Tabitha: Bride of Missouri (American Mail-Order Bride 24) (10 page)

Chapter Twelve

Tabitha awoke the next morning with a start. The sun was streaming through her window—it was much later than it should have been. She dressed quickly and ran down the stairs to find Thomas standing on the porch, mail bag slung over his shoulder.

She unlocked the door and let him in. “Good morning. What’s going on?”

“Well, I noticed that you weren’t at the station, so I picked up your mail. I hope that’s all right—I’ve probably broken some federal laws, but I knew you needed this bag.”

“Thank you. Yes, I overslept.” She took the bag and set it on the counter, then put the kettle on the stove. She badly needed some help waking up.

Thomas leaned on the doorjamb connecting the post office to the house. “What’s the matter, Tabitha?”

She took a deep breath before answering. “Herbert’s heart. I went for Dr. Gideon in the middle of the night, and he says it’s a matter of waiting to see what happens next. That’s why I overslept—I believe it was nearly time to get up before I finally dozed off.”

“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“You already helped tremendously by picking up the mail. True, I should have been the one to do it, but I don’t imagine anyone will report you.”

After the coffee was done, Tabitha and Thomas carried their mugs into the post office, and she sorted through the mail. Of course, the outgoing mail hadn’t made it to the train, but she’d take it the next day and hope that the short delay wouldn’t cause any problems.

Only a few minutes had gone by before Mrs. Smith bustled in, holding the door open. In came the grocer, followed by several of the ladies of the town and some of the men, every one of them with their arms piled high with packages.

“Good morning!” Mrs. Smith said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “Your friends and neighbors here in Atwater heard what happened, and we want to show you our love and support.” 

“Um, hello, everyone,” Tabitha said, so overwhelmed, she almost couldn’t speak.

“Now, everyone, tell Tabitha what you’re holding and ask her where to put it,” Mrs. Smith said. “We’re not going to add to her burdens by making a big pile here for her to clean up all by herself.”

As each person came forward and Tabitha told them where to place their load, she became more and more choked up. Granny Grimes had brought over one of her beautiful quilts. The grocer was donating five dollars’ worth of food—they just needed to let him know what they wanted. Each of the women carried a pie or a loaf of bread or some other good thing for the pantry. Then Pastor Reed came up to the counter—she hadn’t even seen him enter.

He spoke low. “I’ve been asked to inform you that the doctor bill has been paid in full.”

“I . . . what? I’m sorry, but can you repeat that?”

He smiled and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have no doctor bill to pay. Just get whatever care Herbert needs and don’t worry about the cost.”

“Thank you.” She caught his sleeve as he pulled away. “Please tell whoever it was how much we appreciate it.”

“I will.”

By the time the crowd left, gifts had been delivered to the kitchen, the root cellar, and the post office counter. The quilt had been draped over a living room chair, and a beautiful bouquet of fall flowers sat in the middle of the table. Everywhere Tabitha looked, she saw evidence of the goodness in people’s hearts. She had to keep wiping tears away at the wonder of it.

A moment later, she heard someone coming down the stairs, and Clara emerged in the post office. “What on earth . . . I woke up to hear voices down here, and it looks like Christmas came early.”

Tabitha grinned. “So many people came and brought gifts. Food and just everything.” She glanced over at Thomas, who had been standing in the corner to be out of the way of all the well-wishers. “And the best news of all.” She put her arm around Clara’s shoulders. “Someone paid the doctor bill in full. You’re not to worry about it for one more minute.”

Clara’s knees gave way, and Tabitha helped her over to the counter. “Oh, heaven be praised,” Clara whispered as she leaned against the support. “Thank you, God.”

Thomas spoke up. “I’d like to offer whatever help I can, too—I know I’m not authorized to work in the post office per se, but I can sweep and do whatever odd jobs you might have for me.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Clara said. “It’s much appreciated.”

Tabitha smiled at him, hoping to convey her gratitude, then turned back to Clara. “What would you like for breakfast? We have bread, rolls, pie, cake, some sliced meat—nearly anything you can imagine.”

Clara chuckled and shook her head at the same time. “I can hardly believe it. Start with coffee and go from there.”

Tabitha poured her a cup while Clara stared at the pantry shelves.

“Well, I will say this,” Clara said after a long moment. “This beats your Miss Atwater prize all hollow.”

“Yes, it does,” Tabitha said, and they both burst into laughter.

***

Clara stayed by Herbert’s side the remainder of the day while Tabitha ran the post office downstairs. Thomas stayed to help, although that mostly consisted of chatting with Tabitha between tasks. Everyone who came in expressed their concern and sent their wishes for a speedy recovery, and Tabitha promised to deliver the messages. She’d also stepped over to the saloon to let them know what had happened and that Clara wouldn’t be in. The owner handed her a few dollars for Clara’s pay and asked Tabitha to keep him updated. So much kindness from so many sources.

When at last it was time to close up for the night, Tabitha was overwhelmed with relief. Too little sleep the night before, too much excitement during the day, plus the lingering concern about Herbert, and she was ready to crawl into bed. However, when Thomas suggested that they take a walk, she agreed, ready for some fresh air and a change of scenery.

“I feel so very foolish,” she said as they headed up the street. “I never realized just how good and kind the people of this town can be. When I moved here, I was so wrapped up in my grief that I couldn’t see their kind intentions for what they were. I’ve misjudged Atwater entirely.”

“You said something similar in your Miss Atwater speech,” he reminded her.

“True, but I don’t believe I understood just how wrong I was until today.” She shook her head, chagrined. “The day I arrived when I was ten, several people came to welcome me. I remembered that just now. The schoolteacher, the pastor at the time, several mothers with girls my age. I don’t think I even said hello to them. I was so ungrateful.”

“You said it yourself—you were grieving.” Thomas took her elbow and steered her around a patch of mud. “And you were a child.”

“Yes, but still, I could have accepted their friendship.” Another memory flickered through her mind. Darcy had come to visit with some of the other little girls, and Tabitha had refused to speak to them. Perhaps that was why Darcy had always treated her poorly afterwards. “I’m going to stop holding back and really get to know them.”
“I think you’ll be a lot happier.”

“I do too.”

They had walked around the block and were now in front of the post office again. Tabitha leaned against the fence, so tired. “Thank you for all you’ve done today.”

He laughed. “I really did very little.”

“You were my friend. It means a lot to me that you’d take time away from your project to make sure we were all right.”

The wind picked up again and blew a lock of hair into Tabitha’s face. Thomas reached out with his casted hand and brushed the hair back over her ear, then froze, a look of pure astonishment on his face.

“Tabitha, I can move my fingers!”

“What? Show me!”

He held up his hand, and his fingers twitched. Then they curled and straightened.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said, wonder in his voice. “I just . . . well, I’m right-handed, so I used that hand without even thinking about it, and it worked.”

Tabitha threw her arms around him in celebration. “I’m so happy for you,” she said in his ear. Then she stepped back and pinned him with a look. “So,
now
are you going to write your parents?”

He laughed. “You would really like me to do that, wouldn’t you?”

“I just feel that if you have parents, you should talk to them once in a while,” she said, looking away. She was so tired. She hadn’t meant to become emotional, but a tear slipped down her cheek.

“I’m sorry, Tabitha. I wasn’t even thinking. I promise, I’ll write to them tomorrow.”

“All right. Just be sure that you do.” She smiled, trying to offset the tears. “Goodnight. I really need to go to sleep.”

Thomas stood on her sidewalk until she was safely inside, then strolled away. She checked in on Herbert and Clara and then nearly fell onto her bed, fully clothed, and slept the night through.

Chapter Thirteen

All the way home, Thomas kept wiggling his fingers, relief and gratitude filling him every time he saw them twitch. He knew the road to recovery would be long, but this gave him hope. He could endure the healing process knowing that when it was over, he’d have the use of his hand. Of course, if he were to lose it, he was sure he’d find ways to adjust, but he liked this outcome so much better.

When he woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was to check his fingers, afraid that maybe he’d dreamed the whole thing. No, they still moved, and he grinned. Then he laughed. What a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe Tabitha was his lucky charm—after all, he’d been touching her hair at the time.

But then his thoughts grew serious. Tabitha. Her hair had been so soft, feather light. He remembered the quick, friendly hug she’d given him, how he’d wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her there. But that was nonsense. He was engaged to Ivy, and Tabitha was just his friend. His
good
friend, and becoming better all the time, but still, she wasn’t Ivy.  

He was waiting on the sidewalk when Tabitha came out to collect the mail. “Good morning, Miss Atwater,” he greeted. “You look lovely today.”

“I’m not so sure,” she replied. “I feel like a wrung-out dishrag.”

He held out his arms to encompass the day. “Nothing a walk won’t cure.”

She laughed as she fell into step beside him. “I’m not sure I understand this fascination you have with walking.”

“It clears my head and gives me time to think.”

“It’s a good thing you moved to Atwater, then. We do a lot of walking here.”

“Yes, I’m very glad I came.” He glanced over at her, wondering why he was suddenly seeing her in a new way. The little curls by her ears seemed damp, as though she’d just washed her face, and while she claimed to be tired, her eyes seemed bright. There was that small dimple again, and he directed his gaze back to the road ahead of them. If he kept listing her appealing attributes, he’d become even more confused than he already was.

When the train arrived, Tabitha handed in the mail and retrieved the new bag, and they turned to head back to the post office. But then Thomas caught sight of a young woman standing on the platform, looking entirely lost, and his heart gave a jolt. He knew her. How . . . It was Ivy!

He took a stumbling step forward, then another, studying her face just to be sure. Yes, it was the girl from the picture he’d been carrying for months. She was here? Now? She hadn’t said a word—he thought she couldn’t come until January.

“Ivy?” he called out as he came closer, and she turned toward him. No doubt about it now. It was her.

“Are you Thomas?” she asked, holding out her hand in greeting.

“I am. Welcome to Atwater. I had no idea you were coming.”

She smiled, but then lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. Is there a place we can to go to talk? I have so much to say, and this train station is rather noisy.”

“Of course.” He took Ivy by the elbow and steered her off to the side. Strangely, he didn’t see Tabitha anywhere. Had she gone on ahead without him? “Do you have baggage?”

“I do.”

“Wait here, and I’ll make arrangements for it.”

Thomas put in the request for Ivy’s things to be taken to the hotel, then drew a deep breath before returning to her side. All these months of daydreaming about her, and now, she was actually here. How had it happened? What had changed her mind?

“Your trunks will be delivered to the hotel,” he told her, and she nodded with a smile. “Shall we go? It’s only a short stroll from here, and we can talk on the way.”

“Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

The leaves crunched underfoot as they walked. Thomas had expected Ivy to say whatever was on her mind, but she was quiet, so he decided to start the conversation himself.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. How was the trip?”

“It was all right. Long and loud, but all right.”

He gave her another moment to continue, but she didn’t. “And what brings you here? I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Oh, Thomas, I’m so sorry.” She stopped walking and put her hand on his arm. “When I found out what happened, I was mortified. I was beyond mortified, actually. And then I didn’t know what to do, and I thought about writing, but that seemed so impersonal, so I decided to come and speak to you myself. Can you forgive me? May I explain?”

She looked up at him with blue eyes brimming with tears. She was so lovely, so upset, his heart gave a giant tug. “Of course. Please, don’t cry.”

“Thank you.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a handkerchief, then dabbed at her eyes. “It was my father, actually. He never wanted me to become a mail-order bride, and he was furious when he found out that I’d written to you. So he’s the one who did it, not me. I would never.”

Thomas paused before speaking, trying to piece together what he was hearing. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t make sense of it. “What was it that your father did, Ivy?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Returned your letters, of course. Didn’t you get them?”

“My letters were returned?”

“Yes. He tied them all up and wrote a nasty message on top and sent them back. So, you didn’t get them? You aren’t angry with me?”
Thomas shook his head. “No, I’m not angry. Just a bit confused.” He looked down into her eyes and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here now and didn’t wait until January. I confess, I was disappointed at the delay.”

“January? Why did you think I wasn’t coming until January?”
Nothing was lining up. Thomas smiled again and shrugged. “Let’s not worry about it right now. We’ll get you checked in at the hotel and you can rest for a bit, and then I’ll come back and take you to lunch.”

“I’d like that very much.”

She slid her arm through the crook of his elbow, and then noticed the cast. His sleeve usually covered most of it, so it was no wonder she didn’t see it before. “Oh, you’re hurt. What happened?”

“A log rolled onto my hand at work. A few fingers are broken, but it should heal up nicely.” What a relief to be able to tell her that he would recover, but he thought he already had told her about the accident in the first place. He thought back. Yes, he’d put it in a letter. She must not have received it yet, which made sense if she’d been on a train coming here, but nothing else did. What on earth was going on?

***

Tabitha paced the floor of the post office, her stomach in knots. Ivy was here. Ivy was here. Of all the things she’d ever expected to happen, this was the most unbelievable. Ivy had plainly said that she’d changed her mind and wanted no more contact. Why had she come all this way, then?

Clara was upstairs with Herbert, spooning him some broth. He had managed to sit up a bit, and that was certainly a good sign. Tabitha tried to stay focused on the positive things that were happening, but her mind would not let go of the fact that right now, Thomas was talking to the girl of his dreams.

She finally opened the bag and sorted the mail, her hands trembling. The longer he spent talking to Ivy, the more he would learn about her deception. Why had she done it? It was a horrible, terrible thing, a dreadful trick, and she wished she’d never had the idea at all.

When the door opened and he came in, she had all but reconciled herself to the knowledge that he was going to be very, very angry. But he seemed calm, which surprised her.

“Tabitha, can you help me understand something?”

“I’ll try.” She clasped her hands at her waist to stop the trembling.

“Ivy tells me that her father bundled up all my letters and returned them, but I never got them. Then she tells me that she never said she wasn’t coming until January. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Tabitha blinked rapidly. He didn’t know she’d done it—he thought it was some sort of post-office mix-up. She would have to confess. Was that better or worse than him figuring it out on his own? She wasn’t sure.

She stepped over and closed the door separating the post office from the house. She’d tell Clara and Herbert what she’d done another time, after she’d had a chance to explain to Thomas. It was best to deal with one set of issues at a time.

“I do know what happened,” she said. “When the bundle of letters came, I kept it.” She reached under the counter and retrieved it. She’d brought it downstairs as soon as she got back from the train station. “When I saw that note on top, I couldn’t imagine giving it to you.”

Thomas picked up the bundle and studied it. “You withheld this from me?”

“Yes, I did.”

“But what about the letters Ivy sent me? The two that came? Where did those come from?”

“I . . . I wrote them.”

He looked up at her, his face distorted by confusion. What she hadn’t expected was the pain in his eyes, and that was worse than any of the rest of it. “I don’t understand. Please tell me why you’d do something like that.”

She twisted her hands together. “It really doesn’t make sense, now that I think about it. But when the bundle came, all I could think about was how hurt you’d be. I thought that maybe if she’d let you down a little more gently, it would be easier for you to take. So I wrote those letters to give you a chance to distance yourself from her.”

Thomas looked back down at the letters. When he spoke, his words were measured. “Did you think I wouldn’t be able to handle the truth?”
“That’s not it, Thomas. I just . . .” Tears slipped down her cheeks. How could she explain this when it was so utterly ridiculous? “I loved you too much to want to see you hurt,” she finally said, nearly in a whisper. She reached under the counter and brought out the letters she’d helped Thomas write, along with the postage he’d paid for them. “These belong to you too. I never sent them because she asked for no further contact.”

“No, her
father
asked for no further contact. Her mind was never changed.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I hardly know what to say. I thought I knew you better than this—I thought we were friends, that we trusted each other.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I was stupid and thoughtless, and I deserve any bad thing you want to think about me.”
“I don’t
want
to think anything bad of you, Tabitha.” His voice broke, and he turned toward the door. “I need to go. I just . . . need to go.”

After he left, Tabitha sank to her knees on the floor and cried until her stomach and throat hurt. She’d been so foolish. Of course he could have dealt with the heartache—he was a strong man, one who faced life’s challenges with more dignity than most. She’d seen it time and time again—she should have trusted him to handle that one as well. He didn’t need her to watch over him like some kind of mother hen. And now she’d lost his friendship, one of the dearest things she’d ever possessed.

***

Thomas kicked at every rock and every leaf he saw all the way back to the hotel. How could Tabitha—beautiful, sweet Tabitha—have done such a thing? She’d broken the law, she’d tampered with his life, and she’d been friendly to his face while stabbing him in the back. What kind of game had she been playing? Did she think this was somehow amusing?

He’d managed to keep his temper while speaking to her, but now, it was all but boiling over. Why had he trusted her so much? And why had she abused that trust?
He took a moment to calm down before entering the hotel. Ivy didn’t need to see him this way—she was innocent in all this. By the time he entered the lobby, his breathing had returned to normal, and he was able to smile when he saw her waiting for him by the staircase.

“This is a nice hotel,” she told him, looking around with appreciation. “My room is quite comfortable.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve never been upstairs, so I wasn’t quite sure.” He motioned to a small seating area off to the side of the lobby. “May we talk?”

Once seated, he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I need to tell you something I just discovered,” he said. “I went and spoke with the postmistress about the confusion with our letters. As it turns out . . .” He paused to bring himself back under control. “As it turns out, she withheld the bundle and then sent me two letters herself, posing as you, trying to break it to me gently.”

“She did?” Ivy seemed to think that over for a minute. “That seems rather sweet.”

Thomas sat up abruptly. “Sweet? How is that sweet?”
“She didn’t want you to get hurt. I’m rather glad she did it—aren’t you?”

Thomas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re glad that she tampered with the mail and pretended to be you?”

Ivy laughed softly. “Well, no, but she did help keep the door open between us. Just imagine—if you’d gotten that bundle and then I showed up on the train, we might not be sitting here right now, having this conversation. You might have turned me around and sent me back home.”

“I don’t think I would have done any such thing,” he protested, but she held up a hand.

“Of course I don’t know this woman, so I can’t judge her intentions, but it sounds to me like she had a very good reason for what she did. What did she say? Did she explain herself?”