To Win Her Heart (20 page)

Later that afternoon, Levi closed up shop a few minutes earlier than usual. His concentration hadn’t been worth a hill of beans anyhow. If Claude hadn’t stopped him with a well-timed question, he would have given the man’s new mare five shoes instead of four. Thankfully, his friend just gave him a hard time, accusing him of thinking too much about a certain pretty librarian. While his mind
had
been consumed with thoughts of Eden, it hadn’t been memories of her shapely curves or winsome smile that had interfered with his shoeing. No, it’d been the way the compassion in her eyes had dulled to a blank sheen of shock when he’d hinted at his past and the way she ran from him without a word about what she was thinking.

Levi ran a hand down his face as he exhaled a long breath. Surely she’d read his letter by now. How had she reacted? She’d been so upset when she left the smithy, so hurt. The lost look in her eyes would haunt him for days. And she’d hadn’t even known the full story at that point. What had the truth done to her?

He wanted to go to her, see how she was faring. Maybe offer to answer her questions. Anything to end this agony of not knowing.

With a grunt, Levi hauled the oversized double doors into place and threaded a chain through their handles and padlocked them together. He trudged down to the library, his heavy heart weighing down his feet. Each step sapped his strength. By the time he reached Eden’s porch, he felt as spent as if he’d gone ten rounds with a bruiser.

Glancing heavenward, he sent up a silent plea for God to provide him with the right words and clasped the doorknob. The latch didn’t budge. Frowning, he tried again, only to notice the
Closed
sign in the front window. Odd. Eden rarely locked up early.

Levi fought to subdue the trepidation that clawed at his chest. Pulse thrumming, he made a loose fist and knocked on the door. And waited.

Finally the portal opened, and in a rush of last-minute protocol, Levi yanked the hat from his head. Verna Sims peered out at him through the half-opened door.

“Sorry, Mr. Grant. The library’s closed today.”

It had been closed all day?

Levi crushed the brim of his hat between his fingers as that disheartening piece of information sank in. “I’ve no need of a book, ma’am,” he hurried to get out before she could shut the door. “I’ve come to pay a call on Eden, if I may.”

“Miss Spencer ain’t taking callers. You’ll have to try back tomorrow.” She moved again to close the door, but Levi shoved his boot into the shrinking crack. The housekeeper narrowed her eyes at him. Usually Verna Sims greeted him with friendly banter and an offer of cookies. Yet today, if he’d had a pick, he could have chipped enough ice from her frosty demeanor to chill a vat of lemonade.

He had no idea if the woman knew about the contents of his letter, but one thing was clear—she knew he was somehow responsible for Eden’s upset and wasn’t about to let him do any further damage.

“Plea—” He shook his head, frustration mounting. “Would you tell her I’m here? I’d like to talk to her, to explain. Make it better, if I can.”

Some of the fight seemed to go out of her, and the painful pressure against his foot relaxed as she stopped trying to shove the door against it. “If you can make it better, you’ll have my undyin’ gratitude.”

She opened the door wide and led him to the parlor, the one where he’d delivered Chloe that night nearly two weeks ago, the one with the framed pressed flowers that he’d never be able to look at without thinking of Eden.

“I ain’t never seen her this bad,” Verna murmured in a tone that Levi couldn’t tell if he was meant to hear or not. “She’s been closed in her room all afternoon, ignorin’ me
and
Chloe. Harvey tried to coax her out by finding some tiny new buds on the bushes out front to show her, but she wouldn’t stir herself to look at ’em.” Verna wagged her head and clucked her tongue. “The girl didn’t even hole up this bad after that Austin feller up and—” The housekeeper clamped her lips shut and scowled at him as if he’d somehow tricked her into revealing more than she’d intended.

“Wait here while I go ask her.”

Verna left and Levi paced.

There’d been a man in Austin? A man as in a paying-court kind of man or more of a business-associate kind of man? And what had he done to upset her? Levi’s hands balled into fists as the urge to retaliate on Eden’s behalf swelled within him.

Until he realized that whatever that fool in Austin had done hadn’t hurt her as much as he had this morning. Levi pulled up short of the north wall and tossed his hat onto the sofa. Releasing a sigh, he unclenched his hands and stared at the miniature garden in the frame in front of him.

Eden and her flowers. He reached up with a finger and lightly stroked the glass over the tiny blooms she had fashioned into a springtime vista complete with painted wood slivers arranged like a picket fence and matching trellis to add a touch of domestication to her wild blossoms. He could sense her joy in the picture as well as her desire to have their beauty close at hand and recalled her dream of building a house in her wildflower field. Her own personal garden of Eden.

Eden’s Garden.

That’s it!
The vague idea he’d been carrying around in his brain of constructing an arched entryway for the space between the two oaks at the edge of Eden’s field suddenly crystallized into a concrete design. It had been years since he’d done any ornamental work, but the rest of his skills had returned with little practice. Maybe those would, as well.

It would be the perfect gift. Something large to express the depth of his feelings. Something personal and intimate. Something permanent to symbolize his unchanging love and dedication to her. Perhaps when she saw it, she’d realize the true nature of his heart and start to trust him again.

A throat cleared behind him. Levi spun around.

“She don’t want to see you.” The housekeeper shrugged. “Sorry.”

His spirits deflated a bit, but his new project idea filled him with purpose. He’d fight for their future, even if Eden was too fragile to join him. He’d fight enough for both of them.

“I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Verna nodded, a glow of respect in her eyes. Levi collected his hat and allowed the housekeeper to show him out.

He might not have made any headway with Eden, but as he strode down the street toward the livery to meet up with Claude, renewed hope brought a lightness to his step. Levi smiled at the sky, thanking God for sparking the idea for that entry arch. Having a project would occupy his thoughts and his hands for the next several days, maybe even weeks, depending on how many embellishments he decided to add. He’d never been good with words, so perhaps it was time to start talking with his hands.

Wednesday rolled into Thursday, which rolled into Friday, which rolled into Saturday. And every evening Levi was met at Eden’s door with the same response. She didn’t wish to see him. The library remained closed, too, ensuring he couldn’t sneak past her defenses.

Yet he was determined to persevere. She needed time, and he’d give it to her, but he would also do everything in his power to prove himself. If that meant being turned away from her door every day for a month, then he and his knock-roughened knuckles would keep coming back until she finally agreed to see him. Jacob worked for seven years to earn Rachel. Eden was worthy of a similar effort.

Levi poured his soul into crafting his gift, spending hours after supper hammering out delicate leaf shapes and welding them to the scrollwork that would comprise the top of the arch. By the time he covered his work with a tarp on Saturday night, the main arch piece had been completed, and Levi was pleased with his progress. Next week he would start on the lettering.

The wagon ride to church on Sunday took a toll on Levi’s nerves. As Claude and Georgia chatted amiably on the bench seat above him, Levi sat in the bed with his spine braced against the front board.

Eden had closed the library to avoid seeing him. Would she forgo worship services to accomplish the same task? He doubted it. Her faith would take precedence. The thought of finally seeing her filled him with an anticipation that had his insides as twisted and snarled as a discarded fishing line.

When he entered the building, his gaze gravitated to the pew where Eden usually sat with the Simses. He recognized the back of her Sunday bonnet and the knot of auburn hair beneath it. He willed her to turn, to look his way. Her head never moved. People shuffled around her, visiting with neighbors, but Eden’s stiff posture welcomed no conversation.

Not wanting to cause her further distress, Levi hung back, deciding to try approaching her after services. He took his place on the bench beside Claude as the quiet hum of voices died down. The preacher got up to make announcements about those of the community who were ill, the need for donated clothing and household items to replenish the church’s poor box, and a reminder about the upcoming Ladies Aid auction to benefit the Spencer school fund.

As the minister invited the congregation to bow their heads in prayer, Eden turned to the tiny woman seated at her right and smiled. It wasn’t directed at him, and it was just a small curve of the lips, but it was enough to lift Levi’s spirits. When the lady turned to meet Eden’s eye, his spirits lifted even higher. Chloe was here. Levi bowed and followed the preacher’s prayer while adding his own praise for bringing the young girl out of hiding and asked that she might be welcomed with an air of grace from the people in the pews.

He also couldn’t help giving private thanks for the provision of a safe conversation topic to broach with Eden. They both wanted what was best for Chloe. If he focused on that common ground, perhaps Eden would be more willing to open up.

When worship concluded, Levi quietly suggested to Georgia that she might like to meet Chloe, and as he knew she would, the big-hearted woman set off to intercept the child at once. Levi trailed in her wake, his eyes fixed on Eden.

She had on the green dress with the flowery ruffles that she’d worn the first day he’d met her at the preacher’s house. She’d seemed so stoic and guarded that day, nothing like the warm, emotional creature he’d come to know over the last weeks. Yet even then he’d felt drawn to her.

The closer they came to the Spencer pew, the more erratic his pulse throbbed. Georgia clasped Chloe’s hand and introduced herself. The girl’s eyes shot to his, and Levi smiled and nodded encouragement to her. Soon the two were knee-deep in feminine chatter. Well, Georgia did most of the chattering, but Chloe got a few words in every now and then. Eden hovered like a mother hen with a new chick yet said little. And although he stood beside Georgia as part of the group, Eden never once looked at him, a fact he found most frustrating.

Stepping behind Georgia, Levi edged toward Eden. She immediately retreated between the benches and turned her head away from him to fiddle with the ribbon marker protruding from the top of her Bible. Feeling predatory, Levi pursued. How were they to get past this awkwardness if they never spoke to each other? Eden had hidden from him for four days. When iron cooled too long it became hard and unresponsive. If she was ever going to soften, he was going to have to apply some heat.

“Great to find Chloe here.” He spoke in a low rumble so the others wouldn’t hear and leaned his hip casually against the back of the pew in front of him. “I knew you would be good for her.”

She flinched a little at the sound of his voice and kept her face averted.

“Eden,” he whispered after glancing around to be sure no one was paying them any heed. “Eden. Look at me.” Levi lightly grasped her elbow and tried to tug her around to face him.

“Don’t . . .” She resisted the pressure of his hand. “Don’t touch me.”

Scalded by her words, Levi dropped her arm.

Slowly her chin lifted and rotated toward him. Her lashes swept up, and she finally met his gaze. And as the darts plunged into his chest, he wished she hadn’t.

Those beautiful, mossy green eyes of hers overflowed with anguish and disillusionment. But what froze his heart was the hint of disdain she couldn’t quite conceal.

She’d made up her mind. It was over.

Eden bit her lip and fought to keep her tears from falling as she watched Levi exit the church building. He’d not said another word to her after releasing her arm, just looked at her with eyes that mirrored her own agony and backed away.

She’d known it was going to hurt to see him again. That’s why she’d avoided the happenstance for as long as possible. She would have pled a headache and stayed in bed this morning, too, if it hadn’t been for Chloe. No matter how tempting the prospect of hiding, she couldn’t abandon her new friend when she’d finally shown interest in attending services.

Why had Levi betrayed her by pretending to be something he wasn’t? Had it all been an act to secure her affections so he could later secure her bank account? Why would God let this happen to her a second time?

And why couldn’t she get the pain in his eyes out of her head?

Her heart still yearned for him. Even knowing the truth, a traitorous part of her still longed to feel his arms around her, to feel his lips brushing her hair. But she must remain strong. Levi had purposely misled her. Beneath that gentle exterior lived a brute who had gloried in the violent destruction of other human beings. He couldn’t be trusted. And where there was no trust, there could be no love.

The sooner she managed to convince her heart of that fact, the sooner she could put the whole wretched mess behind her.

“My dear Miss Spencer. You’re looking lovely today.” The sheriff had sneaked up beside her while she’d been woolgathering. As if she didn’t have enough man trouble without Conrad Pratt adding to the mix.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Eden tried to discourage further conversation by looking past him to the small cluster of women standing where she’d left Chloe. She meant simply to act as if she were seeking feminine company, but her concern grew genuine when she failed to spot Chloe in their midst.

“Now that the weather’s turned warmer,” the sheriff was saying, “I thought you might like to go driving this afternoon. I reserved one of the buggies at the livery for us.”

Distracted, Eden frowned back at him. “What?”

“How ’bout I pick you up around three?” From his smooth maneuvering of blocking her escape from between the pews, to his pretentious grin, to his slicked-down hair, everything about Conrad Pratt just seemed . . . oily. Eden fought off a shiver.

“Today is not a good day for me, Sheriff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Chloe.” She tried to sidle by, but the bounder refused to remove himself from her path.

“You ran a great risk, taking that little strumpet into your home.” His lips were so close to her ear, she could feel the hotness of his breath against the side of her face. She tilted her cheek away from him. “Luckily, most of the townsfolk seem to have decided that your efforts to reform the gal are a sort of pet project and don’t hold the association against you. But if I hear word that Vi has paid you another call, I’ll have to insist that you get rid of the girl.”

She turned to face him, her molars clenched tightly to hold her polite mask in place for the benefit of any who might glance their way. “Insist all you like, Sheriff,” she whispered, steel lining her quiet tone, “but I make the decisions for me and my household. Not you. Now get out of my way before I cause a scene guaranteed to wag tongues.”

For a second or two, his eyes bored into hers with sharp displeasure. Then all at once, the intensity melted away, and his oily smile slipped back into place. “You’re a spirited filly, Eden. I like that. One of these days you’ll get used to my hand at the reins and quit your buckin’. For now, though, I’ll let you have your head. Just don’t go forgettin’ who you belong to. Hear me?”

Before she could lash him with a scathing retort about no man owning her, he spun away and clapped Dave Cranford on the shoulder, complimenting the fellow’s sermon in a voice that seemed to boom after being so hushed moments earlier.

Navigating her way out from between the pews, Eden sidestepped the sheriff and moved into friendlier territory. Emma Cranford and Georgia Barnes welcomed her into their circle with a smile.

“Did you happen to see where Chloe went?” she asked as soon as the conversation lulled.

Georgia nodded her head toward the door. “I think I saw her follow Levi outside.”

Levi.

Eden had no desire to face him again, stirring up desires and longings that she still hadn’t fully suppressed. And after her confrontation with the brash Conrad Pratt, the blacksmith’s quiet manner would tempt her even more. Yet her concern for Chloe wouldn’t allow her to play the coward. Levi had probably left by now, and she needed to make sure Chloe hadn’t been cornered by Hattie Fowler or some other dragon who might be unkind.

Excusing herself from the group, Eden made her way to the door and descended the steps to the churchyard. She squinted against the bright sunlight and held a hand to her stomach to try to master the fluttering within. As she inhaled a steadying breath, she glimpsed the undeniable form of Levi already a dozen or more yards away, trudging past her home on his way to Main Street. Relief mixed with regret inside her. She told herself to quit staring and look for Chloe instead, but she couldn’t seem to pry her gaze away from Levi. Then she saw him stop at the pecan tree that marked the corner of her property, and all else slid from her mind.

He didn’t look at the house, nor did he look back toward the church. He simply reached out his hand to touch the tree and hung his head. The breadth of his spread fingers nearly spanned the width of the trunk, and for a reason she couldn’t explain, Eden felt the gentle pressure against the small of her back as if he were touching her, not the tree.

Agonizing seconds ticked by as he prolonged the moment. Then his hand lifted and balled into a fist. Eden sucked in a breath, an ache stabbing her heart. Here it was—the truth. Levi might seem tender, but his aggressive nature was about to assert itself.

Yet he didn’t strike out at the tree in anger or frustration as she expected. No. He simply tapped the pad of his fisted hand against the bark of the tree. Once. Twice. Then he opened his fist as if releasing the last scraps of something precious to float away on the wind.

Eden’s legs buckled beneath her, and she clutched the newel at the bottom of the church steps to keep from crumpling into a heap. Her heart throbbed with such force within her breast, her whole being felt bruised. As Levi rounded the corner, her vision blurred beneath a misty haze of tears waiting to fall.

Why did letting him go hurt so much? She should feel relieved at his departure, comforted by the rightness of her decision. So why did she feel as though she’d just been cleaved in two? He’d hidden things from her, purposely misled her. Separating herself from him and the certainty of further hurt was the right thing to do—the
only
thing to do.

Wasn’t it?

“Something’s wrong with Mr. Grant.” Chloe’s voice jarred Eden from her thoughts. The girl had come up beside her. “What did you say to him in there?”

Eden blinked the moisture from her eyes and released the railing post to brush at her skirt. “N—” Emotion clogged her throat. She coughed a bit to clear it and tried again. “Nothing. We barely exchanged more than a sentence or two.”

“Ah.” The girl nodded as if that explained everything. “You’re still sore over that letter he wrote you, huh?”

People began filing out of the church and the urge to flee became too great for Eden to ignore. “I don’t want to talk about it, Chloe.” She lurched away from the steps and crossed the yard in long strides, intent on getting to her front door as quickly as possible.

Chloe wouldn’t leave her alone, though. She dogged Eden’s heels from the churchyard to the house. Her presence set Eden’s teeth on edge. It took all her self-control to keep from snapping at the girl. Which made no sense. Chloe had done nothing wrong.

Eden tugged off her bonnet and tossed it haphazardly onto the hall tree. Chloe did the same, only she took much more care, ensuring that her new hat was properly secured on a lower hook. Hoping the girl would head directly to the kitchen, Eden made a beeline for the stairs. But again, Chloe followed.

Halfway up, Eden spun around. “I’m going to lie down for a while. Why don’t you check on Verna’s roast?”

Chloe just stared up at her as if she hadn’t heard a single word. A scream built at the back of Eden’s throat.

“You should forgive him, you know,” Chloe said. “Whatever he did, don’t let it tear the two of you apart.”

Eden exploded. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Chloe! None at all!” She stormed up the stairs and into her room, slammed the door, and slapped her Bible onto her writing desk with enough force to set her inkstand wobbling.

But not even the closed door kept Chloe out. She marched into the room, closed the door behind her, then crossed her arms and braced her legs apart as if preparing for battle.

“I ain’t gonna let you sit up here and fester anymore, Miss Eden. You done enough of that already. You ain’t just hurtin’ yourself now. You’re hurting Mr. Grant, and I can’t let you do that.”

How dare the girl invade her bedroom and throw accusations around! As if
Levi
were the wronged party. “Oh, and Mr. Grant is perfect, isn’t he?”

“No, ma’am. He ain’t.” Chloe’s quiet rebuttal brought Eden up short. “I don’t know what he said in that letter that’s got you so riled, but if you can’t see the good man he is, you need to unscrew them eyeballs of yours and try on a different pair.”

Eden just stood there blinking, her mind too sluggish to accomplish any higher-functioning task.

“I lived my whole life in a saloon. If it’s one thing I know, it’s men. I seen weak men, brutal men, men with twisted minds, and men who think they own you just because you fall into their line of sight.” She turned her head away at the last description, her gaze sliding to the wall somewhere behind Eden.

“But once in a while, I run into the honorable type. They’re so rare, they stand out like a stallion in a barn overrun with vermin.” Chloe’s eyes found Eden’s again. “Levi Grant is that kind of man.”

“I thought so, too.” A sudden weariness overtook Eden. She reached for the edge of the bed and sat down. “He rescued you, Chloe. It’s only natural for you to feel the need to defend him, but he told me things—dreadful things that he has done, worse than you could ever imagine, worse than—”

“Murder?” Chloe interrupted, stepping away from the door.

Eden froze. “What?” she rasped.

“Worse than murder?” Chloe hammered her again, relentless. “Ain’t that what the preacher man talked about this mornin’? That Paul fellow . . . No, Saul . . . No . . . Oh, fiddlesticks. It don’t matter what his name was. The guy was a bad egg, remember? He made his livin’ hunting all them Christians, putting them in prison and stuff. He even helped kill one of ’em.”

Had
that
been the subject of Dave Cranford’s sermon? To be honest, Eden couldn’t recall a single word. She’d been concentrating too hard on not thinking about Levi.

“That fellow had an ugly past,” Chloe said, “but God set him right. The guy ended up writing half the Bible or something.”

Eden shook her head. “This is different.”

“Why?”

Chloe stalked her until the toes of their shoes were practically touching. Eden had to look up from her place on the bed to meet the girl’s gaze, and when she did, the force of it nearly pushed her backward.

“Why is it different?” Chloe demanded. “Because
you’re
the one hurt by it?”

“No!”

“You told me God was more interested in offering second chances than pointing fingers at past mistakes. What about you, Miss Eden?”

The question ripped a painful hole in her defenses. Her mind scrambled to fill it in with justifications. Levi had purposely misrepresented himself to her, hidden things . . .

“He didn’t have to tell you, you know.” Chloe’s words blasted another section of carefully constructed rationale to smithereens. “Most people wouldn’t have. They woulda just kept their mouths shut and hoped you never found out. But not Mr. Grant. He trusted you with his secrets. And what’d you do? You held ’em all against him—that’s what.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes in accusation, then dropped her arms to her sides and spun toward the door in a huff. She grabbed the handle and hesitated.

“He ain’t perfect, Miss Eden,” she said, twisting to face the room a final time, “but neither are you. All this time you had me fooled. I never took you for a rock-toter.”