Loving Linsey (23 page)

“Oren.”

She smiled. “Oren.”

“It was the least I could do. From what I hear, it's a good thing she weren't anywhere near that contraption when Robert found it.”

“She ordered him another balloon from
Philadelphia. Perhaps when it arrives, he'll feel a little more lenient toward her.”

“I expect it can't hurt.”

But he sounded doubtful. In all honesty, Addie didn't think anything Linsey did from this point forward would make Jarvis forgive her.

“Have you ever been in a balloon, Miss Witt?”

Addie felt color steal into her cheeks at the child's question. “Only for a brief while. I'm afraid I suffer a dreadful fear of heights.”

Mr. Potter gasped. “Me too! Can't hardly stand on a ladder without gettin' dizzy.”

“Remember when Miz Bender's cat got caught on Mr. Puckett's roof, Pa? And you had to climb up there and get it down for her?”

“I done went and passed out cold. Wound up callin' in the bucket brigade to fetch me down. Took four of 'em to load me in a blanket and lower me to ground.”

Unabashed laughter filled the room at the image of the big, burly man being lowered from the roof by a blanket. One story led into another, and soon Addie found herself confessing a few of her own escapades, including the real reason she and Linsey had been caught in the mayor's cellar two years ago.

It surprised her how easy it was to talk to Oren. Here he wasn't the town blacksmith. Here he was a loving father to his child. A man of the house.

A widower.

She became achingly aware of that thought as she studied him over the rim of her water
glass. She tried to remember when she'd ever felt this comfortable in Daniel's company, and couldn't. Around him, she felt as if she were standing before a giant. Though Oren topped him in height by at least a head, and his build was much more bulky, he seemed much more approachable.

So much more affable.

Infinitely more appealing.

At the traitorous thought, Addie set down her glass harder than she intended. She loved Daniel. She had loved him for as long as she could remember. How could she be so aware of another man?

Realizing Bryce and Mr. Potter were looking at her curiously, Addie cleared her throat. “Gentlemen, the evening has been a pleasure, but I'm afraid I must be getting home.” The rain had stopped some time in the last hour, and the winds had settled down. It was almost a shame that the storm passed.

Oren nodded. “Yes, ma'am, I reckon it has.” He scooted back in his chair. “Bryce, you best get on to bed.”

“Aw, Paaa.”

“Go on now, son, you've got school in the mornin'. I'll be up there in a bit to turn down the lamp.”

“Yessir.” The towheaded boy's head hung in clear disappointment as he dragged himself out of the chair. “Good night, Miss Witt.”

“Good night, Bryce.”

After Bryce disappeared into the loft, an acute silence descended on the room.

Mr. Potter slipped her wrap off its hook and
held it out for her. Addie thanked him with a wobbly smile, took her woolen cloak, and draped it over her arm, feeling suddenly too heated to wear the heavy garment.

In companionable silence, they left the private living quarters and strode through the blacksmith shop, where the scent of his work lingered in the air—fire, coals, leather, and iron. Horses whinnied at their passing, and now and then one of the animals would poke its head out to receive an affectionate pat.

Addie had to smile. He always had a kind word or a gentle touch for those in his care. “It's easy to see how much you love this place,” she observed aloud.

“Yes, ma'am, I surely do.”

“And Bryce, too.”

“He's a good boy. I wish I had a dozen more just like him.”

“You do? I mean, that's a coincidence, as I always wanted a dozen children, too.”

“I lost my first wife in childbirth. My second wife, Bryce's mother, passed on from the cholera. And Maggie, my third wife . . . well, you might as well know, she was leaving me.”

They'd reached the doors and Addie paused, feeling a dart of rivalry at the mention of the women he'd had in his life. “I'm not sure you should be telling me your personal business.”

He stopped, looked at her, then bowed his head. “You're right. A lady like you wouldn't be interested in hearing about my past.”

“It's not that,” she hastened to clarify. “I just thought . . . it might be too painful.”

“Painful?” He inhaled a deep breath, then searched the smithy as if looking for words. “I wouldn't exactly call it that. I needed a mother for Bryce, so I put an ad in the paper for a bride. Maggie answered it. Texas was nothing like she was used to: too hot, too dirty, too uncivilized. One day, she packed her bags and said she was going back to New York. I wouldn't let her go, so she stole away in the middle of the night.” His gazed dropped as well as his voice. “Her train wrecked a few miles this side of Memphis.”

Addie's heart went out to him, and it was all she could do not to step closer, to hold him. “Was that the night you made such a shambles of the saloon?”

He nodded.

“I never knew. The only thing I'd ever heard was that she was visiting family back East.”

“What man wants the world to know his wife was leaving him?” he remarked softly. “Miss Witt, I'd be lying if I said my marriage to Maggie was a love match. It was just a necessity—but I was fond of her. And I wonder lots of times if I'd just let her go when she asked, then maybe she'd have taken a different train and might still be alive today.”

She knew the guilt he must feel. She often wondered if she hadn't been cold the night her pa went out to the woodpile, if he wouldn't still be alive today. “My aunt always says we cannot hold ourselves responsible for other people's choices, but sometimes what we know in our heads isn't always what we feel in our hearts.”

“Amen to that.” He breathed with a curious force, and giving Addie a crooked grin that made her heart skip a beat, he pushed open the door. As they walked out, they encountered a massive puddle at the threshold. Mr. Potter straddled it the best he could, but even his wide-legged stance didn't extend from one side to the other. One foot wound up buried up to the ankle in muck. Not a word of complaint left his mouth, though. Instead he reached for Addie.

She paused for several long, wary seconds. Intuition told her that if this man touched her, nothing would be the same again.

Then she chided herself for the foolish thought. What could be the danger? Mr. Potter was as sweet and gentle a man as they came.

But there was nothing sweet or gentle about the jolt of awareness she felt the instant his hands fit around her waist, and hers came to rest on his powerful shoulders.

Addie's mind swam as he swung her clear of the puddle and set her on dry ground, her knees as weak as melted butter. She stared up at him, astonished by her reaction. She couldn't see his features clearly in the misty darkness, but the longer they stood there, the hotter she felt his gaze grow.

A knot of longing unraveled deep in her belly.

She knew she should release her hold on him. Knew the sensations Oren Potter awakened in her defied every virtue she believed a woman of her position should hold. Yet as his head inched forward, paused, then inched forward
again, Addie wanted nothing more than to be kissed utterly, completely insensible by this man.

Just as she thought her wish would be granted, he drew back and said, “You best run along home, Miss Addie, before I forget I'm a gentleman and that you're a lady.”

Addie's gaze snapped to his tight features. He didn't want her. She'd thought . . . she'd hoped . . .

With a tiny cry of mortification, she picked up her skirts and fled.

She couldn't recall the trip home, but when she arrived, all the windows were dark save the one in Linsey's room.

She removed her cloak and hung it on the coatrack. Burning with embarrassment, she hurried up the stairs and down the hall, wanting only to nurse her emotions in private.

But as she passed Linsey's room, the door flew open. “Where have you been?” her sister demanded.

Addie came to a guilt-stricken stop. “I—I've been tutoring Bryce Potter.”

“At this hour? You missed the entire engagement party!”

“I know. Time simply got away from us. Then the storm hit. . . .” Addie shook away the memory of her wanton behavior. “How was the party?”

“I'll tell you later. Right now, we've got to get down to business.”

Business? Addie wondered as Linsey seized her hand and pulled her into the bedroom.
What kind of business did one conduct at this hour?

Once on the bed, Linsey held out a worn, leather-bound book Addie had seen a hundred times in the parlor. “Do you know what this is?”

“Aunt Louisa's special collection of love charms and divinations.”

“Exactly. I was talking to Aunt Louisa earlier, and she said something very interesting. She said that in order to get you and Daniel married, we must first find out if he is your destiny.”

Addie's hand shot to her mouth. Daniel! Oh, heavens, she'd forgotten all about him! How could have yearned for the kiss of another, when she'd always believed Daniel was the only man for her? How could she have completely neglected her self-made commitment to marry him? “Yes, yes. What do we do?”

Linsey must have gone through the book already, for several places were marked by bits of ribbon. Linsey opened to one of the sections, then twisted around and reached for a strand of beads on the bedside table, where a lamp shed a mellow pool of light onto the floor.

“It says to toss this over your shoulder. When the beads hit the floor, they should land in the shape of the first letter of your true love's name.”

Addie took the set of blue beads from Linsey and clutched them tightly in her hand. She closed her eyes, willed the Fates to be kind, and tossed the beads over her left shoulder.
They landed on the floor with a pinging clatter.

Addie spun around. She stared in shock. “It's an O,” she gasped.

“No it's not, it's a D!” Linsey contended. “See the straight edge along the side?”

Addie didn't see any such thing. All she saw was the craggy face of a man standing before her in a leather apron, trousers and gloves, his bare shoulders glistening with sweat, his dark blue eyes watching her with a predator's intent.

She blinked away Oren's sudden appearance in her mind and stared hard at the beads, willing herself to see what Linsey saw. She wanted to believe, but the evidence was right there: save for a slight indentation near the upper left side, the beads had made a near perfect shape of an O.

For Oren?

But he couldn't be the man she would marry! She loved Daniel. She wanted to be
his
wife!

Didn't she?

Feeling weary and slightly faint, Addie rubbed her brow where a knotting headache was beginning to form between her eyes. “Linsey, I'm going to bed.”

“You can't go to sleep yet; we've got to burn our hair.”

“Burn our hair?”

“Yes, and we don't have much time.”

Linsey grabbed her hand and led her to the small fireplace. A candle had been set upon a blanket, along with long matches, two small
squares of linen, and several leaves Addie didn't recognize.

“It's pointless for me to do this, but the book calls for two girls and I don't want to take any chances that it won't work for you.”

Once they'd seated themselves on the blanket across from each other, Addie asked, “What now?”

“We wait for the clock to strike midnight. As soon as the last chime sounds, we must in complete silence pluck twenty hairs from our head, one for each year of our age, then wrap them in the cloths with the true-love leaves. When the clock strikes one, we burn each hair separately and say, ‘I offer this, my sacrifice, to him most precious in my eyes. I charge thee now come forth to me, that this minute I may see.' And you'll see an image of the man you will marry walking about the room.”

“That's silly.”

Linsey glanced at her in surprise. “What's gotten into you, sister?”

“What do you mean?”

“You've never called the divinations silly before.”

How did Addie put into words the questions she'd harbored over the years?

“Burning hairs, reciting verses . . . how can that foretell who a girl will wed?”

“I don't know, it just does.”

“But . . . haven't you ever wondered if things happen because we want them to happen and not because they are meant to happen?”

“Why would I wonder that?”

Addie's sigh of defeat made the candle flame dance. “All right, let's see what the Fates have in store for us.”

If you find a horseshoe, pick it up

and all day long you'll have good luck.

L
insey sat cross-legged on the blanket spread on the floor, watching Addie with mounting concern as she settled opposite her. Was it her imagination or was her sister acting strange tonight?

No, it wasn't her imagination, she decided. Addie seemed . . . distant somehow. Distracted.

Oh, Lordy—Addie hadn't somehow learned of her indiscretion, had she? Linsey didn't know how she could have—unless Daniel had said something to one of his friends, and they in turn mentioned it to someone else until it finally got around to Addie. But why would he boast of a kiss that he regretted as much as she did?

Maybe she should just confess to Addie, get it out in the open, and rid herself of this guilt. Once, when they were thirteen, she had borrowed Addie's favorite silk reticule and accidently
dropped it in a bucket of axle grease. Linsey had kept it secret for weeks before finally confessing, only to find out that Addie had known all along.