Pamela Morsi (28 page)

“I’d heard around town that he continued to visit you,” Rome said. “I never believed it.”

“He came here once. No matter what the story, people always make it bigger than it really is.”

Rome nodded in agreement.

“Judge Barclay said that the land was still mine,” Pansy told Rome. “And he asked me if I would like to get a little bit of expensive revenge against the good people of Cottonwood.”

She folded her hands together and looked Rome directly in the eye.

“He would keep the secret of the land’s ownership while local investments were made and the lines were laid,” she explained. “The longer he stalled, the more money the people would tie up in the project, the more they would lose. Then, when it finally came out that I owned the land outright, they would have to buy it from me at top dollar or lose everything they had already spent.”

Rome’s jaw dropped in disbelief. His expression was one of incredulity.

“You and Barclay came up with this idea?”

“Actually, it was the judge’s idea,” she said. “Since he was forced to leave town, he’s been strapped for cash and very lacking in capital. For his part, he wants half of what the town pays me. No small bit of his enthusiasm for the plan is that a goodly portion of what his wife received in the divorce is invested in municipal bonds. She’ll lose heavily.”

“This is how you intend to turn over a new leaf, by revealing that you were willing to cheat us?” Rome was in a state of shock.

“I haven’t cheated anyone yet,” she assured him. “If the community is willing to give me another chance, I’m willing to give them one as well.”

Slowly Rome shook his head. “I don’t know, Pansy. I don’t know if this will work.”

“I don’t know if it will either,” she said. “But from my perspective, I’ve got nothing more to gain and nothing left to lose.”

“I’ll talk to them,” he promised. “I’ll talk to them.”

“I want to be on that podium,” she insisted. “I want my chance to confront my accusers.”

There was a long silence between them. Pansy knew that the truth might well have ruined their friendship. Rome was a kind, open, honest man. He could forgive
many things. She was not sure that such an unsavory intrigue, however, was within the scope of what he felt to be pardonable.

“So that’s what I wanted to tell you,” she said. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

He looked at her almost with surprise.

“Oh, I … I came to say I can’t see you anymore,” he answered.

“Oh. Did you mean to say that before you heard the truth about me?”

“Yes, yes, I did. Although I didn’t intend to just blurt it out like that. I meant to be more solicitous and gentle. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right, truly,” she assured him. “I intended for this to be an end to us as well. I really have decided to change. I’m not just trying to force people to treat me differently. I am different from what they think they know about me.”

“You’re different from what I know about you as well,” he said.

“I suppose that if I was never as bad as they thought,” she said, “I was also never as good as you hoped.”

“I’m not usually wrong about people,” he told her.

She laughed aloud at that.

“At least I’ll have one person on my side because they believe in me, rather than in their own best interests.”

Rome rose to his feet and bent forward to kiss her on the forehead.

“I’ll talk to the Monday Merchants,” he said. “You are probably right. They won’t want to jeopardize their investments just for the honor of continuing to brand you as a scarlet woman.”

“You do understand the moral barometer of the average businessman,” she teased.

She watched him walk out the back door and sighed. It was a sound that was almost melancholy. He had not touched her heart or shaken her soul the way that Amos Dewey had done that afternoon. But during the months of their affair he had proved himself a sweet and vigorous lover. One who treated her with kindness and respect. In the long future of self-imposed chastity that lay ahead of her, she would very much miss him.

Pansy walked to the window for a last glimpse. The moon was bright and she could see him clearly as he retreated across her backyard and into the shadows of the alley. It was only after he disappeared that a movement from the corner of her eye captured her attention. She turned to see Wade and Vera Pearsall standing upon their porch, their eyes gazing in the direction that Rome had taken.

Amos had no intention of waiting for a more convenient time to call. If he didn’t do it this morning, he might lose his nerve and never do it at all. There was a special “called meeting” of the Monday Morning Merchants at ten o’clock. He didn’t know what it was about, but he couldn’t imagine a more inconvenient time to get together for discussion than on Monday morning! But he was not going to allow his civic duties to supersede his intentions today.

He had vowed to speak to Gussie and he was going to do it no matter how inconvenient it might be for him to come calling on her right after breakfast. He was determined.

Amos reached inside the familiar gate and opened the latch. He walked right up the path and knocked upon the door.

Unwillingly, his mind was drawn to another woman
who would undoubtedly be at her breakfast as well. He wondered if her conscience had kept her up at night. Or if she even had a conscience.

Determinedly he knocked upon the door.

Pansy Richardson had certainly shown him that he was alive. For that he supposed he should be grateful. But he didn’t feel grateful. He felt angry. She had used his weakness for her to manipulate him. For one short, so-precious moment he had thought her to be special to him, to be a new beginning in his life. But she was not. She had proved indisputably that she was not. Every touch, every kiss, every embrace she had given him was a scheming lie, done for the sake of another man, another lover. It would have been lowering under any circumstances. The fact that he had given her his heart, his all, in exchange for such a tarnished offering was beyond any acceptance. He had to get away from Pansy Richardson. She was dangerous to him. And around her, he was dangerous to himself. He was determined to tie himself to a safe mooring. Gussie Mudd was that.

From the other side of the doorway, Amos could hear the unexpected sound of fleet footsteps. She was
running
to the door. Amos hardly had time to take in the idea before the door was jerked open. Her bright, excited smile and exuberant manner immediately dimmed upon the sight of him.

“Oh, Amos,” she said. “Ah … what a surprise.”

“Good morning, Miss Gussie,” he said, removing his hat. “May I come in?”

There was a tiny moment of hesitation, as if she were perhaps unwilling or uninterested. Amos hastily stepped into the breach.

“I realize that it is quite early for calling, but it is imperative that I speak with you now and I have other obligations later in the day.”

“It’s certainly all right,” she assured him in a tone that was deliberately hospitable. “Do come in.”

She invited him into the front parlor and then balked at the entry way as if she were uncomfortable with having him in the room. Amos glanced around, expecting to see some cleaning problem. However, there was none. The room appeared perfectly in order. Gussie was an excellent housekeeper, he reminded himself. Another perfectly fine reason to choose to marry her.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” she said finally, apparently deciding that the front parlor was the correct room for receiving him.

She seated herself in a small, overstuffed rocker and indicated for Amos to take the large, comfortable wing chair across from her. He chose instead to sit on a low-backed seat next to hers. It was nearer and more intimate, both conditions more conducive to the words he had to say.

He glanced over at her and swallowed. She was looking very nice this morning. Her hair was clean and shiny. Not so severely coiffed as he recalled from the past. Her eyes were sparkling and her complexion simply glowed with good health. Amos had never thought her an unattractive woman. But he supposed that he hadn’t thought much about her looks at all. He’d not been thinking about women or their attractiveness. He’d not been planning to marry again. Now he knew full well that he must plan on it.

Better to marry than to burn
, the Bible had stated clearly. A wicked temptress had ignited a fire of passion in Amos. A sensible, honorable marriage to the right sort of woman would surely keep him from being consumed by the flames.

“There is a matter of deep importance that I wish to speak to you about at this time,” he said.

Gussie raised her chin a little defiantly. “If you are coming to give me more vague warnings about Rome Akers,” she replied, “I will tell you right now that I am not in the least interested in hearing them.”

Amos was a little startled by her vehemence. Of course he remembered counseling her against any liaison with Akers, and he was even more certain now that the man’s motives were in question. But there was no reason to mention that now.

“I’m not here to talk about Rome,” he assured her. “I’m here to talk about you … ah, I mean about … about us.”

“Us?”

He cleared his throat nervously.

“You cannot be unaware that I have been … that I have been … ah … aware of you for some time,” he managed to tell her.

“What?”

Her response bordered upon impatience. Amos knew that he must make himself perfectly clear.

“I have been hopelessly distracted by grief since the death of my dear Bess,” he began. “I have kept my focus most unthinkingly upon the mere basics of life, the living of one day to the next, without due consideration to the future and all the possibilities that might be pursued there.”

He hesitated and drew a breath.

“But now as I look toward the horizon once more, I have become convinced that I am not the kind of man to face the road ahead in single harness, but that as part of a team, I might better fulfill my duty and destiny.”

That actually sounded very good, he thought. Fulfilling destiny in team harness; it was almost poetic.

“With an appropriate woman at my side, I feel that I
would be both a better and a more productive citizen. We could easily look forward to a good many years together and even possibly a child or two, though I will not be insistent upon that, leaving such monumental decisions completely in the hands of the Almighty.”

Amos tried to gauge Gussie’s manner with regard to his declaration. Her expression was totally blank. And when he continued looking at her, she startled as if perhaps she had not been listening.

“I’m sorry,” she said, confirming her inattention. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking you to marry me,” he answered, annoyed.

“Marry you?”

The incredulity in her voice suggested that such an idea had never occurred to her. As if she had not, only a few short weeks ago, practically asked him herself!

A little awkwardly, but with great ceremony, Amos lowered himself to one knee on the floor beside her.

“Yes, Miss Gussie, I am asking you to marry me,” he said. “I believe you professed it as
what everyone in town has been expecting for some time.”

“Well … ah … yes, but that was before …”

The woman seemed completely dumbfounded. It was clear to Amos that her aspirations in his direction had changed. Undoubtedly Rome Akers figured prominently in that alteration. He realized that it was likely that she would turn him down flat. He didn’t want that to happen.

“I have surprised you with this,” he acknowledged. “We haven’t been seeing much of each other these past weeks and you have perhaps forgotten how well it is that we get along.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t forgotten,” she told him. “It’s just …”

“Just that it is rather sudden after so many years,” he finished for her.

She opened her mouth as if to make further explanation, but then didn’t. Her expression turned very serious and businesslike. Amos had seen that look before, but never focused upon him.

“I don’t think—” she began.

“That’s right,” Amos interrupted. “Don’t think. At least not right now.”

His interruption was timely.

“I know that you are about to refuse me,” he said. “And it’s because you haven’t had time to really consider my proposal thoroughly.”

“I’m not sure—”

“With a thing like marriage, no one can ever be sure,” he injected quickly. “But a decision like this one deserves due consideration, and I would ask you to give me that.”

He took her hand in his. There was no spark of trembling anticipation, no thrill of nearness. Amos felt no desire for her at all. The absence of that emotion spurred him to be even more insistent.

“I am willing and able to spend the rest of my life being a partner and companion to you,” he said. “I believe that we are highly suited in both station and temperament. I beg you to at least do me the honor of taking my offer under advisement for a time. Please do not dismiss me out of hand.”

Amos could see in her eyes that she was obviously still thinking to do so. But for the mere sake of good manners, she could not.

“Please do get up, Mr. Dewey,” she told him finally. “You surely should save your knees for weeding or praying.”

“I’m doing both,” he assured her as he took his seat
once more. “Weeding out your excuses and praying that you will accept me.”

His little joke didn’t seem to bring her much humor or advance his suit one iota.

“I … I will think about it,” Gussie agreed, almost grudgingly. “However, I do not want you to get your hopes up. I am not so certain that we are as well matched as you say.”

“We are, Miss Gussie,” he replied. “We are very much indeed.”

“I’m not so certain,” she said. “We lack … we lack passion, sir.”

“Passion?”

Amos was genuinely surprised at the mention of the word. Ladies did not often speak of such things.

“I’m not sure that passion is a meaningful measure for potential matrimony,” he said.

“But surely it is essential for the bliss of such a union,” she countered.

“It can be very misleading,” Amos said, his thoughts unwillingly drawn to those very wonderful hours he’d spent in Pansy Richardson’s arms. “It is ofttimes powerful enough to obscure good judgment. To cause one to mistake desire for honor.”