Strong and Stubborn (39 page)

“Charlotte!” She thundered into the room, unable to hold herself back until her temper cooled. “A word with you, please.”

“Naomi! I was just entertaining your beaus while we waited for you to get back from showing Mr. Strode and his son to their house.” Slyly suggestive and innocent all at once, Charlotte made it sound as though she'd done nothing wrong—and that Naomi was inappropriate to want to see Luke's reaction to the house she'd helped ready for him.

“Outside, please.” She gritted her teeth, turned on her heel, and listened as Charlotte sneezed her way out of the room behind her. Naomi didn't trust herself to speak—or the men not to overhear—until they'd passed the buildings used for temporary storage.

“What do you think you're doing?” she demanded once stopped.

“Filling in.” Charlotte inspected her nail beds. “Providing amusement so they wouldn't stop to wonder at your interest in Mr. Strode. You really shouldn't abandon your suitors like that, Mimi.”

“I didn't abandon anyone.” Naomi narrowly kept from mentioning the way Charlotte and their mother abandoned her after one night's mistake. Even in her anger, she knew there was no comparison—her mistake made her unworthy of understanding. But her failures hadn't ruined her ability to understand the feelings of other people.

Charlote rolled her eyes. “Let's not quibble over word choice.”

“No, let's.” Naomi refused to let her sister off the hook. “Your words, to be exact. You will not insult any of my friends, my suitors, or any Hope Falls workers again—not in English or French.”

“Don't get overexcited. It's not as if they knew what I said.”

“
I
know.” Naomi struggled to put her outrage into words. “Why do you think it's all right to mock people, whether they understand it or not? Maybe it's even worse if they don't know what you're saying because you're taking advantage of their trusting natures.”

“You've been in the country for far too long, sister.” Charlotte's eyes held a predatory gleam. “Don't mistake foolishness for trust. Trust should be reserved for after someone earns it.”

“Why? Why should everyone have to go around assuming other people are unworthy when only a small percentage ruin things?”

“That percentage can create a lot of trouble, and you know as well as anyone that even the so-called good people misstep. The fact that your suitors extend such confidence to either one of us attests to their lack of wisdom. They've barely met me, and they certainly don't know you any better.” Charlotte's taunts sliced into Naomi. Her sister possessed a talent for vicious truths. “Stop acting so high and mighty, Naomi. Don't pretend you're better than you are, and don't pretend your suitors are more than clodpolls.”

Naomi slapped the wall with the flat of her palm, welcoming the distraction of its sting. “They're far more than you'll ever know.”

“How can they be, when they know so little?” Charlotte countered. “Tell me, were you planning on being honest with the man you'll marry? Warn him beforehand he's taking on damaged goods?”

A few sentences, and Naomi needed to defend herself. Unfortunately, she didn't have much to say. “I've been praying about it, but I won't know until I choose the man. Obviously I'll need to tell him that I'm not innocent, but I would hope to find a husband who would want to know the entire truth and be able to forgive it.”

Her voice grew fainter with every word because aloud they sounded every bit as ridiculous as she'd feared but had tried to convince herself otherwise. Charlotte laughed at her admission.

“Now who's the fool?” she spat. “No man wants to know the entire truth about anything, much less hear how another man beat him to his bride. Besides, what makes you think you could tell him, even if you found so spectacular an idiot as to offer forgiveness?”

“I'd find the strength. He deserves to know. If I'm going to promise to honor a man for a lifetime, I would need to from the start.” Naomi stiffened. “And forgiveness isn't idiocy. It takes an incredible amount of strength to forgive a wrong and keep loving.”

“It's not your secret to tell.” Charlotte's hands curved into claws. “Listen, you self-important chit. Why do you think I didn't denounce you the morning after we dragged you from my marital bed? Because news of your betrayal would taint Harry's reputation, too. Neither one of us should suffer slander and ridicule so you can seek absolution from whatever man you convince to take you as his bride.”

With that, Charlotte huffed off, layers of skirts billowing like a ship with sails unfurled. There was no way of stopping her, so Naomi's future depended on Charlotte's ability to stop herself. Because as much as she hated to think of it—she now realized she'd been avoiding thinking of it—Charlotte made sense. Only their continued silence could protect the Blinman name and Naomi's reputation.

I can never be honest with my husband
. Naomi sagged against the splintering wood wall.
He can never know the worst of me
.

T
he best part about coming back was waking up, knowing Luke was safe with him and they could spend the day with Naomi. He and Luke spent yesterday afternoon exploring first the town then some of the outlying forest to help his son settle in. Mike resisted his impulse to ask Naomi along—it was clear she and the other women needed some time to recover from Arla's death.

In spite of Luke's enthusiastic approval of the woman Mike “liked” so much, Mike needed the two people he cared about the most to get to know each other. And Mike needed to start waging his campaign to win Naomi's heart. He'd known he lagged behind the loggers, but her sister's revelation yesterday meant Mike wasn't just competing with the lumbermen; he was up against the memory of the man who'd hurt her.

It didn't help that the memory—and the man who'd made it—happened to be wandering around town. If Mike didn't have so much lost time to make up for, he might be tempted to run the fool to ground, ask him what he'd been thinking, and hold him accountable for making Naomi think she didn't deserve more than a hired husband. Lucky for Blinman, Mike would keep busy convincing her otherwise.

Besides, the man shackled himself to Naomi's sister. That should suffice as punishment until Mike got things squared away. He couldn't wait to get started. For the first time, he ate one of Miss Thompson's delectable breakfasts without noticing what she served. Instead, he kept an eye on Naomi as she wove around the tables, bringing out platters of food and rounds of fresh coffee. He barely managed to keep track of the conversation but paid closer attention when Dunstan invited Luke to go fishing with him and Decoy that morning.

“Good time for trout,” the hunter was saying. “And until my ribs are better healed, there's not much hunting I can get done.”

Luke wriggled on the bench, unable to hide his excitement. “Can we go, Dad?”

“I don't know.” Torn between his obligation to Naomi's workshop and wanting to make Luke happy, he hesitated. “I've been away from the workshop for days now. There's a lot to do.”

“Please, can't we go together? You were gone a long time.” His son hadn't blinked since Dunstan issued the invitation. His eagerness, and the reminder that Mike hadn't been able to spend time with him for a while, broke down Mike's protest.

“Lacey'll be keen to come along,” Dunstan mentioned. “Might be easier to ask Miss Higgins to join us and make a trip of it.”

“I'll ask her,” he promised. When the diner emptied out, Mike edged off the side of the bench, told Luke he'd be right back, and snuck into the kitchen.

“No loggers allowed,” came a curt order from the stove where Miss Thompson hovered.

“It's Mr. Strode,” her sister corrected and offered him a welcoming smile.

“Is there anything you need?” Naomi bustled over with a steaming pot of coffee, worry in her gaze.

“You,” he blurted out then quickly added, “if the workshop can wait another day. And Miss Lyman, too. Dunstan's invited us for a morning of fishing, and Luke's raring to go.”

“You're hooked into it then.” Naomi gave a gentle laugh as the other women rolled their eyes.

“Obvious pun.” Miss Thompson shook her head. “You can do better than that, Naomi!”

“Well …” She pursed her lips for a moment as though considering. “I suppose I could have said that with Luke invited, he couldn't worm out of it—but on the balance I thought that one was worse.”

“It is,” Mike assured her. “Who wants to be likened to a worm?”

“Ah.” Her smile widened as she teased. “So you'd rather be hooked?”

He couldn't find a suitable answer for that, and the sudden pause brought a blush to her cheeks.

“Oh, cut line!” Miss Thompson stepped into the breach and brought on a new round of groans.

“I think you should all go. With Dunstan out of commission, we don't get meat like we used to. The kitchen could use a bountiful catch of fresh fish.”

“I didn't want to neglect our work either.”
Our
. He liked saying it when it meant him and Naomi. Especially when he could still see the vestiges of her blush over talking about hooking him.

“Luke can help us make it up later,” she said firmly. “Every boy should go fishing with his father—and it'd be criminal not to give him a special outing on his first full day in Hope Falls.”

“I'm game.” Miss Lyman pulled down a large wicker hamper and plunked it atop a table. “Braden plans to take his investors around a bit, so the Blinmans and Mr. Corning will be occupied.”

This was sounding better and better—Mike hadn't even considered the idea that Naomi's sister and old love might intrude on the fishing trip, but he was heartened to hear they couldn't.

“I wanted to join in the first time you told me about this place.” Corning gestured around. “It sounded like a perfect business proposition.”

“It should have been.” Braden knew he needed to say more, to get the conversation rolling and pry information from his suspects, but the sight of the collapsed mine before him stole his speech.

Blinman's chortle made his hands fist. “Nothing's perfect.”

“Oh, phoo! I'm standing right next to you!” The man's wife pouted prettily. Why the woman insisted on joining them on this trek escaped Braden's understanding, unless she was trying to avoid the morose tone in town. If that was her reason, she'd failed miserably. The mines were as much a grave site as the place they'd buried Arla.

“I said
nothing
, darling, not
no one
.” Blinman backpedaled and swiftly changed the subject. “Though the mines seem an awful waste.”

“Yes.”
Of life
. Braden's eyes narrowed at Blinman's renewed interest. “It was a devastating loss of irreplaceable resources.”

Blinman furrowed his brow. “Irreplaceable, you say? I wasn't aware that cave-ins could actually destroy a mine's ore.”

“They don't.” Corning took a few steps closer to the blocked entrance, squinting at the small opening they'd made to free Lacey and Dunstan. “Reaching silver is a dangerous and difficult business to begin with, and the collapse destroyed the access points.”

Braden noticed that Corning mentioned only silver. If only someone mentioned the gold—that secret only he and Owens had known about—Braden could catch his killer. But no one whispered a word about gold or Draxley or Owens, and his time trickled away.

“Then it's not irreplaceable.” Mrs. Blinman brightened. “It's just buried treasure! Would it really be so hard to go after it?”

“Yes.” Braden kept from snorting in disbelief. Buried treasure? Did the flea-brained woman think a shovel could salvage things?

“Why?” Blinman's eyes narrowed. “They went in after the collapse and pulled you out. Didn't they shore up the cleared tunnels? Couldn't we get a team in there and work around the collapsed areas, go even deeper if that's what it would take?”

“You would send men into an unstable mine, directing them to dig into shifting rock and knowing they could die at any minute?” Braden eyed Blinman in disbelief then speculation. He hadn't considered that the killer might openly suggest reopening the mine, but he should have. The saboteur's greed couldn't be denied.

“Mr. Lyman!” Mrs. Blinman sounded shocked and affronted. “My husband asked about the supports and specifically mentioned working around the dangerous areas. How could you make such an accusation?”

“It was a question, not an accusation,” Corning observed as he started up the uneven incline and gestured to the small opening. “And not a foolish one either. Like Harry mentioned, men have already gone back into the mines since the collapse. He most likely didn't realize they barely managed to unblock enough to get in.”