Love's First Bloom (20 page)

A short pause. A rustle of skirts.

“Mr. Spencer!”

“I’m not dead. Just … incapacitated.” He gritted his teeth and moved his arms just enough to prove his point.

A little color erased the pallor on her face, but she pulled the covered pail she was holding with both hands closer to her. “Is it your back again?”

He closed his eyes for a moment for effect and stared at the open rafters overhead when he opened them again. “Yesterday, today, and probably every day I have left to spend in this world,” he grumbled. “Yes, it’s my back. I had the foolish notion that I should try to fix the leaks in the roof during the rainstorm last night, which I actually managed to do. Unfortunately, I was heading back down the ladder a few hours ago after making certain the repairs were still working when my back seized up.”

A sharp intake of breath. “You fell!”

“Only halfway,” he said, meeting her gaze again. Her eyes were open wide, simmering with genuine concern that he quickly tried to ease. “I didn’t expect that the aftereffects of the spasm would have kept me lying here this long, but I don’t think I did any more damage to my back.”

She took a cautious step closer. “Are you certain? I can fetch Dr. Woodward for you.”

He shook his head. “No doctor. But if you could help me, I think I could manage to sit up, at least.”

Ruth moistened her lips and approached him slowly. “Tell me what to do.”

He tapped one of his shoulders. “If you could just use your hands to push me up a bit, I’ll have the momentum I need.”

With a reluctant nod, she knelt down behind him and did as he asked. He was scarcely sitting up when she quickly rose and backed away.

Gritting his teeth, he slowly leaned back against the ladder. “I wouldn’t argue if you offered to get some more of that remedy from Mr. Garner. I think I used up the last of it.”

“He’s not home. He closed the apothecary and took Mrs. Garner and Lily to Forked River today, and I don’t expect them back until late tomorrow afternoon.” She paused. “Are you certain there isn’t a bit of the remedy left?”

He sighed. “Maybe some. You can find it in that cupboard over there,” he suggested and pointed to the cabinet in the back corner, which meant she would have to walk directly past him to get to it. “It’s in the dark blue bottle—”

“I know what it looks like. I help Mr. Garner in the apothecary from time to time, as you might recall.”

When her eyes glanced between him and the cabinet and she moistened her lips, he thought it fairly obvious that she was weighing propriety against necessity. “I doubt anyone would judge you for coming inside to help me, but perhaps it would be best if you just left whatever it is you’ve got for me in that pail and leave it by the door,” he offered quickly, all too familiar with the villagers here who would distort almost anything to have something new to gossip about, especially if it concerned the attractive young widow.

Would she choose to protect her reputation and go? Or would she choose to help him and stay? He asked himself those questions each time his heart pounded another beat while he waited for her to make up her mind. What he didn’t realize was that his entire future depended on what she decided to do.

Ruth stood in the doorway and took several deep breaths while she battled yet another twist to the day she had planned for herself. As concerned as she was about the man sitting on the floor, and as disillusioned as she was about his character, the man obviously needed her help.

Though moved by a sense of duty, as well as her conscience, she could not forget how he had lied to her. With her guard up, she got right to work, planning to leave as quickly as she could before she confronted him with what she now knew: He was a liar and a man she no longer trusted.

After putting the pail down on the floor, she took the chair sitting near the hearth and propped it in front of the door to keep it from closing and draped her shawl across the back of the chair. She untied the ribbons on her bonnet, set it onto the seat of the chair, picked up the pail, and walked toward him. “I think it’s better if I keep the door open, which would make it clear there’s nothing improper going on here,” she suggested, worried her words sounded a little more strident than she intended.

She set the pail on the table next to the newspapers he had spread out there before she turned around and faced him.

“That’s probably a good idea,” he agreed, “as long as that pest of a turkey hen doesn’t decide to take advantage of the opportunity to come inside, too.”

She cringed, just thinking about what would happen if that critter came inside. “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted.

“I tried to get rid of it when I first moved into the cabin, but I gave up. I’m afraid I’ve even been leaving a few grains for it to eat now and again. I hope it didn’t bother you overmuch.”

She shrugged, unimpressed by his attempt to make her think he was a caring man and annoyed that he had no idea she had caught him in not one lie but two. “Not so much when I tried to get to the door, but earlier … that’s a different story.”

While she set out the contents of the pail on the table, she told him about meeting Ned and quickly explained how the turkey had swooped down and startled Shortcake when it landed in front of the mule.

“My bushel basket ended upside down and poor Ned wound up with a badly sprained wrist when he fell trying to calm down the mule,” she said as she set out the last of the food.

He had a rather odd look on his face, and she frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think to ask if you’d like to have something to eat. Mrs. Garner thought you’d enjoy some fresh bread, and she sent a crock of apple butter and the extra chicken left from dinner yesterday. I suppose I could fix a plate for you or find something else in the cabinet—”

“Just check the medication,” he whispered. “Please. I don’t dare attempt to get up from this floor until I have a dose of it.”

She swallowed hard and kept her gaze averted when she walked by the man on her way to the cabinet. Since the door on the cabinet was missing, she had a clear view of the meager supplies sitting on the shelves and quickly found the blue bottle.

She unplugged the cork and looked inside. “You were right. It’s completely empty,” she said. “You’ll have to wait for Mr. Garner to return for more, but I’ll check the apothecary when I get back. He may have made some up for you in advance.”

She noticed he was shivering a bit and realized the hours he had spent lying on the dirt floor probably had chilled him.

Without bothering to ask, she walked straight to the hearth. He only had a few spindly branches of kindling, but the three logs sitting there would keep a small fire burning for him for a few hours, assuming she could find something to help them catch.

Anxious to leave and finding herself more and more annoyed with the man, Ruth decided not to waste any time searching outside for more kindling and walked back to the table. She grabbed a few of the newspapers lying on top and rather enjoyed crumpling them up. She found the tinderbox sitting on the mantel and knelt down, ready to set the newspapers on fire when he startled her.

“Stop! Wh-what are you doing?” he yelled, sounding as if he thought she was about to set the cabin ablaze.

She looked over at him, saw the horrified look on his face, and frowned. “You’re shivering with cold. Before you take a good chill and end up with lung fever, I decided to start a fire.”

“That much is obvious, but there must be kindling you can use instead of my newspapers.”

She cocked a brow. “You don’t have any kindling, and I’d prefer not to go outside to get any when there are perfectly good newspapers sitting right here that I can use instead,” she insisted, then saw that his gaze of disapproval did not soften.

She shrugged. “Have it your way. I’ll go outside for the kindling, but if I have an encounter with that hen and have any trouble with it or it pecks at my shawl, I’m going to leave and you can sit there on the cold, damp floor until—”

“Use the newspapers if you must, but make certain to take the ones on the bottom of the pile. I’ve already read those,” he suggested.

“But these are already crumpled up,” she argued. Visions of him talking to Farrell in that alley on Sunday flashed in her mind’s eye, and she lost hold of her temper. “Fine. I’ll set these aside and use some of the others, although I daresay you must have heard all the latest news from Mr. Farrell when you talked to him on Sunday. In fact, you looked as if you were quite well-acquainted, despite your claims otherwise.”

To her supreme satisfaction, Jake actually paled.

“You saw us together?”

“As a matter of fact, I did, which raises the question of why you lied to me about not knowing him. Not once, but twice,” she said, before she turned away and concentrated on getting the fire started. For the first time since she had met him, he seemed to be at a loss for words, and she filled the vacuum, once the logs caught, by getting a few utensils and a banged-up tin plate that looked clean from the cabinet and carrying them back to the table.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She ignored him, slathered a spoonful of apple butter onto several slices of bread, and laid them on the plate next to two pieces of fried chicken.

“I said I was sorry,” he repeated, a bit louder.

Frowning, she glanced at him. “Are you sorry you lied, or sorry that you were caught in your lies?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I lied to you, and I’d like to explain—”

“Actually, you don’t owe me an explanation,” she insisted. She suddenly became aware, for the first time, of all the lies she had told to him. “No, you don’t owe me anything.”

Dismissing her lies as necessary, if not crucial, to keep Lily safe, she also rejected the notion she was being a total hypocrite and dropped her gaze. “All I really expect from you is exactly what you promised me when you told me I could keep tending my garden on your property. My privacy. Nothing more,” she said and set the utensils on the plate next to the food she had prepared for him. “Otherwise I’ll simply have to find somewhere else to plant my garden or give up the idea completely.”

Twenty-One

If Jake had any hope left of completing his assignment and reclaiming his career, as well as his brother’s forgiveness and support, avoiding Ruth by meeting her demand for privacy was out of the question.

He drew a deep breath, locked his gaze with hers, and prayed he was not about to make the biggest mistake of his life. “If it’s only privacy you want from now on, consider your request granted, although I must admit that I’m extremely disappointed in you.” When her eyes widened with surprise, he pressed his point. “I might add disillusioned, as well, but I’m quite certain you’re not interested in hearing why, so if you wouldn’t mind, just leave the food on the table and make sure the door is closed tight when you leave. I won’t bother you again. You have my word.”

She gasped, and her cheeks flamed. “
Y-you’re
disappointed in
m-me
? And dis-disillusioned?” she sputtered, balling her hands into fists. “I’m not the one who lied.”

He shrugged, annoyed at the disadvantage of sitting on the floor when he was trying to win any advantage he could. “Granted,” he said calmly. “At least I’m not guilty of rash judgment or a closed mind. I leave it to you to lay claim to those rather unfortunate qualities.”

Her eyes darkened to thunderclouds of disbelief. “My mind is always open. I’d be willing to listen to any reasonable explanation you might have for lying, assuming I could trust that explanation not to be another lie. But I know what I saw and I sincerely doubt there’s anything you could say that would convince me I’m wrong.”

“What exactly did you see?” he prompted, unable to fashion any explanation she might accept until he knew precisely what she had seen.

She relaxed her hands and placed her palms on the table, as if needing something solid to hold on to. “I was walking down Lawrence Street with Lily when I saw you in an alley down the way. You were arguing with Mr. Farrell, although the two of you seemed to end up leaving together as … as friends.”

Grateful she had not seen Farrell leaving his cabin Saturday afternoon, which would have been much more difficult to explain, Jake nodded. “That would have been on Sunday, just after services and right before the picnic started,” he admitted, recalling the acrimonious conversation he’d had with Farrell, followed by how distant Ruth had been when he had escorted Spinster Wyndam over to meet her.

“When I asked you if you had seen the reporter, you told me you hadn’t, which was obviously a lie.”

He narrowed his gaze. “As I recall, you asked me that question on Saturday, when I stopped at the apothecary. At the time, I hadn’t seen him or talked to him at any time or in any place in the village.”

She blinked. “W-well, that’s true, but you also said you didn’t know him, when it was quite apparent that you and he were well acquainted when I saw you both together in the alley the next day. And when … when Spinster Wyndam mentioned you had abandoned her briefly after services, you said you’d gone back to get some remedy for your back—”