Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (37 page)

“What do you mean, ‘no matter how it turns out'?”

Edward shrugged. “Caleb and Gabe might refuse to see her or forgive her.”

Concerned only with her own feelings, she hadn't thought of that, either. Would Gabe listen to what his mother had to say? She hoped he would at least hear her out. She knew firsthand how much better she'd felt after they had cleared the air and put their feelings aside to do what was right for Danny.

She glanced at the watch hanging from the chain around her neck. Almost closing time for the mercantile. She looked at her father. “Do you think I should go over and talk to him?”

“It can't hurt,” Edward said. “And while you're at it, why not invite him to supper? There's plenty.”

Rachel paused. The suggestion seemed almost as if Edward were giving his stamp of approval to her forming a more intimate relationship with Gabe.

“You wouldn't be trying to play matchmaker, would you?”

“There's no need. Even when you're fighting him tooth and nail, a blind man could see that the two of you still have feelings for each other...that whatever it was that you felt isn't over.” Seeing that she was about to object, he continued. “Whether you like it or not.”

“I don't like it.” There was no reason to deny what he'd said. Edward was too smart, and he knew her far too well. She sighed. “I suppose you think I'm completely barmy to feel anything for him after the way he used and abandoned me,” she said, her voice a shamed whisper.

“I've never been a big believer in coincidence,” he said, a thoughtful expression on his still-attractive face. “So what I think is that God is working in both your lives and that He has given you a second chance.”

Her dark eyes held query and a tiny smidgen of hope. “And Gabe? You...you really think he feels something for me?”

Edward winked at her. “If I were a gambling man, I'd make book on it.”

* * *

Edward's words followed Rachel as she made her way across the railroad tracks, past the hotel to Antioch Street. Was her father right? Did Gabe really care for her? Oh, she knew he was attracted to her and held a certain fondness for her, but was he only being nice so that she would grant him greater access to their son? She didn't think so. He seemed to enjoy the time they spent together with Danny—more and more time the past couple of weeks, and though he sometimes flirted, never once had he done or said anything inappropriate.

Recalling his peppermint-scented breath against her nape that day in the store and the huskiness of his voice when he'd told her it looked kissable, she felt a little shiver scamper down her spine. She was an educated woman, certainly smart enough to know
that
was not love, but was it possible that her father was right and Gabe did still care? Was that caring love? The possibility was both thrilling and alarming.

She was just approaching the store when the object of her thoughts stepped through the aperture, key in hand. He smiled, the automatic action bringing the pleasing crinkles at the corners of his eyes into play. “Hello there!” he said. “I was just on my way to your place. Do you need something? I can let you in.”

Rachel took a steadying breath and rammed her hands into the pockets of her dark blue skirt. “No. I just wanted to talk to you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “It must be serious if you're looking for me.”

“Serious enough,” she said. “What did you need to see me about?”

Did she imagine the shadow that flickered across his face? “Something's come up. Would you like to go to Ellie's and get a cup of coffee or a glass of lemonade?”

Where everyone would see them together. That would just add more fuel to the fire! “No, thank you,” she said. “Actually, Pops wanted to know if you'd like to join us for supper.”

Gabe couldn't hide his surprise, or miss the reluctance in her voice. “Supper doesn't include a hefty dose of arsenic, does it? Or maybe hemlock?”

“I don't find that in the least bit funny.”

“I can see that,” he said somberly. “I'll make a note in my book of Rachel Stone observations.” He turned his palm up and pretended to write with his finger. “Don't try to tease the great Dr. Stone, since clearly she has no funny bone.” He glanced up, his eyebrows raised in sham surprise. “My, my, I do believe I have the start of a poem.”

“Are you ever serious?”

“Do you ever have fun?” he countered. “The Bible says there are times to laugh, Rachel—remember?”

“I remember. Are you coming or not?”

“Of course I'm coming. How can I turn down such a gracious invitation?” he mocked. “What time?”

“Come now. We need to talk.”

“So you said. About?”

“Something's come up,” she said cryptically, tossing his own answer back at him. She turned to walk away, and after making sure the door was locked, Gabe followed. His loose, long-legged stride soon brought him to her side, and they walked down the street together, both with their hands stuffed into their pockets.

At the corner, they passed Mrs. Carmody and her brood of six. The frazzled housewife looked from Rachel to Gabe and actually pulled her skirt aside as if she would somehow be contaminated if she allowed the fabric to brush against Rachel. She did speak, though her mouth was pinched with disapproval, and only after Gabe made it a point to greet her and her children with his customary good manners.

They were in front of the hotel when Meg Thomerson came out, balancing a basket filled with soiled linens on her hip.

“Let me get that, Meg,” Gabe said, taking the basket from the woman whose husband treated her as a sparring partner.

“Thank you, Mr. Gentry,” she said, pushing a stray strand of hair from her astonishing green eyes. “And thank you again for letting me have some more time on my bill at the store.”

“That's not a problem,” he said gruffly.

What a wonderful thing to do, Rachel thought, trying to meet his eyes. Everyone in town knew that Elton Thomerson was a deadbeat, and there were few people willing to extend him credit. It was up to Meg to take up the slack.

Three years and two children ago, she was considered more than pretty, but the time with Elton had taken its toll. There were premature lines at the corners of her eyes, and barely three months past her latest delivery, she looked far too thin. Even so, her smile seemed never far from the surface.

She beamed at Rachel with her usual friendliness while Gabe deposited the basket into the bed of the buggy alongside three others. Rachel knew she would deliver the sheets and towels the following afternoon all clean and ironed wrinkle free. She didn't know how the petite woman managed to stay so positive, except that she never failed to make a church service unless she or one of the children was ailing.

“I should have part of my bill when I finish up Millie's laundry,” she told Gabe before looking at Rachel. “And I should be able to pay off Seth's sore-throat bill next week.”

“Don't worry about it, Meg. I'm not hurting for it.”

The woman's eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Dr. Rachel. I don't know what this town would do without you.” She looked from Rachel to Gabe. “And I think it's so wonderful that the two of you have found each other again after all these years.”

Rachel cast a sideways glance at Gabe, who was rearranging the baskets and giving a good impression of being deaf. She offered Meg a weak smile. Wondering how to reply, she settled for a simple “Thank you.”

Gabe helped Meg into her buggy and they watched her make a left turn at the corner and disappear. Wisely, he chose not to comment and fell into step beside Rachel.

“Giving Meg time to pay her bill is very nice of you.”

“Yep,” he quipped, making light of it. “No doubt they're casting a bronze statue of me even as we speak.”

“Well, it isn't that big a thing,” she teased.

“She needs help,” he said, suddenly serious. “I feel sorry for her. And we all need a hand at some time in our lives.”

Knowing that was all he'd say, they walked in silence for a moment. “What's come up?” Rachel asked finally, tilting her head to look at him. The heat of the late-afternoon sun coaxed out the red tones hiding in her dark hair.

“Ladies first.”

Looking askance at him, she drew a fortifying breath and plunged. “I hear your mother is coming to town tomorrow.”

“I hear the same thing.” A wry half smile lifted one side of his mouth.

“And?”

“And it's a bit disconcerting to say the least.”

“You didn't know she was coming?”

“No. Neither did Caleb.”

“Hmm.” Rachel shot him a frowning glance. “I wonder why she decided to come after so many years.”

“Probably because Abby wrote to her after she married Caleb to tell her about Emily, Betsy and her own marriage to Caleb.”

Rachel lifted a hand to shield her eyes. “Abby knew she was coming, then?”

“Actually, she didn't,” he said, switching sides with her so he could block her from the sun's rays. “She never heard a word back, but she wrote Libby again when Eli was born, and it seems that for some reason, Libby has now decided to pay a visit.”

“You call your mother Libby?”

“Caleb and I stopped calling her Mother after she left us.”

There was no need to ask why. “How do you feel about her coming?”

“I have mixed emotions,” he confessed. “Both Caleb and I grew up believing she left us with no backward glance, but we recently found out that Lucas wouldn't let her take us. That puts a different slant on things, at least for me.” He sighed. “As for how I feel about it, I keep coming back to the notion that maybe I'm feeling a little like Danny must have felt when he found out about me.”

Rachel considered that and thought he could be right. She recalled Danny's excitement as well as his trepidation and curiosity. As he had, Gabe was no doubt wondering what Libby Gentry Granville would think of the person he'd become. He would be wondering if she loved him, and if they could ever forge a meaningful relationship. Yes, it was easy to see that Gabe and Danny would share parallel feelings.

“And Caleb?”

“You know Caleb. He doesn't give away much about what he's feeling.”

“Will you tell her about...Danny?”

Gabe turned toward her, completely blocking out the sun. He studied her face before answering. “Yes, Rachel, I'll tell her about Danny. And you. And how I managed to mess up the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Rachel ducked her head and started walking again, before he noticed the tears that sprang into her eyes. The frankness of the statement tugged at her heart in a way that threatened to set her bawling her eyes out. Of all the things he'd said to her about their past...explanations, apologies or whatever else, there was no doubt that those simply spoken words and the emotions driving them were genuine.

They'd reached the whitewashed arbor that sat at the end of the path leading to the front of her house. Covered with clusters of pale yellow roses, it stood near the road, its delicate curve inviting people in. As she started to step through, he grasped her arm in a gentle grip.

Releasing his hold on her, he framed her face with his hands, the pads of his thumbs riding the crests of her cheekbones, his spread fingers cradling her head. She didn't try to pull free, wasn't sure she could have if she wanted to. Tipping back her head, he met her troubled gaze.

“You're worried about Danny meeting her.”

She nodded.

“Danny is her grandson. They have the right to meet each other. What happens beyond that is up to them, just as what happens between me and Danny is up to us. That's fair, don't you think?”

“Yes,” she said with reluctant acquiescence.

Leaning forward a bit, he rested his forehead against hers. Their noses bumped. The scent of the ever-present peppermint he seemed so attached to mingled with the masculine aroma of his aftershave, something that reminded her of far-off lands.

Her eyes drifted shut.

He took a deep breath and straightened. His hands slid to her shoulders. “What else?” he asked, showing an astonishing insight into her thoughts and emotions, an insight she'd noticed during their time in St. Louis.

“Ah,” he said after a moment. “You're worried about what she'll think of you, right?”

“Yes,” she admitted, allowing him access to even more of her feelings.

Holding herself very still, she breathed in the scent of him and fought the onslaught of memories that swept through her. It would be so easy to let her arms slide around his hard middle and lean into him. So tempting to rest her head against that broad chest and let him support her for a while.

“The whole town has believed for twenty-plus years that she was unfaithful to my father. I have no idea what really happened, but whether she's a vamp or a victim, I can't picture her as the kind of person to judge others.”

Rachel stepped back. There was no teasing about him now, nothing but the intensity she remembered. Never mind that he had been irresponsible, thoughtless and selfish nine years ago. At that moment, all that mattered was that he understood exactly how she felt and was doing his best to ease her mind.

It worked until he lowered his head and kissed her.

Chapter Nine

T
he kiss was the softest whisper of his lips against hers, as delicate as the brush of a butterfly wing, as insubstantial as the beat of a hummingbird heart. There was no persuasive technique involved. No insistence or demand. Instead there was hesitation and promise. It was nothing at all how she remembered his kisses.

If there was any last lingering resentment, it faded to nothingness, and the last remnant of her resolve melted away. She knew there would be no more manipulating her feelings, no pretending or trying to deny them by pushing them aside. She gave in and gave up to the love she felt, and it felt so very good. And scary.

Just when she feared she might somehow give herself away, he stepped back with a last almost-as-if-he-couldn't-help-himself stroke of his thumb against her lower lip, a tender gesture that was fast becoming familiar.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, hearing the breathlessness in her voice.

That he was dead serious at that moment was undeniable. He was not teasing or testing her. She did see a hint of remorse, as if he were torn between wanting to kiss her and being sorry he had.

He lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “I couldn't seem to help myself. I'm sorry if I offended you.”

“You didn't.” Was it her imagination, or did her denial surprise him? He might have said something else, but Danny burst through the front door, raced down the steps and launched himself at Gabe, who knelt and caught the child up in a tight embrace. Rachel felt her heart constrict in sudden painful perception. Danny adored Gabe. Gabe adored Danny.

“Is it true?” Danny asked, resting his hands on his father's shoulders and leaning back to look at him. “Do I really have a grandma?”

“It seems you do,” Gabe said, smiling.

“Tell me all about her.”

“I don't know much about her,” Gabe confessed. “She...left when I was just a little boy, younger than you.”

Danny stared at Gabe for long moments, giving the statement serious thought. Then Gabe stood, and Danny moved between his parents. He turned to face them, grabbed one of Gabe's hands and one of Rachel's in his and tugged them along the path to the house, confident that even though he could not see where he was going, they would not let him fall.

“It'll be okay, Dad,” he said with a tone of grave certainty. “I 'spect she left because she just wasn't ready for the responsibility of a family, the way you weren't ready back then.”

Rachel's face flamed at hearing the words she'd spoken to Danny repeated to Gabe. She glanced at him and saw him looking at her with a thoughtful expression that soon turned to one of gratitude. At that moment she knew that he realized what she'd done and appreciated the fact that she had not painted him the villain of their particular story.

“She's been gone a long time and growed up a bunch I'll bet,” Danny said, offering a child's simplistic reasoning to the situation. “I 'spect that once she gets to know and love you, she'll be ready to settle down and be a mom. I just hope she likes me, too.”

“How could she not?” Gabe said with a laugh, delighted with his son's logic. The joyous sound and Danny's answering smile filled Rachel's heart with joy. An image of them together around the table—a family—slipped like a will-o'-the-wisp into her mind.

Pipe dreams.

Though she admitted to loving him, she was no longer the shy innocent of her youth, and she was certainly no worldly sophisticate, nothing like the kind of woman Gabe was accustomed to. She was not charming, playful or clever. On the contrary, she was often considered too plainspoken and stuffy, and she had the added disadvantage of possessing above-average intelligence, something most men did not appreciate in a woman.

She was just Dr. Rachel, pretty enough she supposed, but still a small-town girl whose biggest goal was to heal those she could, and to be the best person she could be. No matter how much Gabe might have changed, she was just too afraid of disappointing him, too afraid of being hurt a second time to trust him with her heart. If that happened, she knew that she would never recover.

* * *

After a supper of ham, boiled potatoes with butter, buttermilk biscuits and fresh green beans, everyone pitched in to clean the kitchen.

Afterward, Edward challenged Danny to a game of dominoes while Rachel and Gabe retired to the front porch. They sat side by side in matching rockers that overlooked the front yard and the buildings across the railroad tracks. The corner of the hotel was in plain view, and beyond that, they could hear the occasional rattle of a wagon on Antioch Street.

Neither spoke, content to sit and listen to the serenade of tree frogs and insect songs that were punctuated by the strident, plagiarized melodies of a mockingbird ensconced on the rose trellis.

“I hear the box lunch is coming up next weekend,” Gabe said at last. “Are you taking part?”

“I always do. It's more or less expected that everyone do something. It's mandatory if you're an unattached woman.” She offered an ironic smile. “It's supposed to be an unobtrusive way to bring unmarried folk together. Not that it works very often.”

“I imagine the bids on your boxes are high,” he commented with a questioning lift of his eyebrows.

“I do all right.”

“You're bound to be the prettiest single lady in town.”

She laughed. “Actually, Ellie and I are considered the town's spinsters, even though everyone says we're pretty enough for
mature
ladies.”

“Mature, hmm?”

“Yes.” She actually laughed, a sound that sounded awfully close to a giggle. “I believe that's a creative way of saying we're over the hill.”

Gabe threw back his head and laughed, too, amused at the thought that two of the prettiest women in town were considered past their prime.

“Believe me, it's no laughing matter. The men who bid on my boxes are usually the more
mature
gentlemen.” This was said with a definite hint of amusement in her brown eyes. “Most of them are widowers looking for someone to take care of them in their old age. Who better than the town doctor?”

Gabe chuckled again. “Well, I'll be sure to give them a run for their money this year.”

It sounded like a promise. Her mind moved ahead to that day and the possibilities it might bring. Quiet between them returned. She recalled that even in St. Louis, when he was taking her around to show her the many sights, they'd had the ability to share time together with no need to fill the silence with meaningless conversation. It had surprised her then, and still did.

“I'd like to thank you for what you told Danny.”

Even though they were attuned at the moment, she was so lost in thought that she didn't immediately grasp what he was referring to.

“What he said about my mother not being ready to take on a family,” he explained. “I know you must have said the exact thing to him about me.”

She answered with her customary directness. “I told him what I felt was the truth.”

That took him by surprise. “Well, I appreciate it, especially since it's clear that you held a lot of resentment toward me. You could have said a lot of things to prejudice him against me.”

“I would never do that, no matter how I felt. As you reminded me, I'm hardly without fault in the matter, and as you also said, whatever develops between two people should be just that—between them. It's not my way to force my opinion on someone else.”

“Has it changed?” he asked, his voice as soft as the gathering shadows.

“What?”

“Your opinion of me.”

Instead of answering, she stared at him for long seconds. “I'm still observing,” she said at last.

“Fair enough.” He looked at the buildings across the way, their edges softened by the gathering shadows. “I'd best get back before it gets too dark to put one foot in front of the other.”

She stood, and he followed suit. “Thank you for the supper. It was delicious.”

“You're welcome.” She wondered if he would try to kiss her again and wondered what she would do if he did. Instead, he reached out and trailed a finger down her cheek, smiled a bit ruefully and went down the steps.

She watched him go through the rose arbor. “Gabe!” she called.

He turned.

“Will you let me know how things go...with Libby, so I'll know what to expect for Danny?”

He gave her a wave of acknowledgment she could barely make out and strode toward buildings across the way.

* * *

Libby Gentry Granville had arrived.

According to the gossip—and there were plenty of folks eager to keep Gabe in the loop—The Southwest Arkansas and Indian Territory train chugged into town from Gurdon at precisely nine o'clock, belching black smoke and spitting sparks as the wheels ground to a stop.

Moments later, a magnificently dressed older woman had descended the train, followed by a younger woman who looked to be in her early twenties and a man whose age was somewhere in between. At exactly 9:05, two people burst through the door of the mercantile, almost knocking each other over in their haste to deliver the news.

Gabe thanked them and sent them on their way. He was certain that his seeming disinterest would be added to the mix of reports as word spread around town.

He wondered who the man could be. Rumor had it he looked about Caleb's age, so he couldn't be another brother, though the young woman must be his sister. Funny. He was just getting used to having a relationship with his estranged brother and now there would be another sibling to get to know...if he were so inclined.

A grim smile hiked one corner of his mouth. It was highly unlikely that Libby would come all this way and not insist on spending some time together. The reality was that his mother's unannounced visit could not have come at a worse time. He was still adjusting to meeting Rachel after so many years and reeling from the knowledge that he had a child. All that while learning how to establish a new business and trying to carve out a place in a town that considered him a dissolute wastrel.

Caleb, bowing to the wishes of his headstrong and tenderhearted wife, had come by earlier to see if Gabe would like to go to the station to meet the train with him and his family.

“I don't think so,” Gabe told him, still uncertain how he felt about the whole thing and what he could possibly say to the visitors, knowing there would be dozens of pairs of eyes watching the whole shebang. “I don't think I can find anyone to run the store on such short notice.”

“I understand,” Caleb said. “I've been fighting Abby on this since yesterday, but she finally wore me down.”

Abby wins again,
Gabe thought with a smile. She was doing a bang-up job of transforming her husband into a more social human being.

“You're not getting cold feet, are you?”

Drat it! Caleb was far too astute to fool for long. “I suppose you could call it that,” Gabe hedged. “It's just that I've had more than my share of notoriety, and I have no desire for more. I don't want our first meeting to be discussed over the dinner table. Whatever happens between us at our first meeting should be relatively private.”

“Then at least come out to the farm for dinner,” Caleb pressed. “Abby is planning a huge family feast.”

Seeing the familiar tightening of his brother's jaw, Gabe figured he'd better accept.

“Sure,” he said. “That would be great. You know I never turn down Abby's cooking.”

“Wonderful!” Caleb's rare smile made a brief appearance. “Make sure you rent a nicely sprung buggy so they'll be comfortable for the drive out.”

“Whoa! What do you mean ‘they'?” Gabe asked, though the question was completely unnecessary.

Caleb gave a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. “Since you're coming, it seems logical for you to collect everyone and drive them to the farm, since they have no idea how to get there.” He portrayed an excellent impression of innocence.

Duped and manipulated and no way out of the situation! “Fine,” he told Caleb ungraciously. “I'll do that.” Gabe pointed a finger at Caleb. “But you owe me, big brother, and don't you forget it.”

Caleb had only laughed and left.

Now, as he worked about the store, he wondered how the reunion was going. Caleb claimed he no longer harbored any hard feelings toward their mother, but as mellow as he'd become, good Christian that he was trying to be, and as much as he claimed to have forgiven her, Gabe couldn't see his brother welcoming Libby with open arms.

At least he had guts enough to go meet her, while you're here hiding behind a pitiful excuse.

True.

He supposed that Libby would want to meet before he picked them up to go to the country, but he never dreamed she would walk through the doors of the mercantile.

His back was to the door and he was arranging a new shipment of chambray shirts by size when he heard a woman speak his name.

As soon as the weather permitted, he'd started opening both doors to let in the springtime breeze, which meant there was no jangle of bells to announce a customer. He'd compensated by adding a bell on the counter, like the one Hattie had at the hotel, so that he would know someone needed help if he was working in the storeroom.

Hearing his name, he froze, his hands smoothing a collar. Though it seemed inconceivable, he immediately recognized the soft, melodious voice. He remembered hearing her laugh—though rarely, it seemed now. A hazy recollection of her crooning a lullaby to him and Caleb as she sat on the edge of their bed at night swirled through his mind like a wisp of smoke. He recalled that clear sweet voice explaining that his father wasn't angry at him; he was just angry...or worried, or whatever feeble reason she could think of to distract him from his tears and Caleb from his gradual retreat into stoic solitude.