Mary-Jo arrived at the train station early. Had it only been forty hours since she first arrived in town? Hard to believe. In some ways it seemed like a lifetime ago.
Everywhere she looked, families stood around in secure little knots. One man perched a small boy on his shoulders and she couldn’t take her eyes off the two of them. Loneliness cut through her. If God was good enough to ever bless her with children, that was the kind of father she hoped they would have, knock on wood.
“Miss Parker!”
Hearing her name, she turned and smiled. Never did she think she’d seen a more welcome sight. “Eddie! What are you doing here?”
“We came to say good-bye,” he said.
“Who’s we?” she asked.
“That would be me.” Sheriff Garrett stepped from behind a post and laid a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I . . .” He cleared his throat.
“You really ought to do something for that throat of yours, Sheriff.”
Today his eyes matched the color of bluebells growing along the station fence. “I want to . . . apologize for my behavior yesterday in the cemetery. Eddie explained you were helping him with schoolwork and saying good-bye to his pa.”
The sound of a whistle announced the arrival of the train. The platform vibrated beneath her feet. “And he was helping me collect my lucky playing cards.”
The train screeched to a stop with a hissing sound. All around them, people started to scurry.
“I’m sorry we met under such trying circumstances,” the sheriff offered. They stared at each other for several moments before he broke eye contact to glance at the train. “We won’t keep you. We just came to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye.” She smiled and added, “Good luck.” The sheriff might not believe in luck, but judging by the dark look on Eddie’s face, he sure was going to need it.
“I don’t want you to go,” Eddie cried out.
The sheriff frowned. “Miss Parker has to leave.”
Eddie glared up at his uncle. “She’s only leaving because you’re making her.”
“That’s not true.” Garrett reached for Eddie’s arm, but the boy pulled back and took off at a run, disappearing into the milling crowd.
Mary-Jo felt terrible. She never meant to cause the sheriff trouble. “I’m sorry,” she said, then without thinking she laid her hand on his arm.
He glanced at her hand before lifting his gaze to hers.
She pulled her hand away. “I never meant—”
“You better hurry,” he said, his voice taut. “You don’t want to miss your train.” With that, he spun around and hurried away. Tearing her gaze from his retreating back, Mary-Jo walked toward the train on lead feet.
•••
That night Mary-Jo walked up the boardinghouse steps to the dark porch and knocked on the door. A light shone in the window and that was a good sign.
The door opened a crack and a nose as long as a crow’s beak was all she could make out. “May I help you?” It was a woman’s voice and even her thick guttural accent couldn’t hide the disapproving tone.
“Yes, I wish to speak with the sheriff,” she said. “I was told he lived here.”
The door opened all the way, revealing a gray-haired woman in a lace cap and a long dressing gown. Sharp gray eyes assessed her. “You’re the woman who wore the yellow dress to Mr. Garrett’s funeral.” Without allowing Mary-Jo time to confirm or deny it, she added, “It’s late.”
It was a little after eight, but the woman made it sound like the wee hours of the morn. “It’s important that I speak with him.”
The woman hesitated a moment, then invited Mary-Jo into the house with a nod of her head. She pointed to the parlor and waited for Mary-Jo to sit before climbing the stairs.
Mary-Jo straightened her skirt and folded her hands on her lap.
Footsteps on the stairs almost made her lose her composure. She debated whether to stand or stay seated. In the end the choice wasn’t hers to make. The moment the sheriff’s tall form filled the doorway, she jumped to her feet without thinking.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I was worried about Eddie,” she said in one breathless sentence.
Surprise suffused his face. “I thought you’d left town.”
“I couldn’t leave without knowing he was all right.” He was, after all, Daniel’s son. “I stopped by your office and your deputy said you were still looking for him. I thought he might have gone to the cemetery, but he wasn’t there and . . . I couldn’t find him anywhere. I looked for him all day . . . all over town. And he never returned to the house.”
“He’s fine. He’s asleep.”
Relief rushed through her. “Praise the Lord.”
They stood staring at each other. The dainty furniture and delicate knickknacks looked absurd in contrast to his height and powerful build. The only sounds were the steady tick-tock of the long case clock and the pounding of her heart.
“I . . . I won’t keep you,” she stammered. She reached for her reticule.
He reached out his hand. “Stay.”
Her eyes widened. “You . . . want me to stay?”
“It’s not all that late. Please have a seat.” He strode into the room.
She sat on the edge of the floral-print settee to accommodate her bustle, and he sat in a nearby wingback chair.
“I’m so happy to hear that Eddie is . . . where he belongs,” she said, filling in the rather uncomfortable silence that stretched between them.
“He doesn’t think he belongs here with me.” He rubbed his chin. “I didn’t expect to have to raise a child, at least not under these circumstances.”
“He . . . said you’re his only family.”
The sheriff nodded. He talked about his deceased parents and growing up in Kansas; she told him about her amazing sewing machine.
“I planned to start my own business once Daniel and I were married.”
“The town could use a dressmaker.” He studied her. “Eddie told me you lost a friend during the war.”
She lowered her lashes, not sure how much or little to say. “My fiancé,” she said at last.
His eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry . . .”
“So am I.” She took a deep breath. “What do you call a woman like me?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“When a woman loses a husband, we call her a widow. What do you call a woman who loses a fiancé? Who loses two fiancés?”
“I have no idea,” he said, and the sympathy in his eyes unnerved her.
She quickly changed the subject. “Eddie told me you fought in the war too.”
He looked surprised, then pleased. “I didn’t know Eddie knew that about me.”
“I reckon we’d both be surprised at how much Eddie knows.”
“Maybe so.” He studied her. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the war. It must bring back painful memories.”
“The war’s over,” she said.
“But the memories remain.” Raw pain shimmered in the depth of his eyes, but whether from memories of the war or grief for his brother, she didn’t know. Probably both.
“You and Eddie are very much alike,” she said.
“How so?”
“You both have strong feelings about what you believe in. The only difference is, Eddie hasn’t yet found a cause.”
“Never thought Eddie and I shared anything but a slight family resemblance,” he said.
“Not so slight.”
He gazed at her with an intensity that made her blush. For the first time she noticed the intriguing cleft in his chin.
The clock began to gong, reminding her of the lateness of the hour. “I . . . I better go.” She slipped the chain of her reticule over her wrist. “I have an early train to catch.”
“Let me take you back to my brother’s house.”
She hesitated. She still felt like an intruder whenever she entered Daniel’s house and yet what choice did she have? “I hope you don’t mind, but I left my belongings there earlier.”
“I don’t mind and Dan wouldn’t either. And I’ll sleep a lot better knowing you have a place to stay.”
His concern for her welfare made her feel all cozy and warm inside. The emotion left the moment the chimes began to slow.
She jumped to her feet. “You better wind the clock.” Her voice was edged in panic, but it couldn’t be helped. If he didn’t hurry, the clock would stop, and that meant death.
He gave her an odd look but said nothing as he rose. He opened the clock’s glass door and turned the key. “There,” he said, closing the cabinet. He frowned. “Are you all right?”
With an uneasy glance at the clock, she nodded. The chimes continued all the way to nine. “I’m just tired, is all. It’s been . . . a hard week.”
•••
A big yellow moon hung in a star-studded sky as they walked to Daniel’s place. The wind that had swept through town the day before had stopped, leaving the air cool and delicately scented with sweet verbena.
“Tell me about Eddie’s father,” she said as they walked along streets lined with shuttered establishments.
“What can I tell you? Things always came easy for Dan.” They walked past a sleepy farmhouse and newly tilled fields before he continued, “He could read by the time he was three, and he was successful at everything he did.”
“Must run in the family,” she said. “A war veteran and sheriff. That’s pretty impressive. I say you’ve both gone and done your parents proud.”
“My parents were pacifists.” His voice was without bitterness or rancor, but she detected a strain of resignation. “My way was never their way.”
“But your brother’s way was,” she said, reading between the lines. “I reckon they never figured out that every family needs a warrior.”
He flashed a smile and his teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “After what I saw in my office yesterday, I venture to guess you’re the warrior in your family.”
She smiled too. It seemed like she had been fighting all her life just to survive. “I guess that makes us two of a kind.”
“I don’t think you and my brother would have made a good match,” he said.
She turned her shoulder, trying not to let on how much his words hurt. Finally she found her voice. “I guess he needed someone with more learning.”
There was a long pause. “I . . . uh,” he began. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t think he’d know what to do with a wife who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.”
She glanced at his face, but it was too dark to read his expression. “Guess we’ll never know, will we?”
“Guess not.”
They arrived at Daniel’s house. Not even the moonlight penetrated the dark, and he insisted on going in first.
“Be careful of my sewing—”
A thud and groan met her words.
“Are . . . are you all right?” she cried.
For an answer the light came on. He seemed all right and relief rushed through her. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have left it there.”
He stood her machine upright. “No problem.” He hesitated, and she had the strangest feeling he was reluctant to say good night or perhaps that was only wishful thinking on her part. “Are . . . are you still planning on leaving town?”
She nodded. “In the morning.”
“I’ll pick you up and take you to the train station.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I’d feel better knowing you made the train safely,” he said.
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
They gazed at each other for a moment and a warm glow rushed through her.
As if to catch himself from staring, he blinked and quickly headed for the door. “I . . . I better let you get some sleep. Good night.”
“Good night.” She stood at the threshold, not wanting to see him go. “Unlucky,” she called after him.
He swung around to face her. “I’m sorry?”
“That’s what you call a woman who loses two fiancés. Unlucky.” And with that she closed the door.