Change of Heart (18 page)

“I couldn’t agree more,” Aaron said, smiling
at her.

“If there is one thing that never changes,”
Miss Comstock said assuredly, “it’s that everything is constantly
changing.”

Aaron felt a strong sense of satisfaction in
Miss Comstock’s sage statement. Things did indeed change every day.
And soon, he thought as he gazed at Miss Porter, a certain young
teacher’s heart would change too. Some day, Aaron mused, all that
passion Stephanie Porter had held in her lovely eyes a short time
ago would reappear, and it would be a reflection of her warm
feelings for him.

At least he hoped that would happen.

MARI’S MIRACLE
, Book
Three of the Heart Junction Series

BLURB: 1914. Marigold Mahoney’s father exiles
her from his palatial city home to rural Heart Junction. Worse yet
he hires a disagreeable farmer to be her driver. If Grit Truman had
known Mari would be the spoiled spitfire she is, he may have turned
down the driver’s job. Then again, she is the most attractive woman
he’s ever met. Will Grit tame this little lady before she conquers
him?

Marigold Mahoney waited in the train depot,
fidgeting and fretting. She did not want to be in Heart Junction,
South Dakota. She wanted to be in Minneapolis where she
belonged.

Mari shook her head as she glanced at the
five bags of belongings setting next to her. How would she survive
in this tiny town with only a few of her belongings?

She wrung her hands. She should have brought
her blue silk frock, her oak vanity and her dress form. Without her
dress form, how could she keep her clothes from wrinkling? And
without a maid, who would press her clothes?

Blast her father for exiling her to this
dreadful, tiny town! It would have been better if he’d have
disguised her as a boy and enlisted her in the military service.
Her brothers were far better off in the military than she was in
Heart Junction. At least they were able to travel to exciting
places around the world.

She’d been only to New York, Chicago and New
Orleans. She’d like to see Paris, Rome, London and Athens as well
as her Irish homeland. Father had spoken often of his homeland.

“I beg your pardon,” a deep voice said from
behind her.

Mari turned round and looked up into the most
intriguing, deep brown eyes she’d ever seen. “Are you speaking to
me, sir?”

“Yes, miss. Are you Miss Marigold
Mahoney?”

Mari’s fascination with the handsome
gentleman nearly stole her voice. “Yes, sir, I am.”

He nodded toward her. “Good day, miss. I’m
Grit Truman. Your father hired me to be your driver.”

She lifted her chin. “Charmed to meet you,
I’m sure, but, Mr. Truman, you are late. I don’t appreciate
tardiness in my servants.”

“Your servants?” he said, raising his brows.
“Miss, I am no one’s servant. I am your automobile mechanic. While
it is true that I will be chauffeuring you since you, like most
women, are unable to drive an automobile, you may not now nor ever
refer to me as your servant,” he said firmly.

“Like most
women
? And just how many
men do you know who have had experience driving an automobile, Mr.
Truman? I’d wager from the meager representation of the horseless
carriage which I have seen in this town that there are few people
of either gender who have even ridden in an automobile let alone
driven one.”

He chuckled lightly. “
Touché,
Miss
Mahoney.”

“
Touché? Parlez vous francais,
monsieur?
”

Grit shook his head. “I may slip a foreign
word into a sentence once in a while, miss, but I don’t speak any
language but good old American English.”

She nodded and quelled her disappointment.
Servant or not, she’d hoped for a moment that this man with the
deep, brown eyes and ruggedly handsome features might be an amiable
companion she could converse with in more than one language.

“English is fine, sir, as long as you
understand the language well.”

He gave her a crooked nod and a peculiar
look. “I do, of course.”

She lifted an arrogant brow. “Then I presume
you understood my father when he instructed you to meet me at
precisely eleven-fifteen this morning?”

“Yes, miss, I did. Unfortunately, my horse
didn’t wish to accommodate my schedule or yours. She decided she’d
drop her foal at ten. I couldn’t just abandon her. Not only does an
animal deserve to be taken care of properly, I can’t afford to lose
a good mare. As a farmer I depend on my animals to help me with my
work.”

“You’re a farmer? A man of property,
then?”

Grit rubbed his finger over his upper lip. “I
am a farmer, yes, but I am not yet a man of property. I rent my
buildings, and I sharecrop the land.”

“You’re a sharecropper?” Her tone was far too
condescending, and she immediately regretted using it.

“Yes, miss. Is there anything wrong with
that?”

“I don’t suppose so. It’s just that, as a
woman of means, I’m not used to dealing with…” She stopped herself
before she made matters worse by insulting him further.

“You have means, Miss Mahoney, or your father
has means?”

“It’s all the same, Mr. Truman.”

He shrugged casually and gave her an
unexpected smile. “Whatever you say, Miss Mahoney. If you say you
have money, I believe you. I shall not hold your state of wealth
against you. I enjoy the company of rich people as much as I enjoy
the company of the poor.”

“Mr. Truman, whether or not you enjoy my
company is up to you. Your job is to take me wherever I want to go,
even if you strongly dislike being with me.”

“Miss Mahoney,” he said, giving her a look
she could not define, “I assure you, I could never dislike being in
the company of a woman as beautiful as you.”

His surprising show of charm left her
speechless. Worse yet, his totally improper compliment sent her
heart into palpitations. Her strange reaction to him confused her.
Why should her body betray her by responding as though she were
attracted to this common farmer? Marigold quickly looked away so he
wouldn’t see the roses she could feel blooming in her cheeks.

“Miss Mahoney?”

“Yes?” she replied without looking at
him.

“If you’re ready to go, I’ll take your bags
to the carriage. I’ll take three of them at once, and then I’ll
come back for you and the rest of your luggage. Would that suit
you?”

She could feel the heat in her cheeks burning
as hotly as ever so she continued to look away from him. “Yes, Mr.
Truman.”

She sensed him next to her as he picked up
two bags and her trunk. When she was sure he was walking away from
her, she looked at him. Her heart began to beat wildly. How strong
he was! Her heavy trunk full of shoes, clothes and personal items
was a feather to him. And what a confident, assured gait he had in
his stride.

She judged him to be over six feet tall. His
dungarees clung to his legs showing their powerful muscles. His
blue cotton shirt stretched tight over his broad shoulders.

Grit Truman was a very attractive man.

Servant, mechanic, sharecropper, whatever he
wanted to call himself, he was every inch male. If she were a silly
woman like Betsy Lindstrom or Luella Senilla whom she knew from her
finishing school, she’d be tempted to toy with Mr. Truman’s
affections.

But Mari did not believe in tempting the
servants. She wasn’t about to change her moral standards for Grit
Truman, no matter how attractive he might be. She was a lady first
and always, and her gentleman callers had always been boys and men
of substance. She’d probably find no such men in Heart Junction,
but that didn’t matter.

She’d decided on the train ride to South
Dakota that if her father wanted her to learn to be independent
that was exactly what she’d do. She’d become so independent she
would never need him again.

She’d probably make herself deathly sick
trying to attain her goal, but she’d do it just the same. She’d
likely be helpless without servants to tend to her, hopeless
without luxuries to pamper her and lonely without her string of
beaus coming to call, but, thanks to her father’s shoving her from
the family nest in Minneapolis, she’d by heaven be independent.

“Miss Mahoney,” Grit said, “I’ve got the
other two bags.”

She looked at him and saw he was holding both
of the remaining pieces of luggage by one hand.

“I’ll take you to the carriage now.” He
stepped next to her and placed his free hand on the middle of her
back.

The instant he touched her, her stomach
flipped and tingled. Mari placed her hand over her abdomen as she
allowed Grit to urge her toward the door of the depot.

What was it she’d been thinking about a few
minutes ago? Something about not fraternizing with the servants,
wasn’t it?

It seemed that all logical thoughts had left
her head. Mari’s mind could think of nothing but the warm hand on
her back which stirred her insides.

In all of her twenty-one years, no man, no
boy, no one had made her feel as unexplainably odd as Grit Truman
was making her feel at that moment.

He led her to the boardwalk outside the depot
and took her to a horse and buggy.

“What’s this? Where is the automobile my
father sent?”

“I’m afraid it only arrived yesterday, Miss
Mahoney. I intended to assemble the car last night. Once my horse
began to ail, I had to tend to her. I am afraid I haven’t yet taken
time to put the automobile together. I apologize for that. I rented
this fancy rig at the livery stable. I hope it suits you.”

Mari turned to look up at him. “Mr. Truman,
this rig is not suitable. I was expecting the Packard my father
sent for me.”

“The Packard?” His tone was one of great
surprise. “Miss Mahoney, your father didn’t send a Packard. The
automobile he sent was shipped directly from Sears and Roebuck, and
it looks nothing like a Packard. Why, this rig here is ten times
fancier than the car your father sent.”

Mari ground her teeth. How cruel her father
was being! She’d never in ten years have imagined her sweet,
indulgent father could be so uncaring as to send her anything less
than the Packard the family used on the chauffeur’s day off when
there was no one to drive the Rolls.

She squared her shoulders and moved toward
the primitive vehicle with the black leather seats and fringed
covering. “This carriage will suffice, Mr. Truman.”

While Grit quickly placed the remaining two
pieces of luggage in the back of the carriage, Mari waited for him
to help her into the buggy.

When he returned to her he took her hand and
held her arm firmly as she climbed into the carriage.

It had been a long time since Mari had ridden
in a vehicle without an engine. She indulged in a secret smile as
she recalled the last time she’d ridden in a horse-drawn rig.

Freddie Manigan had rented a carriage similar
to the one she was sitting in now to take her for a ride in the
park two days after her eighteenth birthday. It had been a romantic
evening. She and Freddie and Alice Cummings and Joseph March had
had a wonderful time together. And, when the evening was over,
Freddie had given her her first kiss.

Grit settled next to her, took the reigns and
set the horse in motion.

She squirmed into the soft leather and
sighed. Perhaps a ride in a horse-drawn carriage wouldn’t be so
bad, she mused. At the very least, the situation had brought up
pleasant memories of an evening and a man she would never
forget.

“Are you ready to see your new home?” Grit
asked as he drove along Heart Junction’s main road.

Mari gave him a tentative nod. “I’m ready,
Mr. Truman.”

Two minutes later, after taking in the
totally unimpressive sites of her new town, Mari realized quite
clearly that she’d told Grit Truman a lie.

She was not now nor would she ever be ready
for Heart Junction.

Fran Shaff is the author of contemporary and
historical sweet romance, young peoples’ novels and short stories.
She began writing in 1999, and she continues to produce romance and
children’s novels. Her short stories have appeared in such places
as Woman’s World magazine and major outlets on line.

Fran is a native of South Dakota. She has
also lived in Nebraska, Minnesota, Wisconsin and Illinois. Fran’s
books are found in libraries and bookstores throughout the country
and on the Internet.

Fran Shaff has won the following awards and
honors: Write Touch Readers’ Award, More than Magic Award, Herbert
W. Blakely Award, Golden Rose Award, EPPIE nomination for
children’s literature, two Recommended Read Awards from Fallen
Angel Reviews, Top Pick Award from Romance Reader at Heart, E-book
of the Month Award from MyShelf.com, and two CataRomance Reviewers’
Choice Awards, one nomination.

Books by Fran Shaff which are currently
available or coming soon in hardcover, paperback and electronic
formats include: “The Trading Game,” “Change of Heart,” “Montana
Match,” “The Love Trap,” “Ever so Humble,” “A Partner’s Promise,”
“Little Greek Gods,” The Heart Junction Series consisting of
“Laura’s Lost Love,” “Stephanie’s Surprise and “Mari’s Miracle,”
“Montana Magic,” “Stolen Son,” “Lost Hearts,” “For Love of Maggie,”
and more.

For more information on all of Fran Shaff’s
currently-available books visit her website at
http://sites.google.com/site/fshaff
or her MySpace page at:
www.myspace.com/franshaff