Love Inspired Historical October 2013 Bundle: A Family for Christmas\The Secret Princess\Taming the Texas Rancher\An Unlikely Union (22 page)

That straightened his spine and slapped a frown on his face. “He’s the one who—”

Again she interrupted. “Look at this from his perspective. Ever since he arrived you’ve been examining everything he says, waiting for him to do or say something you can get your back up over. How do you think that makes him feel?”

* * *

Chance wasn’t quite certain what to say. Had he been guilty of doing as she said? Even if he had, his father had given him every reason to be on guard. Hadn’t he?

“Regardless of what your relationship was in Philadelphia,” she continued, “you have an opportunity to start fresh here. Give him the same grace you want from him. View the things he says as coming from a caring father, not an enemy. Really listen to the things he’s saying and try to understand why they are important to him.”

She withdrew her hand from beneath his and he immediately missed the warmth of her touch.

“Now, I have a batch of pecan chocolate drops to make for Henrietta Strickland’s eighth birthday party tomorrow.”

He sat where he was for several minutes after she’d returned to the stove. Was she right? Was he part of the reason he and his father couldn’t get past this constant locking of horns?

If that were true, what could he do about it? Did he even want to bother? Then he remembered the I-believe-in-you look on Eve’s face, and he was suddenly very certain that he did.

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
he next morning as Leo left for school, a young man showed up carrying a telegram. “It’s for Mr. Dawson,” he announced.

“Which Mr. Dawson?” Chance’s father asked.

“Mr. Chance Dawson.”

Chance was busy at his worktable, so Eve, who was closest to the door, accepted it on his behalf. When she carried it over and attempted to hand it to him, however, he shook his head.

“I’m right in the middle of this and don’t want to stop. Why don’t you read it to me?”

Apparently he wasn’t concerned that it might be something of a personal nature. She opened the slip of paper and read it aloud.

“It’s from a Clarence Braxton.” She saw Chance’s head come up at that. “He says ‘I will be passing through Turnabout on the eighteenth of this month. Would be very interested in a demonstration of your motorized washing machine at that time. Sincerely, C. Braxton.’”

Chapter Twenty-Five

T
he eighteenth arrived all too quickly.

Chance woke feeling ready. He’d worked tirelessly since the telegram arrived a week earlier to make certain everything was the absolute best he knew how to make it. He’d run test after test until finally last night he’d met with success—a complete run through of the entire process. If things went today as they had last night, Mr. Braxton should be quite impressed.

The only thing that had him worried was the sputtering that had started up at the very end of the wash load last night. When he’d shut down the machine and checked it out in minute detail, he hadn’t identified a likely culprit. And when he started it up again the noise had disappeared.

He was praying it had been just a fluke, and would not repeat today. The only thing he could do at this point was make one more pass through his checklist and then hope for the best.

All during the past week, Eve had been quietly supporting him, bringing him food when he was too busy to eat with the family, providing cups of coffee and hot cocoa when the chilly temperatures had numbed him from the inside out, holding a lamp for him when he worked past sunset. She never complained, never questioned his total focus on the project, always knew what he needed before he did.

She’d also served as his test subject, standing in for the typical lady of the house who washed clothes on a regular basis. Right now, she could run the machine almost as well as he could.

Chance took a deep breath. If he was going to pursue any kind of future with Eve, she had to know the truth. “You once asked me why I traveled all the way from Philadelphia to Texas and I never answered your question.”

She smiled. “It really wasn’t any of my business.”

“No, but I want to tell you now.”

“But you’re supposed to be—”

“It’ll wait.”

She folded her hands in her lap trustingly. “Very well. I’m listening.”

“Most of my life I’ve been what my father refers to as an irresponsible scapegrace, drifting from one mess to another.”

“Surely that’s an exaggeration.”

He took encouragement from her ready defense of him. “Not by much. Some of it was just exuberance or curiosity, but some of it was pure mischief.” He paused a moment, then continued. “Then I crossed the line. I borrowed a motor bicycle without permission, and it turned out badly. There was an accident. Luckily no one was hurt, but it could have been a whole lot worse.”

“Oh, how awful it must have been for you.”

“No more than I deserved. I was reckless and irresponsible.”

She touched his arm in a comforting gesture. “It was wrong to take the motor bicycle, but you were young and adventurous. And I’m sure you were sorry.”

“I was brought before Judge Arthur Madison, who just happens to be Reggie’s grandfather. I didn’t know him, but for some reason he thought I deserved a second chance. Judge Madison knew of this trip the other three men were taking to start new lives here in Turnabout. He offered me a choice of serving jail time or coming out here with them to try to make it on my own.” Which was true as far as it went. But again, those were not his secrets to tell. Getting his own out would be difficult enough.

“This Judge Madison sounds like a wise and forgiving man.”

“He is. Oh, there were some strings tied to the deal, but it was still a very fair, more than generous offer.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, it appears his faith in you was justified.”

“I try to live my life here so that he never has cause to regret his decision. But more than that, the thought of what could have happened that day still haunts me.”

“Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

“I’m afraid there’s more.”

“Oh?”

Would she still thank him when he was done explaining? “There’s a secret I’ve been carrying around for most of my life. In some ways, it defines me and why I got into so many difficulties in my youth.”

Her eyes had widened and there was a touch of wariness there now. But she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Suddenly at a loss for words, he blurted out the bare fact. “I can’t read.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “What? You mean you never learned? Surely—”

“No, I mean I
can’t.
I’ve gone to some of the best schools, had special tutors, have tried until my eyes burned beyond bearing. I just can’t read and will never be able to.”

“But how have you managed all these years?”

Was that a slight withdrawal he felt? He willed himself to keep calm, to give her time to adjust to the notion. “I’ve found ways to avoid revealing my problem by deflecting notice or pretending.”

“How can you
pretend
to read?” Her tone was almost accusatory.

This wasn’t going at all the way he’d hoped. “I’ve been blessed with a strong memory so, as a student, if the teacher went over something in class I normally retained the information. But it wasn’t a real substitute for reading. I was turned out of three different schools before my father gave in and got me a series of private tutors.”

“And you’ve managed to keep it a secret all this time? From everyone?”

“A few people know—Dotty for instance. She’s the one who reads things like important documents and letters. My father knows, of course, but he doesn’t dig deep enough to find out the extent of my problem. It would be too dark a stain on the Dawson family name if he found out the truth—that his son was illiterate.”

“You can’t read at all?” There was a definite chilliness to her tone that was worrying him.

“Some days, if I focus very hard and there’s no pressure for me to do so, I can make out some words. But that’s a rare happenstance.”

“I see.” Her expression had closed off now.

“Eve, I’m the same man I was ten minutes ago. Does my ability—or rather inability—to read matter so much to you?”

“No.”

Her answer was quick and sure and exactly what he’d hoped to hear. Yet there was something in her demeanor, a wall going up, that told him all was not well. “Then what is it?”

“You deceived me.”

He stiffened. “I never once lied.”

“You did though. You did your best to make me believe you actually could read. You found ways to have me read your newspapers and telegram, you sidestepped my suggestion that you teach Leo, you talked about some of your favorite books, all in ways designed to make me think you could read. Do you deny it was deliberate?”

The temptation to lie was almost overwhelming. But he couldn’t do it, especially not to her, not ever again. “No.”

She flinched as if he’d dealt her a physical blow. “And you did this knowing how I felt about one’s ability to read. And how—” her voice cracked, but she quickly got herself back under control “—how I was beginning to feel about you.”

God help him, he wanted to take her in his arms and hug away the pain he saw in her eyes. But how could he when he was the one who’d put it there? “Yes.” It was hard to get the word past the lump of regret in his throat.

She nodded, a gesture that felt to him like an acknowledgment of his betrayal. “Just like my father.”

“No!” The word exploded from him and she flinched again but didn’t back down. Chance realized now what was going through her mind and tried desperately to find the right words. “Eve, what you say about my deceiving you is true, but it was just in this one area and it wasn’t aimed at you. It was a habit I developed long before I ever met you to get me through life.”

He could tell his words weren’t sinking in. “I love you, don’t you understand? I would never deliberately hurt you. Whatever else you choose to believe, please, you have to believe that. If I had wanted to deceive you in that manner, for such despicable purposes, why would I be confessing the truth now?”

He saw a flicker of something in her eyes just then and he felt a tiny spark of hope jump to life.

But then she shook her head as if to clear it and rubbed her brow wearily. “I need time to think this through,” she finally said, her voice raspy and barely under control.

“Eve, I’m so—”

“Please, just go.” She attempted a smile. “You have a demonstration to get ready for, remember?”

If he could somehow fix this by staying, he’d ignore the demonstration, hang the consequences. But she was dismissing him, putting distance between them, asking for time to think.

He turned and slowly made his way to the door, regret weighing him down like a millstone. He’d been arrogantly intent on trying to get Eve to open herself up to what life could offer, and yet he’d continued to hide behind his charade from fear of public ridicule. And because of that he’d not only lost the respect of the woman he loved, he’d hurt her.

* * *

Eve watched Chance walk away, her heart shattering into bleeding shards.

The whole time her grandmother’s voice kept whispering in her ear, telling her how absurd she’d been to trust her heart, that Chance was no better than that devil-tongued deceiver who’d fathered her, that she was foolish to believe anyone could truly love her.

But for just a short, magical point in time, she had believed.

Chapter Twenty-Six

D
otty entered the room, eyeing Eve with extreme disappointment. “What did you do?” Her question came out more as a demand.

“I—” Eve shook her head, unable to gather her thoughts enough to say what was spinning through her mind.

Dotty studied her for a moment, then her shoulders slumped. “He told you his secret, didn’t he?”

Eve nodded.

“And you sent him away.”

“No! I mean, yes, but not because of his problem with reading.”

Some of the tension in Dotty eased. “Then why?”

Eve felt the trembling in her hands make its way to her legs and sat down before she fell. “Because of the deception surrounding it.”

Dotty eyed her with an unreadable expression for a long moment. “I see.”

Eve sighed. “No, you don’t. You see, my mother was deceived by a young man who came through town and sweet talked her with honeyed lies and half truths, until she gave herself to him. Then the young man slipped away and I was born nine months later.”

Dotty reached out and squeezed her hand. “Oh, my dear, I’m so very sorry.”

Eve appreciated Dotty’s sentiment, but she wasn’t looking for pity. “I’ve tried to live my life in such a way as to prove I was not my mother, that such a thing could never happen to me.” And now it seemed she had stumbled along the same path.

“And is that truly what you think is going on here? That Chance deceived you in order to seduce and then abandon you?”

“I...” When it was put like that, Eve was no longer so certain.

“And if Chance truly wanted to deceive you, for whatever reason, why would he come to you now with the truth? A truth, I might add, that painted him in a light he had reason to believe you would find very unflattering.”

Eve was beginning to believe she had made a terrible mistake.

But Dotty wasn’t through yet. “I appreciate that you told me your own closely guarded secret, but I assume you don’t offer up that information to anyone who discusses family with you.”

“I’ve never lied about it.”

“Of course not. And neither has Chance. He just goes to great lengths not to have to share it.”

Eve remembered that interview with Everett and felt the heat climb in her cheeks. Had she been guilty of looking at the mote in Chance’s eye?

Dotty eyed her sympathetically. “He loves you, you know. Are you ready to throw that out over a matter of pride? More important, what does your heart tell you?” She patted Eve’s knee and then stood. “There, I’ve said my piece. I’m going back out there to watch Chance’s demonstration and leave you to think on this for a spell.” And with that, Dotty left her alone.

As Eve watched Dotty leave, she felt her mind begin to clear. Something inside her fell into place, something that felt solid and true and right. With all her heart, she believed that no matter what he’d done, Chance was a good and honorable man, a man who would never knowingly hurt her, and would in fact do his utmost to keep her safe and happy. He was the man she loved, the man who brought joy and excitement to her life.

She suddenly sat up straighter. He’d told her he loved her. And she’d totally ignored his declaration. Was it too late? Could he still feel that way after the way she’d reacted to his laying his heart bare for her?

If only he would give her the opportunity, she’d do everything in her power to make this up to him, to prove to him how very much she loved him.

* * *

Chance felt Eve’s presence before he ever saw her. His back was to her as he did a final check of his equipment, but it was as if some sort of magnet between them began to vibrate whenever they were near. At least that was how it was for him. Apparently not for her.

Finally satisfied that everything was in order, he turned to address Mr. Braxton. As he launched into an explanation of what was going to happen, and what parts of the process were still under development, he couldn’t help but watch Eve from the corner of his eye. The soft, you-can-do-this expression she wore confused him. Had she decided to support his efforts out of pity? That was worse than an out-and-out rebuff.

But perhaps it was nothing more than the fact that she’d invested so much time in the project this week she wanted to see it through.

Trying to shake that distraction from his mind, he turned and started up the engine. For a moment, everything performed just as it should. The motor powered a belt, which turned the crank, which operated the paddles, which created the motion to clean the clothes. “As you can see,” he said with more than a touch of pride, “this device can save your people from the more difficult part of washing laundry.”

Mr. Braxton nodded approvingly, and even his wife seemed intrigued.

“In just a minute, I’m going to make a simple, minor adjustment, and the engine will switch from powering the paddles, to powering the wringer.”

Before he could put words to action, the device started making an ominous sound. A heartbeat later there was a prolonged wheezing, then a series of loud clatters and pops, and then the engine just died.

For a moment there was only shocked silence. Chance felt his excitement over his success die as explosively as had his machine. It could have been any one of a half dozen things that had caused the problem. He’d figure it out, and solve the problem eventually. But his opportunity to have Mr. Braxton back him was over. And with it went his hope of paying off his loan by the end of the year.

“That’s bad luck, son,” Mr. Braxton said. “For a moment there I really thought you had something good.” He turned to his wife. “Shall we head for the hotel, my dear? It’s mighty cold out here.”

And that was it. No chance for redemption. Was his father pleased that things had gone this way?

As if he’d read Chance’s thoughts, his father clamped a hand on Chance’s shoulder. “That was too bad, son. I was pulling for you.”

Now, wasn’t this a surprise? In the same day Eve had let him down, his father had actually shown some compassion.

Then Eve stepped forward, not to commiserate with him, but to speak to the Braxtons. “Please don’t go just yet. Why don’t you come inside and enjoy some chocolate bonbons or some pralines and a nice warm cup of tea?”

Mr. Braxton shook his head. “I’m sorry, but—”

“Did you say pralines?” Mrs. Braxton asked, ignoring her husband’s protests.

“I did.” Eve smiled proudly. “Freshly prepared this morning.”

The woman turned to her husband. “Oh, let’s do, Clarence. You know how much I enjoy those.”

He sighed and nodded. “Very well. But we won’t stay long.”

Chance watched Eve happily lead the pair into the shop through the rear door. Then he turned to Dotty and his father. “Why don’t you two join them? The wind’s picking up and there’s no point in us all catching a chill. I’ll be in as soon as I make certain everything is properly shut down.”

His father seemed on the point of protesting, but Dotty touched his arm and gave him a pointed look. A heartbeat later he nodded and escorted her inside.

Relieved, Chance turned back to his equipment. He needed to be alone for a few minutes. First, that gut-wrenching scene with Eve, and now this disaster. Perhaps his father was right, perhaps he should return to Philadelphia, especially if he lost The Blue Bottle. Not to his father’s home, of course, but he could pursue his work on motorizing the washing machine—and any number of other ideas swimming around in his mind—with easier access to parts and to mentors.

Funny how that thought didn’t give him much comfort. His thoughts returned to Eve. The brokenness he’d seen in her earlier—that he’d been the cause of—seemed overshadowed by something else just now. Was she just putting on a good front for their visitors? She’d certainly turned them into customers for her candy shop quickly enough. Commiserating with him, on the other hand, had apparently been the furthest thing from her mind.

Well, at least someone had made a sale today.

* * *

When Chance stepped back inside fifteen minutes later, he hoped he’d given the Braxtons enough time to have their tea and leave. But to his surprise the two of them, along with Eve, were gathered around one of his worktables. What in the world was going on now?

A second later, Eve caught sight of him and her face lit up in a smile.

He blinked. He’d never thought to see that smile aimed his way again.

“There you are,” she said. “Mr. and Mrs. Braxton were just admiring your creations.”

They were what?

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Braxton gushed. “The nutcrackers, rocking horses and tin stars—all of these decorations are absolutely marvelous. I was just telling Clarence that we should decorate our hotel lobbies in a similar fashion.”

“I’m pleased you like the decorations, ma’am. But creating those things is just a little hobby of mine.”

“A hobby.” Mr. Braxton gave him a stern teacher-to-student look. “Young man, I know you are dedicated to this washing-machine project of yours, and I will admit that it does have promise if you can overcome the obvious problems we witnessed today. But this is where your real talent lies. Workmanship like this is something to be valued and nurtured.” He rocked back on his heels. “I should know—my father was a furniture maker who took great pride in his work.”

He gestured toward Eve. “Miss Pickering here showed us the work you did on those room dividers, and she said you did it all in one afternoon. I call that more than a hobby.”

Chance wasn’t quite certain what to say.

But Eve didn’t seem to have that problem. “Chance is too modest to brag,” she said, “but he does more than carve these beautiful pieces. You’ve already noticed the tin stars. He makes mechanical toys, as well. Leo, the ten-year-old who lives with me, loves them, as do his friends.”

Chance still wasn’t certain what was up with Eve. Did she think she was coming to his rescue the way she had with Leo on the train station platform?

Mrs. Braxton sighed. “This is every child’s dream—a toy store and a candy store all under one roof.”

Mr. Braxton nodded sagely. “In a larger town you could make quite a go of it with such a business.”

“Oh, don’t be so mercenary, Clarence.” Mrs. Braxton gave her husband an affectionate smile tinged with a touch of exasperation. “They seem to be
making a go of it,
as you say, right here.” She turned to Chance. “It’s too late for this year, but if I ordered, say fifty of these nutcrackers and several dozen of some of the other items to be delivered before next Christmas, would you be able to fulfill the order?”

Chance blinked. What had just happened?

Mr. Braxton was apparently feeling the same way. “Now, Martha, we should discuss this before you go placing orders. We haven’t even discussed price yet.”

Mrs. Braxton waved a hand. “Oh, I’m certain you gentlemen can get that all worked out. My question is whether or not he is willing and able to fill such an order.” She turned to Chance. “So, are you?”

Chance considered the idea for a minute. Was he willing to change his whole way of looking at things, to turn his interest in designing improved machinery into a sideline and focus on his handicraft as a means of making a living? The more he thought on it, the more right it seemed. He smiled at Mrs. Braxton. “Assuming we can reach an agreement on price, I am.”

Mr. Braxton shook his head with a wry smile for his wife. “Martha, my dear, your enthusiasm leaves me little negotiating room. Chance here is going to think he has me over a barrel.”

Eve spoke up immediately. “Chance is a fair and honest man. You have no need to worry when it comes to negotiating a fair price.”

Far from taking offense at her outspokenness, the man gave Chance an amused smile. “This little lady has been singing your praises ever since we walked in here. She’s the best advertisement you have for your business.”

He nodded, not bothering to look Eve’s way. “Miss Pickering is a good one to have in your corner, all right,” he said evenly. “She’s not afraid to stand up for something she believes in.”

From the corner of his eye he saw a little wrinkle form above her nose. What was wrong? He was doing his best to keep his distance. Isn’t that what she wanted?

Mr. Braxton turned businesslike. “Well then, shall we sit down and discuss price?”

As the two men moved to the table that served as Chance’s office, Mrs. Braxton turned to Eve. “Let’s leave the men to their dickering. I’d very much like another piece of your delicious pralines.”

Chance cast one quick glance at the retreating ladies before he offered Mr. Braxton a seat.

Could he continue to live under the same roof with Eve, knowing how she felt about him? Perhaps it was just as well he wasn’t going to be able to pay that note. This new venture of his could be carried out from anywhere. A fresh start in a new location might be just the thing.

But he knew, deep down, that leaving here would be unimaginably more difficult than leaving Philadelphia had ever been.