Unforsaken (7 page)

He was older than she had first thought, at least in his fifties, but his face was more weathered than it was aged. The slight graying of his hair at the temples emphasized the piercing blue eyes that quickly assessed rather than stared. It was obvious he was capable of being intimidating if the need arose.

Olivia didn't intimidate easily. “I doubt that. Otherwise, you wouldn't be filling my office with a lot of foul-smelling smoke."

Rodger had managed to retrieve his smoldering cigar from under her desk and scrambled to his feet, abashed, and hastily brushed ashes from the sleeve of his jacket. “Olivia, this is Michael Sullivan. He's interested in purchasing lumber for—"

"For your textile mill,” she concluded. “Very ambitious of you, building a new factory so far from river traffic."

"I see you make it your business to investigate any newcomers to your town, Miss Chandler,” he said, his polished English accent making the statement sound like a compliment. “I suppose the freight trains can accommodate textiles as well as they can your lumber and cotton."

Olivia knew the difference between a compliment and a challenge. “You've done a little investigating as well."

He nodded. “However, I wasn't aware that you had children."

Olivia glanced down at Sarah and felt her face flush. “Oh, no. Sarah is only visiting me for a short while."

"That's Matthew's little girl, isn't it?” Rodger was incredulous. “You're keeping Matthew Bowen's child?"

"For the time being,” she countered. Inwardly she groaned. Rodger would carry the news home and Ada would have it all over the county by noon tomorrow.

"Rodger and I will finish our cigars outside,” Sullivan said, tactfully breaking the awkward silence. “I'm anxious to see the rest of your facility."

Normally, Olivia would have dismissed Rodger and conducted the tour herself, but she couldn't leave Sarah behind with a stranger or take her along. The child would be terrified of the screeching saws and workmen shouting to be heard above the noise.

She smiled and nodded, grateful for the diversion. “Good day to you, then."

They were gone, but the foul stench of cigar smoke lingered in the air. Olivia crossed the room and opened the window, hoping for a strong breeze. She glanced back to find Sarah watching her. The child was swallowed up by the enormous scale of the room and glanced about uneasily.

"I've just a little work to do and then we can go,” Olivia explained as she settled behind the enormous mahogany desk. Once seated, she could barely glimpse the top of Sarah's head and realized the child couldn't see her, either. Knowing only too well how imposing that desk could be, Olivia peered over the edge and suggested, “You can come around here with me, if you like."

Sarah rushed to Olivia's side and clung to the arm of her chair, her eyes wide. A stack of pay vouchers waited for Olivia's signature, and she had the work orders for the next week to review. The little girl's eyes were riveted on every stroke of Olivia's fountain pen, admiring the precise lettering. Inside the drawer, Olivia found the stub of a pencil and a blank sheet of stationery and showed Sarah the proper way to hold the pencil.

Sarah carefully drew a line across the top of the paper and glanced up at Olivia for approval.

"Very good,” Olivia praised, and the child beamed with pride and accomplishment. “Do you like to draw pictures?"

Olivia sketched a cat with pointy ears and whiskers and a house with a smoking chimney. Sarah eagerly took the pencil and proceeded to create her own characters while Olivia continued with her work. The little girl's brow puckered in concentration, and Olivia couldn't help smiling whenever she glanced over at her.

At last the work was done and Sarah beamed with pride at all they had accomplished. Olivia rose from the desk and moved to close the window. Voices met her ears.

"Now don't concern yourself with Olivia,” Rodger was saying. “She's hard-headed and contrary, but she does have good business sense—for a woman, that is."

He was talking with Sullivan, she knew it even before she heard the man ask, “Then why doesn't she deal with the customers?"

"She doesn't know enough about the business and doesn't want to embarrass herself,” Rodger explained. “She always listens to me, and I know a good opportunity when I see it."

Olivia closed the window quietly and watched Sullivan shake hands with her cousin and march out of the lumber yard. Rodger stood watching him for several seconds before turning back to the mill, a supercilious smile on his face. The fool. He wouldn't know a good opportunity from a hole in the ground.

Rodger turned toward the warehouse instead of the office building and ducked inside. Olivia could dismiss idle bragging on his part, but his furtive assurances to Sullivan raised suspicions she couldn't ignore.

If he was up to no good, flying off the handle and confronting him now would only alert him to her suspicions and make her look like a fool if he were not. The best thing she could do would be to let him play his hand and see which way the wind blew. It was unsettling to think someone so close to her was not above going behind her back, and she hoped Rodger would prove her misgivings to be unwarranted.

Forcing a smile, she turned back to Sarah. “Why don't we go back to my house? I'm sure Miss Eula is home by now."

Sarah glanced back toward the desk. “How ‘bout my pic-sure?"

"Your picture?” Olivia repeated. “What about—oh! Your picture. We must take it with us to show Miss Eula."

Sarah smiled and gingerly claimed the scrawled sheet of paper and held it out to Olivia. Once outside, she and Sarah found a safe place for the picture behind the buggy seat and started for home.

Halfway through town, Olivia remembered a package waiting for her at the mercantile and drew the team to a halt. She hefted Sarah down from the buggy and led her inside the store. The tiny bell jingled above her head as they stepped inside, and she nodded in acknowledgment of the shopkeeper's greeting. The store was eerily quiet, and Olivia glanced up to find at least seven or eight women staring at her in undisguised shock.

She steeled her gaze, and they all looked away, each feigning interest in some insignificant piece of merchandise. Turning her attention, Olivia didn't miss the hushed whispers and bristled at the thought of being the subject of petty gossip. The sound of someone clearing her throat startled her.

She turned to find Eugenia Jennings at her side. “My, my, Olivia, who do you have with you today?"

She didn't bother returning the woman's simpering smile. “This is Sarah."

"Matthew's little girl? Well, hello, Sarah,” Eugenia cooed. “Are you visiting with Miss Olivia today?"

The little girl backed away from her and clung to Olivia's hand. Eugenia was not at all discouraged. “She certainly seems attached to you, Olivia. Does this mean that you're going to be her new mama?"

"Of course, not,” Olivia snapped, realizing too late that her hasty denial would feed the gossip mill just as well as a confirmation.

"That's a shame.” Eugenia shook her head sadly. “Poor Matthew. All alone with a child to raise. I can't believe you'd pass up the opportunity."

She felt herself stiffen at the remark. “The matter is none of your business, and I resent your prying and insinuations."

Eugenia's eyes widened with exaggerated innocence. “Why, dear, I don't know what you mean."

"You know very well what I mean.” Olivia deliberately lowered her voice. “How dare you imply that I would use a child for such a purpose?"

"Well, Olivia, you own everything else in town. I don't see why you don't just buy yourself a husband."

"That's good advice. I'll remember it when yours brings his cotton to market."

Eugenia paled visibly, remembering too late with whom she was dealing, but Olivia didn't relent. It was her turn to smile sweetly. “After all, why should I buy a husband when I already own yours?"

Her spite found its mark, and the woman's eyes narrowed with impotent fury, but she dared not reciprocate. Instead, she returned to her friends with as much defiance as she could muster and led them out of the store before relating her version of the encounter.

Olivia glanced down at Sarah and smoothed the child's wispy curls away from her face. Try as she might, Olivia couldn't think of anything to say to alleviate the tense mood that had spoiled an otherwise pleasant afternoon. Instead, she made a feeble suggestion that Sarah peruse the sparse selection of toys Parson's had in stock.

The plain truth was that she just couldn't do this. No one would ever believe she was keeping the child for the sake of kindness alone. She would have to find a nurse for Sarah and take her back to her father. The child would still be cared for and Matthew wouldn't lose any time in the fields.

"Here's your package, Miss Olivia."

The storekeeper's voice startled her, and she was mortified to realize he had probably heard the entire exchange between Eugenia Jennings and herself. Why had she let that woman goad her into such a petty confrontation? She might have had the last word, but Eugenia would have the satisfaction of knowing her accusations had been deeply disturbing.

Still more troubling was the knowledge that news of her keeping Sarah would be all over town by nightfall, and the natural assumption would be that it was part of some desperate hope of winning back the man who had spurned her not so many years ago. She simply could not allow it, especially when she found herself sorry to think the remotest possibility didn't exist.

For two days Matthew hated himself for leaving Sarah with strangers. It was mostly guilt for not being able to care for her himself, but he would have felt somewhat better if she had been better acquainted with either Olivia or her aunt. Nothing, however, could ease his conscience over ignoring her cries to go home and leaving her behind. He couldn't forget the pitiful picture she made, clutching her doll and fighting back tears, and he didn't know if he had the heart to do it again.

But his concern forced him to visit the Chandler home, to assure himself that she was being cared for and to reassure her that she would be coming home soon. If the weather held out, he would have the crops planted in a matter of weeks. After that, he would be better able to manage caring for Sarah himself.

Dusk was just beginning to settle as he made his way up the front steps of the Chandler house, and before he could knock the sounds of laughter reached his ears. He recognized Sarah's infectious giggle, but her words were impossible to understand coming from behind the house. He forgot about knocking and searched out the voices.

He found Sarah and Olivia on the back porch. From his vantage point he could see an expression of intense concentration on his little girl's face. She was lying on her stomach, scrubbing a charcoal pencil over a large sheet of paper, her eyes flitting up to Olivia, whose face warmed with a smile—a smile he hadn't seen since he was little more than a boy. He stared in silence for many moments, as if he were gazing through a window into the past.

Her hair had come loose from its pins in the late afternoon breeze and the errant strands fanned her face and caught the radiance of the setting sun, turning the soft brown locks russet flecked with gold. She leaned forward and pointed to some mark on the paper and they laughed again. Sarah quickly resumed her work.

Olivia straightened up and reached out to smooth a lock of hair from her face, only to have the breeze unsettle it. She turned away from the breeze and froze at the sight of him. She knew at once that he'd been watching her; the horror in her eyes said so, and her face grew flushed.

Sarah looked up at him, startled and delighted both. She leapt to her feet and cried, “Daddy! Daddy, look what I got!"

He scooped the little girl into his arms and hugged her tight. “What have you got, darlin'?"

The carefree expression disappeared from Olivia's face and she struggled to her feet before he could offer to help her stand. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt and her smile disappeared along with them. In a stiffly formal voice, she managed, “Good evening."

"Good evening,” he returned, stung by her summary dismissal. Whatever game she had been playing with Sarah was over, and she certainly wasn't going to include him.

Sarah began to twist in his arms, wanting down to show him her new toys. He knelt beside his daughter and listened to her breathless account of finding the sketch pad at the store and bringing it back to Olivia's house. He noticed she was wearing another new dress and a matching ribbon in her hair.

"I trust you'll be joining us for dinner?"

Olivia's guarded statement could hardly be considered an invitation, but he had come to spend time with Sarah, not her. “If it's not an imposition."

"Of course not.” She didn't wait for a reply. “I'll let Maddy know we need another place setting."

With that she turned and disappeared inside the house Forcing his attention back to Sarah, Matthew carefully studied the drawings she had been working on, amused at the images Sarah picked out of the jumbled mass of lines and squiggles.

"Careful, Daddy, don't tear the paper."

"I'll be careful.” An old quilt had been spread out on the porch and he followed her when she plopped back down. “When did you learn to draw?"

"Livvy showed me,” she explained, returning her attention to her artwork.

He gave her a gentle pat on the back, struck by the pride and affection in her voice.

Livvy.

Somehow Olivia had survived dinner seated across from Matthew, painfully aware of his eyes on her and wondering if he questioned her motives for caring for the child.

Tonight Sarah had not cried to go home with him, but she pleaded with her father not to leave.

"I can't stay here,” he tried to explain. “I have to take care of the animals and work in the field."

The explanation mollified her enough to prompt a good-night kiss without further protest.

Olivia helped her into the lacy nightgown that fell to her feet and brushed her hair. Once Sarah was settled in the tiny trundle bed beside her own, Olivia readied herself for bed but doubted she would sleep a wink that night.