Bluebonnet Belle (28 page)

“I was going to say I was thankful for good friends!”

Everyone laughed, then lifted their glasses in another salute to one another.

Later, after stuffing themselves with pie, they retreated to the parlor to sit before the fire and recover.

When she felt able to get up again, April went to the kitchen to clear the table and put away the food.

“Let me help,” Gray said as he entered the kitchen, taking a platter from her hands.

“Nonsense, you're a guest.”

His eyes softened. “Come on. It'll take less time if I help. Besides,” he whispered, “Flora Lee told me to.”

April laughed and surrendered. “But you don't really need to help,” she told him as she tied an apron around his waist. “Beulah will be glad to.”

“Actually, I'm selfish. I wanted a few minutes alone with you.”

She felt a flush warm her cheeks as she picked up the teakettle and poured hot water into the dishpan. If Gray Fuller wanted her undivided attention, he had it. “Is something special on your mind?”

“No,” he admitted. “Where's a dishtowel?”

Tossing him one, she added soap to the pan. “Gray, what did you say to Henry the day of the duel?” She'd wondered, but was always reluctant to ask. Whatever it was, Henry deserved it.

“Just that if anything happened to you, I'd shoot him.”

Grinning, she looked up. “Really?”

“Really.” Picking up the towel, he dried a glass. “What did you say to Francesca the day she popped in?”

“Which day was that?”

“I forgot. There're so many of them they're hard to pin down. The day she came and discovered I'd been shot.”

“I don't remember, exactly. Something about you being contagious. I wasn't very nice.”

He grinned this time. “Oh?”

“Well, I think she ‘pops in' far too often, but then who am I to say?”

“Just the woman who nursed me back to health.” For a moment the kitchen was very quiet. The murmur of voices drifted to them from the parlor, but it felt as if they were alone. “I didn't see Francesca going out of her way to care for me,” he said.

“It wasn't her fault. I wouldn't let her come in,” April admitted.

“I don't know if I've been remiss in telling you how much I appreciate what you did. I could say I hope to return the favor, but considering the circumstances…”

“There's no need to thank me,” she murmured. “I wouldn't let anyone else come near you.”

Laying the dishtowel aside, Gray approached her. There was an intriguing look in his eyes, and April thought he might be going to kiss her. She wished with all her heart that he would.

Taking her into his arms, he said softly, “You spoil me, April Truitt.”

“Would that be so bad?”

His eyes softened. “If I kiss you, we'll both read something into it, won't we.”

“Most assuredly,” she whispered.

Pulling her closer, he lightly pressed his lips to hers. She yielded to his overpowering mastery, knowing nothing would ever be the same between them. This man could not love Francesca DuBois. He was a man of honor; he respected God's laws. He was not a fool.

If only she knew the real reason why he continued to let the French woman remain in his life.

“April?” Grandpa called from the parlor, shattering the brief intimacy. “Coffee's getting cold. Can you bring more?”

Breaking away, she drew a deep breath, trying to still her trembling.

“April,” Gray said as she moved to the stove for the coffeepot.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for letting me come today.”

“My pleasure, Gray.”

 

Two days later, April answered a knock at the door to find Henry standing on the step.

Her temper instantly flared. “What are you doing here?”

Holding a hand playfully in front of his face, he said in a cajoling voice, “I need to talk to you. May I come in?”

“You said everything I need to know the morning of the duel.”

“It's cold out here—let me in, April. I can explain my unseemly actions….”

Her voice was colder than the weather. “If you want to talk to someone, talk to Grace.”

“April, you owe me—”

“Nothing, Henry. I owe you nothing. Now please leave.”

He rubbed his hands together as he shifted from one foot to another. It was cold outside, the wind whipping around the corner of the house, but she wasn't about to invite him in.

“I was a fool.”

She folded her arms, hugging warmth to her body, wondering why he no longer meant anything to her. It was nice to see him groveling, but not as nice as she'd pictured it. She felt nothing, actually. Just cold.

“You're being stubborn, April.”

“I'm being realistic, Henry. You made a fool of me.”

“I don't love her! It was just a small dalliance—you know how men are. We're like that….” His voice became persuasive. “The important thing is that I love
you
, not Grace, and I'm here to make amends. I know you're angry with me, but if you'll only be reasonable, we can work this out.”

She stared at him.

“Could I come in? Please?”

Expelling a sigh, she shook her head.

“I wanted to…
had
to tell you…how foolish I've been.”

“And how foolish is that?”

He looked at her as if he didn't recognize her. She hardly recognized herself. She'd thought she loved this man, and now she just felt pity for him.

“I'm trying to say, April, that I made a mistake.”

She recognized frustration in his voice. She knew the sentiment. He should have heard her the morning Gray was driving her to the duel.

“I—I got carried away with—”

“The thrill of having two women in love with you?”

“Well, yes. It was childish, foolish, and I realize that now. I know how shallow Grace is. She's only interested in controlling me. You aren't like that—”

“I don't think I like being compared with Grace, Henry.”

“I know that.” He waved a hand apologetically. “I'm sorry. There is no comparison. You made me believe I could be a success. She was only interested in dominating me.” He looked stricken. “You have to forgive me, April. All I think about is you, and what a fool I've been. Please forgive me.”

She stared at him.

“Please say you'll give me another chance.”

She remained silent, hoping he'd take the hint and leave.

“It doesn't have to be this way. You can be sensible about this. Can't a man make a mistake?”

Still staring, she shifted position.

“I can make you love me again….” Henry was beginning to look baffled. April could see that he'd fully expected her to take him back. The old April would have. The new one wouldn't dream of it.

“We'll be working together, and the situation has to be cleared up.”

“No, as much as I believe in the compound, I've told Lydia that I can't work with it any longer.”

“Because of me?”

April almost laughed. “Don't flatter yourself, Henry. Because of Grandpa. I don't want to jeopardize his health by my actions.”

“You're deserting Pinkham's Compound?”

“No, I'll always believe in it, but I've come to realize doctors are invaluable, too. The compound is good, as a supplement to a doctor's skills. Even Gray recognizes the value of herbal treatment in tandem with medical intervention.”

Henry turned petulant. “Gray?”

“Dr. Fuller,” April amended, finding it increasingly hard to think of him as just a doctor. He meant so much more to her.

“You've told Lydia your feelings?”

“Yes, and she understands.”

“Well, I don't.”

“No, a man like you wouldn't understand.”

He left reluctantly, and she watched him meander slowly down the walk toward the town square. There was a sadness inside her, not for the death of a love, but for Henry. She had a feeling his life would include an endless succession of Graces.

Throwing on her heavy cloak, she left the mortuary, struggling against the blustery wind as she made her way to the pharmacy.

Beulah looked up as she entered the store. “April! What are you doing here on a day like this?”

“I needed some air,” she said, slipping off her hood and stamping water from her shoes.

“Well, you should have a bushel basket of it by now. Want some tea?”

“I'd love it,” she said, following her back to the stove to warm her hands.

As her friend set water on to boil, April told her about Henry's visit.

“The cad.”

“The rodent.”

“Have you gotten your invitation?”

April frowned. “To the spring social? Yes. What are you planning to wear?”

Beulah added tea leaves to the pot, avoiding April's gaze. “Raymond Grimes.”

April smiled. “What?”

“I'm going to wear Raymond on my arm.”

She laughed. “He's invited you to the spring social?”

“Just this morning!”

“I'm thrilled!”

“I am, too.”

“You're really serious about him, aren't you?”

Beulah's cheeks warmed. “I really am. He's shy, rather quiet, but I do like him…no, I love him, April.” Laying the spoon aside, she turned weepy. “I love him so much it hurts.”

“Well, then maybe I ought to be thinking about a maid of honor's dress?”

“Oh.” She blushed. “I wouldn't be in any hurry, but, well…” She shrugged. “We'll see.”

April clasped her hand, squeezing it. “So why the sad face? You're in love with a wonderful man, and for what it's worth, I like Raymond, too.”

“But what if he doesn't love me?” The words hung between them like a millstone.

“Why wouldn't he?”

“Well…you know.”

April quirked an eyebrow questioningly. “I
don't
know. What's not to love?” Her friend was waiting for her to mention her weight, but April wouldn't. No matter how many times she told Beulah that her weight didn't matter, she wouldn't believe it. It would take years of being adored by a man like Raymond to convince her.

“Oh, I guess I'm just being silly. He probably won't ask me to marry him, anyway, but I can dream, can't I?”

“You sure can. Now, where's that tea?”

For the next half hour the girls huddled in the back room, discussing the advantages of a wedding dress with a long train versus one without a train, a long or short veil, satin or taffeta, an Empire waist or princess style. By the time April started for home, she felt happier than she had in weeks. Her own hopes and dreams of marriage were gone, but Beulah's were alive and well, whether her friend believed it or not.

“D
on't you love winter?” April asked.

“Yes, ma'am.” Datha opened the door, letting in flurries. “Good thing we don't get snow here often.”

“That's why it's so wonderful when we do!”

Adding a heavy muffler over her cloak, she set out again at a brisk pace toward the square. A cold wind whipped the hem of her cloak. Pewter-colored clouds threatened to add more snow to the inch already on the ground. Laughing, she kicked at the flakes, hoping it would snow a foot.

“I love winter!” she shouted, then quickly ducked her head and walked faster when people turned to stare.

Preparing to cross the square, she saw Gray coming toward her. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stood for a moment, looking at him. He hadn't dropped by the mortuary in over a week. It was almost as if he was avoiding her, and she didn't know why.

He hadn't spotted her yet. Reaching down, she scooped up a handful of snow and formed a ball.

Obviously deep in thought, with his head bent, he didn't see her.

He was too serious. She needed to do something about that.

With a youthful glee she hadn't felt in a long time, she fired the snowball at him, catching him squarely on the side of the head. He staggered, stopped, then whipped around to look in the direction the missile had come from.

Grinning, she crouched behind a small spruce.

Leaning down, he scooped snow off a bench, quickly formed a ball and arced it toward her.

“Missed,” she called, taking aim again.

“On purpose,” he replied, pelting her soundly with the next snowball.

Bolder now, she packed more snow and started toward him. Dancing to one side, he returned fire, and before long they were pelting one another with snow at a steady rate until they were within feet of one another.

As she scooped up a handful with the intent of dumping it down his collar, Gray leaped forward and grabbed her around the waist, swinging her in a circle.

“Oh, no, you don't,” he warned, stuffing a handful of snow down her neck.

April screeched. “Not fair!” she cried. “You're bigger than I am.”

“Didn't stop you from throwing that first snowball.”

“Truce?”

“Too late,” he said, pushing more snow down her collar.

They were hidden from view of the stores by a clump of shrubs in the square.

“Gray!”

“Beg.”

“Never.”

His breath was warm against her cheek. “Beg,” he whispered, pulling her closer until her body molded tightly to his.

“I never beg.”

“Then surrender, or I'll kiss you, Miss Truitt.”

“Never!”

Turning her in his arms, he looked into her eyes for what seemed an eternity before his lips descended on hers.

His skin was cool from the wintry air, then warm. She forgot the fact that they were kissing in a public place.

“Surrender now?”

“Never.” She shoved her handful of snow down his neck.

He jumped, and she ran laughing across the square.

Not looking where she was going, April ran straight into Willa Madden, bowling her off her feet. Packages flew every which way as Willa spilled to the ground in a tangle of wildly flailing arms and legs.

 

Grinning, Gray dug snow out of his collar and watched April make apologies, then help the woman to her feet while trying to gather the scattered bundles.

He laughed to himself. April's mishaps warmed his heart. She wasn't prim and proper, constantly worried about the way society viewed her. She was refreshing. Exactly what he wanted in a woman. A wife.

A second later April sprinted off, her bright red cap bobbing like a cork in a white lake.

 

April spent the rest of the day warring with her emotions. At suppertime, she was still mulling over her earlier encounter with Gray.

But she had to forget what had happened. One experience with a fickle man was enough. The last thing she wanted was for Francesca to single her out for a duel. Of course, April was experienced now, but she doubted Gray would survive another assault. She smiled at the thought.

“What is the matter with you?” Riley demanded when April spent the first twenty minutes of supper moving her food about her plate.

“Just tired.”

“Uh-huh. Pass the creamed corn.”

April listlessly handed him the bowl.

“Have you seen Gray lately?”

She glanced up, wondering if he could read her mind.

“I…love him,” she whispered.

Her grandfather set the corn down with a loud thump. “What?”

She hadn't realized she'd spoken the words out loud. Now that she had, why try to pretend any longer? “I love him.”

“Does he know this?”

“No.”

Riley took a bite of chicken, keeping his eyes on his plate. “You and Gray been seeing each other?”

“No,” she admitted.

“But you're in love with him.”

“Yes.” She sighed again.

“Pretty foolish of you, isn't it? Falling in love with a man who's reportedly courting another woman.”

“Yes.”

“Then I'd suggest you two stop kissing in the public square.” He took another bite of chicken.

Her head snapped up. “You know about that?”

“I've known about it
all
, April.”

It didn't surprise her. She knew her luck would run out someday. “Was it Gray who told you I was working with Mrs. Pinkham?”

“No, Midge Shoeman told me.”

“
Midge
told you?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason.” Wrong again. April went back to stirring her peas.

“Gray told me about the duel.”

“Oh, for goodness' sake!” She dropped her fork on the table.

“Now, that was stupid.” He reached for a biscuit. “If you ever get it in your mind to do something that foolish again, you just get it right out again. Do you hear me, April Delane?”

“I wasn't shot!”

“The doctor was almost killed!”

“Not by me. That was Grace.”

“From now on, I don't want to hear of you packing a gun. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what's this rot going around about Pinkham's tonic? I've never heard such drivel—you aren't responsible for that, are you? Charley Black is downright scary lately!”

“No,” she said honestly. “I'm not responsible for that.”

Beulah was.

“Selling Pinkham's hogwash, fighting a
pistol
duel over Henry Long,” he muttered, slathering the biscuit with butter he shouldn't have. “What next? Set your hair on fire and run cross-eyed through the town square?”

 

A rapid-fire staccato knocking drew April from the kitchen at a run the next morning. Expecting to find a messenger with a dire emergency, she was relieved to see Beulah, who rushed in before April could get the door all the way open.

“Where's the fire?”

“Raymond asked me!”

“Asked you what?”

Beulah was dancing in place as if she didn't know what to do with herself. “Asked me to marry him!”

“To marry him!” She grabbed her friend's arms, and they danced around the kitchen together, laughing and crying at the same time.

“When?” April asked when they were finally able to talk.

“May.”

April's mind was racing. She was deliriously happy for Beulah, but it was obvious she had to take control of the situation. Beulah was so excited, she wouldn't be a bit of help.

“You need a dress.”

“Yes, and I don't have much time to have one made! What will I do?”

“Let's not panic.” April paced the foyer, trying to formulate plans. “Datha can help. She's very good with a needle, and since she's not able to do much around the house, she'd be happy to sew your dress. Now, we've got to talk to Reverend Brown, reserve the church, see about flowers, bridesmaids…”

“You'll be my maid of honor. You can wear the green dress you wore at Thanksgiving.”

“But I've worn it!”

“Only once. It'll be perfect. Raymond is going to ask Gray to be his best man.”

“He is?”

“Uh-huh. Oh, my goodness!” Grabbing April's waist, Beulah swung her around the room again. “
I'm
getting married!”

 

The following weeks were a flurry of activity as Datha cut and sewed an ivory silk dress with an Empire waist and lace insets. April busied herself in wedding plans and preparations, purposely filling every minute so she wouldn't think.

She was happy for Beulah—deliriously happy. But, oh, why couldn't Gray look at her the way Raymond looked at Beulah? She knew—she
knew
—he did not love Francesca. He never spoke of her, and her frequent visits appeared to annoy more than please him. Did April dare ask his feelings for the spoiled, worldly debutante from Dallas?

 

“I'm going to Burgess,” she told Riley that evening. “I want a new dress for Beulah's wedding.”

“Thought she said you could wear the green one.”

“She did, but I want something new. After all, I'm the maid of honor, and I want everything to be perfect.”

“Hogwash. You're buying a new dress to impress Gray Fuller.”

“Guilty,” she admitted, “for what good it will do me.”

“Don't count yourself out,” he advised.

She paused, whirling to confront him. “Why? Do you know something? Has he said anything to you about me? Does he—”

Grandpa threw up his hands. “Hold on! All I meant was before you give up, don't you think you should let the man know how you feel? He's not a mind reader.”

April paused, her hand on the stair railing. “No, that wouldn't be proper.” She hurried on up the stairs.

Scratching his head, Riley grunted. “Since when did that make any difference?”

 

The clock downstairs chimed three. April lay awake, thinking. She was happy for Beulah, there was no question of that. It was just that…she was jealous. That was it, though she hated to admit it. Jealous.

She wanted Gray. More than anything she'd ever wanted in her life, she wanted the good doctor. She wanted to marry him, be the mother of his children, grow old and die with Gray Fuller.

And a mere dress wasn't going to accomplish her goal.

She could buy a hundred dresses and never catch his eye.

What she needed was a plan, not a dress. A plan to make him see her. April Truitt.

Smiling, she wiggled deeper beneath the covers, suddenly very sleepy.

Life was so much simpler when you figured out the basics.

 

Morning dawned with sunshine glinting off heavy frost. April hitched up the carriage and added a couple of heavy blankets to keep her warm on the ride to Burgess.

Driving through town, she saw Gray coming out of his office. She pulled the carriage to a halt and waved at him. “Good morning, Dr. Fuller!”

“Where are you off to this morning?” he asked, coming over to the buggy.

“Burgess. To buy a new dress for Beulah's wedding.”

“I was just going to the hotel for coffee. Care to join me?”

“I can't stop for coffee, but I woke up this morning with a raspy throat. Can you look at it?”

He frowned. “Me?”

Unable to meet his eye, she handed him the reins. He tethered the horse, then lifted her down as if she weighed no more than a feather.

Their eyes met, and she noticed he held her a bit longer than necessary. Not that she was complaining.

What was she doing? This was insane. She didn't have a raspy throat. How was she going to explain that?

She wasn't the sort of woman to entice an unsuspecting man. She needed to leave now, while she could, before he saw through her sham.

Opening the door to his office, he allowed her to enter first. She stood in the waiting area, unsure of her next move.

Gray walked straight through to the examining room. “May I take your cloak?”

“My cloak?”

“You can keep it on if you're more comfortable.”

Her heart pounded. “Okay.”