Wishing on Buttercups (26 page)

They worked side by side in silence for several minutes until Jeffery could stand it no longer. Just being near her stirred his senses. She stood so close that a loose strand of her hair persisted in finding its way onto his shoulder as she bent over the sink. Everything about her intrigued him. It amazed him that she could still laugh with all the troubles piling around her. Where did that kind of peace come from?

He rocked back on his heels and set the knife down on the counter. “How do you do it?”

She raised a startled gaze to his. “What? Clean potatoes?”

He choked on a laugh. “No. I mean, how can you still smile and joke when you and your aunt are being named in the lawsuit? I’ve seen you upset before, but you never appear to let things go very deep.”

“You’re wrong, Jeffery. If only you knew …” Thoughtfulness smoothed her face. “I’ve worked hard lately to trust the Lord and not carry everything myself. You’re a Christian, aren’t you? I’ve seen you in Sunday services several times since we arrived.”

He shrugged. “As much as the next man. My family was faithful in their church attendance while I was at home, and I was baptized at an early age. I accepted Jesus when I was a child, so yes, I’d say I’m a Christian. I’m not certain what God has to do with the lawsuit or anything else that’s going on though.” He let the chopped carrots fall from his hands into the pot. “All done but the potatoes.”

“Thank you.” She handed him a clean spud and resumed her work. “I’m discovering that God wants to be involved in everything we do.”

Jeffery snorted. “I’m sorry, but I cannot see God being concerned with the mundane details of our lives. I suppose it would be appropriate to ask for His intervention on behalf of everyone named in the suit, but anything much smaller than that, I can’t agree.”

“But why?” Beth turned wide eyes on him. “If He created us, why would He then abandon us to our own devices and problems?”

“I assume He has enough on His hands running the universe and wouldn’t care to be involved in the petty things of earth.”

Beth poured a pot of water over the remainder of the peeled potatoes in the basin. She reached for a towel and wiped her hands, then picked up another knife.

Jeffery wondered at her silence. Had he offended her with his views? He hadn’t realized she took her Christianity so seriously. His parents had always given money to their church and been faithful in attendance, but he’d never heard them advocate ideas like this. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I guess you’re simply making me think about my own beliefs. Aunt Wilma raised me in church as well, and I’ve often questioned why God lets so many bad things happen to good people. But I don’t think it’s because He’s busy elsewhere. I was taught that He loves us and cares about every detail of our lives, although I’ll admit I’ve wondered at times how that could be true.” She worried her lip.

Jeffery studied her, intrigued but concerned at her evident distress. “What’s bothering you, Beth?” He spoke the words quietly. Tumbling the last bits of potato into the pot, he laid his knife on the countertop. “I think we’re done, and the teakettle is on, as well as coffee. Let’s sit for a bit, shall we?”

She nodded, plucking two cups off a shelf and placing them on the table.

Jeffery poured coffee for himself and tea for Beth, then took a seat opposite her. “Would you care to talk about it?”

“Maybe I should.” She wrapped her hands tightly around the cup, then lifted it to her lips. “I’m terrified to, but somehow I want to trust you.” She murmured the words. “I need to trust you. There have been so many times in my life I …” Tea sloshed over the side as she set the cup on the table.

As soon as the words slipped out, Beth wanted to take them back. What had she been thinking? Maybe she should try to lighten the mood and change the subject. She’d never talked about her past to anyone but Aunt Wilma. Not even Brent.

Jeffery touched her hand. “You can, Beth. I will never betray your trust in any way. Tell me only what you want to, and I swear to you, I’ll listen and try to help.”

Beth’s heart jumped at the warmth of his touch. She longed to intertwine her fingers with his and never let go. How much to tell him, and where to begin? She shuddered at the thought of him knowing about her physical scars, but was there a way to tell him the rest without that? Surely she could. “It’s about my past.”

He didn’t speak, but the pressure of his hand urged her forward.

She plunged ahead. “Aunt Wilma isn’t really my aunt.”

“I see.” He smiled. “So it’s a courtesy title, then. She’s your guardian.”

“Yes. No. I guess I need to start over, as I’ve already given you the wrong idea.” She withdrew her hand, hating to do so, but knowing propriety demanded it. What if someone walked in and saw them? Besides, it was too hard to concentrate on what she was saying when he was touching her, and she’d already started badly.

“I beg your pardon?” Jeffery leaned forward, giving Beth his full attention although his gaze drifted to her fingers entwined on top of the table.

“Aunt Wilma is my guardian, but she never adopted me. I’m an orphan.” She blurted out the words, unsure how else to present them.

He gave a slow nod. “That’s not unusual, although I’m very sorry it happened. Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“Not entirely. It’s possible my parents abandoned me when I was young. The doctor who examined me believed I might have been four or nearing four years old when the Arapaho brought me to Fort Laramie.”

Jeffery leaned forward in his chair. “The Arapaho. How surprising. Why did they have you?”

“We’re not exactly sure, but I’ve gotten inklings lately. I’ve had some dreams, and bits of old memories are returning. At first we wondered if they’d kidnapped me, but now I don’t think so.”

“What kind of memories?”

“I have a vague recollection of a wagon train. I was sitting by a fire, crying …” She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know the rest. Why had she ever broached this subject? She sat up straight. “I was injured, and I remember a dark shape looming over me. He picked me up and placed me on some kind of litter pulled behind a horse. That’s all I remember about that day. I woke sometime later in a teepee with a woman putting salve on my wounds.”

“How were you hurt?”

She paused, unsure how much to tell him. “I may have fallen on some hot coals. I’m not certain.”

Jeffery shifted in his chair. “Do you think the Arapaho might have snatched you from your camp while your parents were scouting? Maybe you
were
kidnapped, not abandoned.”

“I’ve wondered that, as well. But the Arapaho weren’t on the warpath when I was young, and there was no record of a wagon train being attacked by them. Do you remember seeing a drawing in my tablet of a little girl sitting on the ground crying?”

“Yes. It was quite striking.”

“It came to me while I was sitting on the hillside one day. I remembered dust disappearing in the distance, running, crying, falling, then terrible pain. I didn’t put it all together at the time. I simply drew what I saw. But lately, I’ve had dreams …”

“And what of your parents? Surely they wouldn’t have left you alone with an injury. Do you have any recollection of them at all?”

“Do you recall when we were sitting on the hillside talking, and I picked a buttercup?”

He nodded.

“That brought back a memory of my mother holding the same flower and plucking off the petals, playing a wishing game with me. I think she loved me when I was little. There are other hazy ones, of a woman holding me and rocking, but I’m not certain if they’re of my mother or the Arapaho woman who cared for me.”

“So they were kind to you?”

“Very. I even picked up some words. From what Aunt Wilma discovered, I may have lived with them up to five months. They brought me to Fort Laramie in the spring, and the last wagon train went through before the snow closed the passes the winter before, probably no later than early September.”

“So you might have been lost from a wagon train.” Jeffery sat forward, his glance intent. “Do you remember anything about traveling?”

“No.” She fingered the necklace that never left her throat, then lifted the locket so he could see it. “This is the only clue I have to my past.” Carefully, Beth pried open the two halves and leaned forward so he could see the miniature portraits.

He stared at it for a minute. “She looks like an older version of you. Of course you have no idea who she or the man might be.”

“None. The pictures haunt me and give me hope, both at the same time. Aunt Wilma replaced the chain years ago. The one I was wearing as a child was delicate. For years she made me put the locket away, fearful I’d lose it, but when I turned thirteen I insisted on wearing it. I’ve not taken it off since.”

“I understand.” His face was grave. “Not knowing what happened must be difficult. It’s possible you could have fallen out of a wagon, you know. Or they might have died on the trail. I can’t imagine your parents abandoned you.”

“I’ve thought of that, but don’t you think someone would have come looking? Surely they’d have missed me before much time went by. How far could a small child walk in a day? And wouldn’t I have run after the wagons?” She shook her head. “There’s no telling how long I was out there before the Arapaho found me. That’s one of the reasons I believe I was abandoned.”

Jeffery gave her a shrewd look. “One reason? Is there another?”

“I’m sorry, it’s not something I care to talk about right now.”

“I didn’t mean to be overly inquisitive.” A smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “And don’t worry, I would never mention it to anyone or use this in my book.”

Surprise surged through Beth. She’d completely forgotten about his novel. She searched his eyes. “Thank you. Truth be told, I hadn’t worried you would. Not this time, anyway.”

“Hmm, not this time?” Jeffery grinned and winked.

Color rose in Beth’s cheeks.

He pushed back his chair, then walked to her side of the table and held out his hand. She accepted it and Jeffery drew her to her feet, retaining his grip. “I’m sorry, Beth. Sorry I ever worried you.” His tone softened, and he stepped closer. “I am so glad you felt you could trust me with the pain of your past. I am deeply honored.”

Beth barely dared to breathe. The air in the room felt too warm, and she wanted to tug at the collar of her gown. When had Jeffery grown so handsome and—her mind searched for the right word—
charming
? Brent’s image rose to her mind, but she pushed it away. She didn’t want to be reminded of anything right now except the man who stood so close. “I’ve never told anyone about my past before. Not even …”

He stiffened. “The man you’ve been meeting in town? Wentworth?”

She nodded, her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. How could she have forgotten they’d met?

Jeffery dropped her hand. “Are you in love with him, Beth?” His tone held a rough edge.

She bit her lip, unsure of her reply. So much still confused her about Brent, although
love
was too strong a word. He was part of her past, and she had yet to decide where to relegate those memories.

He gave a short nod. “Somehow I hoped …” He turned his head. “Never mind. It is of no consequence.”

Beth touched his arm. “Jeffery?” How could she convey the confusion warring inside?

“You do not owe me anything. We’re only friends, remember?” A wry smile tugged at his lips, and he touched her cheek with a gentle finger. “Only friends.” He took a step back. “I must be going. I have a lot of work to do on my second novel.” He cast a look around and frowned. “Did you need any more help with supper?”

“No. The girls will be in to set the table, and all else is ready. Thank you. For listening—for … everything.” She paused. “Jeffery?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe I could help you sometime on your story? By listening, I mean. That is, if you’d ever care to share it with me?” There was so much more she longed to say, but the words wouldn’t move past the lump in her throat.

He hesitated, then said slowly, “Sometime. I’ll see you at supper, Beth.”

A deep sense of loss descended upon her as he walked from the kitchen. Only friends he’d said, but from the yearning she’d glimpsed in his eyes, she believed he might have hinted at more. Was that what she wanted? She stepped to the stove and stirred the simmering pot. Why did life have to be so difficult?

Resolve stiffened her spine. Brent hadn’t met her for their last appointment, and she still didn’t know why. She needed to find him and decide once and for all where her heart stood and what Aunt Wilma was hiding. Strange. She’d never really considered opening her heart and telling Brent her life story. Or maybe it had crossed her mind, but something inside warned her that the risk would be too great.