Heart of Gold (A Gold Rush Romance) (3 page)

And if she could assist him with Joe, get the boy to talk to him, so much the better.

As he showed her and the matronly woman who escorted her to the sitting room, he pictured laughing with Joe, perhaps even—God help him—getting a hug from his nephew-now-adopted-son. Anything but this cold disregard and flashes of anger he had been subjected to since the death of the boy’s parents.

While they waited for supper to be served, Thomas sat in a chair in the corner of the room as Mrs. Leach, Joe, and Miss Crenshaw interacted. He watched Miss Crenshaw more closely than the others; she was a puzzle he couldn’t help but try to solve. She had seated herself on the couch in the corner of the room, with Mrs. Leach on the outside, essentially putting herself as far from him as she possibly could, and she kept her eyes on Mrs. Leach and Joe, avoiding his gaze.

The other times they had met, she stayed away from him, too, but he had assumed it was because there was nothing for them to talk about and she had no reason to give him her attention; this, however, was purposeful evasion. His mind whirred, curious.

It was clear he made her uncomfortable. He needed to figure out if it was a bad kind or a good kind of uncomfortable—like the good kind of uncomfortable he felt when he looked at her. He didn’t even attempt to lie to himself that it mattered little.

Joe was explaining his Erector set to the women, going through each part of the building he was in the process of creating in excruciating detail. It made Thomas’s heart shrivel slightly. He had gotten Joe the elaborate set when he first came to visit, brought it with him on the long journey from a special shop in St. Louis. An extravagant toy, but he was so happy to meet his sister’s son that it was worth the expense.

And at first Joe had spoken to Thomas the same way he was now speaking to the two women, showing him every detail in his enthusiasm. Since the accident, though, any time Thomas tried to coerce Joe into telling him about the impressive toy and the structures he built, he was ignored. The boy would even stop playing and leave the room if he pushed too hard. He had been worried for a time that he would one day find it tossed out, broken and unloved, because it was a present from him.

But here Joe was, chatting with the ladies about his creations without a care in the world. As if everything was perfectly normal.

Miss Crenshaw—the intriguing Alice—glanced at him for only the flash of a moment, her green eyes lighting on his with a spark of fire, then turned her attention back to Joe. Thomas could see that her mind was whirring, and he wondered what she was thinking. The fraction of a second when their eyes connected was enough to strike him dumb, but she seemed to continue as if nothing had happened.

To Joe, she said, “That is very impressive, dear. Have you shown it to your uncle? I imagine he never had such interesting toys when he was a child.”

The boy’s smile slid off his face and he looked at the ground, suddenly quiet. Thomas wanted to say something, but he was unsure what, so he sat and waited. After a few beats of silence, Miss Crenshaw spoke again, her voice soft and confidential, as if she and Joe were the only two in the room. “Why will you not show him?”

Joe mumbled something that Thomas could not catch, but the woman nodded slowly. “I know he isn’t your father, and that’s perfectly fine. Nobody will take your father’s place, you know. He was a good man. But that does not mean you should avoid becoming close to your uncle. He just wants you to be happy.”

Again, Joe mumbled something else and wiped at a few tears. Thomas wanted, more than anything, to get closer to the conversation, but he knew that it would be best to keep his distance and watch. He gripped the arm of the chair, his knuckles whitening with the pressure as he forced his body to stay seated and unmoving.

Miss Crenshaw put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s fine, Joe. You do not have to talk about it right now. But I want you to know I am here if you need to talk, and so is your uncle.”

Joe looked at her and then glared over at Thomas, waves of hatred shooting from his eyes. “I don’t want him to be here for me. I want him to go away!” he spat.

With that, he tore out of the room. His feet pounded up the stairs to the second floor, and they heard a distant door slam. Miss Crenshaw looked more than a little shocked as he stared at where the boy had been only moments before. Thomas sighed and rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward. How could he fix this, when he was unable to understand why the boy was so angry with him?

Mrs. Leach piped up, breaking the silence. “That boy has a bee in his bonnet about something, all right. I have more than my fair share of young ones at home, and I have never seen a case quite like this one.”

Thomas smiled a little at the woman’s comment, but his heart was still in shreds from Joe’s reaction. He shrugged. “I have no idea why he’s behaving in this manner. I have tried to be here for him through this difficult time, and all I get back is disregard. I don’t know what I did to make him so angry.”

Miss Crenshaw, her voice laced with empathy, said, “It is not your fault, I’m sure. He is going through a troubling time.”

“But there has to be something I did. Or something I can do to fix it. I don’t even know if I should punish him for his inappropriate behavior, or if that would only make things worse.”

He looked at the lovely teacher, hoping she would have some advice, but her expression was nearly as nonplussed as his. “Normally, I would expect a child to be disciplined for shouting at adults in such a manner, but with this situation… it’s complicated. I believe you should leave it be for the time being. If you don’t mind.”

He nodded, glad to have at least one decision off his shoulders. The weight of responsibility felt heavy on his shoulders. He had never been a father, and to suddenly have an adopted son who hated him—well, that left him in a puzzle which seemed to have no solution.

The housekeeper announced that supper was ready, and the solemn party of three moved to the adjoining dining room and sat at the large ornate table. They ate in silence, each considering the boy’s outburst and what could possibly prompt such behavior.

After a long while, Mrs. Leach broke the anxious quiet that had pervaded the room. With a shake of her head, she clapped her hands together, appearing to have come to a decision. “It seems like our work here will be left unfinished this evening; I highly doubt we shall get any further with him tonight. I hate to infringe on your hospitality, sir, but do you mind if we come back another time?”

Thomas glanced at the lovely young woman sitting beside Mrs. Leach for a moment. He could think of nothing he would like more. “Absolutely. Is tomorrow too soon? You can come over as early as you like and stay the entire evening if necessary. Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Leach.”

Mrs. Leach looked at him, beaming, and nodded. He had paid little attention to her before, between his affection for the distracting Miss Crenshaw and his worry for Joe, but now that he truly looked at her, she seemed like quite a pleasant woman. Almost like his grandmother, who he could only vaguely remember from his childhood. She likely made delicious pies and always had an open heart for all children, which would explain why Miss Crenshaw boarded at her home.

Mrs. Leach nodded as she made the final decision. “Tomorrow will be perfect. And you can call me Esther, dear. Let’s not worry about Joe for the time being and try again then.”

Thomas looked at Miss Crenshaw to see her reaction to their newest plans. Her eyes flashed some emotion he could not fully comprehend, but her face remained impassive as ever. She nodded assent.

Chapter Two

Alice wanted nothing more than to slump into the carriage for the ride home, but she once again found herself in the sitting room, forced to maintain upright and proper for who knew how long. If only she could leave and get away from Mr. Lancaster’s overwhelming presence, but Mrs. Leach seemed intent on staying and conversing. Alice was exhausted. And she would be expected to do this all again on the morrow?

She knew coming back was the best thing to do, that she needed to assist this new family in solving their difficulties if she could. She wanted to help Mr. Lancaster. It was just too difficult keeping herself under such tight control for so long. After Joe had stormed out, she had wanted so badly to walk over to the man and hug him close—he had seemed so distraught about the whole thing. To do nothing as he sat there looking so disappointed and helpless had been a battle, and it left her nearly defeated.

There was no way she was going to act on any of these whims, however. She knew enough to never make that mistake again. Moreover, her employment would be in jeopardy if she attempted anything of the kind. Even if Esther was trustworthy enough to look the other direction if she exhibited behavior that would be considered inappropriate, the school board would find out somehow. The town was too small to keep anything quiet.

So now she was forced to continue to wage a war with herself, holding back the most foolish part of her nature from doing something as idiotic as creating romantic notions about a man she hardly knew. It was too similar to what had happened before. She had promised herself years ago that she would never do something so unwise again, and there was nothing that could make her break that promise now, no matter how enticing the incentive.

Alice tried to suppress the thoughts about the past that had come bubbling to the surface. Those would only make her feel ashamed, and she had enough conflicting emotions to manage for one evening.

Mrs. Leach’s voice broke through her reverie. “Sir, would you be willing to share some information about Joe’s parents? I know very little about them, though we have lived here for years, except that they were nice people and the father owned a fair bit of land. We just never ran in the same circles, I suppose. And perhaps somewhere in their story hides the key to solving your difficulties with little Joe.”

Alice perked up, listening carefully. Esther was quite canny; perhaps they could solve the puzzle, indeed.

Mr. Lancaster dipped his head again, and her heart went out to the man. “Emily and Joseph traveled out here from St. Louis when little Joe was just a babe-in-arms. They had saved up some and wanted to make a go of it,” he began.

He looked around at the wide expanse of the room, thoughtful. “Seems they did well for themselves.” After a quick pause, he continued, “Emily was my only sister, all the family I had, and we would write to each other a fair amount. She was happy, in love with her husband. And she thought the world of her son.”

Alice willed the tears in her eyes not to fall as she heard of the loving parents whose lives were cut short. She waited for him to continue, and after a good long time, he did. “I came out for a visit, and Joe took to me immediately. We had a wonderful time those first three weeks, the four of us. Then the accident happened, and that was when everything changed. I expected him to be sad—I was distressed my own self, of course—but this anger is what has me flummoxed.”

Alice could not let herself look at the aching man any longer without doing something she would regret. Instead, she retreated into her own thoughts, reviewing the story for something, anything, that might lead to Joe’s behavior. It simply made no sense. The man was right—depressed was to be expected, angry at the world or the situation, possibly, but angry at the one person left to him, his only family? Why?

She tried to picture the unfolding of events, looking for the hidden clue that would explain Joe’s behavior. He had always been such a steady boy. It simply didn’t make sense.

“Alice? Are you coming, dear?”

Alice looked up, startled, at the sound of Mrs. Leach’s voice. Mr. Lancaster and the older woman were near the door, looking back at her. She had not heard the coach arrive or realized the two of them had even risen, she was so lost in her own thoughts. She pushed them all away for the time being and hurried toward the door, relieved the night was over at long last.

The two women gathered their bonnets and shawls back from the hooks where they had been placed what felt like hours before, and then they stepped out into the night. First Mrs. Leach, then Alice, climbed aboard the carriage in the near-darkness, lit only by a lamp attached to their vehicle and the diffused light seeping from the house’s large windows.

Alice was so mentally exhausted, she could hardly see straight. The whole evening, Thom—Mr. Lancaster—had been polite and charming, interesting, and even his honesty and pain about his recent troubles endeared him to her. And it was nearly more than she could cope with.

Being attracted to him physically was one thing—even if it was such a strong attraction that it made it nearly impossible to focus—but becoming fond of him was something very, very different and much more unsettling.

When he had taken her hand before she walked out the door after Mrs. Leach, she had been curt, almost rude, in her farewell. It was hard enough to keep from closing the gap between them and pressing her lips against his; controlling that urge and being pleasant at the same time seemed impossible. She turned away so abruptly and climbed into the vehicle, almost forgetting to let the driver, Mrs. Leach’s eldest son, help her rather than clambering aboard herself in her haste.

Now, as the coach rattled away, and the woman beside her chatted about how pleasant he was and her surety that they would find a solution to Joe’s puzzling behavior the next night, Alice was unsure if she felt chagrined at her behavior or hopeful that he would realize it was best to keep his distance when they met again. Possibly some of both. She could not say if he had any feelings for her—he had not said or done anything to outwardly show his thoughts in that regard—but she had a sneaking suspicion he was experiencing the same pull she did. It made the situation no easier to manage.