Fate's Intervention (9 page)

“
No chess match?
”

“
No chess match,
”
he said. He placed a light kiss on her forehead.
“
Now, let me be for a bit. Go work on your quilting.
”

“
Exciting.
”

“
Very. Please send
Nancy
with my port.
”

“
Yes,
Father
.
”

Marcelle watched her
father
climb the steps to the living quarters and wondered what he was hiding from her. She didn
’
t believe for a moment that he had a cold. Cold, bah. His health had been slowly deteriorating for the past month and Marcelle knew it. No cold held to a body as long as that. She hadn
’
t missed the increased visits from his physician either.

The subtle threats he kept spouting added to the increased pressure for her to wed; the ongoing
cold
and multiple visits from his physician, made her wonder at what really was going on with her
father
.

Despite their incessant arguing
–
a
nother oddity since he was participating in those less and less as well
–
he could have forced her to wed at
any time
since turning fourteen, but hadn
’
t. Now, things were changing rapidly and she wanted to know why.

She knew why he
’
d humored her when she was younger. That was no great mystery. He
’
d indulged her curiosities and allowed her freedom that most young girls never experienced, and even given her the right to decide when and whom she would marry
.
That earlier lenience stemmed from her mother
’
s sudden death and his inexperience in the rearing of a young daughter.
A
partiality that suited her just fine.
Of course that changed when he realized she wasn
’
t inclined to
select a mate
.
She only wished
things could remain as they were when she was fourteen,
but something was happening to her
father
, something that was changing his perspective of her future. It worried her.

A
small smile formed on her mouth as she remembered the first suitor to come to call on her. Her
father
hadn
’
t even played a hand in that one. The young man simply appeared on her doorstep the day after her thirteenth birthday.

Stefan Mills was tall,
lanky,
and right in the middle of becoming a man at the tender age of sixteen. He was an amusing diversion for Marcelle, who enjoyed watching him trip over his two feet and listening to his voice change pitch on a daily basis. She was always polite with him, however, and never let on that his awkwardness was the center of farcical discussion around the dining room table each evening.

He was also Marcelle
’
s first experiment with kissing. Unfortunately, that hadn
’
t gone so well.

Father
, seeing the young man
’
s interest, and pleased that the boy
’
s
father
owned the adjoining parcel of land, invited him and his parents to dinner. Following,
Father
suggested a walk to allow them a chance to talk freely, with Bridget, the housekeeper at the time, following at a discreet distance.

The walk was going well, since Marcelle
’
s humor continued to
increase
with each of Stefan
’
s missed steps, even if conversation was lagging. She kept thinking that
he
’
d maintain better footing if
he kept his gaze directed
forward instead of to the rear
.
It didn
’
t register why he would be concerned as to the whereabouts of their chaperone.

It wasn
’
t until they came to a bend in the road that she realized
why
he
’
d been interested in Bridget
’
s nearness. He didn
’
t want any interruptions. Taking advantage of the housekeeper
’
s temporary absence from sight, he decided to prove his prowess.

They rounded the bend and, with alacrity, he pulled her up short, yanked her around by the arm, and straight into his torso.
Arms
flailed as both tried desperately to regain their balance. It didn
’
t work, and they landed in a heap on the ground.

However, the ludicrous display and buffoonish behavior did not deter Stefan from his goal of kissing her. The moment they hit the ground, he rose, and planted a big, wet, mushy kiss on her closed mouth
–
after bashing her
nose
with his.

Unfortunately, Bridget chose that moment to round the corner. Yelling in her native tongue, she started swatting at Stefan with a switch. The swatting increased in fervor when she saw the blood that was seeping from Marcelle
’
s nose
,
where Stefan
’
s head had collided when they fell.

The Mill
’
s family moved a month later, without Marcelle having to lay eyes on Stefan again.

It had been such a disgusting experience that Marcelle hadn
’
t allowed another man access to her mouth in the four years since. That wasn
’
t a difficult decision to make, since all the men that called upon her reminded her of her
father
and she didn
’
t want to think of her
father
while kissing a man.

The smile vanished when
her father returned to the forefront of her mind; him and his strange behavior of late.
She
’
d have to take a walk down memory lane another time. Right now, she had to find out what was going on. He wasn
’
t pushing her into marriage for her financial well-being. She knew he wasn
’
t. He could have done that long ago. No, there was something more and she wasn
’
t going to rest until she found out what.
A
good place to start was with his physician. Her
father
may not want to discuss his health, but she would pry it
from
Doc Franklin. Come hell or high water, she would.

She grabbed her shawl and snuck out. Determination on her face and in her stride.

Peter eyed his daughter suspiciously across the short expanse of the carriage. Something was definitely bothering her. He could tell by the set of her jaw, the stiffness of her back and the ongoing silence, but the most obvious clue was that she was riding in the carriage with him. She never rode in the carriage with him on their trips to Lander. She much preferred the back of a horse to the interior of a carriage.

Then again, so did he
–
normally
–
but things for him weren
’
t normal any longer and he knew he probably could not maintain his seat in a saddle.

When he informed his daughter of his continued tiredness
,
and that he planned to take the carriage to the horse auction, he expected her to argue in favor of forgoing the trip entirely, but her eyes had only widened slightly. Then, much to his surprise, she turned back toward the stables, her horse in tow.

She still hadn
’
t said anything to him when she crawled into the carriage with him. Now, a half hour later, she sat staring silently out at the lush green landscape. In fact, she
’
d hardly said
two words at all to him in the past week.

“
Marcelle, dear,
”
her
father
said softly,
“
if you
’
re fretting that I
’
ll make you marry Brian Walker, relax.
I
don
’
t think he
’
d suit at all.
”
That should make her happy again, he thought, but she surprised him again by simply muttering,
“
Who?
”

“
You know
whom
, dear,
”
he answered.
“
The
banker from over in Pinedale.
”

“
Oh, him,
”
Marcelle said, her gaze remaining averted.
“
I never thought you would.
”

“
Oh, well, then, drat it all, whatever has been bothering you this past week?
”

Marcelle turned then to look at her
father
and for the first time he saw worry outlining her wide, brown eyes.

“
What is it, dear?
”
He asked.

“
Why didn
’
t you tell me,
Father
?
”
Marcelle whispered. She fought the urge to cry, not wanting to give in to histrionics before giving him a chance to explain. She
’
d cried silent tears every night since her visit to her
father
’
s physician last week. Their conversation still cankerous.

“
Doctor Franklin, my
father
has been visited by you on numerous occasions, but doesn
’
t seem fit to tell me why, so I
’
ve come to you for answers,
”
she said without preamble, the moment he opened his door to her.

“
Well, don
’
t you think that perhaps he should tell you when he
’
s
ready?
Perhaps he doesn
’
t want to worry you.
”

“
So
, you
’
re saying I should be worried.
”

“
I
’
m saying you need to be discussing this with your
father
.
”

“
A
nd
I just told you that he won
’
t tell me anything, so either you can or I
’
ll simply sleep on your doorstep until you do.
”

“
Well, now, we can
’
t have that, can we?
”

“
It would be
rather
uncomfortable, but you know I mean it.
”

“
You are as stubborn today as you were when I delivered you. You wanted to stay sleeping in your mother
’
s womb. Seems to be a stubborn trait from birth.
”

“
I guess it is at that.
”
             

Peter felt a heavy weight descend on his heart.
S
he knew! He
’
d hoped to spare her the knowledge, so that she could continue living her happy, carefree existence until the day of his death. He didn
’
t want her sad, like she had been so obviously this past week. His death would be soon enough for her to grieve over his loss. Until that time, however, he wanted things to go on as before
–
okay, maybe not the trial of finding her a husband. He
’
d
rather
be planning a wedding. Still, he missed her smile.

“
Because of your very demeanor right now dearest,
”
he said.
“
That
’
s
why I wanted to spare your knowing.
”

“
But you
’
re my
father
! I have a right to know!
”

“
It
’
s my life, dearest, and I have a right to reveal information concerning its imminent end to whomever I choose.
As
to your rights, you have none. It
’
s simply not your life to demand rights to.
”