Love's Story (21 page)

Meredith dressed carefully for her first church service. She would wear the yellow hat. It was by far her favorite, and if by chance Thatcher showed, maybe it would encourage him. She hadn't meant to embarrass or hurt him. If only she could get a chance to explain about her stepbrother and clear up the misunderstanding.

When Meredith arrived at church, heads nearly jerked off necks, twisting to get a better look at her and the stranger. She couldn't help but wonder if anyone seated in the pews had sent her that nasty message. But she quickly cast the thought aside, for God's house was certainly not the place to harbor grudges. When she let it go, a peace settled over her.

Mrs. Bloomfield turned from the pew in front of Meredith. “Good morning, Miss Mears.”

“Good morning.” Meredith leaned forward with a smile. “Mrs. Bloomfield, this is my stepbrother, visiting from New York. His name is Charles Mears.”

“Welcome to our church, Mr. Mears. It is good to have you.” She gave Meredith a flashing smile and turned back.

After the service, the congregation disassembled, and Meredith noticed Thatcher fidgeting. He was blocked in the pew, wearing the expression of a frightened bird. If she hurried, she might be able to reach him before he flew the coop. She tugged Charles's coat sleeve.

“Come along.”

Meredith felt her stepbrother's hesitation, but gave another tug. This time he followed.

When he saw where they were headed, he whispered, “Don't do it, Meredith.”

She turned to Charles with frustration. “I just want to explain. It isn't right to leave Thatcher thinking… you know.”

“But you told me you have suspicions about him,” Charles whispered. “I can't let my sister throw herself at someone who isn't worthy.”

“Nonsense.” She released his arm and turned away. But when she did, the pew where Thatcher had been standing was empty. She shot an angry glance back at Charles and hurried down the aisle toward the door.

“Miss Mears,” Mrs. Bloomfield said, “everyone is waiting for you to introduce your stepbrother.”

Meredith's spirits sagged. “Of course.” She waited for Charles to join her, and by the time they exited the church, Thatcher Talbot was nowhere in sight.

M
eredith met Jonah in the upstairs hallway. “Oh Jonah. I need to talk to you.”

“I was going down to breakfast. You?”

“Yes, I was. But I wanted to speak with you privately.”

Jonah leaned against the wall. “What's on your mind, Storm?”

“I'm making plans to return to New York in September. I hope to visit one or two other logging camps during the time I have left. Are you returning with me, or do you have your own plans?”

Jonah's boot drew involuntary circles on the floor. “I'd like to stay through the winter at least, maybe longer.” He looked up at her. “But don't you worry. We'll find someone to travel with you. I won't let you down.”

“That's just it. Charles has offered to come back for me. I need to give him my answer by tomorrow.”

Jonah's face lit. “That'll work out fine, then, won't it?”

“I'll miss you.”

He gave her a brotherly hug. “This whole town'll miss you.”

“Let's go get breakfast.”

During the meal, Meredith discussed travel plans with her stepbrother. They would spend a couple of weeks visiting other camps, then take the train from San Francisco to the East. She had a month to finish her business in Buckman's Pride.

The following day, Meredith saw her brother off, then went to the newspaper office. Her ankle felt completely healed, and the sun made the walk pleasant. She hoped the editor would be back in town. She had not heard anything of him since her accident.

Ralston bristled at her entrance.

“Is Charlie back yet?”

“Nope.”

“When do you expect him?”

“Don't know.”

“Really?” She placed her hands on her hips, knowing full well that Ralston would not have been left in charge of the newspaper without knowing when Charlie was returning or without knowing Charlie's tentative plans.

Before she could utter a reply, however, the newsroom's front door flew open, and the bell clanged as the door hit the wall. Meredith jumped and turned.

There stood Thatcher Talbot, his eyes furious. “I'd have a word with you,” he said.

She squared her shoulders. “If you can wait one moment.” She turned back to Ralston.

Thatcher, however, ignored her request and covered the few steps between them. “Why did you lie to me?”

“I did no such thing.” By this time, the reporter across the room was on the edge of his seat.

“Why didn't you tell me he was your stepbrother? You led me to believe he was a suitor!”

“You did not give me a chance to explain.” She looked back at Ralston, who had a smile plastered across his frail face. “Mr. Talbot, may we please go someplace private to continue this discussion?”

“You want to take it on the street?”

She glared at him. “May we use the back room, Ralston?”

“By all means. Don't break anything,” The reporter said.

Meredith stomped past him and into the back room. Thatcher followed and closed the door. “You should have told me he was your brother,” he repeated.

“I'm sorry. When I saw you there with those flowers, I was so stunned that I made an awkward introduction. If you'd stayed around, I would have explained.”

He splayed his arms. “How could I know?”

Meredith heaved a great sigh. “I tried to reach you in church, Sunday, to explain, but you rushed out.” She earnestly appealed. “I'm really sorry.”

He shook his head. “You have no idea how humiliated, how furious I have been at you.”

“Charles is my father's first wife's son. My father adopted him. Just so you know all, Charles is returning for me in September.”

This news doused him like a canteen of icy water from the Mad River, and Thatcher instantly softened. “I'm only thankful that Beatrice told me when she did. Otherwise, I might have wasted these last few weeks. I'm sorry for embarrassing you in front of that reporter out there.”

At the thought of the gloating reporter in the other room, Meredith said, “We'd better go if you feel things are settled now.”

Thatcher opened the door. It was an awkward moment.

Meredith made stiff strides across the newsroom, Thatcher right behind her. At the door she turned back.

“Let me know when the editor returns to town.”

Ralston saluted her.

Outside, Thatcher gently took her arm. “I've got to get back to the camp. I was doing some banking for the bull. That's how I found out.”

“I understand.”

“May I call on Saturday night?”

“Oh Thatcher, I don't know.”

“Please.”

“Do as you think best.”

“Saturday night then.” With a big reckless grin that melted her heart, he tipped his hat.

Back at the newspaper office, Ralston was having a glorious time, typing furiously. This spoof would catch the town's attention.
“Town reporter caught in lie. Hero duped by stepbrother, wishes he had left reporter for bear meat.”

A few days later, a storm flew into the same newspaper office. The door clanged, and the bell vibrated.

Meredith halted.

“You're back! High time!” She slapped a copy of the newspaper down on the editor-in-chief's desk. “Can you tell me the meaning of this?”

“I was just discussing this with Frederick.” Ralston only looked amused, rather like a cat savoring a mouse.

Meredith's lower lip trembled with indignation. “Is this how you allow your reporters to be treated? Haven't I experienced enough humiliation in this town without getting stabbed in the back by this paper?”

The editor-in-chief looked at Ralston. “What have you to say to that?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It was a spoof. Everyone knows that. Can't you take a joke, Miss Mears?”

“You made me out to be a liar. You know what that can do to the credibility of a journalist. I want a retraction.”

“And you'll get one,” The editor soothed.

Cold steely eyes bored into him from the other desk.

Meredith walked over to Ralston. “You'd better make it sweet, if you know what's good for you.”

“Is that a threat, Miss Mears?”

The editor-in-chief pushed back his chair. “That will be enough. I'm sick of this childishness.” He cast angry eyes on the male reporter. “You've work to do,” and then back on Meredith, “I'll see you another day, when you've cooled down.”

Meredith stalked out of the office. Her head stooped, she marched down Main Street.

“Miss Mears!” A feminine voice beckoned from across the street. “Please, wait.”

Meredith stopped.
Not now!
The adrenaline still boiled her blood. It was Beatrice Bloomfield. Meredith swallowed hard, then turned to wait. She concentrated on giving a calm, steady greeting.

“I am so sorry for the trouble I've caused,” Beatrice said with all earnestness. “I never meant to harm you, dear. Please. Come over for some tea. Let me explain.”

“That isn't necessary.”

“But my dear friend, I must.”

The “dear friend” drew Meredith, and she nodded.

The other woman took Meredith's arm and led her back across the street and into the house that was situated just around the corner from the bank.

They entered the parlor where Beatrice had received her guests the night of her dinner party. Meredith took a seat on one of the mahogany chairs and stared down at the floral rug while she struggled for composure. Beatrice prepared their tea.

When Beatrice returned to the room, she said, “Thatcher Talbot is a dear friend of our family. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but he's quite taken with you. He was the one who helped me to understand you and… well, I wasn't very kind to you at first.” Her eyes became pools of regret.

“He did?”

“Yes. After that, I discovered for myself you are a fine person. It was my own fears that gave me such a bad start with you. Will you forgive me?” Meredith set aside her cup and gave Beatrice a sincere smile. “Of course I shall. It was my fault, too. I'm much too forceful, and too vain, and…”

“Do stop. There's more. I've messed things up badly. I mentioned your stepbrother to Thatcher. By the way he stormed out of the bank, I know I got you in trouble.”

Meredith giggled. “I am glad he didn't have an axe in his hand that day.”

Beatrice smiled. “I think Mr. Ralston must have it in for you.”

“His male pride, my female pride. I'm so ashamed. I just came from the newsroom where I blasted all of them.”

“Oh my.”

“Yes. I think I need to go home and pray.”

“As do we all.”