Chloe danced into the room, dustcloth in hand, and joined in on the last line of the chorus. Embarrassed, Eden bit her lip and immediately stopped singing.
Chloe, however, moved right into the second verse without a hint of reticence.
“ ‘She sings to the meadows and she carols to the streams. . . .’ Come on, Miss Eden. Sing with me.”
Wrestling her self-consciousness, Eden tentatively added her voice to Chloe’s squeaky yet enthusiastic soprano, unable to contain her grin when the girl twirled around on her toes, belling her skirt out around her ankles.
“She laughs in the sunlight and smiles while in her dreams,
Her hair like the thistledown is borne upon the air,
And her heart like the hummingbird’s is free from ev’ry care.”
Chloe tossed aside her cloth and grabbed Eden by the hands as they plunged back into the chorus. They giggled and danced and spun in circles until they were too winded to sing another note. They collapsed onto the rug and leaned against each other for support, struggling to catch their breath between residual bouts of laughter.
The kitchen door creaked, and Verna stuck her head into the room. “Harvey,” she called over her shoulder, “bring me a broom. A couple of magpies got loose in the library.”
Eden looked at Chloe and the two dissolved into another fit of giggles.
Verna left the kitchen doorway and strolled over to Eden, offering her a hand up. “At least the magpies chased away the gloom that’s been hanging over this place the last few days.”
She smiled and gave Eden’s hand an affectionate pat before turning to help Chloe. The girl bounded to her feet unassisted and reclaimed her dustcloth, turning her attention to the bookshelves lining the outer wall.
“So, you and that handsome blacksmith work out your differences?”
Eden bit her lip at the older woman’s knowing look, but she grinned and nodded, too happy to hide her pleasure.
“Well, it’s about time. Poor fella looked like I done shot his dog every time you had me send him away. I was about ready to retire from door answerin’ altogether.”
Eden reached an arm around the housekeeper’s shoulders and gave her a firm squeeze. “I appreciate your putting up with me, Verna. I know it was a trial.”
“Bah.” The woman brushed away the words with a swipe of her hand like so much dust. “ ’Tweren’t no hardship. You were hurting. Harvey and me, we can handle a little moping from you, just so long as it don’t become a habit.”
“You have my word.” Eden laid a hand over her heart, and Verna winked.
“So I guess this means I can put the Open sign in the window?” Verna pulled away from Eden and wandered toward the hall.
“Is it time already?” Amazing how much faster the morning passed when her heart was light.
Verna nodded. “Fixin’ to be. I’ll go unlock the door and put out the sign.”
A little tickle started in the pit of Eden’s stomach after Verna left the room. Would Levi visit today? When he did, he usually came early. He could be on his way to see her right now. Eden pressed a hand to her quivering stomach and quickly set about straightening her desk. She carefully packed away her unused pressed flowers and scraps of ribbon and lace before placing the nearly completed picture into a hatbox for storage. A bow still needed to be added to the ribbon she’d placed today along with a few tiny blossoms near the bottom, but soon the bouquet would be ready for framing. She’d ordered a pretty oval one, finished in white and gilt with a shell-patterned molding.
Bittersweet sensations tugged at her as she placed the lid over her creation. It was too bad she’d committed it to the spring auction. She’d become more attached to this piece than any of her others. Every time she looked at it, she thought of Levi—the way he’d suggested the design, the memory of him holding her in the field where she’d collected the blossoms, the way his kiss made her think of weddings and bouquets and blacksmith husbands.
“Eden?” Masculine tones echoed behind her.
She spun around. “Levi!” Why could she think of nothing more intelligent to say?
“Found him out on the porch,” Verna said with a pointed look at Eden as she strode past the desk. “Guess he was afraid to try knockin’.”
The housekeeper chuckled quietly as she shooed Chloe out of the reading room to allow Eden some privacy with her beau, although she made a point to leave the kitchen door open for propriety’s sake. Eden craned her neck, focusing solely on Verna’s back until the woman disappeared around the corner.
Eden summoned a wobbly smile as she turned to face Levi again. He looked so handsome standing there, holding his hat in front of him, his wavy hair curling at the ends, where it was still damp from his wash. He looked from her face to the ceiling, and his mouth twitched as if he intended to say something, but no words came. She tried to come up with some innocuous tidbit of conversation to make things easier on him. Nothing. It was as if every social grace in her possession had taken flight.
Biting back a moan, Eden dropped her attention to her desk and fiddled with the handle on her hatbox. Levi’s feet shuffled as he shifted his weight a couple times. Apparently neither of them was capable of breaking the stretching silence.
Where had this awkwardness between them originated? Her insides felt more tangled than the yarn in her scrap basket.
Levi finally cleared his throat. “I . . . uh . . . brought you . . .”
Lifting her chin, Eden met his eyes. Unable to finish his sentence, Levi shrugged and pulled his hand out from behind his hat. Clutched gently between his large workman’s fingers were two delicate clusters of tiny purple flowers.
“Prairie verbena. These are lovely.” She reached out to accept the gift, her smile no longer wobbling. As he loosened his grip on the stems, Eden slid her hand beneath his, loving the way his palm caressed the back of her hand with a light touch. Pleasant shivers danced up her arms as she slowly pulled away.
The leafy wildflowers didn’t have much scent, so instead of lifting them to her nose, she stroked the petals with her fingertip. Most men would have pilfered some of the new rosebuds blooming on her bushes, but not Levi. He knew her partiality for wildflowers.
“Thank you. They’re so bright and cheerful. And these press very well.” Now she was babbling. But her mind was already making plans for how to preserve Levi’s gift.
“I thought I remembered you . . . working with that kind of flower. Found . . . a bunch out behind the water trough near the livery corral. Hoped you might like them.”
Eden held them up to her cheek, enjoying the softness of the petals against her skin. “I like them very much.”
Levi stepped closer. “I’m glad.” The intensity of his gaze held her captive until a dropped pan clanging in the kitchen jarred her free.
“Do you mind if I run upstairs and grab my field press?” Eden took a step back, inserting some distance between them to aid her concentration. “I’d like to preserve your flowers, but the color will fade if I don’t press them while they’re fresh. We can talk at my desk while I work, if you like.”
Levi nodded. “I’ll . . . uh . . . hang up my hat.” He waved it at her as if shooing her up the stairs, then turned toward the hall.
Not wanting to miss a moment of whatever time they’d have alone together, Eden laid the verbena on the desktop and hustled to her room. She tucked the press under her arm, dug out a box of blotting paper from her trunk, and dashed back down to the reading room, where Levi stood perusing the fiction shelves.
He looked up as she entered and strode to her side, relieving her of the box and press. “Where do you want them?”
“Over on the desk, please.” She led the way, plucking up the verbena stems to give him more space. “Would you like to help?”
Levi set the materials down and looked her way, his brows slightly raised.
Of course he wouldn’t want to help. What a fool thing to suggest. Eden busied herself with opening the box and remov
ing several sheets of blotting paper, willing herself not to blush. The man pounded iron all day. He was an ex-prizefighter, for pity’s sake, not a slender-fingered dandy with lace at his cuffs. What had she been thinking?
“Forget I said that,” she said, keeping her eyes on the desk. “I’m sure you have no desire to play with petals. It’s not exactly a masculine pursuit.” Her hands fluttered over the book strap she used to hold her press together, but the buckle refused to unfasten. The leather eluded her, as if someone had greased it with cooking lard.
Levi’s palm settled over her fingers, forcing them to still. Slowly, Eden raised her face to his.
“I’ll help.” His lips curved, silently teasing her in a way that eased her embarrassment and made her want to laugh.
Grinning, Eden tugged her hands out from under Levi’s palm and tilted her head in the direction of the far wall. “Why don’t you bring your chair over here while I set the press up? Then I’ll show you how it works.”
As soon as Levi moved away, Eden’s capability returned and she found a way to unbuckle the strap without further difficulty. She opened the flower press like a book and set the top board on the floor, leaning it against the leg of the desk. Then she reached for the six or so pieces of blotting paper she’d laid aside earlier, glancing at Levi while she did so.
That was a mistake.
The paper shifted between her inattentive fingers as she watched her blacksmith lift the heavy leather wing chair before him as if it were made of nothing denser than papier-mâché. What would it feel like to have him pick her up? To carry her with those robust arms, toting her over a . . . a threshold, perhaps, as they entered their home for the first time as husband and wife. With his superior strength, would he set her down inside the door, or keep his hold on her, nestling her against that broad chest of his as he made his way to other rooms of the house?
Eden slammed the door on that thought before it led her into intimate territory and turned her attention back to pressing the verbena. She managed to get her paper properly stacked atop the bottom board by the time Levi returned with the chair.
“The blotting paper absorbs the moisture from the flowers as they dry, so we’ll lay the blooms flat on the page and add another stack of paper on top. We should be able to get all of these in a single layer.”
Levi nodded, his expression intent, as if pressing flowers was a skill he truly intended to learn. Perhaps he only acted interested because they were courting, but it seemed deeper than that. His focused attention conveyed respect—since pressing flowers was important to her, it was now important to him, as well. Eden couldn’t help thinking of the curly-haired daughter he might have one day, and the daddy who would sip imaginary tea with her from a child-sized cup he’d barely be able to grasp with his thick fingers.
“How much of the flower do you want?” Levi’s question brought Eden back on task.
“We can’t press the entire cluster. Each blossom will have to be removed individually. Just pinch the bloom off where it meets the stem and lay it on the paper.” She demonstrated the procedure, then helped him with his first couple of attempts. His hands were large, but his fingers were amazingly adept. Soon they had the paper nearly covered with the small purple wildflowers. She added a few strips of the more interestingly shaped leaves around the edges, then covered their work with six more sheets of blotter paper and carefully lowered the top board into place.
“Why don’t you fasten the straps?” Eden suggested. “Pull them tight so the flowers dry completely flat. They’ll have to stay in the press for about two weeks before we can let any air hit them.”
Levi complied and buckled the first strap. As he tugged the second into position, the front door burst open and heavy footfalls stomped down the hall.
Sheriff Pratt strode into the room.
Eden jumped to her feet, but the man barely spared her a glance as his eyes locked on Levi.
“Been lookin’ for you, Grant.” His razor-sharp eyes cut from him to Eden and back again. “Shoulda known you’d be here.”
Levi finished latching the press before rising to greet the sheriff. “Morning, Pratt. What can I do for you?”
“Grab your hat is what you can do. You’re coming with me.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Levi held his ground and his tongue, unwilling to give in to the sheriff’s bullying. Even if Pratt had somehow discovered the details of his past, he’d done nothing since his release to warrant being hauled off to jail.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion, Sheriff?” Eden marched up to the man, bristling like a wet hen. “You can’t just barge in here issuing orders.”
“I can when men’s lives are at stake.”
Eden glanced back at Levi, confusion lining her face. Levi raised his brows in response, as much in the dark as she. Circling the desk, he squared off with the sheriff. “Get to the point, Pratt. What do you want with me?”
The man sighed and pushed his hat back on his head. “There’s been an accident at the quarry. An explosion.”
A gasp echoed from the vicinity of the kitchen, but Levi kept his focus on Pratt.
“Doc’s headed out there now to tend the injured, but there’s a handful of men pinned under a slide of limestone rubble. The faster we get them out, the greater their chance of survival.” He stopped to clear his throat. “I ain’t had much use for you up till now, Grant, but you’ve got the strongest back in the county. Borrow a horse from Barnes and hightail it out to that quarry. I’ll meet you there after I round up a couple more men.” Not waiting for an answer, Pratt dragged his hat back down over his forehead and spun toward the doorway.
Levi stood paralyzed. The quarry? He’d sworn he’d never willingly enter the nightmare of such a place again.
The sound of the front door banging closed echoed through the room. And before Levi could do more than blink, Chloe rushed at him from the kitchen, tears coursing down her face.
“You gotta help them, Mr. Levi. You gotta.” A sob choked off her words as she flung herself into his arms, grasping his waist as if he were the only anchor in her life. Levi patted her awkwardly on the back as he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. The girl didn’t know what she was asking. She couldn’t.
Chloe pulled away slightly and tilted her face up. Reddened eyes pleaded with him. “Duncan drills for the blasters at the quarry. You gotta get him out. I can’t explain it, but I know he’s one of the men trapped out there.”
Duncan—the Scotsman with the ready laugh and dancing feet. The kid was too young to have his life snuffed out. What about his dream of following in his father’s footsteps to become a stonecutter? And his plans to woo that bonny lass of his?
As Levi stared at the distraught girl in his arms, the truth hit him between the eyes. Chloe was Duncan’s bonny lass.
Levi clenched his jaw and hugged Chloe to his chest. He would go. Not just for Duncan, a man he liked and admired, but for Chloe, the girl he loved like a baby sister.
A soft touch on his arm drew Levi’s gaze around to Eden. Compassion glowed in her eyes—compassion and a healthy dose of determination.
“Chloe and I will gather bandages and whatever other medical supplies we can find and come after you. We’ll help Dr. Adams tend the wounded and support you however we can.”
The promise inherent in those last words gave him the strength to separate himself from the women. “I’ll get him out, Chloe. You have my word.”
She nodded and sniffed, then brushed at her tears with the back of her hand.
Levi strode from the room, his growing sense of purpose crowding out his dread. God had made Samson strong for a reason, and it hadn’t been to impress Delilah with his prowess. It had been to deliver his people. Levi had been blessed with strength, as well, and not for squandering on prizefights and selfish living. Perhaps he, too, had been given the gift to deliver people—people like Duncan McPherson and the other quarrymen trapped out in the pit.
Help
me get them out, Lord. Whatever it takes.
Levi snatched his hat from its hook on the hall tree and turned for the door, nearly trampling Eden, who had come up behind him.
“God will help you, Levi. And so will I.” She rose on her tiptoes and placed a kiss to his cheek. The simple touch drove away the last of his reservations. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she promised.
Not wanting to waste time searching for nonlisping words to convey his gratitude, he circled an arm around her waist, clutched her to his chest, and brought his mouth down on hers. She started to melt against him, but tempted as he was to continue, he pulled away. The trapped men couldn’t afford a delay. The feel of her stayed with him, however, long after he left.
He stopped by the smithy to collect the largest of his sledgehammers, then hurried to the livery. The sheriff must have warned Claude to have a horse ready, for he stood in the yard holding the lead on a broad-chested sorrel gelding that was saddled and ready to ride.
It’d been years since he’d sat a horse, but some skills a man never forgot. Levi strapped the sledge to the back of the saddle, making sure it wouldn’t bounce around, and then shoved the toe of his shoe into the stirrup and hoisted himself up.
“Head west,” Claude said, pointing out of town. “When you get to the fork, turn north. It’ll run along the rail route and lead directly to Fieldman’s. You can’t miss it. I’ll head to the church and help Cranford rearrange the space for an infirmary.”
Levi nodded and pressed his heels to the horse’s flanks. As he rode, he tried to concentrate on Duncan and the others, but when the quarry came into view, his chest tightened. He could feel the whip cutting into his skin, hear the screams of grown men, taste the dust that hung heavy in the air. Past blurred with present, and nausea gripped Levi so fiercely it nearly bent him double.
Fighting for control, he closed his eyes for a moment and let the horse carry him to the base of the pit. When the animal slowed, Levi opened his eyes and took in the scene. The screams echoing in his mind dulled to a hum of concerned voices. Women clung to husbands who had avoided the blast, praising God for their safety. Others sat with the injured, holding a hand or cleaning a bloody face with a dampened handkerchief. The doctor, having just arrived, bustled from patient to patient, black bag in hand, assessing the damage.