Sister's Choice (27 page)

He waited for her to drive the horses forward, but they remained still.

Then she spoke. “Evan, I’m sorry for being so harsh with you. I don’t know why I got so angry.”

“I know,” he replied glumly. “It is because I went against Colby. I can’t blame you for defending the man you love.”

“What?” Her brow creased. “No, that’s not why.”

He read her words as a question rather than a statement.

“I guess I thought you understood me better than that, that you knew I don’t want to be treated like some simpering, helpless female.”

“You can’t expect a man to just stand by and watch a woman he cares for be spoken of in such a manner,” Evan replied. He knew she wouldn’t realize how much courage it took for him to admit he cared for her. She would not perceive the depth with which he meant it.

“I am able to take care of myself.”

Bitterly, he replied, “You didn’t seem to mind when Colby defended you against Able.”

“Colby didn’t try to knock his head off!”

“I acted deplorably,” Evan admitted. “But . . . I just couldn’t bear for them to speak such lies about you! I had to defend the woman I love!” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he was saying them. Nevertheless, a huge wave of relief washed over him. He’d finally said it. There would be no more charades.

“You mean Tamara?” she asked, clearly confused.

“No. I mean you!” Let there be no more confusion.

“But—” For a moment her mouth moved, but nothing came out.

“Ah, there you are!” came a new voice, like an otherworldly sound that did not belong to the suddenly inflamed atmosphere in the carriage. Evan saw the blurry figure of a man standing by the driver’s side of the carriage.

“Mr. Cranston,” Maggie said, her voice pitched high with tension.

“I’m glad I caught you before you left town,” said the lawyer.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Cranston?” Evan asked, forcing his voice to sound normal, calm, when his heart was still racing with the emotion of his admission to Maggie.

“What happened to you, Mr. Parker?” Cranston asked. “Walk into a wall or something?”

“Something like that,” Evan replied vaguely. “How can I help you?”

“It is actually Miss Newcomb I wish to see.” Cranston reached into his coat pocket and withdrew something white, a paper of some sort. This he handed to Maggie.

It was an envelope. She opened it and pulled out a paper. Even with his blurred vision, Evan could see the perplexed wrinkle of her brow.

“What’s this?” She handed it to Evan, probably not realizing he was useless to decipher it without his spectacles.

“This,” Mr. Cranston said, “is a subpoena for you, Miss Newcomb, to appear as a witness for the prosecution in Tommy Donnelly’s trial.” There was a certain smugness to the man’s tone that Evan did not like at all.

“Me? Why me?” Maggie’s voice was still unnaturally high.

“I understand that you are one of Tommy’s closest friends,” Cranston said. “I wondered why you were not on Parker’s list of defense witnesses.”

“Because I was loath to place such a burden on someone of Miss Newcomb’s delicate sensibilities,” huffed Evan with quite a bit of conviction, considering it wasn’t the entire truth of the matter. He added irately, “And you should be just as loath, Mr. Cranston. Miss Newcomb is a young girl.” He could see this ruffled Maggie but hoped she had the sense to let it go. It would be worth a wounded self-image if it kept her off the stand.

“She is at eighteen an adult woman and quite able to testify,” Cranston rejoined smoothly.

For a man with a reputation for lazy drunkenness, he appeared quite in command of himself. Perhaps they had misjudged him.

Maggie grabbed the paper from Evan and shoved it back at Cranston. “Well, I don’t want to take this!” she declared. “I won’t witness against a friend.”

“You have no choice,” Cranston insisted. “The subpoena is legal and binding. You must appear in court.”

Maggie turned helplessly to Evan. He thought how moments before she had gone on about being able to take care of herself, but such impudence had fled from her now. He felt no sense of victory but rather wanted to reach out and comfort her, protect her, defend her. He knew what it felt like to be helpless, probably more than she did herself, and he understood how it hurt.

“If that is all, Mr. Cranston,” Evan said curtly, “we need to be getting home.”

The subpoena was still clutched in Maggie’s hand as she took up the reins and urged the horses into motion.

When they were a short distance down the road, Evan asked, “Are you all right to drive?”

“Y-yes,” she replied, a tremor in her voice.

He’d never seen her so shaken. He was desperate to comfort her. “Maggie, the things Tommy told you are not necessarily as damning as they appear. We still can make a strong case for self-defense.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, but he knew she didn’t mean it.

“Maggie, we must talk.”

“Not now, Evan.”

“But—”

She shook her head.

He couldn’t imagine spending the two-hour drive back to Maintown in silence. That, however, only proved what a limited imagination he had. Though he tried a couple more times to induce conversation, he was met with silence. He even tried talking about something innocuous like the weather. Even that was ignored. In the best of times they were beyond such mundane topics.

He finally gave up until they pulled into the Newcomb yard. Then, making one last futile attempt, he implored, “Maggie, please talk to me!”

She turned to face him, and even with blurred vision he could almost see in her eyes the myriad of things she wanted to say. He waited hopefully.

“I can’t talk right now,” she said. She handed him the reins and scurried out of the carriage. In her haste her skirt caught on a step. She gave it an impatient tug. He heard a ripping sound, but before he could reach over to help, she had freed herself and was hurrying to the house. He thought how he owed her another dress but could find no solace in that.

She paused at the steps to the porch, turned and said, “Evan, put a mustard poultice on that jaw.” Then she ran up the steps and quickly disappeared inside the house.

Only then did he remember his blurry vision and the reason she had been driving in the first place. But he was sick of his own helplessness, so he grabbed the reins and urged the horses forward, praying he wouldn’t run over the dog or into a fence. He made it home safely because he had come to know well the road between his house and Maggie’s. Would this be the last time he traveled it?

Why had he blurted out his feelings as he had? Before, at least, he’d had the excuse of the scheme to win Colby and Tamara as a reason to see her. Now he had nothing. There was the trial, but he could not let himself be distracted with thoughts of Maggie while he was trying to defend a man’s life. He had to win this trial for Tommy’s sake. But still, he could not let Maggie down again.

TWENTY-FOUR

The house was unusually quiet when Maggie stepped inside. She wasn’t certain she wanted to be alone right now; however, she knew she didn’t want to answer questions, either. She’d had a nice talk with her mother the other day, but something told her that what had happened in town was not a matter she’d be able to discuss with Mama. She didn’t know how Mama would react to the fact that Evan Parker was in love with her. He was Florence Parker’s son. It would not sit well. Neither would Maggie’s confused thoughts about the confession.

“Anyone home?” she called.

“Just me,” came Grandma’s voice.

Maggie felt as if she’d been given a reprieve, as if a prayer she hadn’t even spoken had been answered.

Grandma was sitting at the table, sewing in her hands. Maggie caught a brief glimpse of her work before she folded the piece with the design inside and laid it on her lap. She thought she saw a flash of red-and-yellow material. There might be a reason her grandmother was being secretive about it, so she said nothing, despite her curiosity. Perhaps this was a wedding quilt for Ellie.

Maggie sat in a chair adjacent to Grandma. “Where’s Mama?”

“She and Ellie went to help Mrs. Wallard and Kendra with some sewing.”

That reminded Maggie of the package she had laid on the table. “I guess I’m too late with this.”

“What’s that?”

Maggie tore away the string and opened the paper. “I got some yardage for a dress, you know, for Boyd’s wedding. I should have gotten it sooner, I guess.”

“It’s very pretty. I didn’t know you liked pink.”

Evan had said she would look stunning in that color. Even now, hours later and with all that had happened since, a color to match the dress goods still rose up her neck at the thought of Evan’s compliment.

“It certainly does bring out the roses in your cheeks,” Grandma said dryly, a twinkle in her eye.

Maggie clasped her hands against her cheeks, though it was too late to hide her reaction. “I was just told I would . . . ah . . . look nice in this color, that’s all,” she said defensively.

“And I think you will.” Grandma fingered the fabric. “Your mother is going to be busy these next couple of weeks. Why don’t I sew a dress for you?”

“Oh, would you, Grandma?” Maggie couldn’t have been more pleased. Though Mama was an excellent seamstress, Grandma was even better. She would make a dress as beautiful as any in
Godey’s Lady’s Book
. In fact she would be able to look at a picture from the magazine and reproduce the dress exactly.

“I’d be happy to. We can look at some pictures right now and figure out what you’d like.”

The prospect of the new dress had lifted Maggie’s spirits momentarily, but the events of the day still weighed on her too heavily for her to be much good at choosing dress designs.

“Maybe later, but thank you very much,” Maggie said. “I better go up and change. It’s going to be milking time soon.” But she made no move to go. Instead she ran her hand over the fabric that Evan had liked. He’d been so kind to her, protective and decent, and she had repaid him terribly, first yelling at him, then not speaking for two whole hours! He must surely hate her now.

But he’d said he loved her.
Loved!
No, it couldn’t be. She must have heard wrong. Loved? Could it be?

“Maggie, dear, is everything all right?” asked Grandma.

Maggie had almost forgotten Grandma was there. Maggie gave a big sigh. “I didn’t have such a great day in town. Nothing is going as I planned.” Spying her sewing basket in the corner where she kept it, she jumped up, grabbed the handle, and brought it back to the table. She had six blocks done for her sampler. She lifted them lovingly from the basket. “Grandma, would you feel awfully bad if all this work was for nothing?”

“Me? It is your work, Maggie. My joy in teaching you is there no matter what.” Grandma paused, running a finger thoughtfully across her lips. She studied Maggie a long moment. The creases between her brows were drawn and deep. Finally she spoke. “Tell me what happened in town, dear.”

“The worst is that I am going to have to testify against Tommy,” Maggie replied. “And there’s nothing that can be done about that. Maybe there’s nothing to be done about the other thing, either.” She dropped the blocks into the basket and plopped back into her chair. “It is hard to give up something that has been so important for so many years. That’s what I should have told Evan. That’s why I was really angry and why I couldn’t talk about it. But why is it hard to give up something I’m not even sure I want anymore?” She was hardly aware of her grandmother now and was simply debating with herself. Grandma must have realized that. She only sat and nodded with encouragement. “But it was like I was seeing Colby for the first time—and I didn’t like what I saw. Sure Evan called Colby a couple of names, too, but I could see he didn’t mean them. The things Colby called Evan, though, were just plain cruel. And I could tell he meant to hurt Evan with them. He just wasn’t nice. And he didn’t have to hit Evan so hard! He nearly knocked his teeth loose! It wasn’t called for. Poor Evan couldn’t even land one good punch. All Colby had to do was walk away. But, no, he knocked Evan senseless—”

“Is Evan all right?” Grandma cut in with concern.

“I think he lost a tooth. And his jaw looks like he has a real apple in his cheeks. His spectacles were crushed—oh, my goodness! I forgot he couldn’t see. I let him drive home alone!” Agitated and worried, she started to rise. What could she do now? She could saddle a horse and ride after him and see that he got home okay.

Grandma laid a hand on Maggie’s arm. “I’m sure the horses will get him home safely. They have made the trip between the two houses often enough lately.”

“They probably won’t come back here again!” she declared glumly.

“Sounds like that bothers you more than what you learned about Colby?” There went Grandma with her questions!

“It all bothers me!” Maggie exclaimed. “Did I want Colby all these years without really knowing him? What did I see in him?”

“He’s a charming, handsome young man. Even my old eyes can see that. How much time did you spend with Colby until now? Or perhaps it is merely that you are measuring him against another and he has come up lacking?”

Maggie gaped at her grandmother. This last comment of hers went beyond her usual questions. It was more like second sight or something. Maggie realized she had often compared Colby to Evan. What she hadn’t realized, or let herself see, was how many times Colby had lost in such comparisons.

“That can’t be, Grandma,” Maggie breathed.

“What can’t be?”

“You know what!” Maggie shook her head in denial. “I simply can’t accept that. He’s a Parker, for heaven’s sake!” Again she gave her head a shake. “This time, Grandma, the answer to all your questions is no. I don’t care how Evan feels.”

“How does Evan feel?”

“Oh no, you don’t, Grandma! No more questions!” She jumped up. “I have to bring in the cows.”

Maggie went upstairs, changed her clothes, and slipped outside without taking any more questions from her grandmother. Then with great force of will she diverted her thoughts from both Colby and Evan. Anyway, she had something far more important to worry about—Tommy’s trial.