Courting Miss Adelaide Page 7

  His entire adult life, he’d kept a stash of peppermints around to remind him of Mrs. Wagner, the one person who had believed in him, who’d given him a desire to improve his lot. The candy still tasted as sweet as her words. But even while Emma sucked on the treat, worry etched her face. Paul and Sparks better get here fast. He only had so many peppermints.

  Twenty minutes later, Thaddeus Paul and John Sparks entered the office.

  Sparks’s gaze settled on Emma. “What’s the emergency?”

  Charles bent down to Emma’s eye level. “I need to talk to these gentlemen. Will you be all right until I’m back?”

  She nodded, though her gaze lingered on the bag of candy. Charles fished out another peppermint and then motioned for the men to accompany him into the back room.

  As soon as they followed him in, Charles closed the door. “Grief stricken over her mother’s suicide, Mrs. Drummond is unable to care for Emma Grounds. Her husband is looking after the boy. We need someone to take Emma in temporarily.”

  Thaddeus frowned. “Any idea who?”

  Sparks shoved his bowler back on his forehead. “We turned away a few couples from the area, but it’ll take a day or so to get her settled.” His brow furrowed. “She needs a place now.”

  Charles had an idea, one that nagged at him. As a member of the committee, finding someone to take care of the child had to be his first consideration, even if that someone owned half the paper. Still, no one would be more conscientious than Adelaide Crum. He had an even stronger conviction she’d be a good mother—even if her own mother had ruined his family.

  Is it my fault I’m Adam Graves’s son?

  The truth zinged through him. No, no more than Adelaide could be held accountable for the hell Charles called home. He took a deep, cleansing breath. “How about asking Miss Crum?”

  “Hmm.” Sparks pursed his lips in thought. “Well, her recent apology exemplifies her character. What do you think, Thaddeus?”

  Paul frowned. “Can’t we find a married woman?”

  “None of us has time to deal with this,” Sparks said, his tone exasperated. “Miss Crum is right across the street. The arrangement isn’t permanent, so I have no problem with it.”

  Paul shoved his glasses higher on his nose. “That would be the easiest solution.”

  “Then it’s settled, if she’s willing,” Sparks said, his gaze sweeping Charles’s face, then Paul’s. They all nodded.

  “Who’s going to ask her?” Sparks plopped his hat back in place. “I shouldn’t be away from the bank.”

  Already heading for the door, Paul turned back. “I need to get back to the office, too. Can you see to it, Charles?”

  He’d done the least legwork for the committee so it was only fair he ask Miss Crum. His wayward pulse leapt at the prospect of seeing her, giving her this news. Nodding his acceptance, he walked the men into the main room and out the door, both obviously relieved to dump the matter in his lap.

  Charles grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. Without a doubt, Miss Crum would take care of Emma. But the more he thought about it, the more he suspected that once she had a taste of mothering, she’d be starved for more when the child left.

  What had he been thinking when he suggested her?

  He’d been thinking how she’d look when she heard the news, the sparkle his words would put into her clear blue eyes. He’d taken part in hurting her, both with the committee and now over the ownership of the paper, and he wanted to make amends.

  Grateful for Teddy’s experience with children, Charles said, “Keep an eye on Emma, will you?”

  With a grin, Teddy hunkered down beside the little girl. “Sure thing, if she’ll share a peppermint with me.”

  Charles strode to the door, knowing he danced dangerously close to a web of entanglements. Every instinct warned him off, told him to stay clear of Miss Crum, while every muscle and tendon in his body moved him out of the office and across the street.

  Adelaide knotted the end of the thread and then snipped it. Earlier, she’d watched Frances leave The Ledger without Emma. She’d wanted to call out to Frances, to ask what was going on, but her classmate’s slumped posture had kept Adelaide silent. Clearly, something had happened, but what? And what part did Mr. Graves play?

  His last words rattled through her mind, …expecting this business relationship to be pleasurable, you’re mistaken…buy you out…longest two months of your life.

  He’d failed to see she couldn’t fix the past, especially a past she hadn’t shared. She couldn’t even fix her own problems.

  He detested the idea of her involvement at the paper, but she didn’t have time to run her shop and work at the paper, too. Still, as part owner of The Ledger, she could have a voice. Express some important ideas. Maybe make a difference for the women in town. That much she could—and would—do. Whether Charles Graves liked it or not.

  The bell jingled bringing Adelaide to her feet. Mr. Graves, his expression solemn, walked to the counter where she waited, her pulse tap-dancing in her temples. If he had come here to berate her mother, she wouldn’t listen.

  He met her gaze. “I’m glad we’re alone. We need to talk.”

  Adelaide hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it came out in a gust. “About you hating the sight of me?”

  He had the decency to look discomfited. “I don’t.” He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry about my outburst. I realized a truth earlier. You can’t help that you’re Constance Gunder’s daughter, any more than I can help being Charles Graves’s son.” He plowed a hand through his thick hair, leaving furrows deep enough to plant seed in. “I’ve been a bear. Will you forgive me?”

  Adelaide saw something wounded and raw in his eyes, telling her Mr. Graves had suffered. “I forgive you.” She smiled. “But you’re right, you were a bear.”

  “Maybe you’ll be happier with me when you hear the main reason I’ve come.” He took a step closer, his brown eyes filling with light. “Mrs. Drummond isn’t well and needs someone to look after Emma Grounds. The committee thought of you.”

  She pressed a hand to her heart, for surely if she didn’t, it would leap from her chest. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered this possibility. “Emma, come here? To live with me?”

  “Yes.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with a grin.

  Why? Why had the committee given her this chance? Then she knew. Thank you, God. “It’s an answer to prayer.”

  He frowned. “It’s the committee’s doing, not God’s.”

  She shook her head, a smile riding her lips. “Oh, Mr. Graves, you have a lot to learn about the power of prayer.” But she wouldn’t worry about that now, not when she had a child to love. Oh, maybe two. “What about William?”

  “Mr. Drummond is looking after him.” Charles lowered his head and looked her straight in the eye. “You understand this arrangement is only until Mrs. Drummond gets back on her feet?”

  Adelaide came around the counter. “Of course.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you? Really?”

  “Yes, yes!” For however long He willed it, Adelaide was going to treasure this gift from God. The possibilities raced through her mind—sharing meals with Emma, reading her bedtime stories and teaching her to sew. Adelaide’s breath came in gulps and her lungs expanded until they felt ready to explode. “When will she arrive?”

  “Is now convenient?” A grin curved across his face.

  “Yes! Oh, thank you!” In a second of wild abandon, Adelaide threw her arms around him, giving him a fierce hug. His torso felt hard and wide, masculine. A realization struck—she’d never hugged a man before, nor acted so impetuously. Heat climbing her cheeks, she stepped back. “I shouldn’t have done that, Mr. Graves.”

  He moved closer, until the warmth of his breath drifted along her chin. “No need to apologize. And please, after that hug, I think you should call me Charles.”

  “Charles.” She tasted the sound of it on her tongue. “Will you…call
me Adelaide?” A forward suggestion, but given the circumstances, it felt right.

  His gaze swallowed her up, left her breathless.

  “Instead, may I call you Addie?”

  “Addie?” No one had ever given her a nickname or a pet name before. It made her feel special. Her hand drifted to her chignon, fussing with it like an old maid. She quickly lowered her hand to her side.

  “If you don’t like it—”

  “Oh, but I do.” To her, Adelaide sounded like a hair-up kind of woman, while Addie seemed like a hair-down kind of gal. The kind of woman she’d always wanted to be.

  “Then Addie is what I’ll call you.”

  She smiled, feeling feminine, alive and—oh, my—cherished.

  To keep her hands from straying to him, she clasped them together. For now, she’d focus on Emma. She, Adelaide Crum, would be taking care of the little girl she’d sensed a kinship with from the first moment she’d seen her.

  “Emma’s waiting in my office. I’ll bring her to you.”

  “I’d like to get her myself.”

  He looked around the showroom, empty of customers. “Can you leave the shop?”

  In answer to his question, she walked to the door, lowered the shade and flipped the sign in the window to read CLOSED. Dusting her palms together, she grinned. “I’m the boss.”

  Charles chuckled. Adelaide joined in.

  Filled with gratitude to God, she did something totally out of character, something she hadn’t done since a little girl. Hiking her skirts to keep them from snaring her feet, she dashed out the door and ran across the street without her hat and gloves.

  Chapter Six

  Charles caught up with Addie when she stopped in the middle of the street. She glowed with happiness. No doubt about it, the lady was headed for a fall. Especially if she thought this child heaven-sent. When the Drummonds wanted Emma back, how would she cope? How would God answer her prayers then?

  She turned to him, a question on her features. “Charles?”

  His given name, almost a caress, slipped off her tongue and warmed him. If only he could forget what stood between them. A dozen issues separated him from Addie. Her mother had destroyed his family. She held beliefs he hadn’t shared since his childhood prayers had gone unanswered. She had needs he couldn’t meet.

  And he was his father’s son.

  A warning shout made Charles jerk to the right in time to see a team of horses barreling down on them. His stomach in his throat, he scooped Addie up in his arms and dashed for the safety of the walk, barely escaping the hooves. The wagon rattled past, kicking up dust; the driver raised his fist at them, shouting obscenities.

  But with Addie cradled in his arms, fitting in the niche as if she belonged, Charles barely noticed. He quickly set her on her feet. She tugged at her clothing, her face flushed.

  She splayed shaky fingers across her bosom. “Whew, that was close!” She gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Charles.”

  He grinned. “The pleasure was mine.”

  “Before you rescued me, I started to say—the committee didn’t suggest me. You did.” She laid a hand on his sleeve. “Am I right?”

  Charles nodded.

  Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome.” Those eyes would be his undoing. He pulled his gaze away and cleared his throat, motioning toward the door of the paper. “Before we go in, I want to warn you Emma is upset. Mrs. Drummond’s misery may be affecting her.”

  “Could be. Suicide has to be far worse than any natural death. I went to school and to church with Frances, so I knew her mother well. Sarah Hartman was a good woman.”

  Charles glanced over at the trim figure beside him, with her straight posture and youthful glow. “Mrs. Drummond looks old, worn down. I can’t believe you two are the same age.”

  “Farm life must have taken a toll on her, or maybe it’s that grouchy husband of hers.”

  He raised a brow. “You’re very outspoken.”

  “Well, it’s true, though I doubt her husband is the entire cause. I can’t imagine losing a child.” She paused, sympathy taking over her gaze. “Eddie’s death had to cost Frances more than hard work or a disagreeable spouse ever could.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” He wouldn’t gain favor by harping on it, but the mention of Mrs. Drummond’s lost child hammered home the need to warn Addie about the brevity of Emma’s stay. “I’m concerned about your taking in Emma.”

  “Are you saying I’m not competent to care for a seven-year-old child, even for a while?”

  He heard the irritation in her voice, the underlying pain of what she perceived as doubt. “Of course not, but when Emma returns to the Drummonds, there’s a good chance you’ll be hurt.”

  Adelaide pulled her arm from his grasp. “I’m a grown woman, Mr. Graves. Your concern is touching, but unwarranted. Besides, this is part of God’s plan. I’m sure of it.” She moved toward the door. “If you’re finished, I’d like to get Emma settled.”

  Charles noted her formal address, the sharpness in her tone. She had every right to be annoyed. He’d suggested her, had dashed over to tell her and then had ruined the moment. “Addie.”

  She turned back, her expression cool.

  “Emma’s fortunate indeed to have you to look after her.”

  Her features softened and a smile crept across her face, lighting up her eyes. “Thank you, Charles.”

  Her grin touched his heart, tempting him to forget all those reasons he shouldn’t get involved, but sanity reigned and he walked her to the door of The Ledger.

  Inside the office, they found Emma rocking in his desk chair. With eyes closed, head lolling against the slats, her wide grin revealed two missing teeth. While he and Addie watched, the chair slowed and Emma’s eyes popped open. Her gaze darted from Addie to Charles and the smile faded.

  Addie knelt beside her. “I’m Adelaide Crum. I remember the day you came to town.” She motioned to the chair. “Is that fun?”

  The little girl’s head bobbed.

  “Do you suppose I could have a turn?”

  Emma hesitated and then scooted to the side, making room.

  “I won’t fit, but if you sat on my lap, we could both rock.”

  Charles’s jaw fell open when Emma hopped down and climbed into Adelaide’s lap. Soon, she and Emma giggled in the swaying chair, with its spring squealing, the awkwardness of their meeting forgotten. Watching them, something tightened in Charles’s chest. How long since he’d heard joy like that?

  Stored deep in his memory lived shrieks of terror, sobs and groans—the sounds of his childhood. Charles bit the inside of his cheek, fighting for control, mourning the loss of something he’d never had. Happiness. True happiness.

  Pain came in many forms. Charles had thought he’d experienced them all. He’d put them behind him—or so he’d thought. Yet, deep inside he knew he hadn’t let go of the past. How could he, when the past lived in him still?

  He saw the hope—the faith—in Adelaide Crum and wondered how anyone could have such a thing.

  Adelaide brought the chair to a halt. Leaning her chin atop Emma’s head, she mouthed a thank-you, widening the crack in Charles’s heart. Suddenly, he didn’t want their time together to end. “Would you ladies like to walk to the livery to see my horse? We can drop Emma’s satchel at the shop first.”

  Emma bounced off Adelaide’s lap. “The livery!”

  Addie rose and knelt before the little girl. “Let’s get you settled in. We can visit the livery another time.”

  Emma sighed and gave a sad nod.

  Addie studied Emma’s rag-doll posture, then chucked her under the chin. “Getting settled can wait.”

  A look of surprise took over Emma’s face, and then slid into a smile.

  Charles grabbed a handful of sugar cubes from a bowl near the potbellied stove. “Let’s take Ranger a treat.”

  Emma’s hand darted out, palm cupped, and Charles dumped the sugar in
to it.

  Emma beamed. “Ranger is a nice name.”

  Adelaide took Emma’s free hand and Charles offered Adelaide his arm. When she slipped her hand into the bend, she looked up at him, her expression happy, grateful and full of optimism. The idea he could have a family ricocheted through him. He quickly dismissed the notion. He resolved to keep things impersonal, as he always had, but something sharp panged in his chest.

  As Adelaide stepped inside the dim, cavernous stable, dust motes floated in the sunlight streaming through the open doorway. The pungent odor of manure and hay filled her nostrils. A horse nickered in a nearby stall, raising the fine hair on her nape. With Emma skipping at her side, Adelaide followed Charles to a stall midway down the aisle. He opened the door and led out a huge brown horse. Adelaide took a step back.

  “Ladies, meet Ranger,” he said, tying the horse to a post.

  Emma gazed at Charles, a look of pure awe on her face. “Ranger’s your very own horse?”

  Charles grinned down at the little girl. “Yes, he is.”

  Watching them at a distance, tenderness for this child and this man filled her heart. Then the huge creature shook his head and stomped his hooves, rattling the floorboards—and Adelaide.

  “I love horses.” Emma patted Ranger’s wide back.

  “Hold out your hand,” Charles said, demonstrating, “flat like a board, so he can see what you’ve got for him.”

  When Ranger’s lips curled around the treats, Emma gasped, then giggled. “That tickles!”

  Charles slipped out of his coat, hanging it on a nearby peg. “Would you like to help groom Ranger, Emma?”

  In minutes, Emma teetered on a crate, clutching a brush bigger than both her hands. Charles showed her how to hold it, laying his large hand over Emma’s much smaller one, helping her move the brush down the animal’s coat.

  When he stepped away, leaving Emma to do the job, Adelaide reminded herself not to trust this happy scene. Not to trust Charles. Oh, but the pull to do so wrapped its tentacles around her and squeezed.