Patchwork Bride (16 page)

“You do not have me.” She lifted her chin, defiance in her glare but it was not strong enough to hide the pain.

“Meredith, my family is far away across the country and that’s where they will stay. I should have told you about them. I know that. I don’t deny it. But they are not real to my life. I told you I’ve walked away. I’m disinherited. I am making my own way.” All he saw was her hurt, and he wished he understood why. “As for
what that girl said, you know my life here has not been about having fun. Your mother has seen to that.”

“Don’t try to lighten the discussion.” She took a step back, holding herself tense and rigid, as if her self-control was all she had. The perfect May day surrounded her with colors and life, flowers nodding, the breeze whispering, birdsong serenading, and yet she looked as if there was no beauty left to her in the world. “I’m sure you are very sorry, but you lied to me.”

“How? I showed you who I am.” He wanted to smooth the crinkle of agony out of her forehead and to kiss away the sorrow on her rosebud lips. Turmoil roared through him, bringing with it the knowledge he was about to lose her. She, who mattered most to him, and he didn’t understand the reason. “Why is this hurting you? What have I done?”

“You were so harsh with me when you discovered I was not the country girl you mistook me to be, when I did not lie to you. I was simply being myself. You have behaved so much worse.” She wrapped her arms around her middle, so alone and vulnerable, with her broken affection in pieces at her feet. “How can I ever trust you again?”

“That’s easy. You can always trust me—”

“No,” she interrupted, her world already shattered, her unrealized dreams of him already crushed. “You have been pretending all along. You told me story after story to make me fall in love with you—”

“You’re in love with me?”

“Not anymore. That’s destroyed, too.”

She broke away, hearing the shards of those stories in her mind, defining tales of his character that she had
trusted. Tall tales now of being rejected by his wealthy friends, of humbly living with his grandmother, of long-lasting friendships and making a life for himself on his own. These were the keys that had opened her up, captured her affections and made her think they were soul mates, that only he could truly understand and love her.

She had been misled, and so much of it had been her own doing. Agony hammered through her as she tore up the steps, heaved open the front door. His remorse didn’t stop her. She kept going, putting distance between them.

“Meredith! Why, you look positively wind-blown. Let’s take a comb to your hair.” Mama barreled over with the determination of a navy admiral, skirt snapping, the china figurines on the what-not shelves trembling. “It’s nearly tea time and I thought this afternoon we would have a formal tea. I commissioned Cook to prepare a few refined desserts for the occasion.”

“I’m not hungry.” She had endured one battle. She did not have the energy for a second. “I’m going to my room.”

“But I’ve invited a very special guest.” Mama was delirious with happiness as she clasped her hands together, a woman who mistakenly thought an impossible prayer had been answered. “Someone I think you will be very happy to entertain.”

“I am not going to marry Shane Connelly, so no matchmaking. Please.” She circled around the couch to avoid her mother, and hurried straight to the banister.

“Meredith Henrietta Worthington! You come back here this instant.” Mama’s command echoed through
the parlor and bounced against the walls of the stairwell, but Meredith kept going. Her eyes burned, her throat tightened and with every step she took up the stairs and down the hallway she left a piece of herself behind.

At least her room was private. She sank onto the edge of her bed, so hurt the tears would not come, the sobs would not escape. It was silly to hurt so much over a man. She was too independent for that, but she hurt all the same. She was not in control of her heart, not at all.

A light knock rapped at her door. Tilly slipped inside and held up her forgotten book bag. “You left this behind.”

“Thanks.” The word croaked out, heavy with pain. Surely Tilly had noticed.

Pity pinched her sister’s face. Pity. Meredith bowed her face into her hands. Footsteps padded closer, the edge of the bed sank and Tilly’s arm went around her shoulder.

“I know how it feels,” Tilly confessed. “To fall so far in love, it’s like you’ve both lost and found yourself at the same time. And then to discover you mean so little to him that he doesn’t even look your way when he drives by on the street.”

“You’ve been feeling like this all along?” Meredith choked out.

“Yes. Over Emmett Sims. For almost a year now.”

“I’m so sorry, Tilly.” No one deserved the sharp edges of a shattered love, edges that cut over and over again. “Does it ever end?”

“I don’t know. I’ll let you know if it does.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” The injury reached into the deepest parts of her, places she didn’t even know she had. Proof of how deep her love for Shane had gone, so quietly and lovely she hadn’t even thought not to let him in. “I’ve changed my mind about love. It’s bad. One should avoid it at all costs.”

“If only we had known that from the start,” Tilly agreed.

It was too late. Meredith took a steadying breath, wondering if Shane was devastated, too, or if he’d been able to go on with his work, his heart and his soul intact. She did not see the man with his head down, looking as if broken, standing at the end of the walkway where she’d left him, alone.

Y
ou have behaved so much worse.
Meredith’s accusations troubled him with every breath he took and every minute that ticked by through the worst afternoon of his life. While he’d been saddling one of the two-year-olds, her question filled his head.
How can I ever trust you again?

He had his answer. She could not see beyond his family name to the man he was. He took a shallow breath, ignoring the squeeze of discomfort that had settled behind his sternum. The pain had made him numb, and perhaps he would stay that way. He had work to finish, which would give him time to figure out how to make this right. He had to get her to listen.

“Blow out your breath, Apollo.” He gripped the cinch and splayed his hand on the gelding’s ribs. “I know you don’t like it, but we’ve got to get this nice and tight.”

The big Arabian stomped one hoof and sidestepped, as if he didn’t like the notion. Too bad he and Braden were leaving tomorrow. Not only did the horse need more training, but he was a kick to work with. Shane
yanked a little harder on the cinch. “C’mon, big guy, let it out.”

Footsteps tapped into his awareness, faintly echoing in the empty stalls. Shane knew who it was without turning around. He’d been expecting a visit from Meredith’s father.

“Connelly.” Robert’s tone had changed, and he was home from work early. Still in his suit and tie, the consummate bank owner tipping his hat to an equal—and not to the horse trainer’s apprentice. A barn swallow flew in through one of the stalls, wheeled around and flapped back out again. Robert cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Braden. My horse and surrey are waiting.”

“Did you find someone to take over the barn work?” Shane buckled the cinch, checked the strap, unhooked the stirrup from the saddle horn.

“One of my teller’s neighbors has a son looking for work. He’s to start in the morning.”

“Good.” He didn’t have to turn around to read the discomfort, perhaps embarrassment, in the father’s voice. He patted Apollo’s flank and walked him a few paces. “I’ll take the kid through the morning routine here. Make sure he knows how things run before we leave.”

“I appreciate it.” Robert fell silent, but he clearly had more to say.

Shane stopped the gelding and checked the cinch. Still nice and tight, so he patted the horse’s shoulder. “Good boy, buddy. That was a good job.”

Apollo preened, pleased with the compliment.

“Connelly.” Robert blew out a sigh, as if he finally
had figured out how to say what was on his mind. “About the way I treated you, told you to stay away from my daughter…”

“Said I wasn’t good enough for her?” he finished helpfully, looping the ends of the reins through an iron ring in the wall. Leaving the horse secure, he turned his back. “I remember that talk very well.”

“And I’m ashamed of it.” Robert passed his hand over his face. “I probably looked like a fool, saying those things to you. You clearly are a better man than me.”

“Sir, I’ve been the same man all along. I haven’t changed.” He headed down the aisle, where Robert had left his horse and vehicle standing in the hot sun without care. “I’m still the horseman’s apprentice.”

“Not
just
a horseman’s apprentice.” Robert relaxed now that his apology was past. He followed behind, his manner friendly. “You’re Stuart Connelly’s son, Aaron Connelly’s grandson. I read a newspaper article about you long ago. Something about charity work.”

“Today I’m the one taking care of your horse.” He held out his hand to let the stately gelding scent him. “That’s all I am.”

“I hope now that this misunderstanding has been cleared up that you will stay on.” Robert seized the bridle. “Of course, you won’t be expected to shovel horse manure and unhitch the family horses.”

“As I understand it, we’re leaving tomorrow.” Shane frowned. Robert had the horse by the bits. Annoyed, he patted the Arabian’s neck and clicked his tongue. The powerful horse turned toward him, breaking Robert’s grip. Shane led the horse deeper into the barn.

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” Robert sounded sincere. He wasn’t a bad guy, not at all. “I want to make things right between us if I can.”

“Believe me, I would like to stay. This is a pretty piece of Montana you live in. I can’t say it doesn’t make a man feel right at home.” He unbuckled the traces one by one and led the horse out from between the bars. “It’s Braden’s decision, and he’s had enough. He’s moving on, and I go with him.”

“I envy you, young man. Long ago was the day I had the longing to do something different than work in my father’s bank. I loved horses and dreamed of my own stables one day with the most beautiful Arabians grazing in my fields. I was forty years old before I brought the first broodmare to these pastures, and the most I can do is watch from the sidelines.” Robert shrugged, looking wistful. “Maybe you can stay in Montana?”

“No. Our next job is in Butte, then we move on to Boise.” He unbuckled the cheek strap and removed the gelding’s bridle. “Not sure where to after that, but I think it’s Salt Lake City.”

“What about Meredith?”

Meredith. He squeezed his eyes shut to hide the crash of emotion. He felt sucker punched, but he didn’t want that to show either. His voice sounded strained, and he hoped it could be attributed to the act of lifting the heavy horse collar off the Arabian’s neck. “I suppose Meredith will be teaching school over the summer like she plans to.”

“I thought the two of you were close.” Not a father’s ambition that spoke, but a father’s love.

“I thought so, too,” he said, keeping his back to the
man while he slid the halter over the horse’s nose and behind his ears. The coarse fetlock tickled the backs of his hands as he worked and the thought of Meredith angry and hurt destroyed him. He’d rather die than harm her, but that hadn’t stopped it from happening.

“Perhaps I could talk to her,” Robert suggested. “Maybe Braden could see reason to stay if more money was involved. If you would like to court my daughter, I would heartily give my permission—”

“Papa!” Meredith’s dismay startled the horse and him. “I can’t believe what I just heard.”

The black’s head came up and the powerful animal began to sidestep, nervously, about to bolt. Shane calmed him with a low murmur and a firm grip on his halter, drinking in the sight of his beloved. Like May itself, she swirled into the barn with a snap of her petunia pink dress and a sewing hoop clutching in one hand. Her hair a tumble, her bottom lip quivering with emotion.

“Meredith.” A change came over Robert and his manner softened. The father’s adoration of his daughter was unmistakable. “You surely have heard the good news. Your mother stopped by the bank on her way home from her meeting to let me know we have a very important person in our employ. I—”

“Papa, don’t you dare try to distract me. You were trying to match me up with him.” She held herself rigid, gesturing in his general direction as if she couldn’t stand so much as to look at him.

Shane hung his head and led the horse away. The black went willingly and he left the father and daughter behind, their voices murmuring in the long stretch of
the breezeway and bouncing off the empty walls of the stalls. Outside, horses grazed in summery fields and Braden’s low mumble to one of the two-year-olds he was riding reminded him of what was at stake, more than his future and more than his heart.

He unhooked the stall gate, letting in the horse. Eyeing the paddock beyond and then his empty feed trough, the Arabian waited, giving Shane a look that clearly said, “I’m waiting.”

“All right, buddy.” He grabbed the grain bucket and upended it, the sound of cascading corn and oats drowning all sound of Meredith’s voice.

I cannot lose her.
He lowered the bucket to the ground. He would not admit defeat yet, not when there was still a chance. Latching the stall gate, he turned on his heel, determined to talk to her and explain, but she blocked his path.

“I’m sorry about my father.” She faced him, jaw set and braced as if it took all her strength to meet him. “Papa should not have been saying those things to you.”

“About encouraging a match between us?”

“Yes.” A muscle ticked along her porcelain jaw, a sign of how hard it was for her to be with him. She stood stone-still. A slight breeze played with the lace edge of her hemline and teased the flyaway tendrils from her single braid.

“I know he was not speaking for you, Meredith.” He wanted to make her smile. “You are far too independent for that.”

“At least you know that much about me.” No smile,
no softness, no hint that she intended to change her mind about him, or that she wanted to.

Please make her want to change her mind,
he prayed.
Please, Lord, don’t let me lose her.
He risked a step closer, the knell of his boots like a cannon strike in the tense silence between them. “I know a great deal about you.”

“Is that so? Then you ought to know I am not going to believe your stories now.”

“Stories. Fine, I’ll admit it. I told you some stories.” He fisted his hands, determined to take responsibility for his mistakes. He could be strong, too. “I wish now I had told you not parts but the whole of those stories. I’m sorry for that.”

“All I wanted was the truth.” Her blue-gray eyes shadowed and she spun away. “I can see that is not going to happen.”

“Is that why you came?”

“No. I saw Papa arrive home and I knew what he was going to do the instant he went into the barn.” She stared at the hoop she held, a colorful block of patchwork, and shook her head. She had obviously been in the parlor sewing. “You two didn’t come to some kind of agreement, did you?”

“A betrothal agreement? No.” He saw relief slumping her shoulders and the tension slipping from her jaw. He hurt to see how much she dreaded such an arrangement. She did not want him.

“Good. I caught him in time.” She twisted away, her head down, an invisible barrier between them. Never had she been so distant. “My parents approve of you now.”

“The only approval mattering to me is yours.” There had to be a way to heal this breach between them. “I told you the truth and now I want to tell you the whole of it. The years we lived with my grandmother were the happiest of my childhood.”

“I don’t want to hear about them.” She whirled at him, backing away. “I’ve had enough. There is no purpose in mending what is broken.”

“I didn’t mean to destroy your trust. My parents are not a part of my life, not anymore.” He tugged off his hat, vulnerable, a man with nothing to hide. “Believe me. I have been honest about who I am and what I want.”

“You have not. I am
not
some country girl easily fooled.”

“I do not think you are.” He stood resolute, like an innocent man. But how could he be? He looked so sad. “The day I walked away from my father’s ultimatums and my mother’s social scheming, I stopped being their son. I am my own man. Nothing is going to change that.”

“It doesn’t matter to me.” He couldn’t change the truth. She’d thought she had meant more to him than that. She’d been imagining that when he gazed upon her, the world vanished and all that remained was his infinite love for her. She’d thought that when he’d pledged his intentions, it was because she made him whole. That their love was the kind of a rare shining blessing bestowed sparingly in this world.

But she was not so special to him. Whatever caring he felt for her, it could not measure up to what she had
imagined. He had been passing time, that was all, a rich man’s harmless flirtations.

“My maternal grandmother was poor, but when we were in need she shared what she had with us.” How sincere he looked, striving so hard to win back her regard. With another story, no less, one meant to tear down her defenses and overturn good sense. “What I told you was true. My father’s investments improved and we moved back into our house, but I never forgot—”

“Please, not another tale,” she interrupted. “You will say anything to salvage your self-opinion. When you leave tomorrow, you will not take my heart with you.”

“But I love you.”

“You love me?” She marched through the barn doors and into the yard, rocks crunching beneath her shoes, the cheerful shafts of sunlight threatening to steal her from his sight. His beautiful Meredith. Why couldn’t she see his feelings?

“I think I fell in love the first moment I set eyes on you. You had a streak of mud on your cheek and you were standing in the middle of the road.”
Please remember that moment,
he begged, the instant in time when their lives changed.

Her anger melted away, leaving a moment of pure longing that made her so sad that his soul could bleed. The wind gusted, bringing a few stray blossoms from the flowering apple trees. Soft pink petals rained down on her, clinging to her tendrils and the slope of her skirt. Being near to her brought more hidden places within him alive. Nothing could stop his love for her.

The future rolled out before him like the prairie
unspooling in every direction. He saw the year to come of courting the prettiest schoolteacher west of the Mississippi, his engagement ring shining on her slender hand. There would be a little wedding with wildflowers and Meredith radiant in any gown she wanted. He could picture their comfortable home and plenty of fertile land close to whichever town her teaching job had taken them. Horses grazing behind whiteboard fences, fruit ripening in the orchard and Meredith cradling their baby in her arms.

Never had he seen his future so clearly. Never had he wanted something so much.

“I remember thinking you were trouble on horseback.” She stared down at her sewing hoop as if searching for a solution. Finding none there, she gave him one last appraisal. Her longing had vanished, but the sadness remained. She hiked up her skirts as if ready to flee. “I should have paid better attention to my first impressions.”

“You loved me once. You said so. You can love me again.” It was the only hope he had.

“No. I cannot. This is goodbye, Shane Connelly.” She could not hide her sorrow as she hurried up the walkway, taking with her the best dream he’d ever had.