Bluebonnet Belle (30 page)

“More?” He seemed puzzled. “What haven't I given
you?
”

“Honor, loyalty—you, Henry. You didn't give me you.”

His brow pulled into an affronted frown. “I must say, April, this is a side of you I've never seen—and frankly, I don't like it. You're still angry. What must I do to win back your favor? Tell me—I'll do anything. You know you're the only woman I truly love.”

“Move on with your life, Henry, and let me move on with mine.”

He seemed contrite, shocked at her insensibility. “You don't mean that. Have you no idea how much I regret my faux pas? Grace had
no
right to confront you like that—”

“Henry, please. This is Beulah's day. Let's not ruin it by dredging up unpleasant memories.”

He was silent for a long moment. “Well, I must say, Porky doesn't look as fat as usual today.”

“What?”

“Porky. She actually looks very nice—” he grinned “—for a hog.”

Disgusted, April walked away leaving him red-faced, trying to look as if the parting was mutual.

 

It was late when April swept the last grain of rice out of the town hall. After storing the broom in the closet, she blew out each candle and lamp.

Closing the door behind her, she locked it, then walked slowly home in the dark.

The sky was clear, a full moon glistened off freshly plowed fields, and thoughts of Gray were vivid in her mind. Though it was late, the lights were still on in Flora Lee's place when April arrived. Worried that she might have eaten too much wedding cake, April made her way down the path to the cabin and knocked softly on the door. Datha opened it, grinning when she saw who it was.

“Miss April?”

“I was just wondering if you were all right. I saw the light on in the window….”

Datha smiled widely. “Nothing's wrong. Come in.”

April stepped inside. “I thought Flora Lee might have eaten too much wedding cake.”

“Flora Lee's just fine,” the old woman cackled from the fireside.

Surprised, April saw Jacel sitting next to Flora Lee. “Oh…I'm sorry I've intruded—”

“You could never do that,” Datha said, closing the door.

“Come, sit a spell,” Flora Lee invited.

“Grandmother and Jace and I have been talking.”

“Thank goodness,” April breathed. “I've been afraid…”

“I'd take a broom to Jacel?” Flora Lee laughed, waving a hand good-naturedly.

Seeing the grins on each of their faces, April started to smile. “What is going on here?”

Datha rested a hand on Jacel's shoulder, smiling at him lovingly. “She's found out that Jacel isn't the most evil man in the world.”

“Never thought he was,” Flora Lee muttered.

“And,” Datha said, “we've come to an agreement.”

“Oh?” The news was almost too good to be true, but April was glad they had apparently settled their differences. It was good to know that some things worked out for the best.

Holding Jacel's hand tightly, Datha said, “We, Jacel and me, made a mistake. One that almost cost me my life.”

Jacel took Datha's other hand in his large one, and the adoration in his eyes was nearly blinding.

“We're not going to talk about that,” Flora Lee said. “That's all in the past, and you've learned from your mistake. The good Lord don't hold grudges.”

“What Datha's trying to say,” Jacel said, “is that we're going to wait until I'm out of school before we get married, but we're not going to, well—”

“I understand,” April said softly. “You're not going to take the chance of ruining your future again.”

“That's right,” Datha said. “What we did was foolish—what I did was wrong. I'll never forgive myself for…”

“It was my fault,” Jacel said.

“It's past,” Flora Lee repeated. “God's going to give us a better day tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Datha whispered. “A brand-new day.”

Still gripping Datha's hands, Jacel said softly, “What we have will last a lifetime. Once we're married, we're going to have babies, lots of babies, and we're going to thank God every night that he forgives mistakes.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Jacel.” Somewhere in her mind April heard her mother's voice saying,
“How can we appreciate the good, if we don't know the bad?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

When April saw Flora Lee was getting tired, she quietly excused herself. “It's late. I'll go and let you get to bed.”

“You want me to walk you back to the house?” Jacel asked.

“No, I'm fine. It's just a few steps.”

“You take care, Miss April.”

This was a night of celebration, of victory for everyone but her. It only made her feelings for Gray more intense, and the fact that God didn't intend Gray Fuller for her more regretful.

Riley had already gone to bed. The house was quiet when she let herself in the back way. Only the snap of dying embers in the kitchen stove disturbed the silence.

Removing her hat, she tossed it onto the chair in front of her vanity. The image of her reflection caught her, and she stopped to look. Her hair was coming loose from its pins, and she took them out to let it fall over her shoulders. Her reflection gazed back at her with…what? Sadness? No. She was happy for Beulah—and for Datha.

Then what? April wasn't sure why she felt she was staring at a stranger.

T
he DuBois house was lit up like a Christmas tree. Light spilled from every window as Gray rode up. A footman took charge of his horse, and he climbed the steps to the front door.

Louis DuBois and his daughter were in the middle of another spring celebration, he realized. These people would celebrate anything—even a rainstorm. Music and loud laughter filtered from behind the closed doors.

“Good evening, Dr. Fuller,” the butler said as he took Gray's overcoat and hat. “I'll inform Miss DuBois you have arrived.”

Gowns of red and blue and gold formed a colorful pattern on the ballroom floor as couples waltzed beneath elaborate crystal chandeliers. A large ensemble of musicians played from the alcove.

Glass clinked against glass as guests took refreshments from four long tables heavily laden with food and drink. As usual, the room was too warm. Gray's gaze moved over the crowd, searching for Francesca.

He was able to single her out from among the swirling array of lavish female finery. She was dancing with a tall, older man wearing a black suit and a red cape. Her clear, tinkling laughter came to Gray as he stood in the doorway, watching.

Spotting Louis chatting with a group of men, he moved in that direction, threading his way across the crowded room.

When Louis spotted him, he paused in midconversation, smiling. “Gray! I wasn't expecting you! Francesca thought you wouldn't be attending this evening.”

No, he wouldn't be expecting him. Gray had sent apologies by messenger earlier this week, saying he would be unable to attend tonight's gathering. Louis had no reason to believe he'd changed his mind.

“Good evening, Louis. May I have a word in private?”

The older doctor glanced at the group of men standing around him. “Now?”

“Now.”

Making his apologies, Louis quietly excused himself from his associates.

The two of them crossed the room to Louis' study. As he closed the heavy double doors, Louis turned, smiling. “Should I ask Francesca to join us?”

“That isn't necessary.”

“Ah, well, she is dancing with a dear friend of mine—Count Evelyn, from England. Have you met?”

“No, I don't believe we have.”

“No matter.” Louis crossed the room to his desk. “You know, Gray, at one time I thought Count Evelyn would be a perfect match for Francesca, but she set her cap for a very promising young doctor.” He smiled. “You. I have to say, my daughter is very astute. The greatest compliment you could give her is to tell her you've decided to join me in my clinics.” Gray's expression turned solemn; Louis' smiled faded. “No, that would not be why you're here this evening.”

“It isn't.”

Walking to the fire, Louis stared into the burning embers. The silence in the room was suddenly deafening.

“So, what brings you to Dallas? Francesca isn't expecting you.”

Removing an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket, Gray laid it on the table.

Turning, Louis spared the missive a fleeting glance. “What is it?”

“The final payment on the financial debt I owe you.”

Louis looked at the envelope as if he wouldn't take it. “I've told you before, this isn't necessary,” he began.

“Louis, I want you to know how much I appreciate your faith and confidence in me. Without you, I would not have been able to achieve my dream of becoming a doctor.”

“Nonsense, you're a brilliant man. I can assure you, if I hadn't taken you under my wing, someone else would have. You give me far too much credit.”

“You will always have my gratitude. The kind of faith you've shown in me can never be repaid.”

“I don't expect it to be repaid. When you marry my daughter—”

“Please.” Gray stopped him. “Hear me out, Louis.”

“Of course.” He circled the large mahogany desk and sat down.

“It is precisely my gratitude that makes what I have to say so difficult.”

Louis studied him, a frown forming on his distinguished features.

“I don't love you daughter.”

The words were like a shotgun blast, reverberating off the richly paneled walls.

Louis didn't flinch, but his eyes mirrored his great disappointment.

“I'm sorry. You have my deepest respect, but I don't love Francesca. I would only hurt her if I were to marry her.”

Leaning back in his chair, Louis closed his eyes, his fingers gently massaging his temples. He looked old, weary.

“I can't say that I saw this coming.”

“Francesca deserves someone who will love her, Louis. I don't. I've tried. Good Lord knows I have, but I don't.”

A deep sigh escaped the older man as he straightened and poured himself a drink. “This seems rather sudden—are you certain you've given this proper thought, son?”

“It isn't sudden, Louis.” Moving to the study window, Gray looked out. His decision wasn't sudden. He'd thought of nothing else since the day he'd moved to Dignity. “I've thought about it for months.”

“Does Francesca know?”

Gray was silent for a moment. He'd tried to tell her in a hundred—a thousand different ways, but she wouldn't accept what he knew to be true. Whatever attraction she'd once held for him was gone. “She knows, but won't accept.”

“Ah…yes. She wouldn't. I'm afraid that I've never said no to her.”

Life was a precious commodity. Who knew that better than he and Louis, men who dealt with life and death every day? Gray didn't plan on wasting his in a meaningless marriage to a woman he didn't love. “By the time I leave here tonight, she will understand. And accept.”

Kneading his temples, Louis said softly, “Of course, I'll see to it you'll never practice in Dallas again.”

“Would you do that for me, Louis? I'd deeply appreciate it.” Threats didn't faze him, although Gray had expected more from the man. But Francesca was his daughter, and she would be embarrassed and hurt by his decision.

“I see my power and prestige hold no meaning for you.”

“On the contrary, I respect you, Louis. You're my mentor, a man whose talents I admire immensely. That won't change. But my admiration does not extend to marrying your daughter.”

The check lay on the desk in front of Louis. He nodded. “I ask that you be gentle with her.”

“I don't want to hurt her, but I'll hurt her more by marrying her. Dignity is where I belong, not in Dallas, where Francesca wants me to be.”

Gray knew now what he had only suspected until recently. He had changed. He had gone to Dignity in search of a practice; instead, he'd found a family, a real home. A woman he wanted to spend his life with.

“Surely there is a way you and my daughter can reach a compromise,” Louis said softly.

Gray studied the painting of Francesca hanging over the imported mantel. “Look at her, Louis. She's young, beautiful, spoiled. She's known nothing but the finest things in life. She would wither away in Dignity.”

Louis was silent for a long time, then murmured, “She is a difficult young woman. I indulged her, as my only child, far too much. Perhaps if I had been less lenient…”

Gray's relief was almost tangible. He hadn't dared hope Louis would understand, and in his own way, support his decision.

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me.” Louis reached for the glass decanter again. “My parents chose a woman for me back in France, but she was not the girl of my own choosing. I refused to marry her, and they never forgave me.” Pausing, he looked thoughtful. “Like you, I could not bear to marry someone I did not love.”

Louis sipped from his glass. “Is there another woman?”

“Yes,” Gray admitted. “But she doesn't know it. I only knew for certain recently.”

“I was afraid of that.” Getting up slowly, he extended his hand to Gray. “Of course, you now become the no-good heel who deserted my daughter.” He flashed a tired grin.

Smiling, Gray accepted his hand.

“You are a good man, Gray Fuller. An honorable man. You have my best wishes for your future.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Louis grew sober. “Be assured, should you ever need my help, my advice or my service, I will be available. Now, let us join the celebration. You and Francesca can talk at the end of the evening. It will be…simpler, yes?”

“Yes,” Gray said. “It will be simpler.”

 

Picking up a Lalique vase, Francesca hurled it against the study wall. “You cad! You despicable womanizer!”

Gray was indifferent to her wrath. “It's over, Francesca. Let it go.”

Striding across the room, she drew her hand back to strike him, but he thwarted her efforts. Their eyes locked in a silent duel.

“You have a right to be angry, but if I married you it would be the worst mistake of our lives.”

“You insensitive infidel!”

“Francesca. Only dogs can hear you now.” Letting go of her hands, he turned away. “You need to learn humility, Francesca. The world isn't your bowl of cherries.”

“It's April Truitt, isn't it? The mortician's little granddaughter. She's been after you from the first day she laid eyes on you—”

Turning, Gray pinned her with a hard look. “Leave April out of this.”

Francesca resorted to tears. “Can't you see what she wants? She smells money, Gray. Power. She's using her grandfather's ill health as a ploy to entrap you. She can never love you the way I do. Don't be swayed by sweet innocence!”

“April is a woman of integrity.”

Her brows lifted with resentment. “And I'm not?”

Gray smiled with the calm strength of knowledge.

“Consider what I've done for you, Gray. The things I bought—the things
father's
done for you. How can you think of throwing it all away on that little—”

“Enough!” His tone took on a dangerous edge. “Not another word about April.”

Francesca stared at him. “You actually
love
her.”

“Yes, I actually love her.”

“Well,” she said in biting desperation. “Why should I care?” Her eyes assumed a look of superiority. “You fool. I never loved you. You were merely a diversion, couldn't you see that? Do you honestly think I would marry a picayune doctor like you?”

“No,” Gray admitted. And at the moment, nothing was more clear.

 

It was raining again; Dignity was experiencing a cold spell.

April stared out the window of the mortuary, wondering if it would ever stop. Mud piled high along the sides of the road. Only a few lone travelers braved the inclement weather.

Shivering, she let the curtain drop into place and moved to the fire. She missed Beulah. There was no one to pour her heart out to, no one to share her melancholy, no one who understood her love for a man she couldn't have, like Beulah did.

Suddenly the walls seemed to be closing in on her. Grabbing her cloak, she ran down the stairs, calling to Riley as she passed the smoking room, “I'm going for a walk, Grandpa!”

“At this hour?”

“I won't be gone long.”

“Can I eat the last piece of sweet potato pie?”

“Sure, enjoy yourself.” He had been so good about his diet and walking, she didn't have the heart to tell him he couldn't.

Besides, there was only half a piece left; she'd eaten the other half earlier.

The wind was moaning through the trees as she stepped out of the house, wrapping her cloak tightly around her. It was a horrible night for a walk, but she was getting used to adversity.

If Beulah were here, she'd tell her to buck up and stop feeling sorry for herself.

No, she wouldn't. She'd say, “Dash it all, April, if you love Gray Fuller, stop mooning around and do something about it!”

Well, she loved Gray Fuller, but she didn't know what to do about it. Her one attempt to capture his full attention hadn't worked. She'd limped out of his office that day feeling as though he'd seen right through her foolish ploy.

She had to back away gracefully, prove that she was mature enough to know when she was beaten.

The damp night air enveloped her. Blowing rain nearly obscured the gaslights lining the square. A few were dark, unable to withstand the onslaught of Fickle Spring. She circled the square twice, hoping to make herself so tired that she'd fall into bed, exhausted. Her breath came in thick, vaporous puffs as she started on her third round.

Thunder rolled overhead; rain whipped through the trees and saturated her cloak.

Where was Gray? In Dallas. Grandpa had let the information slip during supper tonight. He'd left three days ago. In the past his visits had been brief, but had Beulah's wedding reminded him that it was time that he and Francesca set a date? He wasn't getting any younger, and men wanted—needed—a wife and children, didn't they? Pain, as swift and sharp as a razor cut, took her breath. What if this very moment Gray and Francesca were making plans…