Read When Love Calls Online

Authors: Lorna Seilstad

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Historical, #Romance, #General

When Love Calls (19 page)

“I do.”

“Then take a risk on me.”

Hannah stared at Lincoln’s outstretched hand and smiled. She’d take a risk, all right.

As soon as his hand clasped around her own, she yanked him with all her might toward the water.

 21 

Arms flailing, Lincoln fought his rapid descent. Mud gave way beneath his feet, and he landed with a splash in Union Park’s lake.

Shocked to his core, he looked up into Hannah’s laughing face. “W-why did you do that?”

“I decided to take a risk.” She giggled, backing away, almost daring him to retaliate. “And if you’re going to spend time with me, you might as well learn there are going to be some surprises.”

“Is that so?” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his chest warmed. So, she was accepting his offer. “Well, Miss Gregory, you’d better expect some surprises as well.” He rushed toward her, creating a spray in his wake.

She squealed and dove out of his reach. He caught her waist and pulled the laughing woman into his arms.

With her hair hanging in damp rivulets around her face and her eyes alight with anticipation, she took his breath away. She shivered against his chest.

“Lincoln Cole, if you douse me again—” She squirmed in his arms, then looked into his eyes and stilled. She licked her lips. “What are you doing?”

He raised his hand, removed soggy weed from her hair, and cupped her cheek.

“Giving you the surprise you deserve.”

She shivered again, and he noticed a bluish tinge to her lips.

Good grief. She was freezing, and even if he wanted to warm her up as only he could, standing in a lake was hardly the place for a first kiss. Before desire won over practicality, he bent and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” She squirmed and pounded on his back with her fists.

“It would serve you right if I did toss you back in.” He reached the dock and lifted her onto its dry wood surface. Using his upper body strength, he then pulled himself out.

Teeth chattering like the clacking of a spinning windmill, Hannah scrambled to her feet and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Stay here.” He grabbed his suit coat from the grass, returned to her, and attempted to wrap her in it.

She stopped him. “I don’t want to ruin it. I’ll go get the quilt from the automobile.”

“Put this on.” He pushed the coat into her hands. “
I’ll
go get the quilt because you’re going to need all the warmth you can get.”

“What about you?”

“So you’d like me to warm you up too?”

Her face bloomed crimson.

He grinned. “I’d love to warm you up, but your sisters are watching.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant. I was worried about you being cold.”

“It’s nice to know you care.” He pulled the coat from her hands and draped it around her shoulders.

“I didn’t say that.” She hugged the coat close and lifted her eyebrows. “We simply need you warm enough to drive us home.”

“You should have seen her, Rosie.” Charlotte leaned on the rake handle. Already, even with only an hour’s worth of work, the front yard of their rented home looked better.

Hannah, who’d changed out of her work clothes for the evening
and donned a split skirt, placed her boot on the spade and forced it through the crust of the earth.

Charlotte took a deep breath. The scent of freshly turned soil rose up from the ground, and a worm wriggled from the rich, dark clod.

“I didn’t look that bad,” Hannah insisted.

Flicking the ribbon on Hannah’s sunbonnet, Tessa giggled. “You looked like a drowned rat.”

Charlotte smiled and sighed. It was true. Yesterday Hannah had emerged from the lake looking like a sopping piece of laundry in need of a good wringing, but Mr. Cole still gazed at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.

Would George ever admire Charlotte like that? Maybe tomorrow night at the box social he’d tell her that she took his breath away.

“And then”—Tessa knelt and carefully placed the dormant rosebush in the hole Hannah had made—“when Mr. Cole went to help her get out, she pulled him right in the lake with her.”

Rosie gasped. “Hannah, you didn’t!”

“I couldn’t let him get away with laughing at me, now could I?” Hannah dug another hole. “He had the nerve to stand there and laugh at me.”

The pink tinge in Hannah’s cheeks said there was more to the story. From the subtle change in the way she and Mr. Cole interacted after the boating incident, some sort of understanding must have passed between them—at least on Mr. Cole’s part. While Hannah didn’t rebuff his attention, she didn’t encourage it either. At the rate Hannah was going, Mr. Cole would be old and gray before he even got a first kiss. But Charlotte had a sneaking suspicion he would wait no matter how long it took.

She scooped up the dried leaves and branches in her pile and deposited them in the wheelbarrow they’d borrowed from Rosie. How long would George wait for a kiss? Impatience oozed from him. He didn’t like to wait too long for her after school, so she always hurried, and he didn’t like to wait for her to come out to the porch in the evenings, so she tried to finish her chores quickly.

Even though he’d made his intentions to steal a kiss clear, so far he’d been willing to wait for that. Charlotte didn’t know when was the right time to let a fellow kiss her. She could ask Hannah, but Charlotte probably wouldn’t like the answer. She could ask Rosie, but she’d most likely tell Hannah. If only her mother was still alive, she’d be able to answer all her questions.

Charlotte wiped her sleeve over her damp eyes and returned to her sisters.

“It’s only your second day,” Tessa was saying. She stood up and wiped her hands together. The soil sprinkled to the ground. “You’re worse than me. At least I can go more than a day without getting in trouble.”

Rosie smiled. “So, Hannah, how many marks do you have on your deportment card?”

“Just the two from today. I’m telling you, Rosie, it’s much harder than it was in operators’ class. I tried not to look around, but everything is so new and fascinating.”

“I bet Miss Frogge almost croaked.” Tessa giggled and patted the earth around the second rosebush.

“You’re incorrigible, Tessa.” Hannah dug the final hole for their mother’s yellow tea roses.

Tessa moved to Hannah’s side and loosened the soil in the bottom with her gloved fingers. Charlotte handed her the burlap-wrapped plant. After removing the string securing the burlap, Tessa examined the plant.

Rosie leaned down for a closer look. “That one looks dead.”

“It’s not dead. It’s dormant, and early spring is the best time to transplant them.” Tessa tucked the plant in the opening and filled the hole with water. “After this water soaks in, we’ll fill the hole again before we add the soil. The extra moisture will give it a good chance at taking root.”

When the water had seeped into the dirt, Tessa refilled the hole. Charlotte fought the urge to laugh. How odd it was to see four people standing around a hole watching the water soak in. After Tessa added soil to the hole, she created a mound, shielding the
young plant from drying out. She then took out a pair of sharp scissors.

“Why are you cutting the branches?” Rosie asked.

Tessa made an angled snip above a bud. “They’re canes, not branches, and the plant will do better if they’re only about eight inches long.”

“Tessa is our plant girl.” Hannah tapped the shovel against the ground to remove the dirt.

“And Charlotte cooks.” Rosie collected her mother’s shovel and rake. “So, Hannah, what’s your specialty?”

Charlotte giggled. “Bossing us around.”

“Speaking of bossy, look who’s coming.” Tessa tipped her head toward the sidewalk. “Georgie Porgie.”

“Don’t call him that.” Charlotte turned to see George sauntering up the sidewalk, wearing his baseball uniform. Charlotte’s heart skipped. He looked so handsome!

He glanced at Charlotte and tipped his cap. Did his heart do a jig at the sight of her like hers did when she’d spotted him?

“Hey, Lottie, come to my game.” He leaned over the fence. “I want you there to cheer for me.”

Charlotte turned to Hannah but found a frown marring her sister’s face.

Please, please, please, Lord, let her say yes.

“Oh, go on and have fun.” Hannah made a shooing motion with her hand. “We’ll finish up here.” She leaned closer and whispered in Charlotte’s ear, “But remember how special you are, and make sure he’s worthy of you.”

Charlotte’s face heated. Anger, pleasure, and confusion mingled inside her. Having Hannah remind her she was special was sweet, but why did she say the rest? George was worthy. He was handsome and athletic. Why did it feel like Hannah was implying George wasn’t good enough?

With a wave of her hand, she hurried to join George.

After all, he didn’t like to wait.

On her third day at the Iowa Telephone Company, Hannah stepped off the elevator with confidence and went to gather her headset. The assurance in her steps contrasted with the turmoil in her thoughts.

Charlotte had come home after the ball game full of “George did this” and “George did that.” After the game, he’d officially asked her to be his girl, but he hadn’t even taken the time to walk her home. How long would it take Charlotte to see George the way Hannah did?

If Hannah was honest with herself, she’d admit Charlotte wasn’t the only person creating turmoil inside her. Ever since the lake experience with Lincoln, she couldn’t get his words off her mind. He’d asked her to take a risk on him. Had she agreed? Perhaps she had—sort of.

But there was nothing solid. She could easily explain it was a misunderstanding, but did she want to? If she could only get him to stay out of her thoughts, she could truly think this through. He had a way of sticking his nose into everything. And to make matters worse, her sisters had become his greatest champions. Was she the only person with enough sense to see that she and Lincoln were from two different worlds?

Hannah glanced at the clock. Good. She’d arrived early enough to make a quick stop in the reading room. Maybe that would help turn her thoughts toward something other than a certain attorney. A strong, handsome, thoughtful attorney.

Stop that. Think about something else. Airplanes, laws, Walt—anything except Lincoln Cole.

In the operators’ parlor, she avoided the scrapbookers and slipped into the reading room. After reading the spine of each book on the maple shelves, her gaze rested on a set of three blue volumes. Her pulse raced.

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