Courting Miss Adelaide (26 page)

Replacing the letters in their envelopes, Adelaide slipped them under the string, and then returned the packet to its resting place.

She remained motionless in the attic thinking about what might have been if her mother had seen past her infatuation and realized Calvin Crum wasn’t a staying kind of man.

How ironic that Adam Graves couldn’t let go.

Or had her mother been the lucky one? If she’d married Adam, would she have suffered as Beulah had? Or had discontent with the way his life had turned out led to such bitterness that Adam had taken it out on his family?

A mouse darted past, his tail flicking as he scooted under a chair and into the dark depths of a corner. Adelaide roused.

Her days had been filled with one shock after another, first the vandalism, then Charles’s request to sell him the paper when she’d thought he wanted to propose, then the rock shattering her window and her peace of mind and now these letters from the two men who had ruined her mother’s life.

Life wasn’t easy, and as Charles once said, was often unfair, but with God’s help, she’d survive. Though tonight, she had no idea how.

Adelaide opened the shop as usual, but so weary she feared her bones might collapse beneath her. She’d been up half the night, thinking about the letters, missing Charles. Unable to sleep, she’d stewed about Ed or Jacob coming after her and the shop’s lack of business. She sighed, ashamed when she needed it most, she’d been unable to release her worries to God.

Against her will, she crossed to the window to check for any sign of Charles. Leaning her face against the frame, she ached to have him near. Somehow, she’d find a way to go on without him. Inside she felt hollow, as if a space had been vacated that no one else could fill.

The bell jingled. Forcing a smile to her face, Adelaide crossed to the door to greet her customer. “Mrs. Hawkins, I’m glad you stopped in. I have your alterations done.”

Her face pink and moist from the heat of the warm spring day, the buxom matron nodded. “I’d hoped you did.”

Adelaide led her to the counter and pulled the wrapped garment from underneath, then handed Mrs. Hawkins the bill. “While you’re here, would you like to look for a hat? I’ve repaired the damaged ones from the break-in. They’re a bargain.”

Digging in her purse, Mrs. Hawkins shook her head. “If I came home with one of your hats, Leroy would pitch a fit. Roscoe Sullivan told him you and the new editor blame Ed Drummond for the trouble you’re having. Leroy’s worked up.” She slapped the cash to pay her bill on the counter and the coins bounced to the floor. “He and Ed are hunting buddies.”

Adelaide bent to retrieve the coins. Did Charles now suspect Ed rather than Jacob or some disgruntled citizen?

Mrs. Hawkins’s hands fluttered in front of her like a bird on its first flight. “Where on earth did you get the notion ladies should vote?”

“You don’t think women should have the right to express their opinions?”

“Not when it causes me trouble.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You should be! I need a new hat and now I have to order it out of the catalogue, without getting to try it on first. Too bad you didn’t think of anyone but yourself.” Mrs. Hawkins grabbed the bundle and headed for the door.

Adelaide watched her customer’s retreating back, biting her lip, squelching a desire to weep. Exhaustion—that must be the reason for her reaction.

Why had she tried to bring about change for herself and the women of Noblesville when all that mattered were Emma and William? And now after her columns, no one respected her suspicions about Ed Drummond’s treatment of the children.

She wouldn’t write another article on suffrage until she’d gotten William out of that house. Change for women wouldn’t come overnight. But harm to the children could. How could she ensure their safety?

Three days had passed since Charles had spoken with Addie, but she never left his thoughts. Determined to protect her, at night he’d watch her window until her light went out, then he’d patrol the streets. When the sun rose in the eastern sky, he’d give up his watch. He didn’t bother going home to sleep, but bunked on a cot in the back, tossing and turning until Teddy arrived and the smell of brewing coffee dragged him out of bed.

Across the way, he saw Adelaide and Emma chatting with Mary and his nephews. Obviously, Addie didn’t miss him. Nor had she thanked him for printing her third column or criticized him for placing it on the back page. Instead, since their argument, she’d gone on with her life while he’d become a man of stone, unable to function at work, unable to smile, unable to sleep. What had happened to the stoic newsman he’d been? He hardly knew himself.

Remembering the way she laughed, her scent, the essence of Addie, left him longing to talk to her. He left the window and walked to his desk.

Teddy glanced his way. “You’re up and down so much, you’re making me dizzy. Why don’t you go over there?”

“Where?” Charles said feigning ignorance.

Teddy chuckled. “To Miss Crum’s hat shop, where else. You’ve been watching the place all week. Wouldn’t it be easier just to go over there?”

Charles dropped into his desk chair. “I’m the last person Miss Crum wants to see.”

Teddy took a seat across from him. “You two have a spat?”

Charles leaned back, focusing his gaze on the ceiling. “You could say that.”

“Women have a way of squeezing an apology out of us men sooner or later. Tell her you’re sorry. Take her a new apron or something.” A rumble sounded from Teddy’s stomach. He dropped his foot to the floor and unfolded his body from the chair. “I’m heading home to dinner. My advice is to take her flowers and if you’re really in trouble, a nice brooch, too.”

But Charles knew flowers and trinkets wouldn’t solve this mess. He’d destroyed Addie’s feelings for him. He wondered why he cared. She represented everything he’d run from most of his life—family, God, marriage. So why did he feel like he’d lost a part of himself? The good part.

When the door to the paper opened, he scowled. Teddy better not have returned to pester him.

Mary poked her head in the door. “Are you busy?”

“No, come in.” Seeing his sister-in-law’s happy face took the frown off his. “Where are my nephews?”

“They’re out front in the wagon nibbling on some of Adelaide’s cookies. I decided I could afford a luxury so I bought one of her hats.” Mary spun around in front of him, letting him admire it from all angles. “Do you like it?”

“Very much. It suits you.” Charles stared at the hat that had lain in Addie’s capable hands. For some unknown reason, he brushed a hand along the silky rose hugging the brim.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” Mary said with a laugh.

A lump rose in Charles’s throat. “How is she?”

“Pretty good, considering you tossed her out of your life like yesterday’s news.”

“I did not. She tossed
me
out of
her
life.”

“Well, if she did, she must have her reasons. She looks almost as miserable as you.”

Addie looked miserable? Not when he’d seen her across the way. Did she miss him? Or was she frightened and unable to sleep? Charles circled the room, his gaze never leaving the millinery shop. He hadn’t worried like this since his childhood, when he’d listen for his father’s footsteps.

Could he protect Addie any better than he’d been able to protect Ma and Sam?

He stopped beside the window and hit his palm against its frame. “If I could only be sure she’ll be safe. It’s driving me crazy. I watch her place all night.”

“You what?”

“With everything that’s happened over there, I’m keeping an eye out for trouble.”

Mary stepped to his side and straightened his collar. “No wonder you look dreadful.” Studying him, she tapped a finger against her lower lip. “Sounds to me like you’re in love.”

He groaned.

“There are easier ways to protect her.” She cocked her head. “You could marry her.”

And open her to heartache? Never.

She flashed him one of those knowing woman smiles. “Then she’d be safe.
And
probably get to keep Emma.” She gave him a hug. “And you’d both own the paper. Marriage would take care of all your problems.”

He studied the floor. “I can’t do that.”

Mary folded her arms. “The trouble with you, Charles Graves, is you’re in love and won’t admit it, even to yourself.”

He jerked his head up. Everyone talked about love as if it were the simplest thing in the world. He knew better. “I’m not even sure I know what the word means.”

“What you want is a guarantee. There’s no guarantee with love. No guarantees for anything worth having. Like my boys out there.” Charles’s gaze settled on Michael and Philip perched on the wagon seat. “I’m both mother and father to them—doing the best I can. I suppose they could grow up and break my heart. But maybe, just maybe, they’ll make me proud.”

Her voice cracked with emotion. She swiped at damp eyes. “Well, I’d best be going.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “My advice, Charles Graves—don’t let a woman like Adelaide Crum slip through your fingers.”

Chapter Eighteen

O
n Sunday, Charles stood outside the imposing edifice of the First Christian Church. He tugged at the tie choking his neck, buttoned and then rebuttoned his jacket and adjusted his hat. Through the open windows of the church, a song drifted on the cool morning breeze. A long time ago, he’d sung the familiar tune.

Bowing his head, he let the song “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” flow through him, the words soaking into his parched soul. The song promised peace—if he prayed. But he couldn’t. Not since his childhood prayers had gone unanswered, destroying something between him and God. Charles swallowed past the lump in his throat. If only he could find that serenity, serenity that had been missing most of his life. Maybe inside the church he’d find the answer, find his way back to God, to that promise of peace.

He tried to lift his foot, to climb the steps leading into the house of worship, but he couldn’t move. Sweat beaded his forehead, and the lump swelled in his throat until he felt he’d suffocate. He bent over and dragged oxygen into his lungs.

A cloud passed between him and the sun, covering him in shadow. A sudden chill streaked down his spine.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t pray, couldn’t worship.

Too much stood between him and God.

Listening to the sermon and singing praises, a blessed peace stole over Adelaide, along with the conviction that whatever happened in her life, God sat on the throne, controlled the universe and would take care of William and Emma. If only Charles would attend services, he might find a measure of peace.

She and Emma rose for the benediction and afterward followed the parishioners into the aisle. At the door, they shook hands with Pastor Foley then walked down the steps.

“Adelaide, wait up!”

Recognizing that voice, Adelaide led Emma to one side as Fannie emerged with James. The couple moved toward them and Adelaide noticed Fannie walked with grace. Why, she looked like a lady right out of
Godey’s.
Pleased some of her lessons had taken root, Adelaide smiled.

Fannie tugged James forward. “Adelaide, have you met James Cooper?”

“Yes, I have. We’ve run into each other a time or two.”

James’s eyes twinkled. “She means that literally, too. I almost plowed her down one morning.”

She wanted to ask James about Charles, but didn’t. “No damage done.” Adelaide grinned. “This is Emma Grounds.”

The couple greeted Emma. Then Fannie smiled. “I read your articles. They were wonderful.” Adelaide’s face must have revealed her surprise because Fannie giggled. “Since I’ve met James, I’m reading the paper.”

“Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with you,” Adelaide said.

“Really? Well, it makes perfect sense to me. We ladies are people, aren’t we?”

Emma touched Fannie’s hand. “I’m a people, and someday I’m going to be a dip…dip…lomat. Mr. Graves told me so.”

James lightly tugged at the ribbons on Emma’s hat. “Well, if women get the vote, and I hope they do, you’d be my first choice for a diplomat, Emma.”

Fannie smiled adoringly into James’s face and he beamed back, looking equally besotted. “Wasn’t the service uplifting? Did you hear James singing? He has the most beautiful voice.”

“Fannie thinks I’m a great singer because she can barely carry a tune.”

Fannie giggled. “That’s true.”

James sighed, love softening his normally probing gaze. “Don’t you adore her giggle, Miss Crum?”

Before giving an answer, Adelaide gave Emma permission to join a group of children playing nearby. “Fannie is Fannie,” she said, hoping that would suffice.

“That’s exactly what I like about her. There’s no pretense with Fannie.”

The young woman leaned close. “I guess I won’t need more of your lessons, Adelaide. James likes me just the way I am.”

James accepted Fannie, giggle and all. Adelaide’s composure faltered. Had she done the same for Charles?

Having lived without her mother’s approval, she should have understood the need for true acceptance. Taking Fannie’s hands, Adelaide gave them a squeeze. “Thank you.”

The young woman’s eyes widened. “For what?”

“For teaching the teacher a thing or two,” she said softly.

A puzzled expression took over Fannie’s cheery face, and she giggled again. “Me? Teach you?”

Adelaide nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Why hadn’t she seen the truth earlier? “You’ve taught me more than you know.”

Later, as the young couple ambled over to talk to friends, Adelaide pondered the lesson they’d unknowingly taught. When you love someone, you accept them for who they are.

She’d criticized some things about Charles that didn’t matter a whit and had judged him for far more than a messy desk.

She, of all people, should understand how a painful childhood could damage a person. Charles had suffered at the hand of a church-going hypocrite. She should have had more compassion for his refusal to attend church. Maybe if they’d read Scriptures and prayed together, or if she’d asked Pastor Foley for suggestions, she could have found a way to help him.