The Law and Miss Mary (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

M
ary leaned forward, studied her reflection in the mirror and frowned. The captain could not have meant what she thought he had meant. It had
seemed
he said he…favored…
her
over Levinia Stewart.

She straightened and finished tying the ribbon encircling the thick fall of long hair at her nape. It was clear she had misunderstood. For such a thing was not possible. It was only her silly heart wanting its dream to come true.

Still…he was no longer courting Miss Stewart. Had Levinia perhaps refused his suit? She snorted. Now that was another ridiculous notion. And it would not explain his remarks about her eyes….

She stole another quick look in the mirror. No, they were still the same. Perhaps a little…dreamier. Oh, she was being utterly ridiculous!

She spun about, left the dressing room and walked to her bedroom window. The rain was falling in earnest now. It drummed on the roof, splatted against the window and sheeted down the small panes to splash against the sill and run down the brick walls of the house.

Sulfurous yellow streaked from the black sky to the earth with a wicked snap. She flinched, listened to the thunder crack and grumble away and wished she could open the window to the welcome coolness of the outside air.

Outside.

She smiled, hurried to the cupboard and shrugged into her dressing gown and slippers. Light flickered throughout the room as she ran on tiptoe for the stairs.

“Ah-ha! I see we both have the same intention.”

She jolted to a halt, looking up at James. “The porch?”

He nodded and stepped back to let her precede him down the stairs. She went down two steps, looked back over her shoulder and laughed. “I call dibs on the swing!”

“Oh, no. You will not pull that old trick on me.” He leaped down the two steps.

Mary yelped, whirled, lifted the front of her nightgown and raced down the stairs, James’s footsteps thundering behind her. She giggled and sprinted for the door, grabbing the knob.

Strong hands grasped her waist. Lifted her off her feet.

She squealed and pushed at his hands. “James,
no!
”

He gave an evil little laugh, set her down behind him, then opened the door and shot across the porch to plop down dead center in the swing.

Mary marched over, fisted her hands on her hips and stood in front of him so he could not swing. “Move over.” She struggled to keep the laughter from her voice. “You have to share.”

Lightning flashed and gleamed on the white teeth exposed by his grin. “Uh-uh. It was a race. I won.”

“You cheated!”

“So did you.”

She snorted.

They both burst out laughing.

James scooched over and patted the seat beside him.

“
Thank
you.” Mary turned and smoothed her skirts forward to sit down, heard a creak and tensed to jump out of the way. She was too late. The forward edge of the swing caught her behind the knees and her legs buckled. She fell backward onto the slatted seat, bumped against the arm he held across the back to cushion her landing. She joined his laughter, waited for the right moment then pushed her toes against the porch floor in rhythm with his to keep the swing from wobbling.

He nudged her with his shoulder. “That felt like we were ten years old again.”

“I know.” She looked over at him and grinned. “We should do that more often. But not in front of the children.”

The swing creaked. They pushed their toes against the floor in unison, maintaining the gentle to-and-fro motion. Rain beat against the shingles, sluiced off the roof and landed with a splash on the ground. Lightning sizzled from the sky, grounded with a sharp crack. She looked at him and they shared another grin. She jabbed him with her elbow. “You flinched.”

“So did you.”

Their laughter blended with the rumble of the thunder.

“The cool air feels good. Almost like back home.”

She nodded, reached forward and pulled her dressing gown closed over her knees. Her nightgown was becoming damp from the rain spatters when they swung forward. “James?”

“Yes?”

“Are you in love with Rebecca?”

He leaned to his side, turned his head to look at her.

“That is quite a jump from ‘you flinched—so did you.’ Where did that question come from?”

She shrugged, rubbed at the sudden coolness where the warmth of his arm had been. “I was only wondering.”

He relaxed back into their former shoulder-to-shoulder position. “Rebecca and I are in love with one another.”

She felt his smile. “That makes it perfect.” She looked up at him. “I am so happy for you, James. I want you to be happy always.”

“Thank you, Mary. I want the same for you.”

“I know.” She looked down, fiddled with a button on her dressing gown. “How—I mean,
when
did you first know you loved Rebecca?” She glanced up, saw him smile into the distance.

“Remember that day we met her outside the church, when I helped her into her father’s farm wagon? That was it. When she looked down at me and our gazes met—I knew.”

I looked into a pair of beautiful, honey-flecked brown eyes.
Her pulse skipped a beat. Could it possibly be that simple? Or was it only the longing of her heart?
Poor little Miss Mary. She’ll have a hard time findin’ herself a husband, bein’ plain like she is.

The swing wobbled. James glanced at her. “Sorry.” She waited for the right moment and shoved her toes against the porch again. The swing evened out.

Veronica, my beloved, what man would not choose your petite, blond beauty and sweet nature over Mary’s dark, angular plainness and bold, forthright ways?
The memory still hurt…but not as much as it had.
I discovered some time ago that Levinia Stewart is not the woman for me. Would you like to know how I made that discovery?
Her breath snagged.
I looked into a pair of beautiful, honey-flecked brown eyes.
What was she to believe?

“James? If you were not my brother—I mean, if you were another man. Would you think me…attractive?”

“No. I would think you beautiful.”

“Truly? If you were another man?” She looked over at him. “Heart’s promise truly?” She held her breath. You could not lie when you said “heart’s promise.”

“Heart’s promise truly.” He turned his head to look at her. “You have never been vain, Mary. Quite the opposite. So I know you are not simply questing after a compliment. Why are you asking?”

She shook her head. “No reason. I was only wondering. James, that day after church—when you were talking about how beautiful Rebecca was—I thought you were talking about Miss Stewart.”

“Not likely.”

“Do you not find her very beautiful?”

“I do not.” He gave her a look as though she had lost her mind. “Men look at women differently than other women do. Not that we do not appreciate a beautiful face and form. But there is much more to beauty than dimples and curls, Mary. And the first time I looked into Miss Stewart’s eyes, that day we met her and the captain on the portico at the courthouse, I knew how shallow and vapid her beauty was. The woman has no heart. When you look in Miss Stewart’s eyes, all you see is Miss Stewart. There is nothing beautiful about a woman in love with herself. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes. I think I am beginning to understand. Thank you, James.”
I discovered some time ago that Levinia Stewart is not the woman for me. Would you like to know how I made that discovery? I looked into a pairof beautiful, honey-flecked brown eyes.
She sighed. Perhaps her heart had read too much into the captain’s words. Most likely he had only meant that when he had compared her eyes with Miss Stewart’s eyes, he had discovered Miss Stewart’s vanity.

At least the captain did not consider her shallow or vain. That was something.

But how lovely it would be if she had not misunderstood him after all.

Had he said too much? Too little? Should he have stayed instead of walking away? No. He had said enough. Sam frowned and pulled off his boots. If he had stayed he would have asked Mary to marry him. And he could not do that. Not yet. He did not want to scare her away by saying too much too soon. Not that Mary frightened easily.

His lips twitched. He would have liked to have seen her ordering that foreman and those workers around. Standing there with those children gathered around her and defying the order that would have sent them back to work. He could imagine how her eyes had flashed, and how that little chin of hers had jutted into the air. She was a fighter. No doubt about that. But fighters sometimes got wounded. And above all he wanted Mary safe. Especially her heart. And the mayor was a formidable foe.

Light flickered throughout the room. Thunder clapped and boomed. The rain poured off the roof in a wide, shimmering waterfall. Sam walked to the window and tugged it open. Fresh, cool air flowed in. One good thing about this room—the storms came from the other direction. He could always open the window.

How did Mary feel about him? Would she welcome his suit? There were moments—like when she was perched on the cot in that cell and looked up at him—when he thought she might. Then the next minute she went all cool and prickly on him and he was unsure again.

Sam huffed, yanked off his shirt and tossed it over the back of the only chair in the room. That moment in the cell had been hard! He’d had to hold on to the bars of the cell to keep from charging over there and taking Mary in his arms. But he wanted it to be right, with everything proper and settled, before that happened. Because once he held her, he didn’t intend to let go.

He turned at another flicker of lightning and walked back to the window. He loved her. Above and beyond anything he had ever known, thought, imagined or dreamed. And he’d give his life to have her love him, too. He might as well, because without her in it, his life would not be worth living.

He shook his head, leaned down and peeled off his socks. If he ever ran across Thomas, he was going to shake his hand. He’d arrest him first, but
then
he would shake his hand. If it hadn’t been for Thomas’s scheme of stealing the insurance money, he never would have looked into those steamboat mishaps. And if he hadn’t been investigating them, he would not have met the Randolphs. Strange how that all worked out. It had sure saved him from making a costly mistake. He snorted. Costly was right! Levinia Stewart would most likely have gone through his money smooth as a canoe glides through water. But the real cost would have been all he would have lost. He never would have known love.

Sam tossed the socks at the foot of the chair and flopped down on the bed, staring up at the soot smudge on the ceiling and listening to the rain. It always made him think of a woman’s tears. His mother’s tears. But he didn’t feel as if his mother was crying tonight. For some reason, it felt as if she was smiling. And Danny, too.

Poor Danny and Ma…Knots twisted in his stomach. He had a promise to keep to them. The old bitterness rose and twisted the knots tighter. He had heard James Randolph say that the Lord was blessing the orphans. That it was evident in the way things were working out in spite of the mayor and aldermen and other spiteful folks in St. Louis. Randolph said that God often worked His blessings through people—like him and Mrs. Lucas and the Ladies’ Benevolent Society.

He couldn’t go along with that. God wouldn’t use a sinner like him. And while Mrs. Lucas had a good heart—she was lonely and helping these orphans gave her something to do. As for the Ladies’ Benevolent Society, most of them seemed to want to help now, but they got into it because Mrs. Lucas shamed them into it. Still…things were working out. The orphans were being helped. Was Randolph right? Was it God?

Sam rose up on one elbow, pounded his pillow into shape and turned over onto his side. Mary had told him about the mayor’s reaction to the pastor’s sermon on God loving everyone equally and being no respecter of persons. But he didn’t believe what the pastor said either. If it was true, why hadn’t God sent someone to care for Danny and his ma and him?

His face tightened. He flopped onto his other side and stared at the plaster wall. One of those chips in the paint looked like a rooster…

Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled. Something flickered before him—like a picture against the wall. More of an impression really. Two women, each holding an umbrella and basket, standing outside a door with the lightning flashing behind them.

Sam rubbed his forehead, blinked and closed his eyes. There was something about those women…

Lightning flickered against his eyelids. Thunder crashed.

The images came again and memory broke through the walls of years of denial. More images flashed. The women standing outside their house, begging to be let in. His father drunk, shouting at them to go away, that Ruben Benton’s family didn’t need anybody’s charity. His mother, sick in bed, holding Danny next to her. And him, huddled in the corner, crying and bleeding from the beating his father had given him for going to the church to ask for help.

Sam opened his eyes and stared at the wall. He had blamed God for not helping his mother and Danny and him. All these years he had blamed God for not answering his prayers, and for the beating he had received for turning to the church for help that never came. But help
had
come. God
had
sent someone to help them. And his father had sent them away. God didn’t kill his mother and Danny. His father had.

Sam swallowed hard, all the hurt and sorrow and guilt swamping him as he faced the truth. He had known it when it happened. When he was only seven years old, he had known it was his father’s fault that his mother and Danny had died. But no matter how terribly his father had treated them all—he was still his father. And he had not wanted his father to be guilty. So he had blamed God. And he had run away so he would not have to look at his father and remember.

And he hadn’t.

Until now.

Sam scrubbed his hard, callused hand over his squeezed-shut eyes and cleared the lump from his throat. He was tired of harboring bitterness. It was time to be free of it.