard to sit as stiff as a board like Mrs. Owens wants us to. Especially because I couldn’t wait to come see you. I wish you were my teacher again. You never made us sit so long. Do you think she’d mind if you came to recess and ran with us? The boys don’t believe that you can run faster than most anybody, even with your big skirts.”

So that’s why he wasn’t concerned about them getting married. He expected her to stay in town no matter what. “I’m not sure your teacher would agree, especially since I’m not a school employee. How about I race you after church on Sunday? I’ll wear my running boots.” She wouldn’t need her pretty slippers for an after-service wedding anymore anyway.