Winnie Griggs (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
he next morning, Daisy hummed as she made breakfast. Today she felt well and truly married. And she had hope that their life together could be as marvelous as God intended for a proper marriage to be.

Everett had said such wonderful things to her last night, had made her feel so cherished and special. She hadn’t known he could be so gentle, so tender.

Then she grinned. He would probably be affronted by such descriptors. But the cynic had a soft side, and she’d seen it now.

She heard Everett exit the bedchamber and glanced over her shoulder to give him a smile. “Breakfast will be ready in two shakes.”

He returned her smile with a very self-satisfied one of his own. “No need to hurry on my account. I’ll have a cup of coffee while I’m waiting.”

Abigail padded into the kitchen from the other side of the building, Kip trailing behind. “Something smells good. Do you need any help getting it on the table?” Then she looked from one to the other of them. “Well, you two certainly seem in a good mood this morning. What’s going on?”

Daisy felt her cheeks grow warm, but tried to keep her tone nonchalant. “And what’s not to be happy about? It’s a beautiful day outside, and we’re all healthy and well provided for in here. Besides, aren’t you opening your library this morning?”

Suitably distracted, Abigail began chattering excitedly about her plans for the library’s opening day.

But Daisy caught the look Everett gave her, the one meant only for her, and the happy humming continued in her soul.

* * *

Everett headed downstairs right after breakfast, the smile still on his lips. Who would have thought being a family man could feel so fulfilling? Daisy, with her generous heart and sweet courage, had definitely opened his eyes to the good things to be found in his current situation.

Maybe she’d been right about other things, as well.

But for now he needed to put aside all those less-than-productive musings. He had a lot of work to do—the paper was scheduled to go out in the morning.

Everett worked steadily until midmorning, when Lionel stopped by to deliver the bundle of newspapers that had come in for him on the morning train.

Once he was alone again, Everett absently sorted through the various editions, more focused on the sound of Daisy’s humming than the headlines. He decided it had a happier-than-usual, very satisfied ring to it this morning.

Then he straightened as he found an envelope addressed to him mixed in with the papers. He opened it, and immediately his focus narrowed to what he held in his hands. This was it—what he’d been waiting for all these months—an offer from a large newspaper concerning a reporter position. They wanted him to spend three weeks working on staff with the understanding that, if they liked his work, the job was his.

Which meant the job
was
his. He knew he could pull this off.

St. Louis might not be the location he would have chosen for his comeback, but it was a good, solid step on the road there. Finally, he could get back in the game and take his rightful place. He could shake the dust of this backwater from his shoes.

He climbed the stairs, wanting to share the good news with Daisy. She might still have a few qualms about moving, but surely she’d be happy for him and get over that soon enough.

He found her alone in the kitchen. Abigail was no doubt in her library.

“Oh, hi,” she said when she saw him.

There was a new softness in her smile, a lightness in her tone that made him feel ten feet tall. They were closer now—surely that would make it easier for her to understand. “I have some good news.”

Her smile broadened. “What is it?”

“The editor from the
St. Louis Banner Dispatch
has asked me to try out for a reporter position.”

He hadn’t truly expected her to jump for joy at the news, but neither had he expected the flash of utter dismay he saw in her expression before she suppressed it.

He tried again. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. It’s not Philadelphia, but it’s a definite step up from Turnabout.”

She made a sharp gesture with her hand. “Don’t say it like that. There’s nothing wrong with Turnabout.” She took a deep breath. “And anyway, bigger doesn’t necessarily mean better.”

He ignored that comment. “Accepting this position will mean we can move to a city with many of the amenities Turnabout is lacking. And I can return to being a reporter, not a typesetter and press operator.”

Her expression turned wistful. “But we’re happy here, aren’t we?”

He took her hands, hoping the physical connection would help her understand. “And we can be just as happy in St. Louis.”

She didn’t pull away. Rather, she gave his hands a squeeze of her own. “Think about everything you’ll be leaving behind—dear friends, a home that we’ve made our own, the
Gazette.
The people in Turnabout have come to expect the newspaper twice a week. Not only that, some folks have even said they’re looking forward to that restaurant I want to open someday. How can we leave all of this behind?”

Did she truly understand so little about him? “We’ll make new friends. Someone else will step up to take over the
Gazette.
I’ll even train them. And we’ll live in a finer home—one that you can furnish and decorate however you like.”

Her lips set in a stubborn line. “I don’t want a finer home. I’m happy with this one.” She took a breath. “Say we do move—then what? Is St. Louis just another stepping stone for you? As soon as you find a more prestigious job in a bigger city, will we move again?”

Best to get this all out now. “Perhaps. But moving is nothing new to you. I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this.”

“I told you before we ever got married, I left my father partly because I wanted to set down roots.”

“It’s not as if we’ll be itinerant drifters. The only time we’ll move will be when we can improve our situation.”

He felt her stiffen at his use of the phrase
itinerant drifters,
and she slowly withdrew her hands.

“Improve it by your definition, you mean.”

“By any reasonable person’s definition.”

“So now I’m not a reasonable person?”

“In this particular instance, no.”

He saw her struggle for control as she took another deep breath. But her next words were said civilly enough. “And what about Abigail? Will you keep uprooting her, too?”

He frowned. “Of course not. As we discussed yesterday, she’ll go back to Miss Haversham’s to finish up her education. Once she’s graduated, she will, of course, live with us until she finds a suitable husband.”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “A
suitable
husband? What does that mean?”

“It means that her husband should be a man who can take care of her and provide for her both financially and socially in the manner that she deserves.” This conversation seemed to be going down all the wrong paths.

Her expression settled into one of sadness and disappointment. “You still don’t understand, do you? Being happy isn’t tied to things or to status. It’s tied to loving and being loved.”

Everett tried to take back control of the conversation. “The matter of my sister’s future husband is one we can discuss at another time. Of more immediate importance is the fact that I’ve already decided to take this position. I’ll leave for St. Louis on tomorrow’s train and go through the three-week trial period. Afterward, once the offer is official, I’ll come back to settle affairs here and take you and Abigail away from this place.”

She met his gaze steadily, her lips set in a firm line. “And if I don’t want to go?”

Would she really take such a stand? But he couldn’t let her see how desperately he wanted her to accompany him—he would never beg, not even of her. “Then that will be your choice. I’ve already made mine.”

* * *

Daisy returned to the stove as Everett stiffly marched down the stairs. How could her world have changed from such sweet joy this morning to such bitter disappointment now?

How could Everett be so blind to what was right in front of him? There was such richness and sweetness to this life if he would but take hold of it. Did his ambitions, his need to prove himself someone far superior to the castoff his parents had treated him as, have that great a hold on him?

If only she could believe that this move would be enough to satisfy him, to make him content to finally settle down. But she had seen the hunger for bigger and better in his face as he talked about what the move meant to him.

God, I know I should praise You in life’s valleys as well as its mountaintops, but sometimes it’s just so hard to follow through on that. Help me to see Your purpose in this, or if I can’t, to at least make peace with the circumstances by remembering it is in Your hands.

The prayer settled the churning in her gut somewhat, but there still remained one big unanswered question.

Should she stay or go?

* * *

Predictably, Abigail did not take the news well. She protested that she’d just opened her library and it was already doing well. She warned that she would run away again if Everett sent her back to school. She pleaded that she couldn’t bear to leave her new friends. And she cried over the idea of being separated from Daisy and Everett.

But to Daisy, the most telling of her protests came when she asked Everett what she had done to make him want to send her away.

Through it all, Everett kept saying it was what was best for her and that if she could stick with it for just one more year, then she would be done with it once and for all. He also pointed out that learning to finish what one started was a valuable lesson that would stand her in good stead throughout her life.

Daisy found herself caught between the two of them, though her heart was in Abigail’s corner. She did her best to comfort the girl and promised there would be lots of correspondence and that the number of visits, in both directions, would increase.

Everett raised a brow at that, but she looked him straight in the eye, silently challenging him to contradict her.

In the end, he shrugged and let her promises stand.

* * *

That evening, they worked together to get the newspaper ready to go out. While they still worked smoothly together, Daisy found none of the joy in it that she had before.

When she saw the small notice he’d made for the front page, stating the printing of future issues of the
Gazette
would be temporarily suspended, she protested. “I think I’ve learned enough to get the
Gazette
out for you while you’re away.”

He raised a brow at that. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not really necessary. I’ll start putting out feelers for a new owner—I know several individuals who might be interested. Once I return, we can settle the matter and then the paper can resume.”

“I
want
to do this. Granted, I won’t be able to put out as substantial an issue, and my articles won’t be as well crafted as yours, but I can manage to get something acceptable out.” She raised her chin up a notch. “Wasn’t it you who said running a newspaper is making a promise to your patrons that they can count on you to deliver what they want to read about, week in and week out?”

He studied her thoughtfully. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. And Abigail can help me. It’ll give her something to occupy her mind with these next couple of weeks.”
And me, as well.

After another long moment of silence, he nodded. “Very well. I’ll change the notice to indicate it’ll be an abbreviated version while I am away.”

Feeling she’d won a much-needed victory, Daisy went back to work, determined to quiz him on all of the aspects of his job she was still fuzzy on. That, too, would give them something less emotional to focus on for the rest of the evening.

Chapter Twenty-Five

E
verett left his hotel room and headed for the
Banner Dispatch
office. The latest copy of the
Turnabout Gazette
had arrived yesterday, and he’d pored over it. Daisy was doing a surprisingly good job keeping it going. And her voice was coming through loud and clear in the stories. It was almost as if she stood beside him discussing these local happenings. The stories she printed had more of a down-to-earth, colloquial tone than the stories he’d written, but he knew that they would be all the better received by the locals for it. There was less outside news in it than what he normally included, but what she did include was handled well.

She’d included a letter, and here, too, her voice shone through. It seemed Mrs. Humphries, mother of six, was expecting again, and Lionel, down at the train depot, had hired Noah Foster to help out. She also reported that Eileen Pierce, a widow with something of a notorious reputation, had stopped by to see if Abigail would purchase some of her books to place in the library. That had given him some pause, but Daisy, in her typically generous fashion, had said it appeared the widow needed money but was too proud to ask, so she’d given Abigail the money to make the purchase. There was also some personal news.

Her father had arrived in Turnabout a couple of days ago. All of Everett’s protective urges surfaced, and he keenly regretted that he’d not been by her side to face the man.

But there was no hint that this had been a difficult encounter for her. In fact, she’d invited her father to move into the spare bedroom at their home, with the understanding that he was welcome to stay, so long as he didn’t drink or gamble. Still, Everett knew how deeply Daisy loved the man, which meant she could so easily be hurt again.

But soon this interview period would be over, and he could be with her again. Tomorrow would mark the end of the three-week trial run. And all indications were that he had succeeded. He and the senior editor had had a long talk when he arrived about what happened in Philadelphia. Everett hadn’t attempted to sugarcoat any of what had happened and his own culpability. But he’d also assured the man he’d learned from that mistake and that it had made him all the more zealous to get to the truth of a story.

Afterward, he’d been given a number of assignments—everything from covering minor social events to major breaking stories. And in every case he’d come through with flying colors—that wasn’t braggadocio, that was fact. He’d enjoyed those assignments, enjoyed being part of a larger newsroom again, enjoyed pursuing stories that were meatier than births and barn raisings, enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing his byline on a front-page story.

He’d also been in touch with Miss Haversham, and she had assured him that she was prepared to accept Abigail back right after Independence Day. Additionally, he’d found a nice townhouse that would be just right for him and Daisy to move into. The kitchen was furnished with a new stove, and the place had electricity and all the other amenities to be found in a big city. It even had a nice backyard that would be perfect for both her dog and her kitchen garden. In time, she could not only grow accustomed to it, but enjoy making the place her own.

Yes, everything was coming together perfectly.

So why wasn’t he more excited?

This was exactly what he’d hoped for and worked for since leaving Philadelphia, and it had happened faster than he’d dared believe it would.

But all of Daisy’s talk of friends and community and setting down roots had insinuated itself into his mind, into his very being. For all of his worldly polish, it was something he’d never had before, something he hadn’t really thought he’d needed.

Yet these past few weeks, when he’d come home to his empty apartment in the evenings, he’d had lots of time to think things over.

One of the things he realized, surprisingly, was that he missed having some messiness in his life, the kind of messiness Daisy and Abigail were so good at. Routines and orderliness were all well and good, but they were rather sterile and uninteresting if there was nothing to shake them up occasionally.

Another quite profound understanding hit when he realized that every time he sat down to a meal, he found himself pausing, waiting for Daisy to offer up her prayers of thanks. Those sincere, conversational, personal prayers, along with her everyday examples of forgiveness and grace, had also made their way into his being, had rekindled a spark he thought long dead. He found himself longing for the kind of relationship she had with God, the kind of relationship that was close and personal, not tied to some vague theology. And he was making progress with that. He’d begun reading his Bible again and offering up his own prayers.

Then other, smaller awarenesses hit. He found himself missing that daily chess match with Adam and the greetings on the street from people who really knew him. He found himself saddened at the thought of Abigail not being a part of his day-to-day life, at not being nearby when Adam and Reggie welcomed their new baby into the world. And if he were to be honest with himself, a small part of him even missed putting out the
Gazette
twice a week. When had his world changed? And why hadn’t he noticed it before now?

There was a question he needed to answer right now, though—while he was almost certain Daisy would follow him, did he really want to pull her away from everything she’d built for herself?

A peace settled over him as he realized the answer to that question.

So what was he waiting for?