Loving Eliza (11 page)

She took a moment before she responded.  “I’m thinking
we need to get back to painting the house
.”

E
liza pushed John off of her and quickly stood up.  What was she doing, kissing a man who’d never kissed a woman before?  She’d kissed virgins before, and there was always that tentative moment in the kiss, like they we
ren’t sure of what to do next.

The sweetest man she’d ever met had just kissed her, and she initiated him further into it by responding to him.  She shouldn’t let her pleasure get in the way of her senses.  Yes, she enjoyed it.  Much more than she should have.  After all, she’d kissed so many men in her time that she couldn’t even count them all.  But even the most experienced
men ha
dn’t affect
ed
her the way John had. 
He cared for her.  And that
terrified her.

She strode back to the house and he followed her.  She didn’t want to face him.  Not now.  Not when her hands trembled and her heart hammered loudly in her ears.  She needed to get back to something concrete, something she could concentrate on and lose herself in.  Painting was as good a method for escaping her unwanted emotions
as anything else she could do
.

As she reached the house, a horse’s neigh caught her attention.  She groaned when she saw Troy riding toward the house.

“Morning, Eliza,” he gr
eeted as he pulled back the rei
ns.  “You are certainly looking fine today.”

The man was lying.  The dress John had given her hung on her like a limp rag.

“I’d ask John what he’s doing giving you Ma’s old dress to wear, but he won’t be able to answer.”

She glanced at John who didn’t look pleased.  Who could blame him?  “John is right here if you want to ask.  He may not talk but he has other ways of communicating. 
He can tell you almost anything you want to know just by using his hands.”

“Is that so?
” By the way Troy said that
, it was obvious he didn’t believe it.

John stepped in front of her before Troy got there first.

She rolled her eyes.  All she saw was John’s broad back.  The man was wo
rse than a protective mother bear
.

“Alright, John,”
Troy said in irritation.  “I get the message.  I’m not taking her away from here.  You can back off.
  I came out to talk to you anyway.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.  Good.  “In that case, I’ll get back to painting!”

Before anyone could protest, she scurried back into the house.  The first thing she noticed was the strong smell of paint fumes.  Well, John would just have to kee
p the windows open for awhile.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Troy demanded, shoving a piece of paper at John.

She stopped at the kitchen window.  She really had no right to find out what upset Troy.  After all, it wasn’t like he was speaking that loud.  But he was speaking loud enough for her to hear him.
  So technically, she wasn’t eavesdropping.  Besides, she did need a cup of water.  She went to the
work table and lifted the pitcher, deciding it was a good idea to take her time at the task.

She peaked out the window.  Troy didn’t just look annoyed.  He looked fuming mad.

“You had no right to do this!”

John stood still, his face unreadable.

“I ought to make you deal with this.” He motioned to the letter in John’s hands.

She poured the water into the cup and sipped it.

“What’s the big idea, John?  You wrote to a mail-order bride in my name?”

Startled, she spit out her drink.  She grabbed a towel and dried her lips and the table in front of her.  John did what?

“I don’t need you to find me a bride,” Troy seethed.  “I’m perfectly capable of handling that area of my life
on my own
.  It’s you who needs the help, what with you being a freak and all.”

Oh, he didn’t!  Not John’s own brother!  Eliza set the cup and towel down and peered out the corner of the window without trying to be spotted in case they looked in her direction.

John threw the letter back at Troy and pushed him back.

“You think Eliza’s going to marry you?  You couldn’t even get that mail-order bride of yours to show up.  And she never met you.  What makes you think Eliza’s going to want a mute for a husband?”

John marched over to Troy’s horse and untied its reins from the tree.

Troy strode after him.  “What are you doing?”

Eliza moved so she could see where they were going.

John held up the reins and pointed to the saddle.

“You think you’re going to tell me what to do?  Well, let me set something straight for you.  No one orders me around, you understand?” Then he pushed John away from his horse.

John made a move toward Troy but stopped and then waved him off the property.

“I’m not marrying Cara
.  You hear me?” Troy jumped on his horse.  “I told her that
my
mute, freak brother wrote the letter as a joke.  She won’t be coming.” He glared at John.  “Since when did you learn to write anyway?  Aaron teach you?”

He shrugged.

“It probably was him.  He’s soft.  Just keep your nose out of my business.” Then he
tapped the horse in the sides with his boots.  As the horse trotted off the land, he called out something.

Eliza couldn’t make out what it was, but John rolled his eyes.  She expected John to come into the house but he didn’t.  Instead, he strode over to the shed he worked in, entered it, and slammed the door behind him.  Well, who could blame him for being upset?  Apparently, it wasn’t just most of the town who thought John wasn’t worth the time or effort to treat with respect.  She had no siblings, but if she had, she’d like to think she’d be close to them.

The more she got to know John and the people in town, the less she wanted to know about them.  She didn’t know why she assumed that a small town would have a friendly feel to it.  In a bigger place like Omaha, it was easy to be impersonal.  She made a few good friends, other prostitutes like herself who had nowhere to go
.  She learned to appreciate what she did have and not think of things that could’ve been.  That’s where unhappiness came from.  Not being content with what one had.  Always looking at how things could be better.  Always wondering “what if”.

She recalled her first friend at the saloon.  Maggie had been a
prostitute for five years when Eliza was sold into the business
.  Maggie was miserable there and ended up committing suicide.  That was when Eliza decided she’d stop feeling sorry for herself.  Yes, what happened to her was bad.  Her uncle had taken advantage of her and then lied about it.  To cover up his sin, he sold her to Ross.  And she’d never forget how mad Ross was when he discovered she was carrying a child.

She forced the memories back into the safe corner of her mind where she could lock it away and forget about it.  It did no good to dwell on things
she had no control over.  She also had no control over what people thought of John or how John reacted to it.  All she could do was control how she reacted to it.  Like everything else in life, she had to deal with it the best she knew how.  So she’d put on a smile and find reasons to be thankful.

She glanced around the room.  She had food and shelter.  She had a generous employer who was also kind.  She was no longer a prostitute.  She was a lady now.  She coul
d finally walk through town without
pretend
ing
that the stares and whispers
didn’t bother her.  People now
treat
ed
her with respect.  It was a good feeling.  Yes, she had lots to be thankful for, and she’d do her part to make life better for those around her.

She returned to
the paint and got back to work.

***

That Sunday, Eliza put on her
modest dress and adjusted
her hat.  It was as hot as
August could get, but that was
the
price she paid for being a lady.  Her clothing hadn’t covered all of her when she worked at the saloon.  But she worked for John now.  Honest work.  Work she was grateful to have.  And if no one could appreciate John and the fact that he gave her a good job and did honest work, then that was their problem.  Not John’s.  And not hers.

Determined, she took one last look at her reflection and nodded.  She left her home and st
rode over to John’s house
.  Just as she made it up the steps, he opened the door.

“You look nice,” she greeted.  “Isn’t it a beautiful day?  It’s the perfect day for a Sunday ride into town.
” Even as she said it, she batted away a couple of flying insects that circled her head.  She laughed.  “I guess the bugs think it’s a nice day too.”

He pointed to his ring finger.

Rolling her eyes, she decided to ignore him today.  He seemed to think that just because they were going to church, it was the right time to propose.  Well, that wasn’t exactly true either.  He seemed to think that every day was a good day to propose...and any reason was a good reason.

“I can’t wait for Daphne to show up.”

He shook his head.

Pretending she didn’t notice, she turned around and headed for the wagon.  “We don’t want to be late.  I have a feeling that things will go fine
today
.”

He closed the door behind him and walked after her.

She waited for him to get the horses hooked up before she hopped into the wagon.  When she saw his exasperation, she giggled.
  “I know.  I should have let you help me in, but I didn’t want to wait.”

That was a lie, and by the expression on his face, she knew he realized it.  Oh well.  Let him realize it.  As long as she didn’t have to say it, it didn’t matter.  The truth was, she didn’t want him to help her in again because last time, he actually kissed her on the cheek and held her in his arms before he let her get in.  She really had no business enjoying that either.  For all reasonable purposes, he was practically married to Daphne.

But what if Daphne doesn’t come
?  It has been two
month
s
since she was supposed to arrive.

She si
ghed and forced her attention to
the scenery
as he urged the horses forward
. 
No
,
it was best if her thoughts didn’t drift in that direction.  It was enough that she agreed to go to the gathering the town was putting on that evening.  She wasn’t originally going to go, but when Troy and Willy asked her, she figured she’d better go with John.  If nothing, it got the two men to back off.  Never mind that it was nice knowing that she’d go with John.
  She sighed again.  She was getting to be as bad as he was!

He nudged her in the arm.

She looked in his direction.

He tapped his temple.

“You are much too curious about what I’m thinking.  Most men don’t want to hear women yap on about their thoughts, you know.”

He gave her a sweet smile and waved for her to speak.

“You are an odd man.”

Shrugging, he motioned for her to continue.

“Is tha
t what you want to hear?  That
you’re odd.”

He pointed to his lips.

“Oh.  You just want to hear me talk.  It doesn’t even matter what I ramble on about.”

He nodded and scooted closer to her.

“Alright, Mister.  Don’t think I don’t notice when you do that.  I wasn’t born yesterday.  You need to keep your distance.  I’ve come to learn that I can’t trust you.  And don’t flash that smile at me.  You won’t charm me that easily.” She paused for a moment.  “Not that you can charm me. 
Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not the kind of woman
you can charm.”

He didn’t look convinced.