To Win Her Heart (18 page)

Should she keep the news to herself and wait to see how things played out with Levi, or should she solicit her father’s blessing and advice?

Levi appeared to be everything she wanted in a man. He was a man of faith, he loved literature, and rarest of all, he shared her views on violence and aggression. What man could be more perfect? A year ago, she would never have believed it possible, but she trusted him. Completely. And so far he’d lived up to all her expectations. When he’d held her today out at the field, her heart had recognized the truth—she was in love with Levi Grant.

Swallowing the last of her uncertainty, Eden took hold of the pen and set it to paper.

Daddy, I’ve met a man. . . .

The following Tuesday evening, Levi sat sideways on his bed surrounded by balls of crumpled paper. He read over his latest attempt and moaned. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to find the wording that would allow him to reveal another part of his past without completely alienating the woman he loved. Closing his eyes, he banged the back of his head against the wall.

In his last two letters, he managed to make his violent beginnings palatable by sugarcoating them in the innocence of childhood. And Eden had swallowed them. She’d written about her experience with the boys in her reading group and how she’d caught them reenacting a battle scene outside her home after story hour one afternoon. They’d been sword fighting as pirates until one boy’s stick missed. Instead of crossing with his opponent’s sword, it lashed the bigger boy across the face. Retaliation ensued until she’d been forced to send Harvey out to break up the scuffle.

She’d gone on to reassure him that she thought no less of him for his childhood antics. What mattered to her was that he’d had the maturity and insight to grow out of those aggressive tendencies. Unlike other men.

If only she knew.

And therein lay the problem. If she knew the truth, chances were good she’d never again look at him the same way. She’d not run into his arms for comfort as she had in the field. She’d probably run in the opposite direction. Instead of seeing his strength as protection, she’d see it as a weapon. What if she came to fear him? He couldn’t bear that.

Would it really be dishonest to withhold his past? Surely there were things about her that he didn’t know. Why reveal something that would only kill the feelings that were growing between them? What good would that accomplish? He could tell her later. After their love was secure and deep. After marriage bound her to him. Maybe after they’d had a child and fortified their ties.

Coward
.

Levi winced. He was afraid to lose her. Afraid that choosing God’s way would mean forfeiting a life with the only woman he’d ever loved.

Was this how Abraham felt when God asked him to sacrifice his son? Did his feet drag as he trudged up the mountain? Did his resolve weaken as he tightened the ropes on Isaac’s wrists? Did his hand shake as he raised the knife? Or was his trust in God so complete that fear had no hold on him?

I want to trust you, like Abraham did. Give me the courage to step out in faith.
A sense of certainty filled him, cutting through his fear to convict his heart.
You are the God of truth, and if I am to be your follower, I, too, must walk in truth.

Levi opened the oak lap desk he’d borrowed from Georgia Barnes and pulled out another sheet of stationery. Knowing what he had to do, he dipped his pen into the ink and set the nib to paper.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he wrote. A drop rolled into his eye, the salt stinging the inner corner. He rubbed at it with the tail of his shirt and immediately returned to writing. As if his soul were purging, he poured himself onto the page. Telling her everything. About rejecting his family in favor of quick money and counterfeit respect. About the thrill he found in being the best, the strongest, the victor. About the man he unintentionally sent to meet his Maker with a mighty right jab. About being sentenced to two years in prison for involuntary manslaughter.

That wasn’t all that flowed from his soul, however. He also wrote of how the horrors of the Huntsville labor camps humbled him. How he rediscovered his faith through the influence and teachings of a prison chaplain. How he rededicated his life to following God and made a vow never to raise a fist against another human being again.

He made no excuses. But he did plead for understanding.

Levi closed the letter by sharing with Eden the regret he felt over betraying his family. The lesson had nearly destroyed him, but he’d learned it well. He would never turn his back on a loved one again. Never.

By the time he finished, night had dipped into the wee hours of morning. He set the six written pages aside and collapsed onto the length of the bed. He’d purged himself of the past. Only time would tell if he’d forfeited his future.

Wednesday morning found Eden and Chloe sitting around the reading room desk, part of their new routine. During library hours, Verna tutored Chloe in the culinary arts and had the girl help her with the cleaning and household errands in order to avoid any unpleasant encounters with patrons. Although Eden had started wondering why they bothered. They hadn’t had a single visitor outside of Levi all week. But maybe with time things would return to normal. Meanwhile, Eden used the morning hours to instruct the girl in reading, writing, and sums.

Chloe absorbed the lessons like the sand soaked up the tide—little by little. She loved to listen to stories but struggled to read them herself. Her spelling and penmanship . . . Well, they offered much opportunity for improvement. And the only way Eden could get her to do sums was to use a ledger and fill it with pretend wages from her imagined employment at the café. Having had little to no schooling in the past, learning did not come easily to Chloe, but she wanted so badly to improve herself that once she realized the practicality of a skill, she threw herself into the task with dogged determination.

“I don’t see how readin’ the Bible is gonna help me read recipes or a menu. Shouldn’t I be practicin’ on a cookbook or something?” Chloe looked up from the pages in front of her and frowned.

“There is more to be gained from reading than simply an improved proficiency in recognizing words. Reading has the power to shape one’s mind. And there is no better book than that one for mind shaping.”

Chloe grumbled under her breath but dutifully returned her attention to the gospel of John. Borrowing a primer from Miss Albright would have been easier for the girl, but Eden hoped the exposure to God’s Word would plant some seeds in Chloe’s heart. With all the uncertainty surrounding the young lady’s present circumstances and future prospects, she needed something firm to hold on to—something like faith.

After a few minutes, Chloe raised her head. “That Jesus feller was pretty smart, getting them to drop those stones like that.”

“I thought you might like that story.” Eden jotted a final number in Chloe’s ledger. “Did you notice how he forgave the adulteress instead of condemning her? God is more interested in showing mercy and giving people a second chance than in pointing fingers and reminding them of all they’ve done wrong.”

“Except for them rock-toters.”

Eden smiled. “You’re right. Those
rock-toters
were the religious leaders and should have known better. They were so busy trying to prove themselves righteous, they forgot to show love. Jesus had to remind them that they weren’t as perfect as they thought they were.”

“You think he’ll ever get around to remindin’ the folks around here?”

“I imagine he will, in his own way.” Eden wrapped an arm around Chloe’s hunched shoulders. “It might be hard for a while, Chloe, but not everyone in Spencer shares Mrs. Fowler’s opinion. You’ve got me and Verna and women like Emma Cranford on your side, and if you’ll ever see your way to coming to church with us, I bet you’d find there are more, as well. Georgia Barnes, for one. She and Claude are the couple Mr. Grant is staying with, and I doubt you could find two more kindhearted people. I have faith the others will come around in time. Even Hattie Fowler.”

“I ain’t so sure about that, but I’m tired of hidin’ away when I ain’t done nothin’ to be ashamed of.” She shrugged away from Eden’s hold and straightened her spine. “Maybe I
will
go to services with you. It’d do all those old biddies right to have to drop their rocks for a while. People in God’s house ain’t supposed to throw stones, you know.”

Eden bit her tongue to keep her amusement contained. The saying had more to do with glass houses than the Lord’s house, but the same principle applied, she supposed. And while there would certainly be an abundance of horrified looks and ruffled feathers at first, Eden could think of no better way to help the townsfolk grow accustomed to Chloe’s new position in their society. Plus it had the added benefit of exposing the girl to more spiritual teachings. David Cranford’s sermons had a way of pricking hearts and encouraging weary souls. Perhaps between the two of them, they could scatter enough seed for something to take root.

“You know what we should do?” Eden closed the ledger she’d been preparing sums in and smiled at Chloe. “Go shopping.”

Chloe’s brows rose so high they nearly disappeared into her hair. “Shopping? Instead of sums?”

“Every lady needs a Sunday bonnet to wear to church. I think I recall seeing one or two in the mercantile that would look lovely on you.”

Chloe’s face fell a little. “You think Miz Fowler will sell one to me?”

“She sold groceries and supplies to you on behalf of the saloon when you ran errands, didn’t she?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Well then. We don’t have anything to worry about, do we? Besides, I’ll be the one making the purchase for my new employee, so we’ll have leverage. The Spencer name carries some weight around here. Might as well use it to our advantage.”

Chloe nibbled on her lower lip. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Eden pushed to her feet, tapping the ledger with the end of her pencil. “We still have forty minutes before I need to open the library, so it’s either shopping or arithmetic. What’s your choice?”

“Shopping.” Chloe jumped up from the desk, a sparkle in her eye. “Facing Miz Fowler hurts less than doing all them sums!”

Eden burst into laughter.

The two were still smiling when they entered the dry goods store. Hattie Fowler, however, was not. Eden pretended not to notice the shopkeeper’s sour face, choosing to wave and greet her with a cheerful hello before shepherding Chloe to the corner where dress goods and sewing notions were stored.

They tried on several hat styles and settled on a simple straw bonnet with an upturned brim and a wide blue ribbon decorated with a small spray of white flowers.

“This will match your blue calico quite nicely, don’t you think?” Eden asked as Chloe took it from her head and handed it into her keeping.

“You sure this one wouldn’t be better?” Chloe plopped a pink behemoth covered in ostrich plumes onto her head and struck a pose that set Eden to giggling. The hat stood a good foot above the girl’s head, threatening to swallow her whole. “Or maybe this one.” Chloe replaced the feathered headpiece with one sporting a bright yellow bird of indistinct heritage perched amid an array of silk leaves and chenille pompons protruding from either side. When Chloe starting whistling and flapping her hands like bird wings, tears pooled in Eden’s eyes from the hilarity of it all.

“Stop it,” Eden whispered hoarsely as mirth continued to tickle her throat. “You’re going to get us into trouble.” She peeked around a display of lace trim to find Hattie scowling in their direction. But for once in her life, she didn’t care. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so young and carefree. Being with Chloe was like having a little sister, and Eden treasured the joy of the moment.

They managed to restrain themselves under Mrs. Fowler’s disapproving looks while she completed their transaction and placed Chloe’s new hat in a bandbox. But when they exited to the boardwalk and spotted a yellow-bodied warbler sitting on the hitching post, the two looked at each other and dissolved into another round of laughter.

“Bless me soul, if it ain’t a couple o’ heather pixies come all the way from Scotland to brighten me mornin’,” a strapping young man addressed them from the street, dragging his wool cap off his head to reveal a shock of bright red hair. The man glanced briefly at Eden, but his attention quickly veered to Chloe and remained there, a light of fond familiarity warming his expression. “Me name’s Duncan, miss. Duncan McPherson. I’d be honored to carry that package for you.”

Chloe blushed prettily and lowered her lashes with a shyness at odds with her usual bold, plainspoken manner. Eden looked from one to the other. She could have sworn the two knew each other by the way he’d looked at Chloe and the way she edged closer to him, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Yet Mr. McPherson had introduced himself as if they were strangers.