I don’t think this room has been dusted since Mr. Ross first opened the bank twenty years ago.”
Dale cut a glance to where Maria was perched on a ladder, dusting the tops of the bookshelves, her backside to him. A rather nice backside, if truth be told. He coughed to dislodge the inane thought. She was his employee after all, and certainly didn’t seem the type to be content to settle down with a one-eyed bank manager for a husband.
Maria swiveled on the ladder. “Sorry. Did I hit you with the dust?”
Dust? He stared blankly at her.
“You coughed a moment ago.”
Ah. He fought to hide a rueful smile—Maria Schmitt didn’t miss much—then he released another cough for good measure. Better for her to think the dust had disrupted him and not the sight of her attractive figure. “I’m fine.”
“Why don’t you hand me the books you want placed up here?”
Dale passed her a stack from one of the boxes—mostly textbooks he couldn’t bear to part with, even now. Maria began lining them up along the highest shelf, pausing to read each title. “Did you go to medical school? Or do you read books about illnesses and muscles for fun?”
“Both.”
She lifted her violet eyes to his, her mouth pursed. Then her features relaxed into a smile. “That was another joke.”
He couldn’t help a chuckle. “A joke, yes, but still true.” Reaching into another box, he pulled out his diploma. The single sheet of paper and elegant script represented the countless hours he’d spent pursuing his dream to be a surgeon. He held it up for Maria to see.
“Very impressive,” she said, nodding. The action made her dark curls swing. No wonder she was so good with the customers. With her pretty hair and striking eyes, she probably won them over immediately. “Were you a medic in the war?”
“No.” He tossed the diploma back into the box and straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from fisting them. “I was an assistant surgeon.”
Surprise etched itself on Maria’s face, followed by a decisive nod. “That makes sense.”
He laughed, but it was laced with bitterness. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know. Something about your hands.” She returned to stacking his books on the shelves.
Dale removed a hand from his pocket and stared at it. The skin looked almost foreign to him, without a surgical glove covering it. “I’ve known since I was a kid that I wanted to be a doctor. Never imagined doing anything else with my life.” He closed his fingers and fisted the edge of the box. “Unfortunately my depth perception isn’t what it was with two good eyes. No one wants a surgeon who might blunder a procedure because he can’t see correctly.”
His admission hung bleak and heavy in the tiny office, but he didn’t wish it back. For some reason, he wanted Maria to know. And yet he still braced himself for her response. Would she express pity, or worse, tell him things weren’t so bad?
Maria put away another book, then turned to face him, her expression uncharacteristically somber. “I know a little of what it means to have your dreams thwarted by something out of your control. And I’m sorry. That can’t be easy.” She offered him a sad sort of smile and returned to her task.
No pitying words, no backward glances at his eye patch. Almost as if she doesn’t notice I wear one.
The possibility stunned Dale. How odd that Maria could so easily forget something he—and surely the rest of the world—was conscious of nearly every minute of the day. Had he mistakenly ignored the depth she sometimes hid behind her beautiful face and bold comments?
He tugged at his suddenly tight collar as embarrassment washed over him. He’d thought her so coquettish the other week, convinced her presence had to be more of a distraction than an asset, as his uncle had claimed. But he could see he might have been wrong. Maria had much to offer the bank.
Dale found himself staring at her again, at the spot where her curls caressed the collar of her blouse. Were they as soft as they looked? The strangest urge to touch one of those dark curls filled him. To distract himself, he reached up and loosened his tie. No wonder he felt as if he were choking. He wasn’t used to wearing the more formal attire of a manager.
“More books.” Maria held out her hand, oblivious—thankfully—to his thoughts about her.
He placed another stack in her grasp, then turned to see what else he’d stored inside these old boxes he hadn’t looked through in a long time. A soft cry wrenched his attention back to Maria. Once again she’d overreached herself, trying to place a book on the far side of the shelf. Before she could fall, Dale jumped forward and stopped her momentum with a hand to her waist.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she righted herself on the ladder, her cheeks a delightful shade of pink.
“Are you all right?”
She dipped her chin in a nod. The vulnerability in her violet eyes held him captive. It was the same look she’d had when she told him she needed this job, needed this fresh start.
What had brought Maria here? What was she trying so hard to move on from? The similarities between them weren’t lost on Dale. He needed this job and this fresh start just as much as she did. And though she’d been the one to offer help first, surely he could do something to help her, too. Something to make this new chapter in her life the best it could be.
Which likely meant reconsidering the tasks he’d given her the last few days.
“What is it with you and ladders?” He tempered his teasing with a full smile.
Maria blinked, as if in a daze, before she laughed. “It isn’t the ladder; it’s these shoes.”
He looked toward her feet and realized he still had a hand on her waist. The warmth of her skin heated his fingers through her blouse. The color nearly matched her eyes.
He lifted his head, intent on meeting her gaze, but instead he found his attention drawn to her lips. As he watched, they parted slightly as she drew in a quick breath. It had been a very long time since he’d kissed a woman, and even longer since it hadn’t meant good-bye. He could imagine kissing Maria might be rather intoxicating.
A knock at the door interrupted the moment. Dale released his hold on Maria and took a deliberate step to the side. While he might be able to offer her help, there were some things he couldn’t offer.
“Come in,” he called out. James entered, pushing his glasses up his nose in his habitual way.
“There’s a family here to see you, Mr. Emerson. About a farm mortgage.”
Dale sighed with relief. His office felt suddenly too small with Maria present. “Thank you, James. Will you seat them in the front office?”
The young man nodded and ducked out the door. Dale moved to follow, but Maria called him back.
“Mr. Emerson.” Did he mistake the breathlessness in her voice?
Would she demand another apology from him, this time for keeping his hand on her waist longer than was considered polite? Although she hadn’t exactly been jumping away from him either.
Instead of insisting on another apology, though, Maria pointed to her collar. “Your tie.”
He reached up to touch it. “What about it?”
She rolled her eyes. “You might want to straighten it before you meet with that family.”
Oh. Right. He tightened his tie and slipped out the door, though he could have sworn he heard her mutter something about “and get a new one.”
What was wrong with his tie? he wondered as he moved past Lawrence and James and out into the lobby. Perhaps it was a bit old, but the article still had life in it yet. He didn’t relish the idea of wearing a tie to work for the rest of his life, which meant he would wear what was comfortable.
Putting thoughts of his tie—and Maria—from his mind, he entered the front office. He nodded to the couple seated inside and lowered himself to eye level with the young girl balancing on her mother’s lap. “I understand you want to buy a farm. Is that right?”
The girl’s eyes widened before she buried her head in her mother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” the woman said.
“No. It’s all right.” Dale sat down at his desk, trying to ignore the girl’s frightened reaction. He hadn’t meant to scare her. “Why don’t you tell me about the property you’d like to purchase and we can see what we can do as far as a loan?”
He spent the next half an hour talking with the family and filling out paperwork. By the time they left, the girl was no longer hiding against her mother’s sleeve. But she wouldn’t talk directly to Dale, no matter how many times he tried to draw her out.
When the three of them finally left, Dale dropped back down into his chair. Tension radiated through his body, sapping his energy. He plucked a mint from his pocket and popped it into his mouth.
He’d thought performing life-saving surgery was difficult, especially near the front lines with the cold and the mud and the constant need for supplies. Never in his wildest dreams would he have believed being a bank manager would be equally hard.
Maria appeared in the open doorway. “I finished straightening your office. Would you like to see it?” She gave him an earnest smile he did his best to ignore.
“In a bit. I need to finish up with some of this paperwork first.” He gathered up the papers the couple had signed.
“How did the meeting go?”
Dale shot her a look. Had she somehow been privy to the girl’s reaction to him? “Fine. It went fine.”
“What would you like me to do now?”
He gazed about the room as if it held the answer, but he suddenly couldn’t think of a single thing for her to do. “Why don’t you help Lawrence and James with customers for now?”
Her dark eyebrows rose in surprise. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. And close the door on your way out. I think I’ll work in here for a while.”
Maria regarded him silently for a moment. “Would you like some coffee first? You look like you could use a cup.”
He certainly could, but his self-reproach at ordering her around the past three days had finally caught up with him. “No, thank you.”
With a nod, she exited the office and shut the door softly behind her. Dale picked up his pen, but instead of writing, he tapped it against the desk in rapid succession. Who was he fooling? He wasn’t cut out for this job, no matter how badly he wanted to please Uncle Lester. It wasn’t all about frightening children or inspiring doubt in adults about his capabilities either—his heart wasn’t into the numbers or the customers.
A part of him still held out irrational hope that something would change. That somehow he would be able to go back to doing what he loved—performing surgery, learning about surgery. He hadn’t even minded the years he’d spent studying and attending his medical classes. All things to do with the body and how to fix it fascinated him.
Recalling some of his favorite classes and professors sparked an idea. Dale grabbed a sheet of stationary and began writing. Though he couldn’t perform surgeries himself anymore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t teach other surgeon-hopefuls the information they needed to know. Perhaps his favorite teacher and mentor, Dr. John Abrams, could ask around about any open teaching positions at the medical college. With so many of the teaching staff still working overseas, there might be something Dale could do there. Even if nothing came of the inquiry, he had to at least try.
Once he’d finished the letter, he tucked it into an envelope and set it aside. He could mail it tomorrow. Dale glanced at the calendar and shook his head. No, tomorrow was Thanksgiving. The day he and his mother had always used to reflect on all the blessings in their lives.
The reminder churned regret inside him. He might wish for a different job, but at least he had one. Humbled, he lowered his face into his hands.
Forgive me, Lord. I’m grateful for this job. And more importantly, I’m deeply grateful to be alive.
As they often did, his thoughts drifted to the man on the stretcher who hadn’t survived the ambulance explosion. Dale had been so close to extricating that last soldier from the vehicle, but he hadn’t been fast enough. If he’d moved quicker, hadn’t paused to answer the orderly’s question, could he have saved the man’s life?
The unanswerable question haunted him. To drive the grief away, he returned to his silent pleas. Bless the man’s family, wherever they may be. And please…Dale drew in a deep breath. Help me find my way, if this is truly where you want me to be.
* * *
Dale downed another mug of warmed cider and set his cup on a nearby table. The murmur of a dozen conversations filled the parlor of his aunt and uncle’s home. He’d dreaded coming to Lester’s retirement party tonight. Not because he didn’t care for his relatives, but he loathed the idea of the inevitable stares and whispered comments.
Sure enough, several women were eyeing him at that moment as if he were a creature in a zoo. The words unfortunate tragedy and once so nice-looking floated easily across the room to reverberate in Dale’s ears.
Perhaps he should leave before dinner was served. But he dismissed the idea at once. Not only would his mother be upset, but as the newest manager of the bank, he was under obligation to stay. However awkward and long the evening proved to be.
He faced the nearest window, loosening his tie as he did so and wondering how his fellow doctors, nurses, and orderlies in France had spent their Thanksgiving. Had it been another day of surgeries, or were they able to do something special for the holiday now that the fighting had ended? Either way, an intense longing filled him. If only he could be back at the base hospital at this moment, doing what he knew how to do, performing tasks that actually mattered.
“Why, Mr. Emerson. You do own a full suit.”
Dale recognized Maria’s voice—and sharp wit—at once. Burying his despairing thoughts, he inhaled a deep breath and turned around. Whatever clever retort he’d meant to fire back at her, though, was forgotten the moment he saw her.
She wore a black dress that nearly matched her hair and made the violet of her eyes and the red of her lips stand out in contrast to the darker material. Her sleeves were made of black lace, allowing her cream-colored skin to peek through.
If he’d thought her pretty before, Dale could think of no other descriptor for her tonight but breathtaking.
“Are Lawrence and James here yet?” Maria looked around the crowded room, seemingly oblivious to his momentary lapse in speech.
Dale cleared his throat. “I believe I saw them lingering in the dining room.”
“No doubt hoping to be the first seated and served.” She smiled up at him—a genuine, open smile that made her look all the more radiant.
He wasn’t the only one to notice either. Every eye in the room was focused in their direction, but his aunt and uncle’s guests were no longer watching him—this time they were staring at Maria.
“Dale.” His mother entered the parlor and approached him. “Aunt Evie would like you to make the toast to your uncle.” Without waiting for his reply, she turned to Maria and smiled fully. Dale cringed, hoping she would remember her promise from the other week not to interfere in matters of the heart. “Miss Schmitt, don’t you look lovely.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to see you outside the bank, Mrs. Emerson.” She raised an eyebrow at Dale. “I had no idea this was your son.”
“Please, call me Harriet,” his mother said. Dale squelched a desire to roll his eyes. “Tell me. How is my son doing as the new manager?”
Maria tilted her head to look Dale in the eye. “I have to say…” Dale shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, steeling himself for a recitation of the many mistakes he’d made his first week. But to his surprise, Maria turned back to his mother and said, “I think he’s doing rather well.”
“Really?” His mother’s brow lifted, her dark eyes sparkling with as much pride as mischief. Thankfully Aunt Evie chose that moment to announce dinner. Harriet excused herself to help serve.
“Your mother is very nice.”
“Yes, she is.” And a bit too crafty for her own good.
“Quite contemporary in her thinking, too,” Maria continued. “Based on our conversations when she’s come into the bank.”
“Does that surprise you? Me being her son and all?”
Maria laughed. “Not anymore. Is it only the two of you?”
Dale nodded.. “My father died when I was ten.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sensed the sincerity in her tone.
“He was a good man, always encouraging me to make the best of any circumstance.”
“Like being a bank manager?”
Dale cut her a glance—he hadn’t thought much about his father’s advice in relation to his current situation. “I suppose.” He waved her ahead of him into the dining room, where the rest of the guests were taking their seats at two large tables that had been set up. “Which seat shall I escort you to, Miss Schmitt?”
“Next to yours, of course.” Her chin came up a notch as if she expected him to challenge her decision. He knew several young men in the group who probably wished to do so.
“All right.” He located two vacant chairs. After helping Maria into her seat, he took his own. A few people at their table continued to throw unabashed looks at them. Dale could easily guess at their thoughts. Why would a beauty like Maria choose to sit beside him, when she might have sat by anyone tonight?
A sudden thought had him turning toward Maria. “You aren’t trying to flatter me with your charms, are you?” he teased in a low voice. “To increase my favorable opinion of female bank clerks?”
She demurely placed her napkin on her lap and leaned toward him, giving him a delightful whiff of perfume. “I believe you’re quite impervious to any charm on my part, Mr. Emerson. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Dale studied her open, somewhat mischievous, expression. Yes, he was impervious to the sort of charms she might show the bank customers. But Maria Schmitt employed far more captivating qualities, ones he was finding it harder and harder to ignore.
* * *
The food was delicious, much better than the Thanksgiving meal Maria had eaten yesterday with the other tenants at the boardinghouse where she lived. As if reading her thoughts, Dale paused in eating to ask, “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”
“It was a rather quiet affair, but yes.”
“With family?”
Maria shook her head. A tremor of homesickness rose into her throat. She loved being on her own, but there were moments she wished she lived closer to her parents and siblings. She missed her mother’s loving attention, however smothering at times, her father calling her his “baby girl,” and her delightful nieces and nephews eager to see Auntie Maria.
“My family lives several hours away. And I’m fairly certain Thanksgiving was not a quiet affair.” She laughed, as much at her own joke as to cover the lingering sadness she felt at having not been there for the first time in nineteen years. “My two siblings are both married with children of their own. Which means I have seven nieces and nephews, who are all gloriously wonderful and wonderfully loud.”
“I see.” Dale’s mouth curved up into a smile. Not unlike the one the day before when he’d teased her about her trouble with ladders. Today, though, she felt only the tiniest twinge of pleasure in her stomach, whereas Dale’s smile yesterday and his firm hand on her waist had nearly stopped her breath altogether.
He looked especially handsome tonight in his full suit, even if it was slightly worn. If only he’d wear such clothes at the bank.
“So you’re the baby of the family. The spoiled youngest.” His gaze gleamed even darker with his teasing. “That makes perfect sense now.”
“How would you know?” She jabbed him in the arm with her finger. And immediately regretted it when she felt the hardened muscle beneath his sleeve. However friendly he acted or dashing he looked, she couldn’t forget he was her boss, first and foremost.
“All right, I’ll admit I don’t know. I’ve only heard things, from those with siblings.” He lifted his fork again, but the smile didn’t leave his face.
“Did your mother dote on you?” she found herself asking.
“Perhaps, a little. But raising me on her own, she also taught me to have courage, to try new things.”
Maria pushed at her food with her fork. “It was a bit opposite for me. I think my parents feared there were a great many things I couldn’t handle as the youngest. It was actually a miracle I was able to convince them to let me move to the city and find a job.”
“A job you do quite well.”
The words were spoken softly, but they still had the power to fill her from head to toe with pleasure. She could think of no witty rejoinder, so she settled for simply thanking him—and promptly changed the subject. “What did you do for Thanksgiving?”
“We spent the day with Lester and Evie.” Dale took a drink from his glass, then glanced at her. “Had I known you weren’t with family, I would have invited you to join us.”
“No, no. I was fine.” She meant it, but his thoughtfulness pleased her.
“There were many years, when Mother and I were living in Michigan, when we spent the holidays alone or with those who were also without family.” Dale paused as he set down his glass. “It’s nice to be back with family again, although, I do miss our tradition of going ice-skating every Thanksgiving.”
“You didn’t go yesterday?”
Dale chuckled. “No. I’m afraid I haven’t been ice-skating since we moved to Iowa.”
“Then we ought to go.” The idea was out before she’d thought it through entirely. But the more she pondered it, the more Maria warmed to the notion.
“You’re serious?”
Maria twisted in her chair to face him. “Absolutely. I believe there’s a pond not far from the bank. We could meet there tomorrow.”
He studied her, his expression incredulous.
“It is Saturday, so you can’t say there are things to do at the bank.” Would he agree? For some unfathomable reason, Maria hoped very much that he would. After helping him for nearly a week, she felt certain a lighthearted outing that had nothing to do with being the bank manager was exactly what he needed.
Dale blew out his breath, while Maria held hers. “Very well, Miss Schmitt,” he finally said, lifting his fork once more. “I’ll meet you at the pond at ten o’clock sharp. Bring your own skates.”