Belonging (28 page)

If Helen Summerville had issued orders to shun the schoolteacher, the word hadn’t reached Ellen or Kathleen, for they greeted her with friendly, welcoming smiles.

“We’d love some help.” Ellen held up a knife for her to take.

Before Felicia could round the nearest table, Charity said, “But first she needs to try some of your cherry pie, Mrs. Franklin. She needs to try it before it’s all gone.”

Ellen laughed. “Before you eat it all, you mean?”

“I wouldn’t eat it all.”

“Hmm.” Ellen slid a plate toward Felicia. “I saved it for you. Charity said I had to.”

“Thank you.” Under the girl’s watchful eye, Felicia took a bite. It was equally sweet and tart, with a crust that melted in her mouth.
“Oh my. Charity’s right. It is even better than the apple pie you made for—” She stopped abruptly, afraid she’d revealed too much. Would Kathleen be upset to know Colin had shared the dessert with her?

“Randall says my pies are why he married me,” Ellen said into the silence.

Is Colin the type of man who could be won by a delicious recipe? Is that how Kathleen won him?
Oh, how traitorous were her thoughts! How unwelcome their direction! It couldn’t matter to her what had won Colin’s affections. It
mustn’t
matter. It
didn’t
matter.

Kathleen’s response didn’t sound as if she was upset. “I’ve tried countless times to get Ellen to tell me how she makes her piecrusts so light. To no avail, I might add.”

Ellen laughed again. “I have few enough talents. I’d best keep this one to myself.”

The truth struck Felicia like a blow. She would lose so much more than a job if Mrs. Summerville succeeded in having her dismissed. She would also lose these new but already precious friendships.

But I wouldn’t lose Colin because he isn’t mine to lose. I must remember that. Please, God, help me remember that.

Kathleen would always recall the exact moment when Oscar strode toward the back of the barn. His hair was slicked back, freshly washed, and he wore a fancy blue shirt and clean pair of jeans.

“I was hopin’ we might have that dance now, Miz Summerville.”

She didn’t hesitate. She’d wasted enough time hesitating, worrying about what her mother-in-law might think, doing what her mother-in-law wanted her to do. No more. Not tonight. She stepped from behind the table and placed her fingers into the palm of his outstretched hand. He grinned, and she smiled in return.

Oscar wasn’t a large man, but the way he held her as they danced made her feel small and fragile and oh-so feminine.

“You’re the prettiest gal in the place,” he said near her ear.

“It’s kind of you to say so.”

“Not kind. Just speakin’ the truth.”

Enjoying the compliment, she felt her cheeks grow warm.

“I reckon you know what it is I’d like to say, Kathleen.”

The use of her given name drew her gaze to his.

“I’d like to be more than a friend to you. I reckon you know my meanin’.”

Her heart hiccupped. She tried to ignore the feeling. “How old are you, Mr. Jacobson?”

He grinned that lopsided grin that she found so adorable. “Old enough to know what I want.”

“How old?”

“I’ll turn twenty-five come December.”

“I’m thirty.”

“Yes’m. I figured as much.”

“I’m the mother of two.”

“Yes’m. Fine girls too. They know their manners. Always polite to their elders. I’ve noticed that about them.”

“Surely you can see—”

“All I can see right now is that I’m dancin’ with the prettiest gal in the place. Like I said before.”

There was no point protesting any further there on the dance floor. She could tell that he wasn’t going to listen to reason. And truly, she would rather enjoy this carefree feeling. She could be sensible later.

They danced three dances in a row, never even pretending to leave the floor before the next melody started. But at the end of the third, a lively square dance, Kathleen found herself gasping for air even as she laughed.

“I’m afraid I must rest, Mr. Jacobson.”

He offered his arm. “How about some fresh air?”

“Please. For a few minutes.” She slipped her fingers into the crook of his arm. “But I should get back soon to the refreshment table so others can have their turn to enjoy the evening.”

He nodded, then guided her toward the barn doors.

The cool evening air felt good on her skin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve danced so much.”

“I’d dance with you every night if I could.” There was no note of teasing in his voice.

“That might be a bit much.” She motioned toward the interior of the barn. “Wherever would we find music like this?”

He stepped closer. His voice lowered. “We wouldn’t need music if we were married.”

Her breath caught in her chest.

“Will you marry me, Kathleen?”

“Mr. Jacobson—”

“Call me Oscar.”

“I’m older than you. I have children.”

“Five years isn’t that much, and I’d love your girls as if they were my own.”

“Where would we live? You’re a cowboy on the Double G. There’s no place for a family there.”

“I’ve got land of my own, a small but solid house on it, and the start of a good herd of cattle. You wouldn’t do without, nor would your girls.”

He owned land and cattle? He had a house?

“It’s not all that far from town. You’d be able to see your friends when you wanted. Suzanne and Phoebe could see their grandparents regular like.”

“Oscar, you hardly know me.”

“You’re wrong there. I know you enough to love you.”

He loved her? Her mind tried to continue to argue. How could he know that for sure? And they’d lived such different lives up to now. And yet … and yet her heart believed him. Believed he loved her. Believed he knew her. Believed she loved him too.

“Will you marry me, Kathleen?”

Her mother-in-law would tell her she was crazy, downright insane. Mother Summerville would never approve. She would say Oscar was a nobody, a cowpoke, a man without proper breeding or upbringing, unsuitable to be a stepfather to her granddaughters. Helen wouldn’t care that he made Kathleen happy whenever she was with him. But Kathleen cared.

“Will you?”

“Yes,” she answered, feeling breathless.

That crooked, wonderful grin of his appeared. “When?”

“When? Well, I don’t know. We’ll need to make plans. And Mother Summerville—” She felt a sinking sensation.

“Let’s go into Boise City tomorrow. Just you and me. We’ll get married and tell everybody after.”

“Elope? Oh, Oscar. Do you think we should?”

“Yeah, I think we should.”

It really was quite crazy. But if this was insanity, then she planned to enjoy every moment of it. “Let’s do it.”

Colin stood with a number of area farmers. Their discussions had roamed from this year’s harvest to the mild temperatures and lack of lightning storms in August and September to the Klondike gold rush. But when the topic switched to politics and President McKinley, Colin excused himself and walked toward the refreshment tables.

As he skirted the dancers, he saw Kathleen reentering the barn on the arm of one of the men who worked for Glen Gilchrist. She looked as if she was enjoying herself. He was glad. He’d hurt her feelings a week ago, and that hadn’t set well with him, even if all he’d done was speak the truth.

Arriving at the refreshment tables, he found Ellen standing behind one of them, visiting with Martha Daughtry, while Felicia stood behind the other, cutting slices of a white-frosted cake. A number of children of varying ages sat on nearby bales of straw, enjoying cake and punch.

“I think I’d like a piece of that cake,” he said as he stopped opposite Felicia.

Her cheeks pinkened, and he liked thinking he was the reason. She lifted a plate and held it toward him, at the same time lifting her gaze to meet his. She was without a doubt the prettiest woman at the festivities. A man could drown in those eyes, and he was willing to be the one to do so.

“Would you care to dance again, Felicia?”

The color in her cheeks deepened. “You can’t dance with cake in your hand, Mr. Murphy.”

“I’ll eat it later.” He set the plate back on the table. “Do you think you could call me Colin?”

She looked beyond him, her gaze sweeping the barn, and he wondered what—or rather
who
—she wanted to find. Maybe there was a different reason for her blush. Maybe she wished it was someone else who’d asked her to dance.

Now there was an emotion he couldn’t recall feeling before: jealousy. Foreign it might be to him, but he recognized it all the same.

He held his hand toward her. “May I have this dance, Miss Kristoffersen?” He saw “No” in her eyes, but before she could refuse him, she was interrupted.

“Go on, Felicia.” Ellen gave Felicia’s shoulder a slight push. “Go dance and enjoy yourself. I can manage here without you.”

“But I—”

“Go on. I’d be doing the same if I wasn’t married to a man with two left feet.”

Colin chuckled. “It’s true. Randall can’t dance a lick.” He took hold of Felicia’s hand and drew her out from behind the table.

“But I can’t dance either, Mr. Murphy. Not really. You know that.”

“Call me Colin.”

“We’ve already danced once. It wouldn’t be—”

“Please.” He took her into his arms, and they began to turn in time to the music.

A sea of emotions swirled in her eyes, eyes that remained locked with his. What was it he saw in them? Confusion? Hope? Fear? Trust? Dread?

Could he hope for something more?

Something lasting?

TWENTY-EIGHT

Why did I dance with Colin a second time? Knowing what Mrs. Summerville thinks of me, why did I do it? Once was bad enough. Such a foolish thing to do it a second time. Foolish, foolish, foolish.

Clutching her Bible and pocketbook close to her chest, Felicia walked hurriedly toward the church the morning after the barn dance. She’d slept little the previous night, and she was certain it showed in the circles beneath her eyes. And now, on top of everything else, she was going to be late to Sunday service.

Why did I listen to Ellen? I should have said no. Why was I so weak? It should have been Kathleen dancing with him.

But Kathleen had been nowhere in sight. And besides, Felicia had enjoyed those brief minutes in his arms with the music playing. They had been magical … mostly. But confusing too. Utterly confusing.

Even if he was a free man—which he wasn’t—she wouldn’t be interested in more than friendship. She wanted to teach. She wanted to be the mistress of her own future. She wasn’t willing to set her hopes and dreams aside. Not for any reason. Certainly not for any man.

But Colin wasn’t just “any” man, was he?

A groan escaped her lips.

Arriving at the church, she dashed up the steps and into the narthex. It was empty, the congregation already seated in the sanctuary. Trying to calm her breathing, she moved into the larger room and took the first empty seat, next to the Carpenter family. She purposefully kept her gaze directed toward the pulpit and Reverend Hightower. She didn’t want to risk making eye contact with Colin or Kathleen or Helen or anyone else. Not until she felt composed and under control of her confused emotions.

The organist played the opening chords, and the congregation rose to its feet to sing “Nearer, My God, to Thee". Felicia closed her eyes and let the lyrics rise from her heart, knowing that as she let go of her earthly cares, she would hear the Lord’s voice with more clarity. And she wanted to hear His voice this morning. She needed Him to make sense of things. Things that, in the limitations of her human mind, made no sense to her at all.

By the time the congregation settled back onto the wooden pews, Felicia felt calmer. Calm enough that she could listen to the reading of the Scripture and take comfort in God’s Holy Word. Calm enough that she could listen to Reverend Hightower’s sermon and glean wisdom from it. Calm enough that when the service ended, she could rise and turn and face whatever came next.