An Inconvenient Match (8 page)

Compared to Seth Collier, Wade had lived a life of ease. He tried to relieve some of the financial burden by paying Seth for his help in the shop, but Wade wanted to do more.

Knowing what to do was the difficulty. Rafe Collier wouldn’t take a handout, would as soon turn a shotgun on anyone coming on his property to—as he saw it—interfere with how he raised his son. While in reality Seth raised himself.

“Want me to talk to your father?”

“No, sir.”

An uncomfortable quiet settled between them.

“I’ve been thinking—we could use a stable hand. The pay is good.” He studied Seth’s face. “The job would mean living above the carriage house.”

Seth shook his head. “Can’t leave my pa.”

Loyal to his father—a man who barely functioned and surely didn’t appreciate what he had in this boy. “The offer stands if you change your mind.”

Seth straightened and met Wade’s gaze. “Would you make me your apprentice? Teach me to be a cabinetmaker?” Words poured out of the boy with the force of an underground spring. “I know I’m asking a lot since I’ve got no money to pay you.”

At the prospect of teaching Seth the trade, of sharing what he’d learned with someone captivated with woodworking, a spark of excitement took hold of Wade. What better way to help the boy?

“That’s a great idea. I plan to open a shop. Not a factory per se since no two pieces would be alike. I’d create the design and handle detailed work like inlays, veneers and carving. I’d teach you to handle basic construction and finishes. Then later you could try your hand at more intricate work.” His voice rose with excitement. “You’d be a big help. I’d pay you.”

A wide smile took over Seth’s face. “I’ll be your first employee. I’ll quit school. Work full-time—”

“What gibberish are you planting in this boy’s head?” Abby stood in the open door, eyes steely, cold and turned on Wade. “Hasn’t your family destroyed enough lives?” Her fisted hands tangled in her skirts as if the fabric were the neck of a chicken about to be wrung. “I won’t let you destroy Seth’s.”

Heat sizzled through Wade’s veins. A Wilson couldn’t have a rational reaction to any idea stamped with a Cummings’s approval. “How can you accuse me of trying to harm this boy?”

Eyes downcast, Seth dropped the emery cloth and stepped away from the buffet. “I need to get home,” he mumbled then sped past his teacher.

As soon as he fled the shop, Abigail reeled on Wade. “Now look what you’ve done!”

“Look at what
I’ve
done? You’re the one upsetting that boy with that ridiculous claim I’m trying to harm him.” Wade’s long strides swallowed the distance between them. He stopped mere inches from her skirts, catching the scent of roses, feminine, delicate—at odds with this strong-minded female. “Anyone can plainly see I’m trying to help him.”

“By suggesting he quit school?”

“That’s his idea, not mine. I don’t condone—”

“Surely you can see this apprenticeship would be a mistake.”

“Mistake? To learn a trade with good pay and a promising future? Hardly.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her.

Slapping hands on hips, she leaned closer until they were inches apart. He’d never noticed the little flecks of gray in her eyes before. Gunmetal gray. Shooting him down. Or trying to.

“You’re luring one of my best students away from getting his high school diploma and a chance for higher education.”

“I’m doing no such thing. Seth helps out after school a few afternoons a week. He’s shown the interest and aptitude of a craftsman.”

“With your family’s wealth behind you, you can risk a new venture. But Seth has no resources to ensure his future other than an excellent mind. I won’t let you waste his potential.”

Wade’s pulse hammered in his temples to an unrelenting beat. “Are you insinuating woodworking is squandering one’s intelligence?”

She glanced away. “Well, no, but Seth’s really smart. Capable of much more than—”

“Than what?” Wade tried to tamp down the frustration roiling inside him and failed. “Working with his hands!” He raised his palms. “Do these calluses disgust you? Are you so biased toward education you have no respect for physical labor? No respect for a skilled craftsman?”

She stood mute, face flushed, eyes shimmering like sparklers on the Fourth of July. She’d never been more infuriating. Or looked more beautiful.

Every drop of his anger evaporated, leaving him with a sudden insight he couldn’t stomach. This woman he’d cared about, this lovely, intelligent, capable woman was…exactly like his father. “Well, God has given some of us the desire—the gift—to create something beautiful, yet functional.”

“You can’t see the forest for the trees. No one job can provide security. I can’t imagine what would have become of my family if a teacher hadn’t encouraged me to pursue higher education. Seth needs to get out of that house. College will prepare him for whatever the future brings.”

“Attending college isn’t a solution for Seth. He needs to make money, not put his life on hold while he gets a degree.”

“That he needs money is Rafe’s fault. Once Seth escapes his father’s influence, he’ll make a good life for himself. Iowa State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts trains students in engineering, veterinary medicine. The University of Iowa provides instruction for lawyers, doctors—many professions.”

“How do you suggest Seth pay college expenses?”

“Well, he couldn’t go to Harvard like you did,” she sputtered, “but state residents don’t pay tuition.”

“What about money for clothing, travel home and textbooks?”

“He can work in the summer as I did. If money’s available to help students from impoverished families, I’ll find it.”

“Have you chosen his wife?”

Her nostrils flared. “What are you talking about?”

“Appears to me you’ve laid out Seth’s entire life. Might as well pick his bride.”

Splotches of red stained her cheeks. “I’ve done no such thing. I just want to do what’s best for Seth.”

“You think you know that boy and what’s best for him. Seth loves working with wood as much as I do.”

A look of disdain flashed across her face, quickly controlled but unmistakable, as exasperating as an account that wouldn’t balance.

Every muscle in Wade’s body tensed. “Not just anyone can make the kind of furniture you see in this shop.” He swept his arm around the room. “The quality of my work takes practice, patience and respect for wood.”

Her gaze traveled the buffet, the highboy, the table and chairs. “Your furniture is beautiful, but Seth is bright—”

“What does that make me?” Wade ground out between clenched teeth.

She took a step back. “I, ah…I don’t mean to be insulting. Obviously you’re intelligent. You graduated from Harvard, one of the finest colleges in the country. The very reason I’d think you’d understand my position. Education is the best assurance of happiness in this life.”

“Are you happy, Abby?”

A flicker of unease dimmed her eyes. “I’m concerned for Lois’s family but I’m content.”

Whether she admitted it or not, Abby was far from happy. She served the community at church and in the classroom, she took care of her family, did all she could to make the lives of others better—even to the point of meddling—but inside she had a hollow spot that needed filling.

He ought to know. He had the same.

With a gust of air, he exhaled, releasing his frustration or trying to. “You mean well, but you don’t know Seth Collier—at all.”

“I saw Seth every day in English class. And you see him, what? A couple times a week?”

“What I know didn’t take long to understand. Seth won’t leave his father to go off to college somewhere.”

“We’ll see about that. But first, he needs to finish high school. Surely you agree about the importance of that diploma.”

“Of course, Seth should finish school. Today’s the first I’d heard of his plan to quit.”

“Why not admit you’re using Seth?”

She’d gone too far. Wade jabbed an index finger her way. “I’d never use that boy. I pay a wage for the work he does. I can’t pay much until I get the shop off the ground, but I’d never take advantage of him. Of anyone.”

The cold chill of her eyes slithered through him. That chill told him she believed he’d taken advantage of her. Toyed with her affection. That’s what this was really about. What defense could he give without hurting her more?

She took a step back. “You’re using Seth to accomplish what you can’t do alone. Well, this time you Cummingses won’t win.”

She whirled toward the door. Before she crossed the threshold she looked back at him, eyes issuing a challenge. “I’ll see that Seth gets a college education if it’s the last thing I do.”

Wade wouldn’t allow Abby to force her will on that boy. “If that’s not what Seth wants, then it looks like we’re going to be butting heads.” He motioned to the hat she wore. “I hope that chapeau of yours is lined with steel.”

“I plan on using my brain, not brawn. You might want to give that a try,” she said, smiling sweetly. Then with that last jab to his pride, she flounced out the door.

Leaving him to grapple with the truth. Abby wanted to save Seth from the fate of being just like him. That she held him and his dream in contempt knotted in Wade’s stomach.

No matter what she thought of him, how little she held him and his vocation in esteem, Abigail Wilson would soon learn she’d thrown down the gauntlet to exactly the wrong man.

Chapter Six

A
bigail stalked off the Cummings property, every muscle in her body rigid. To deal with George Cummings was bad enough. He’d ruined her father, killing him as surely as if he’d driven a stake through his heart.

But to learn Wade tried to tie Seth, her most promising student, to the youngster’s hand-to-mouth existence lit the wick of temper lurking inside her.

How could Wade take advantage of a boy struggling for the necessities of life?

She could understand that Seth would see an apprenticeship as a solution to his problems. That thinking was shortsighted. How likely was it that Wade’s new venture would succeed? Few people in town could afford expensive furniture. Seth would abandon a high school education for a risky undertaking, losing the chance to attend college.

Heat slid through her veins. She wouldn’t allow such foolishness. Yet what could she do to stop it?

Talking to Seth’s father, a loner who never allowed anyone on his property, was impossible. She’d talk to Seth. But what if the boy wouldn’t listen? He’d shown no sign of wanting to hear her out. Instead he’d dashed out of the shop, avoiding her eyes, avoiding her guidance. As much as she wanted to track Seth down and convince him that she had his true welfare at heart, he’d probably gone home. She couldn’t do anything tonight.

With everything bottled up inside, if Abigail didn’t talk to someone, she’d explode. Her family would take her side but even admitting she’d spent a single day under the Cummingses’ roof would open wounds.

The Fisher house came into view. This morning, Abigail had promised to stop at Rachel’s. Her best friend would understand.

At Abigail’s knock, Rachel opened the door, a welcoming smile on her face. “I thought you’d never get here.” Mouthwatering aromas from the kitchen permeated the house, pulling Abigail in as surely as her friend’s tugging hands. “Can you stay for supper? Papa’s already eaten and off framing houses.”

Was he working on Lois’s house? After a hard day at work, Mr. Fisher had to be tired. Once her father had lost the farm, he hadn’t possessed the energy to come to the table much less help someone in need. “You’ve got a great dad, Rachel.”

Nodding, Rachel smiled. “Please say you’ll stay.”

That morning, Abigail had mentioned she planned to stop at Rachel’s. Her mother wouldn’t worry. “I’d love to.”

As they walked to the kitchen, they passed the homey parlor Abigail could describe with her eyes closed. Not one knickknack or furnishing had been changed since Lily Fisher’s death.

The kitchen’s butter-yellow walls, white curtains, oak icebox, table and cupboards invited visitors to linger. A bone china teapot, a reminder of Rachel’s mother’s English ancestry, presided over the round oak table. Her bibbed floral apron hung on a hook, an apron Rachel had grown into.

At nine years of age, Rachel had lost her mother to cancer. Abigail had lost her father at nineteen. In reality she’d lost him the year she turned thirteen and they were forced off the farm. Pa grew morose and kept to his room. Ma was hired on at the canning factory and came home exhausted. Abby and Lois did what they could to make life easier for their mother. And tried to keep their voices down so as not to disturb their pa.

One good thing came from that difficult time. She and Rachel became inseparable. Both knew the heartache of losing a parent. Both dealt with realities forcing them to grow up fast. Rachel became the family homemaker and Abigail became the family breadwinner. If sometimes those roles pinched like too-tight shoes, they shared the strain with each other, shielding the surviving parent from their struggles.