Buckeye Dreams (56 page)

“Were they able to help him?”

Peter brought Spice to a stop, forcing Anne to do so as well. She felt his gloved hand lift her chin, and she looked into his stern but gentle face.

“I know what you want to do,” he said. “I don’t mind taking you to see him. But I won’t do it until you tell your uncle that you know. No more sneaking around.”

She nodded. She’d have to write to her father’s doctor then. But Peter’s words had sent her determination wavering again like a leaf caught by the wind. He was willing to visit her father? He didn’t mind?
Father, I’m so confused. What should I do?
The answer laid on her heart only confused her further. No, it wasn’t possible.

She was still pondering it when they got back to the stable. Once they had Spice settled in her stall, Peter brought out the grooming bucket. He smiled at Anne and handed it to her. She took it and gazed at it reflectively. Would this be the last time she’d do this? Or not? She looked at Peter.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She started to work but winced as she found how hard it was to groom Spice today. She usually wore a simple skirt and shirtwaist when she worked in the stable. But the dress she wore now draped around her front, its bustle brushing the sides of the stable. Not to mention the sleeves were quite snug. She glanced at Peter. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do it. I’m not dressed for this.”

He grinned at her. “You do look as if you stepped right out of a fashion plate.” He took the brush. “But then you look lovely no matter what you wear.”

It took a full minute for her to organize her thoughts again. Once they were set to rights, she watched Peter groom Spice. He had an easy smile on his face.

“You look content,” she said.

“I am.” He gave Spice’s coat one more swipe with a soft cloth, put it back in the bucket, and carried it out of the stall. He leaned against the door frame. “I’m very happy with where the Lord ended up leading me.”

Her brows rose at his wording. “Where He ‘ended up’ leading you?”

“When I first came to Columbus and gave my life to Christ, I thought God wanted me to be a true ‘new creation,’ leaving behind everything from my old life.” He rubbed Spice’s nose. “I didn’t think He would lead me to work with horses again.” His eyes locked on to hers. “And I never thought He’d lead me to you.”

Everything in the world fell away as she lost herself in the passionate green of his eyes. He reached out, toying maddeningly with one of the ringlets at the base of her neck before stroking her cheek with the back of his thumb. Cupping her face in one hand, he wrapped his other around her waist and pulled her closer. A roguish grin gently played across his face before his lips finally found hers.

Nothing else existed except the soft warmth of his lips, the faint scent of shaving soap, and the gentle pressure of his hand on her waist. Everything she ever wanted was in this moment, and she didn’t want it to end. She refused to open her eyes when he lifted his head. She clung to him, their foreheads still touching.

“Anne,” he whispered.

This time she kissed him, her hands buried in his chocolate-brown hair. Something prodded her at the back of her mind, something she should be remembering, something important. But the sweet forgetfulness of his kiss drove it far from her thoughts, until he finally raised his head again.

“Anne, I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “Nothing else matters.”

Sudden and painful remembrance gripped her heart and nearly stopped it. She backed away, her eyes rapidly filling with tears. Peter’s face, full of shock and confusion, only added to her pain.

“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t do this again. I’m sorry.”

She turned and ran from the stable, not stopping until she’d reached her room.

T
he words danced in front of Peter’s eyes for the millionth time since he’d found the letters lying in the straw in Spice’s stall.

He’d started after her then stopped himself. Mrs. Werner would wonder what was going on if she saw him chasing Anne from the barn to the house. He walked back inside and found Spice pawing at something and discovered two letters addressed to Anne Wells, care of the university library. He was more than willing to obey the nudge he felt God giving him to open them.

The first was the letter from the asylum. The other one, from some school district in Kansas, offered Anne a position teaching school as soon as she could make the arrangements. He shook his head at himself. Why hadn’t he seen it? He knew that because of her father she didn’t feel worthy of someone’s love but hadn’t imagined she’d take it this far. No wonder she wanted to go to the asylum again. She needed to talk to her father’s doctor.

Peter rose from the bench near the harness room and ran his hands through his hair. He had to tell Dr. Kirby. He had no choice. She’d be angry, that was certain, but she’d get over it. There was no way on earth he was going to let her do this.

The stable door opened and Dr. Kirby walked in. He smiled at Peter, but it quickly faded.

“What is it?” Dr. Kirby looked toward Spice, who dozed in her stall. “Where’s Anne?”

Saying nothing, Peter handed the professor the letters he’d found.

The more the professor read, the graver his face became. He looked at Peter. “You knew about this?”

“About her natural father, yes, but I had no idea she was making plans to take him and head out West.” He explained how Anne had found out about her father. “Why does she feel the need to leave? I know most people can be unkind about things like this but—” He stopped at the look on Dr. Kirby’s face. “What is it?”

Dr. Kirby motioned him toward the bench. “You should probably sit down, son.”

On Christmas Eve, Peter stood at the mirror in the professor’s room, tying one of his famous four-in-hand knots. When he finished, he stepped back and looked at himself. He hadn’t worn such fine clothes in—had it really been only months? It felt like years. He shrugged into the frock coat he’d borrowed from the professor and turned to face him. The professor stood just behind him, a small smile on his face.

“You know this is ridiculous, don’t you? It’s never going to work.”

“Yes it will,” the professor said, adjusting his own tie. He pulled at his vest to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles and brushed at his coat. “We should get downstairs. My family will be arriving soon.”

Peter sighed and followed him down the stairs. He shouldn’t have let the professor talk him into this. He certainly had a better understanding now of just why Anne felt she had to leave, but the solution Dr. Kirby had suggested—
Having me propose to her? In front of her family? Wouldn’t telling her pa make more sense?

They reached the bottom of the stairs and walked into the parlor. A yet-undecorated Christmas tree stood in the corner near the front window, and bunches of holly and fir boughs lined the mantel. But Peter’s eyes noticed only Anne, who stood in front of the tree.

Despite that it was Christmas Eve, when he saw her, all he could think of was autumn. With her deep green dress, red hair, and doe-brown eyes, she looked like fall in all its magnificent glory. He’d never seen her so beautiful, yet the picture was marred by the way she looked at the tree. She had that sad, wistful look in her eyes again, and if it hadn’t been for the professor adjusting the logs in the fire, he would’ve yanked her into his arms and kissed her until that look vanished. He walked over to her, hands clasped tightly behind him.

“Your uncle tells me your parents are bringing more decorations,” he said. He’d helped Mrs. Werner bring down Dr. Kirby’s small crate of decorations the other day. It sat on the floor next to the tree.

She turned to him, her eyes widening. There was no mistaking the admiring look in them as she took in his appearance, but she quickly looked away, as if remembering herself.

“Yes,” she replied. “We’ll start as soon as they arrive.” She turned her head toward him but didn’t look up. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Ward, I better go see if Mrs. Werner needs my help with anything.”

Peter frowned as she left the room. He was
Mr. Ward again?
“This is hopeless.”

“Why Peter, I never knew you to be so faithless,” the professor said, checking his pocket watch against the time displayed on the mantel clock.

“I have plenty of faith in God, sir, just not in this plan.”

Dr. Kirby snapped shut his watch. “Don’t worry. ‘All things work together for good to them that love God.’” Outside, a carriage pulled up, and he walked to the window. “It’s my brother and sister-in-law.”

Peter followed the professor to the entrance in the parlor and watched as he opened the door and greeted them. He was relieved to see that Jonah Kirby appeared much more pleasant in person. The stern picture of him from the professor’s mantel had haunted him ever since Dr. Kirby suggested this crazy plan. His wife and Millie, Anne’s sister, accompanied him. A lanky young man with a shock of brown hair, who could only be her brother, Jacob, completed the group.

“How are you all, Jonah?” the professor asked, slapping him on the back. “How was your trip?”

“Fine.” He handed his coat to his brother. “Are you too high and mighty to hang this up for me?” It must have been an old joke between them, because Dr. Kirby laughed.

“Jonah, don’t treat your brother so,” Mrs. Kirby said, smiling. She took the coat from the professor, and she and Anne’s sister hung their wraps on the coat tree.

“Let me introduce you to someone,” Dr. Kirby said and led them over to where Peter stood. “This is Mr. Peter Ward.”

Mr. Kirby and his wife seemed startled for a moment.

“How do you do, sir?” Peter held out his hand, glancing at the professor, but Dr. Kirby simply smiled.

Mr. Kirby blinked then took his hand. “I’m well, thank you.” He turned to his wife. “This is my wife, Mrs. Adele Kirby.”

Mrs. Kirby’s eyes were wide as she shook his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Ward.”

Dr. Kirby introduced Anne’s sister, Millie, and her brother, Jacob. As he finished, Anne came down the hall from the kitchen. She smiled when she saw her family.

“Ma, Pa,” she said, hugging each of them. Noticing Peter, her smile faded a fraction. “I see you’ve met Mr. Ward.”

“Yes.” Mr. Kirby eyed him carefully and Peter found himself looking at his feet.

“I’m sure he and Jacob will have a lot to discuss this evening,” Anne said pointedly. She gave Peter a meaningful, almost pleading, glance before taking her mother’s arm. “Mrs. Werner is in the kitchen, Ma. She’s eager to meet you and Millie.”

“Take Millie with you for now, Anne,” Dr. Kirby said. “I need to speak with your ma and pa for a moment.”

“Sir,” Peter said with rising alarm as the two young women left for the kitchen. “Don’t you think—”

“Peter, why don’t you take Jacob into the parlor?” Dr. Kirby interjected. “If you recall, he has some questions for you.” He led his brother and sister-in-law into the sitting room across the hall and slid the doors shut behind him.

Peter looked at Jacob, who grinned at him.

“Uncle Daniel says you’re a horse expert. What do you know about Percherons?”

Unfortunately, Peter knew little about the breed, but he was able to give Jacob a wealth of information about horse care.

“I haven’t quite decided whether to commit to raising them,” Jacob said. “I’ve talked to some people at Grange meetings, and now you. I hope to make a decision in the next few months.”

“Let me know if I can help again.” Peter’s gaze wandered to the parlor door. He could just see the closed doors to the sitting room. What were they talking about? Dr. Kirby said this evening would be a surprise for Anne’s parents.

“It’s sad what happened with Scioto,” Jacob said.

“Yes, I wish there had been more I could have done,” Peter replied.

“How has my uncle been about it? And my sister? Uncle Daniel’s letter to Pa was very brief.”

Peter nodded. “They’re doing pretty well. I’m sure you couldn’t have heard yet about Dr. Townshend’s Christmas gift to them.” He told Jacob about Spice.

“Dr. Townshend is a good man,” Jacob said, smiling broadly.

The sitting room doors opened and Peter swallowed, anticipating the look of disapproval sure to be on Mr. and Mrs. Kirby’s faces. After all, he had hardly a penny to his name. How was he supposed to support Anne? But when they came into the parlor, they smiled at him, seeming curiously pleased. He tried to get Dr. Kirby’s attention, but the professor ignored him.

“Well, if we are to decorate the tree before dinner, we’d better get started,” Dr. Kirby said.

Mrs. Kirby went to the kitchen and gathered Anne, Millie, and Mrs. Werner while Mr. Kirby brought in their box of decorations from the vestibule.

They clipped candleholders onto the branches, strung beads, and tied bows all over the tree. In spite of his nervousness, Peter enjoyed it. Granddad had been generous in his gift giving, but they’d never had a Christmas tree. He reached up to hang a little toy drum and found himself standing very close to Anne. He looked down at her.