Heart of Lies (27 page)

Preacher?

Grandest house in these parts?

Maddie stared at the house as Barker continued. “You’re out of luck if you were fixin’ to stay there — “ Harrison suddenly stopped and looked them over. “Why, you must be the pair Mrs. McCormick’s been waiting for. Special guests, she said. I nearly forgot all about it.”

As Tom collected their carpetbags, Maddie stared at the mansion again.

Special guests?

“Something you need, miss?” Barker asked. “A drink of water or a bottle of sarsaparilla after that long ride?”

“No,” she said absently, then forced a smile. “Thank you, though.”

“Well, you two enjoy your visit,” the storekeep said. “Stop by if you need anything at all.”

“We’ll do that.” Tom thanked the man. Holding both carpetbags, he extended his elbow. Maddie slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and together they started down the street.

“I can’t do this,” she mumbled.

“Maddie —”

“She’s married to a
preacher.”

“It will be fine. You’ll see.” He didn’t sound so sure.

“She’s not my sister.”

“Don’t be so afraid to believe you deserve something good.”

“She’s rich, Tom. She’s married to a
preacher,”
she repeated, then halted so abruptly the tug on his elbow caused him to drop her bag.

S
he had stopped in front of a building with gold script lettering on the window that read
The Glory Gazette
and in smaller print
Editor in Chief and Publisher, Hank Larson.
There was an empty bench below the window. Tom picked up Maddie’s bag and nodded toward the bench.

“Sit a minute, Maddie.”

He figured she would do anything to forestall the inevitable. He was right. She sat. He heard her sigh as she continued to stare at the imposing house at the far end of the street.

“This is no time for cold feet,” he said. Still, he couldn’t blame her.

“You’re not afraid of gators,” he reminded her, trying to lift her spirit.

“Alligators are predictable. Besides, I won’t be walking in there with a shotgun.”

“You weren’t afraid to take off through the countryside alone, to camp alone at night, or to lead me on a chase through the bayou. You can certainly find the courage to walk two blocks to meet a woman who might be your long-lost sister.”

She turned on him. “You said you were
confident
she
is
my sister.”

“I’m very confident.” So much so he wished he wasn’t.

“What if I am Megan Lane? What wealthy, preacher-marrying woman in her right mind would want to claim me as her sister?”

He wanted to say, “Let’s forget I started all of this nonsense and go home.” But since he could not make her love him, the best he could give her now was a chance at happiness.

A small bell just inside the newspaper office tinkled, drawing their attention as the door opened. Together they watched a man in
a checked suit and bowler hat step outside. He appeared to be near Tom’s age. Tom noted his ink-stained fingers and, when he turned, the brass sheriff’s star pinned to the lapel of his coat.

“I saw you folks through the window. I’m Hank Larson.” He extended his hand to Tom.

Tom stood and introduced himself and Maddie. The men shook hands.

“You’re editor in chief of the Gazette,” Tom said.

“Have we met?” The man’s smile was warm, his expression curious.

Tom indicated the window behind him. “It says so right there in big gold letters.”

Hank Larson laughed and Tom liked him immediately.

“It doesn’t say anything about you being sheriff, though,” Tom added.

“That’s because it’s only a temporary position. If you’re moving to Glory, maybe you’d be interested in taking over the job.”

“I’m definitely not interested.” Tom added, “We’ve come to visit the McCormicks.”

“That’s a shame,” Hank said, then quickly added, “Not about the visit, about you not moving here. We’re always looking for new folks to grow the town. The land office is offering some great real estate in the area in case you change your mind.” The editor looked at them each in turn. “Laura and Brand are good friends of mine and my wife, Amelia. I’d be happy to walk you down to the house.”

Tom felt Maddie’s hand tighten on his sleeve.

“We’ll be fine. But thank you.”

Hank pulled out his watch and checked the time. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, apologizing. “My wife is expecting me. Tell Laura and Brand that we’ll be there for Sunday supper tomorrow.” He paused a moment as realization dawned. “I expect you two have something to do with it being a special occasion.”

Tom could tell from Maddie’s panicked expression that the sooner he got her delivered to the McCormicks’s the better.

A
s soon as Hank Larson walked away, Tom picked up the carpetbags and offered Maddie his arm again. She hesitated but accepted. As they walked down the boardwalk she tried to concentrate on surroundings that were vastly different from everything she knew. A knot of cowpunchers rode down the street on spirited horses. A heavy wagon rumbled past. The driver whistled and gee-hawed to his team. A tumbleweed danced out from between two buildings and rolled across the street.

The air was cool and yet so dry she imagined the summer heat would surely bake the life out of a person. Living out on the edge of the world would take great strength of will. Despite her trepidation, she knew she was strong enough to weather anything. Still, Texas was so big, so raw, that it was overwhelming.

They reached the corner much too soon. They crossed the street and at the McCormicks’s place they passed a long curved drive leading to a carriage house in back.

Maddie’s attention was drawn to a side garden with a birdbath surrounded by a circle of rosebushes near the porch. A wooden swing beckoned beyond the white porch rail. She tried to imagine Laura McCormick sitting on the swing watching the birds.

Since Tom’s hands were full, Maddie opened the gate in the low picket fence and stepped aside as Tom carried the bags through.
They exchanged a smile. She was certain he meant to reassure her before they climbed the steps together.

The house looked freshly painted. There wasn’t a single chip in the high-gloss black on the trim and shutters. The white clapboards were pristine against the black woodwork. A shiny oak front door sported an oval window draped with an intricately woven lace curtain. The brass hardware gleamed.

Without warning, Dexter’s voice rang in Maddie’s head.

Lucky Maddie. Play your cards right and you’ll be set for life. This woman is looking for a long-lost sister, so oblige her. Give her what she wants. No harm in that. You’ll be doing her and yourself a favor.

She remembered what Betsy had said,
“God is handing you a chance to change your life once and for all.”

Had Betsy known all along she was Megan Lane? Was that why she had urged her to contact Tom?

Surely Betsy hadn’t been encouraging her to pretend to be someone she wasn’t.

Tom set down the bags and reached for the bell.

“Wait!” She grabbed his hand. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head. “No, Tom. Really.”

“You look beautiful. And excited. And nervous.”

“I shouldn’t be nervous.” She wished it was so. “I’m either her sister or I’m not. We’ll know in a moment.”

“You’re right. So smile.”

She tried to silence Dexter’s voice and pasted on a smile.

Tom rang the bell. Holding her breath, Maddie waited.

He rang it again a few seconds later. Suddenly they heard the sound of running footsteps inside accompanied by a child’s high pitched voice. “I’ll get it, Sam!”

“No you won’t! I’ll get it.” Another child.

There came the distinct sounds of a scuffle before the hem of the window curtain lifted, and Maddie saw two small faces peering up at them. Then came scrabbling for the doorknob. Finally the
door whipped opened to reveal a girl and a boy who appeared to be around eight and ten years old.

“Is your mother here?” Tom inquired. “We’ve come to see Mrs. McCormick.”

“She’s not our mother. She’s our stepmother,” the boy informed them.

“But we love her anyway.” The little girl planted her hands on her waist. She wore a starched pinafore. One strap had slipped off her shoulder. Her braids bobbed as she looked them over. “I’m Janie McCormick and this is my brother, Sam.”

“Could one of you tell Mrs. McCormick we’re here? Now?” he added when neither child moved.

Maddie gave Tom credit for his patience.

The boy, Sam, stepped back and hollered at the top of his lungs, “Laura! Pa! They’re here!”

Maddie looked over their heads into the entry hall furnished with a table, a hall tree with a fine beveled mirror, an umbrella stand full of umbrellas and a lovely lace parasol. The walls were covered in a dramatic pink-and-burgundy cabbage rose paper. A thick tasseled carpet runner hid most of the hardwood floor.

Suddenly a handsome man well over six feet tall with blond hair and a ready smile hurried into the entryway from a side room.

“Let them in, children. Move. Please.” He hustled them back so that Maddie and Tom could step inside. He reached for their bags and Tom handed them over.

“Welcome. Welcome to our home. I’m Brand McCormick. Reverend Brand McCormick, actually.” He stepped back and looked Maddie over from head to toe. “You must be Maddie.”

She found herself holding her breath. Was he searching for some likeness to his wife?

“I am,” she said, slowly warming to the sincerity in his kind smile. “This is Tom Abbott,” she added.

“Of course.” The preacher set the bags off to the side of the hall and shook Tom’s hand.

“Papa?” The little girl tugged on his pant leg. “You said they were special guests. They look pretty ordinary if you ask me.”

“Janie, mind your manners.” Brand McCormick rolled his eyes. “They were told we’ve been expecting special guests, but not the nature of your visit.” He turned to Maddie. “My wife, as you can imagine, is very excited to meet you.”

Maddie couldn’t find the words to describe her own emotions. Brand McCormick seemed to understand. He wasted no time in graciously ushering them through the wide pocket doors into the sitting room.

“Please, have a seat, both of you. I’m sure such a long journey couldn’t have been easy.”

Maddie chose a tufted settee and Brand quickly stepped aside so that Tom could sit beside her. No matter how at ease Reverend McCormick tried to make her feel, she was still thankful Tom was there.

“We’ve seen a lot of your state on the way up from Galveston,” Tom said.

“There’s nowhere on earth like Texas.”

Maddie found it hard to concentrate on the conversation as the men chatted. Tom spoke of being from Michigan. Brand hailed from Illinois.

“I’m sure Laura will be right down.” Brand glanced anxiously toward the stairs.

“She’s getting all gussied up,” Sam announced. Both children were hovering in the doorway.

“Son, Laura always looks beautiful — “ Brand began.

“But she’s a nervous wreck,” Janie piped up.

“Janie …”

“She said so, Papa. I ain’t making it up.”

“You’re
not
making it up.”

“I
know.”
Her braids bobbed as she nodded.

Hearing that Laura was nervous put Maddie a bit at ease. Despite the lush surroundings and expensive appointments, there
were no airs about the reverend and his children, no critical perusal of her appearance.

Brand turned to the children. “We were supposed to offer refreshments,” he reminded them. “We’ve fallen derelict in our duties.”

“We made some Mexican wedding cakes and Texas tea sandwiches and sugar cookies and lots of other stuff. You want some?”

“I’d love some,” Tom said.

Maddie wished she was comfortable with Brand McCormick and the children, but her heart was in her throat.

“I’m sorry we’ve nothing stronger than tea in the house,” Brand apologized.

“Tea is fine,” Tom assured him.

There came the rustle of silk and a floorboard squeaked on the stairs.

“Here she is.” Brand walked over to wait at the bottom of the staircase. Even over the pounding of her own heart, Maddie recognized the love and admiration in his voice, saw the devotion in his eyes.

Beside her, Tom rose. If he hadn’t taken her hand and urged her to stand, she most likely would have remained frozen in shock.

She tightened her grip on Tom’s hand as Laura McCormick descended the stairs.

Barely medium height, Laura was full-figured with thick, curly blonde hair that defied an intricately upswept style. Her teal silk gown was gathered into a low bustle edged with a cascade of ruffles. The fabric shimmered as she walked through a beam of light pouring in through a side window.

Laura never once took her eyes off of Maddie as she swept gracefully across the room. Maddie, feeling like a faded brown wren beside her, could only stare. When the woman halted in front of her, Maddie realized she was a good four inches taller.

Laura’s eyes were swimming with tears. “Megan,” she whispered. “I’ve dreamed of this day for so long. I never, ever gave up
hope, not even through the darkest hour.” Laura reached up and cupped Maddie’s face between her palms.

Shouldn’t I feel something?
Maddie wondered.

There was no rush of recognition, no overwhelming relief for Maddie. No wellspring of joy or remembrance.

Tears began streaming down Laura’s porcelain cheeks. She let go of Maddie long enough to draw a lace-edged handkerchief out of her sleeve and dry her tears before she sank onto the settee, drawing Maddie down beside her.

Maddie was vaguely aware of Brand inviting Tom to join him in the dining room.

“We’ll let the women chat.” He spoke as if the unfolding drama was an everyday occurrence.

Maddie felt Tom hesitate. She wanted him there, but it was important she and Laura talk alone. Besides, she had no right to depend on him. Maddie gave him a slight nod, although as he followed Brand out of the sitting room, she was tempted to run after him. Once the men were gone Maddie turned her full attention to Laura.