23

At the sound of men’s voices outside the cabin, Rosemary stood and approached the doorway. Better to speak to Galen in private than to embarrass him in front of Jolene’s family.

Mr. Graves entered first. He swept his hat off when he recognized her.

“Miss Saxon. Never expected to see you again.”

“Mr. West kindly brought me out to visit your daughter. Now that I’m here, I’d like to have a word with Galen, then we’ll be on our way.” She gripped her handkerchief in one hand.

Galen French waited on the stoop behind Jolene’s father, the empty left sleeve of his chambray shirt knotted at the wrist. He lifted his chin when Rosemary spoke.

“I know what you have to say, and I don’t want to hear it.” He crossed the room and rested his hand on Jolene’s shoulder. “Soon as we can, I want to marry her. I don’t care a bit about people’s opinions.”

“Could we step outside for a moment?”

“No, thank you.” He leaned against the tabletop behind Jolene’s chair, eyes narrowed. “Whatever it is, you can have your say right here.”

Exasperated, Rosemary thrust her hands on her hips. “I’m more than happy for you and Jolene. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better outcome for her.”

“Then what—?”

“Your parents, Galen. You’re putting them through a terrible ordeal. They deserve to know where you are, and that you’re well.”

Shamefaced, he met Rosemary’s gaze. “You’re right, of course. I was so happy being here, I didn’t think.”

He and Jolene exchanged a glance. Tears glittered in her eyes.

“What if your folks tell you they won’t give us their blessing?”

Rosemary took a deep breath when Jacob guided the horse onto the road to Noble Springs. The air smelled of damp earth and new growth, a welcome relief from the stuffy cabin with its lingering aroma of greasy salt pork.

Her words to Galen echoed in her mind. She thought of her own parents. Didn’t they deserve as much from her? Her stomach tightened. No, they didn’t. Not after the way they treated her and Curt. But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. She tightened her jaw. Her situation was different. They didn’t want her forgiveness. They’d made it clear they didn’t want her.

Jacob’s voice cut into the silence. “Never expected to find young French at that farm. Folks’ve been talking all week about where he got to.”

“I need to tell his parents as soon as we get back to town.”

“We shouldn’t say anything. Better they hear the news from him.”

“If I can ease their worries, I must do so. They don’t deserve to suffer an extra minute wondering what became of their son. Wouldn’t you want to know if you were a parent?”

“I’m not a parent, yet.” He cut a smile in her direction.

Warmth crept up Rosemary’s neck at the clear message in his eyes. Now. Tell him now. She cleared her throat.

Jacob fished in his pocket and handed her a paper-wrapped lozenge. “You must be thirsty. This’ll help ’til we get to town.”

“Thank you.” She tipped her head back and sighed. Whatever she thought of him as a suitor, he was a kind man through and through. She didn’t want to hurt him with her words. She’d wait a few days and talk to him in a different setting, like the grocery.

When the buggy rolled into town, he turned on Third Street and stopped in front of the parsonage.

Surprised, Rosemary faced him. “So you agree with me—they need to be told.”

He tied the reins to a hitching post and helped her down. “Women know more about such matters. Do what you think best. I’ll stay out here.”

Nerves twitching, she crossed the path to the Frenches’ door and knocked.

Late Friday afternoon, Rosemary gathered her courage, along with her grocery list, and headed for West & Riley’s. Her palms moistened at the thought of seeing Jacob. She’d postponed the encounter all week, and now her need for supplies forced the issue. Maybe she should buy her groceries, then tell him. Or would it be better to get right to the point? She rubbed her temple. No matter what she said, his feelings were bound to be hurt.

When she entered the grocery, the scent of roasted turkey wafted from the restaurant side of the building, reminding her of the young bird one of Jacob’s helpers had delivered to her house during the week. Another kindness for which he deserved thanks. She fought the temptation to turn around and flee.

“Miss Saxon.”

Rosemary jumped when she heard her name.

Clarissa French bustled across the oiled wood floor, a woven basket hanging from one arm. “I want to thank you for sending Galen back to us.” She took Rosemary’s arm and led her toward a quiet corner. “He seems quite determined to marry that young woman. We know nothing about her, except for her . . . condition. We’ve always taught him not to pass judgment on others, but I never dreamed he’d take the lesson this far. What if people think he’s responsible?” Her cheeks flamed.

“He’s doing what’s right for him and Jolene. From what I saw, I don’t think he gives a fig for what people think.” Rosemary placed her hand over Clarissa’s. “We can’t predict who we’ll fall in love with, can we?”

“But she’s a stranger.”

“She’s a good girl who made a bad mistake. Why don’t you ask Galen to take you to her parents’ farm for a visit? I’m sure he’d be delighted, and so would they.”

“Of course. I’ll do that.” Clarissa offered a shaky smile. “Please don’t tell anyone I spoke to you about this. I feel like a hypocrite to have such feelings about another person. My husband would be appalled.”

Rosemary patted the woman’s hand. “I wouldn’t dream of saying anything. Besides, once you see Galen and Jolene together, I believe your doubts will vanish.”

“What are you ladies whispering about back here? No complaints about my merchandise, I hope.” Jacob stood behind them, wrapped in an almost-white apron.

“No complaints at all, Mr. West. Miss Saxon and I were just passing the time of day.” Clarissa nodded at him, then turned to Rosemary. “Thank you . . . for everything.” The flowers on her hat bobbed as she left the store.

“What can I get for my favorite customer this afternoon?” Jacob moved closer to her side.

Rosemary’s heartbeat picked up speed. She glanced around the store, hoping for another distraction, but at the moment she was the only patron. She unfolded her list, although she had the contents memorized. “Ah, a pound of sugar, a bag of Dundee’s baking powder, and a lemon.”

“That’s all?”

“Curt will bring the wagon next week so I can get heavier items.”

“I’d be happy to deliver anything you need.” He plucked a lemon from a basket and placed the yellow fruit on a counter before reaching onto a shelf behind him for the baking powder.

“I appreciate the offer, but Curt doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind either, Miss Saxon. You should know that by now.” He placed the sugar next to her other two items, then leaned over the counter. “If you leave your order with me, I’ll bring it Sunday afternoon.”

“About Sunday—” She drew a deep breath. “It’s not fair for me to spend Sundays with you when I don’t—”

He held up his hand, palm out. “Why don’t you let me decide what’s fair? Perhaps I’ve been too hasty. For the next few weeks, let’s go back to simply being friends.”

Her resolve melted at the hopeful look in his eyes. If she thought she’d never see him again, he’d be easy to dismiss. But West & Riley’s was the only grocery in Noble Springs. “Friendship is exactly what I had in mind.” She laid two dimes on the counter and gathered her purchases into her carryall. “Thank you, Jacob.”

As she walked toward home, she tried not to think about his forlorn expression when she left the grocery. Surely as the weeks passed with no encouragement from her, his interest was bound to wane.

Bodie capered around her feet when Rosemary entered the front door. She stooped and hugged him, enjoying the doggie smell of his clean fur. “Are you ready for your walk? Just let me put these things in the kitchen.”

He raced ahead into the next room, where Cassie sat in front of the window, her fingers busy with her tatting shuttle. She smiled up at Rosemary. “Did you talk to Jacob when you went to the grocery?”

She grimaced. “In a way. We’re going back to being friends only.”

“Well, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“‘For a few weeks’ is what he said.”

“Maybe by then he’ll meet someone else.”

“I hope so.”

Cassie pointed the tatting shuttle at Rosemary’s carryall. “Is that lemon and sugar?”

“Yes. As soon as I take Bodie for his walk, I’ll bake the bread.” A thrill of anticipation shot through her at the thought of her picnic tomorrow with the doctor. She prayed he’d enjoy the food she prepared.

After depositing her purchases on the kitchen table, Rosemary fastened Bodie’s leash to his collar and set out. The setting sun quivered above the horizon, sending streaks of gold and coral across the sky. She paused a moment to gaze with satisfaction on her flourishing garden. Since the broken glass in her greenhouse, there’d been no further damage to her property.

Her feeling of safety wilted when she recalled that the incidents had come at two- or three-week intervals. Time for another one. She closed the gate behind her with a firm click. No more. Please, Lord. As she approached the corner across from Dr. Stewart’s home, a closed carriage passed by and stopped in front of his house. The driver dismounted to assist a well-dressed woman to the boardwalk.

Rosemary squinted to determine who she might be, but only had a glimpse of the caller’s profile before the woman straightened her cloak over her flounced skirt and strode to the door.