Wishing on Buttercups Page 24

  Steven held up his hand. “I’m sorry. I went about that wrong. Let me back up and start over.”

  Jeffery crossed his arms over his chest. “That would be wise.”

  “My mother begged me to return to Baker City, and she wanted to come along, but I wouldn’t allow it. Her health is poor, and the trip is too long. It will be hard enough moving her here in a couple of weeks, and I’m wondering now if that’s even possible, the way the weather is looking.”

  “What does your mother have to do with Miss Corwin?”

  The tension seemed to ooze out of Steven, and he slumped in his chair. “She thinks it is possible Miss Corwin might be my sister.”

  Jeffery stiffened, his mind abuzz. Slowly he reexamined the man sitting across from him. Similar eyes, hair a shade darker, and a warm smile that somehow resembled Beth’s. He had known Harding looked familiar the first time they’d met him, but had no idea—

  He jerked his thoughts to a halt. Having a family resemblance meant little. There were swindlers on every corner these days. Just look at Brent Wentworth. “What makes your mother believe that?” He narrowed his eyes as another thought occurred. “And why would you not know your own sister?”

  Steven placed his forearms on the table. “Both good questions, but not ones I care to explain fully at the moment. I will tell you that we’ve been separated for a number of years, but beyond that I’d prefer not to say.”

  Jeffery straightened his frame. “Then I’m afraid I am not at liberty to give you more information.”

  Steven drew in his breath and expelled it with a soft grunt. “All right. My sister disappeared when she was very young, and Corwin is a family name. I would rather not go into a lot of detail now, if you please. Can you at least tell me if you know her?”

  “I might.” Jeffery’s mind shot forward, trying to work through the scant information. “Although I don’t see why you can’t tell me more.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you, Tucker. I didn’t come here to tell you my family history, but to inquire if you have a way for me to get in touch with Miss Corwin. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Why don’t you tell me a little about your mother first?”

  “Fair enough.” Steven settled against his chair and took a drink of his coffee. “She was widowed a number of years ago and lives in La Grande. Her health is poor, and she’s been holding on, hoping to find Bess again.”

  Jeffery started. “Bess? Your sister’s name?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.” Jeffery drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I can’t personally introduce you to Miss Corwin, but I’d be willing to see that a letter gets to her, if you’d care to give me one before you return to La Grande.”

  Steven’s face fell. “I was hoping she might live here, and I could meet her.”

  Jeffery shook his head. “A letter will have to do.” Uncertainty twisted his gut, but he held firm. He needed to investigate this man and his mother before he allowed this to go any further. Beth had been deeply hurt once already. The last thing she needed right now was two people posing as long-lost relatives hoping to latch onto money they might envision as a result of her prominent placement on the magazine cover. Harding didn’t seem like that sort, but according to Mrs. Roberts, Wentworth had fooled her at first meeting as well.

  Steven placed his cup on the table. “Shall I bring it by your boardinghouse tomorrow before I leave town?”

  “No.” Jeffery gave a decisive shake of his head. “I’ll come by the bank if that’s convenient.”

  “Fine. I leave on the morning stage. Meet me at half-past eight.”

  Beth peered at the watch pinned to the front of her dress. Nine thirty. She’d been up for three hours already and had gotten some much-needed work done on a new illustration before she’d attended breakfast. After the meal, Jeffery had agreed to meet her in the parlor at nine o’clock, and she’d already waited for thirty minutes. She gathered her skirts. Maybe trusting Jeffery was a bad idea.

  A light patter of footsteps sounded along the hall and Mandy entered, tugging Mark Tucker’s hand. Beth hid a smile. She hadn’t envisioned Jeffery’s father as someone to spend time with a young child, but since he’d arrived, Katherine’s young daughter had been very much in evidence, and he didn’t seem the least perturbed.

  Mandy slowed to a halt and grinned, her wide smile showing a space where her front teeth used to be. “Mr. Tucker is going to read me a book.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do you want to listen?”

  The man in question ruffled Mandy’s hair. “We don’t want to disturb you, Miss Roberts. Maybe we should wait for another time, or we can take the book to the dining room if you’d prefer.”

  “Certainly not. You are more than welcome to stay. I was waiting for …” She clamped down on her lip, wondering how much to say.

  Mr. Tucker gave a sage nod. “My son. Earlier he mentioned running to town. He told me he was meeting someone and hoped it wouldn’t take too long. Is he late?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Beth relaxed against the sofa cushions. So Jeffery had told his father where he was going. Maybe he did have a good reason for the delay. “I’ll wait a little longer, if the two of you don’t mind my listening in. What are you reading?”

  Mandy ran over to a bookshelf and pointed. “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.” She stood on her tiptoes but couldn’t quite reach the volume.

  Mr. Tucker stopped beside her. “Allow me, Amanda.” He plucked the book from its place and handed it to her with a flourish.

  She giggled and hugged it to her chest. “I love this book. Come on, Mr. Tucker.”

  He obediently followed her to the sofa, and Mandy curled up beside him as he spread the volume across his lap.

  Beth watched the scene unfold. How fascinating. From the little Jeffery had said about this man, she’d expected him to be cross, but other than pressing Jeffery to return home, he’d appeared quite pleasant. She leaned her head back, allowing the words to flow over her and enjoying the smooth cadence of the voice that reminded her so much of his son’s.

  “Father?” Jeffery’s voice interrupted her reverie, and she sat up. He stood in the doorway, his expression curious as he looked from the duo to Beth and back again. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” His gaze swung her way. “I hope you’ll forgive me for being tardy.” A shadow seemed to darken his eyes. “It was unavoidable.”

  Beth straightened her sleeves, making certain her wrists were covered. “The time has flown. I’ve enjoyed listening to your father.”

  Mark Tucker closed the book. “Amanda, do you mind if we finish this another time? I think Miss Roberts and Mr. Jeffery had an appointment, and we don’t want to interfere.”

  Jeffery nodded gratefully. “Thank you, sir. That is, if you really don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Amanda and I will go to the kitchen and see if Mrs. Jacobs can spare a cup of tea.” He rose and held out his hand. “Would you care for some tea, Miss Galloway?”

  Mandy giggled and slipped her hand in his. “Yes, sir. I love tea parties.”

  Mr. Tucker set the book back on the shelf and directed his attention to Jeffery. “I hope you can find time for me a little later. I’d like to talk to you concerning an idea that might be of benefit to Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs.” He turned and nodded to Beth. “Miss Roberts, you’re welcome to sit in on our reading anytime.”

  “Thank you.” Beth smiled as they left the room. “Your father can be quite charming.”

  He sank into a chair. “I had no idea. I remember him reading to my sisters when they were young, but …” He ran his hand over his hair and glanced at the doorway. “It’s been a while since I was home, and this doesn’t fit the picture I’ve had of him.”

  Beth settled against the soft cushions, wondering at the confusion so evident on Jeffery’s face. What she’d give to have a parent
who cared enough to go halfway across the continent to see her and attempt to persuade her to return home. A pang of apprehension hit her. Mr. Tucker was a decent man, and it seemed Jeffery’s eyes were getting opened more every day. “And what picture did you have of your father?”

  “A man intent on getting his own way, whatever the cost.” His forehead wrinkled. “He was so adamant about me going back to Ohio when he first arrived, but lately …” He shook his head. “I don’t know, but something is different. In fact, I believe it started when you accompanied us to supper the other night.”

  Beth smiled. “I can’t imagine that could be true. He didn’t speak to me much, and I got the impression he was upset I’d come along.”

  “I wondered at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Did he reveal anything before I came in about why he wants to speak to me? He mentioned Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs.”

  “Not at all. Do you think he’s considering extending his time here?” Beth’s heartbeat quickened. If Mr. Tucker decided to remain in town for a time, he might come to like it and quit urging Jeffery to go with him. She repositioned herself on the sofa and tucked a pillow under her elbow. “Were you able to take care of your business in town?”

  Jeffery’s face smoothed, but she thought she caught a glimpse of … something.

  Jeffery flicked at a piece of lint on his trousers. “Yes, I suppose so. There was someone I needed to see before he left town.” The letter Steven Harding had given him at the stage station lodged like a boulder over his heart, pressing in and making small rivulets of sweat run down his back. He had promised to give it to her, but the matter of whether it would hurt or help her weighed on his mind.

  Beth leaned forward. “Jeffery.”

  “Hmm?” His glance darted to hers, then edged away. “Sorry. I guess I’m a bit distracted.”

  “What’s wrong? Is it anything I said?”

  His attention centered squarely on her. “No. Of course not. I’ve been trying to sort through a knotty problem.” Was this the right time? What if Harding was a fake, and she were hurt again? He didn’t want to be a part of that happening. If only he had time to investigate the man before he handed over the letter. But would she forgive him if he kept it a secret, and it turned out Harding was telling the truth?

  “Is there a way I might help? Are you concerned about your story?” She laced her fingers together in her lap.

  Jeffery brought his thoughts back to the woman sitting across from him. The letter could wait. He’d distressed her and needed to make it right. “It has been on my mind lately. Now that I’ve finished the first book, I’m trying to work out all the details for the second.”

  The lines in her face smoothed out. “Ah, I see. I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but I read the first three chapters.”

  Delight drove out the last lingering vestiges of worry. “What did you think? Please be completely frank, and don’t try to spare my feelings.”

  Her face sobered, and Jeffery experienced a moment of dread. Had he misjudged Beth’s initial reaction? He straightened his shoulders.

  “I think”—she cocked her head and a smile peeked out—“that your book will be a bestseller one day. As much as I determined not to like it when you acquainted the household with the idea, I must admit I was captivated. The characters drew me in immediately. Of course, I don’t have a strong sense of the story line yet, but enough to know I shall enjoy it immensely, as I’m sure anyone shall who reads it.”

  He released the breath he held. “How very kind. Thank you.”

  She shook her head. “I am not being kind. My words were honest, as you asked. So you see, you don’t need to be troubled.”

  A lump formed in Jeffery’s throat, and he swallowed. He couldn’t deceive her, couldn’t allow her to think the book was his only concern. Lately he’d been trying to pray, working to develop a personal relationship with God. Somehow he didn’t think keeping the letter a secret would further that relationship. “Thank you, but that wasn’t what has me distracted.” He stared at his hands laced between his knees, then lifted his eyes. “I’m not sure how to tell you what’s bothering me, other than to come right out and say it. I pray it will bring you peace and not added distress.”

  Every thought in Beth’s mind halted as she absorbed Jeffery’s words. Had he received word from their editor about her work not being satisfactory? But if that were the case, he wouldn’t think it could bring her peace. She tried to shake the disjointed thoughts. “Has something happened with your story? Are they unhappy with my illustrations?” She focused on his face, determined to catch even the slightest hesitation.

  “No, no. Nothing like that at all.” He plunged ahead. “It happens to be a bit more personal.”

  Curiosity swarmed Beth’s thoughts like a hive of bees getting ready for winter. “I can’t imagine …” She peered at Jeffery’s firmly clamped jaw. “Please. Tell me.”

  Jeffery scooted his chair closer to the sofa. “The reason I was late …” He licked his lips as though trying to find the courage to continue. “The man I met in town claims he might be your brother.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Wilma stopped on the path to the house and placed a kiss on Caleb’s cheek. “You are a wonderful man. I do hope you know that.”

  He slipped his arm around her. “I may forget that on a regular basis and need to be reminded, especially if that reminder comes with an accompanying kiss.”

  She settled her head against his shoulder and sighed. Why had she assumed for so many years that love would never find her again? Caleb hadn’t asked her to marry him in so many words, but he’d been hinting so strongly she knew it was coming. “Thank you for all you’ve done to try to help me find Beth’s family—or, at least, to discover what might have happened to her so many years ago. It means a lot to have your support and understanding.”

  Caleb drew her onto the boardinghouse porch. “As much as I’m enjoying this time together, we probably should go in. I don’t want to tarnish your reputation, should anyone happen to look out the window.” He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “If you were to allow me to make an announcement …”

  Wilma’s heart galloped at an alarming rate. “Announcement?”

  “This isn’t the way I planned on asking, but I’m not sure I can stand it much longer.” He gathered both her hands into his and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Wilma Roberts, I love you and want to marry you. Would you consider taking on an old man like me this late in my life?”

  Wilma stood silent for what felt like minutes. Then happiness radiated through every part of her being. “I’d be proud and honored, Caleb Marshall. In fact, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier.”

  He placed a tender kiss on her lips. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  She wiggled an eyebrow playfully. “I don’t intend to be. What do you say we get inside where it’s a little warmer and share with Beth, and then the rest of the family? That is, unless you want to keep it a secret for now?”

  His face transformed into one huge smile, and he pushed open the door. “No more secrets. I could shout it from the rooftop, you’ve made me so happy.”

  Wilma sailed into the foyer and tugged Caleb toward the parlor. They stopped at the doorway as Mark Tucker came up the hall from the dining room.

  He tipped his head. “Good afternoon.”

  Caleb stuck out his hand and gripped Mr. Tucker’s. “A fine one, indeed.” He pumped the other man’s hand.

  Wilma peered into the parlor. “Jeffery. Beth. I’m so glad to see you both. Is Frances or Katherine about?”

  Beth raised her head, her face pale and tight. “I don’t know, Auntie.” She scooted to the edge of the sofa. “Would you like me to go look?”

  Wilma stared at Jeffery, then back at Beth. “We’ve come at a bad time, haven’t we?” How foolish. Why hadn’t she both
ered to look into the room before speaking? It was quite apparent the two young people were having a serious conversation. She turned to the two gentlemen standing behind her. “Let’s go to the kitchen and see if Katherine and Frances are there.”

  Beth pushed to her feet. “It’s all right. Mr. Tucker needs to speak to Jeffery, and I’m going to my room. I hope you’ll all excuse me.” She brushed past Wilma with barely a nod.

  Wilma’s stomach twisted in a knot. She hadn’t seen that lost look on her girl’s face for many years. Not since the day seventeen years ago when Beth had arrived at her door.

  Beth had kept the letter Jeffery had given her tucked in the folds of her skirt as she made her way out of the parlor. She lay on her bed, though she didn’t remember climbing a single stair.

  If only Aunt Wilma and the others hadn’t come in when they did. Beth had so many more questions to ask Jeffery, but she didn’t care to make this situation public—especially since the letter Jeffery had handed her was addressed to Miss Elizabeth Corwin.

  Her hands shook so hard she wasn’t certain she could open the envelope. Jeffery told her Steven Harding had given it to him before he boarded the stage heading back to La Grande. The young man who’d asked for rooms for himself and his mother.

  His mother.

  Was it even remotely possible the woman could also be her mother? Why hadn’t he spoken to her personally, rather than using Jeffery as a go-between?

  Beth groaned and rolled her head against the pillow. Her pen name. But why did he think Elizabeth Corwin might be his sister? She propped her hand on her elbow and stared at the envelope with the flowing script across the face. The only way to get the answers to those questions was to gather her courage and see what this contained.

  And would it contain the truth? Jeffery had expressed concern and reminded her of Brent’s scheme to gain access to her finances. What if it was a hoax?

  She swung her feet over the edge of the bed. Please God, don’t let Aunt Wilma come up to check on me. Beth wanted to fall on her knees and cry out to her heavenly Father, begging Him to make this be true. But another part of her wasn’t so sure. Would the cords of her life begin to weave together with the reading of this letter, or would they unravel worse than before?