Love in the Balance (30 page)

The fresh green shoots of prairie hay were almost as tall as the dry stubble that crunched under Bailey’s boots. He would have to hurry to make it to the mill before his noon break was over. Delivering the charity account from the church wouldn’t take long, but he also wanted to spend some time with Ivan Nimenko. The kid was doing a man’s job running the ranch without his pa, and they were so new to the area that not many families had thought to help them.

The ladies on the porch saw him coming. Their voices faded in the breeze as they waited for him to get close enough to greet. If he hadn’t known better, he could’ve sworn the woman with Mrs. Nimenko was Molly, but what would Molly be doing at the Nimenkos’ ranch?

His steps slowed as the scene became clearer. He wasn’t mistaken. Molly gripped her bag but seemed unable to escape.

“Ivan is bringing you a seat, Mr. Garner. Do you have time to visit?” Mrs. Nimenko asked.

It was too late for him to run. His hat was in his hands without any memory of removing it. “No, ma’am. I brought you . . .” Mrs. Nimenko wouldn’t want Molly to know that she received charity. “If you don’t mind I’ll chat with Ivan.”

“I wish you’d honor us with your company first.” She nodded to the chair Ivan placed next to her, across from Molly. “I was telling Miss Lovelace how much I appreciate you. It seems like the rest of the world would rather we disappear until this mess is cleared up, but you haven’t once made us feel unworthy.”

Bailey eased into the chair and dropped his hat by his feet. “No one really believes those rumors, Mrs. Nimenko. Somehow people would rather spread a lie than the truth, but your husband’s reputation will be cleared when it’s all settled.” He risked a glance at Molly. “Besides, I’d be the last person in the world who’d have the right to sit in judgment on someone.” If a statue was still, she was immovable.

“Well, I thank you for spending time with the boy,” Mrs. Nimenko said. “It’s good for him to have an example like you. Not many young men have your wisdom.”

Bailey felt sweat forming on his forehead. He hid his hands between his knees, surprised that Molly didn’t correct her mistaken assessment. “I hate to think of you mourning here alone, Mrs. Nimenko. Would it be all right if I sent some women from our church to visit? They would love to make your acquaintance. My family in particular would be very welcoming.”

Molly inhaled and looped her purse strings around her finger. “He’s telling the truth. He comes from an extraordinary family.”

Bailey’s lungs felt too small for his ribcage. His family had rushed to her side while he hid in the pew.

Molly stood. “I should go, although I do hope you’ll call on me at the parsonage, Mrs. Nimenko.”

“At the parsonage?” Her eyebrows knitted into question marks. “Isn’t that where he lives?”

Bailey choked. He pounded his chest to loosen the vise that refused to release his lungs. “No. I don’t live there,” he gasped. “Not anymore.”

Mrs. Nimenko looked puzzled, but she let it pass. “Well, thank you for coming to see me, Molly. There aren’t many who do. And I’m serious about what I said. I’d be proud to call you my friend.”

Bailey rose as she departed, realizing how much he wished he still had that right.

Lola shot Molly a sympathetic look as she filled her glass of tea. Pretty desperate straits when the maid wouldn’t trade places with you.

“And after she embarrassed me in front of Mrs. Weems, she went to visit that Nimenko woman, the one whose husband was caught at the Tillertons’.” Her mother’s voice rang off the polished surface of the long dining room table. “No telling how she disgraced herself while there.”

“I was thinking about the settlement money, Father.” Molly leaned forward, trying to draw his attention away from her mother’s outraged sensibilities. “It’s not doing anyone any good sitting in the bank. Why don’t I use it to alleviate the concerns—?”

“That money will not be squandered on some unworthy women who didn’t have the sense to marry well. It will be used for investments or to fund the mill if our balances get any lower. Buy a bonnet or some trifle to amuse yourself if you must, but the settlement—”

“A bonnet?” Molly’s jaw dropped. “What’s a bonnet compared to helping our neighbors? That is my money. You have no right.”

“You will not speak to me in that manner, young lady.” Her father smashed his fist against the table, causing the lid on the sugar bowl to rattle.

“Thomas, remember your heart,” Adele said.

“She’d do well to remember,” he said, his voice rising with every syllable. “She’d do well to remember that, according to God, she is not to provoke me to wrath with her disgusting behavior.” His words rang against the pressed-tin ceiling.

“Sir?”

They turned at Lola’s meek interruption to see Bailey standing in the doorway, his hands holding the account ledger tight, his mouth firm.

He’d heard. Molly tucked her feet under her chair. What did it matter? Bailey already knew the worst of her. Her father’s tirade couldn’t hurt his opinion.

“Mr. Lovelace, Mrs. Lovelace.” He walked around the table and took the empty place setting. “Molly.”

So he was acknowledging her now? She’d been invisible at Mrs. Nimenko’s earlier that day. She didn’t return his greeting but peered at the grandfather clock through the parlor doorway. Seven o’clock. Punctual. Molly had learned to wolf down her food so she could return to the parsonage before he arrived every evening. Unfortunately her mother’s hysterics had delayed Lola’s dinner preparation tonight, and there hadn’t been time. Once again, Molly had no one to blame but herself.

Her father’s chair groaned as he tilted the two front legs off the ground and crossed his arms. “Right on time, Bailey. I know you’re here on a different type of business, but we could use a good word from you, if you don’t mind. There are some in our midst who are disregarding the wisdom of the Lord. How about a little preaching before we crack open the accounts?”

How could you tell someone was looking at you when you couldn’t see him? Molly didn’t know, but the sensation was physical. She kept her eyes toward the parlor, but she couldn’t control the heat creeping up her neck. Did Bailey wonder how he could’ve been so deceived? Did he chide himself for falling for a sinner like her? Would her skin stop tingling when he looked away?

“You want a good word, from me?” Molly heard the ledger drop to the table. “‘And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.’ I believe that’s the verse. It’s the father who’s cautioned against riling up his offspring, not the other way around. We don’t want to misquote the Good Book.”

Molly bit her lip. She knew Bailey well enough to guess how his pulse was racing. He didn’t correct his elders. He didn’t start fights, but he’d stepped right into this one. And why? He was practically siding with her.

The floor thumped as the front legs of her father’s chair landed. Thomas Lovelace didn’t speak. He glowered at his wife as if she had something to do with Bailey’s remark. Molly could almost hear the sweat popping out of Bailey’s forehead. What was he doing? Didn’t he like his job?

“Well,” Thomas drawled, then beamed a relieved smile toward the young man, “I suppose you are correct. ‘Bring them up in the admonition of the Lord.’ That’s the good word we need around here.”

If an offering plate had been passed around the table at that moment, it would’ve come back full. God had worked a miracle. True, Thomas Lovelace had not admitted defeat, but neither had he insisted on the destruction of his challenger. Molly glanced at Bailey and nearly laughed at the shocked look on his face. If he’d expected the worst, why had he spoken up? It wasn’t like him to ruffle feathers.

Her plate was full, her stomach empty, but Molly rose. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“Wait.” Bailey stood. “You haven’t eaten. I’ll leave.”

“But this is your supper. You shouldn’t go hungry,” Molly insisted.

“I don’t mind.”

She didn’t understand. Was he being kind or was he avoiding her?

“Sit down, both of you. Supper is one of the perks of your job, Bailey. Don’t let her discomfort trouble you. She’s done her best to irritate all of us today.” Thomas ripped some chicken meat off a leg and continued to speak around the bulk. “Did you bring Russell’s latest balance?”

Bailey’s vest flattened as he expelled a chest full of air and sat. “Yes, and it’s low.” He moved the salt cellar and opened the leather-bound ledger. “I’ve looked it over, but it’s no use. Everything’s accounted for.”

“We are truly losing money?” Molly leaned toward her father. If only she could get a look at the page. “I thought Father’s pessimism was at work again.”

Thomas harrumphed and flipped the page. “What do you know about it?”

Enough to know the figure at the bottom of the column wouldn’t make more than a month’s worth of payroll. They’d be forced to liquidate some of their holdings at the bank to keep the company afloat. Courting Mr. Fenton hadn’t been a complete waste of her time. She had charmed all sorts of helpful information out of him before he’d married Prue.

Bailey set his tea down. “Raw prices have remained steady. We haven’t had any unusual expenses—no expensive machinery repairs, mules have been healthy, shipping hasn’t gone up—and yet the balance is going down.”

“Russell is robbing me blind. I knew it.” Thomas spit a piece of fat into his napkin. “After all these years of trust, he betrays me.”

“I’m not accusing Russell,” Bailey said. “We need to know what is happening before we can know who is responsible.”

Bailey met her eyes, although it seemed to pain him. “I’m no bean counter. Shouldn’t we have someone else take a look at the books? Someone who’s skilled with numbers?”

“Give me some time and I’ll find it,” Thomas said. “This goes to show you, Molly, every dime of that settlement needs to be reserved for the mill. You can’t give away that money when I might need it soon.”

The saws at the mill sat idle this time of night, moonlight reflecting on the teeth. The waterwheel continued its futile circling, never getting anywhere. Bailey jerked his fishing line through the dark water close to the waterwheel, and the roar of the water going over the dam drowned out the night sounds of crickets and cicadas.

He still loved her. When she’d left him, the thought of her with another man almost drove him to lunacy. But despite his hurt they’d found a working friendship that remained within the boundaries of her vows and God’s law . . . until the trial had destroyed even that connection. Since then, Molly had clammed up tighter than an oyster, and he couldn’t blame her. Maybe it was for the best. If she encouraged him, he might up and throw away all the good he’d done with Reverend Stoker.

But if he could be sure of her faithfulness, would it be worth it?

He watched as the strong current from the crashing water carried his line to the middle of the dark river. Nothing was biting, but it didn’t matter. The fishing pole was his excuse to linger after hours. The walls of the night watchman’s quarters grew a tad tight if he went inside too early.

Something rustled nearby. Bailey shifted the pole to his right hand and half rolled on the grass to look down the bank. It was Molly. Pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders, she took another step toward the river and hurled something small and heavy into it.

Bailey caught sight of a glimmer of gold before it disappeared with a plunk.

Wordlessly she stood at the bank, watching the cascading waves dance over the edge of the dam. Bailey turned away and studied the fishing line as if he expected to reel in Jonah’s whale at any moment.

But she saw him anyway. To his eternal surprise and slight discomfort, he could see out of the corner of his eye her white gown coming closer.

“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked.

Stunned, he pushed his newspaper-wrapped worms out of the way to make room.

Molly sat and pulled her knees to her chest. She slid her slippers off and tucked her gown around her feet. Was she getting ready to tear into him? Bailey’s line went slack. He deserved a chewing out. Might as well get it over with.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he began. “I feel so bad about what happened at the courthouse. You have every right—”