Brokken Promises Page 7
He tilted his head and could not suppress a smile. “If you are referring to your unmarried status and having a child...”
She held up a hand. “No, you don’t understand.” Her lips pressed together, and tears stood in her eyes.
“Whatever you wish to say, I assure you I will not be shocked. As you know, I fought in the War, saw terrible things. And I don’t mean only on the battlefield. Starving widows who...” It was his turn to wave a hand. He could not repeat the things he had seen. “All of that is in the past. Most did what they had to do to survive. No one will hold your past against you.” He gave a gentle smile that he hoped would convince her.
She shook her head. “You’re wrong. People will not accept me when they discover...” She stopped to search his face.
He gave what he hoped was a kindly smile. “I agree there are judgmental people in the world, but there also exists those who are forgiving and kind.”
She pointed at him but softened the motion with lips curling, as if she was about to break into laughter. “Like you?”
He was taken aback and frowned. “I know I am not a perfect man although I do believe in the Bible.”
“Do you?” Her gaze became direct, boring into his very soul.
“What do you mean?”
“Does not the Bible teach of forgiveness—seven times seven, I believe Jesus said—and yet you refuse to forgive.”
“What do you mean? I have forgiven...”
She cut him off. “You spoke to me of your brother-in-law Chance Hale. You said he could never be trusted with Sally Jane—I only wonder if it is because you refuse to forgive him, seeing only the bad or if he is actually the way you describe him. A cold-blooded killer, I believe you said?”
Fritz did not immediately answer. His gaze returned to the fogged-up window, showing little of what lay beyond. Had he ever really examined his motives? He had longed to hurt Chance but why? As the youngest son, Fritz had always tried to prove himself to his father, and then, to his older brothers. His father had been devastated when Fritz’s mother had died but had been more preoccupied with finding another wife than with raising his three sons. And then when he had married again, and Deborah had been born, things became worse for Fritz. The death of another wife had sent his father reeling, and it had been Deborah, not Fritz, not his brothers, who had brought their father a measure of comfort.
Fritz put his hand to his face, as if to blot away the memory, but it intensified. Instead of understanding what his father was going through, jealousy had raged within Fritz, burned against his innocent sister. He shook his head at himself when a thought struck him. Could it be he had wanted to hurt Deborah by taking away Sally Jane?
The thought shocked him. He’d directed all his anger at Chance, but what if it really was aimed at Deborah and he’d just been too blind to realize it? His father, his brothers, his little sister had all at one time or another, needed his help—they’d been hurt by too many tragedies in their lives. And all Fritz had done was add to their worries, becoming embittered and envious of his own kin, and tried to prove his worth by doing foolish things, taking foolish risks, instead of confiding in others and accepting help.
When Deborah had finally found a bit of happiness with Chance, Fritz had been jealous, knowing he did not have the same kind of relationship with Lydia. There was no need to deny it.
The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Fritz?” Cam’s voice sounded as if it came from far away.
He straightened and his gaze found hers. “Yes?”
Her eyes surveyed him with concern. “I wanted to discuss some things with you, but I see this is not the most opportune time.”
She started to rise from her seat, but he waved her back down. He searched her eyes and chose his words carefully. “Perhaps you are correct. Many regard Chance as a hero. His actions shortened the War, stopped more men from being killed, although, God knows, we lost enough.”
“So, some regard his actions as heroic, but do you? Are you changing your views of him?”
Fritz stroked his chin, thoughtful, before he answered. “I cannot go so far as to call him a hero. However, there are extenuating circumstances I have failed to take into account.”
She bowed her head in what he thought to be agreement. They remained silent for a few minutes before she stirred and spoke again. “And you now believe he will be a good father to Sally Jane?”
Fritz shrugged his shoulders in an instantaneous disagreement, but heat crept up his neck. He had to let go of his anger toward Chance. Still, his jaw had tightened, and he made a conscious effort to relax. He tilted his chin a notch and remembered the last time he had seen Chance, with Sally Jane in his lap, and the heat continued climbing into his face. He spoke the words he knew were true. “Yes, he will make an excellent father to your daughter.”
“That gives me some peace of mind.” Her eyes studied him, and under her scrutiny, he was stripped of all pretense.
He rubbed both palms against his legs. “Is that all you wished to discuss?”
She shook her head, and her eyes became guarded again. “No, there are some further matters although the truth is so difficult to bear.”
“By whom?”
“By both the one who speaks and the one who hears.”
He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “And yet the truth shall set you free, will it not?”
Her eyes widened, with something akin to fear crossing her face. Why had his words elicited such a response?
The muscles in her face twitched, as she fought to bring her features under control. After a moment, she spoke. “Not always. Sometimes it imprisons you.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“As I have said, when others find out who one really is, when they know...” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “Many will never forgive. One will be forever perceived in that way, imprisoned in people’s thoughts, like a bird in a cage, and never seen as the person they actually are, but as they once were.” She bowed her head, her gaze dropping to her hands folded in her lap.
He creased his forehead and tried to puzzle out her words. He’d already told her that many women did things they were not proud of during the War. Men, on both sides of the conflict, had used and abused the women who had been unfortunate enough to be left alone, husbands, brothers, and fathers off at war, or else left with men too weak to protect them.
He cleared his throat. “I promise you, whatever may be in your past, I will never let it sully my perception of you.” His own words surprised him.
Cam, too, was surprised, and she raised her head quickly to search his eyes. “I wish I could believe that.”
Her voice was barely a whisper. He did not know if he heard her words or only read her lips.
“Believe me. I will give up my life, my home, myself, before I will abandon you.” To his ears, his words sounded like a proposal, or something much more. That was not what he meant at all; was it? He cleared his throat. “That is, I will secure you a means of employment, get you settled into a house, and help you out with expenses for as long as it is needed.”
She nodded, and her countenance fell. Her response alighted a spark of hope. Did she also wish for something more? Now, though, was not the time for courting.
His voice became brisk, he hoped not brusque. “There is no need to share your past if it is so painful to you. Our pasts are behind us, and we must move forward. That being said, I must ask once more if you are certain you wish to give up your daughter for adoption?” He watched her carefully.
She straightened her spine and looked him directly in the eye. “Chance and Deborah Hale may adopt Sally Jane. I have no wish to hinder the proceedings.”
He was slightly disappointed with her response. He longed for Cam to be reunited with Sally Jane. She loved her daughter and that had to be behind why she made this difficult decision.
Still, he did not question her further. He had made a promise that
her past was in the past. He intended to keep it there although he longed to make things right. He had no idea how to do so without someone, Sally Jane, Deborah, Chance, or Cam, getting hurt. If only he could marry Cam, provide a home for Sally Jane—even that would hurt Deborah and Chance although they would be part of her family and see Sally Jane often. Maybe it would be enough. But, somehow, he knew it would not be.
Once they reached Brokken, perhaps a solution would present itself. Tomorrow morning, they’d be arriving. Something fluttered in his chest. He was going home, his real home, for it would become so with the right woman, with Cam.
No, he could not stay in Brokken with her unless she took Sally Jane away from Deborah and Chance. If the little girl stayed with them, they’d be too close, too hurt, to see her each day. If they married, they’d have to move away. Would he be able to give up his life in Brokken for Cam?
And unbidden the answer came. Yes. His words had been true. Everything he owned he would give up for her, to honor his promise, and yes, that promise was to make her his wife.
And that would involve courting. Would she stay in Brokken long enough to allow him to properly court her?
If not, he’d simply follow her—to wherever that might lead.
Chapter Eleven
The trip had exhausted Camellia, and she was glad to finally be reaching Brokken. It was not only the trip—being so close to Fritz and fighting his attraction were part of her tiredness. His words yesterday had given her hope, made her believe he cared about her—until he had clarified that he only planned to provide for her by securing her a job.
She’d been eager to share the truth with him, but he had told her the past did not matter. Why should it matter to him when he had no intention of sharing his future with her? She’d warned herself not to become attached to this man. Her warnings had fallen on her own deaf ears.
Cam sighed and continued dressing in the green dress again. Despite what Fritz had told her, she was sure the people of Brokken would judge her on her appearance. She certainly did not want to embarrass Fritz nor Sally Jane.
She finished packing the trunk and then left the sleeping compartment to let Fritz know she was ready. He had also dressed with unusual care, and his handsome appearance made her heart beat wildly. Why would her heart refuse to obey her thoughts?
She settled into her seat, sitting straight, as she’d been taught, with her ankles, beneath her skirts, crossed, and her hands folded in her lap. She breathed deeply to chase away the emotions swirling within. Yesterday, Fritz had clearly stated his intentions—to secure her a job away from Brokken, away from him. No matter his fancy promises, he had no intention of courting her—and if he did not know the full details, he certainly would not. Perhaps he’d already guessed, as Mrs. Howe had done, and that’s why he wanted to keep his distance, to get away from her as soon as possible.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the train slowed to a stop, their final stop, Brokken, Texas. She rose from her seat as gracefully as she could manage, and he took her elbow, steadying her.
She was grateful and yet resentful. His touch released something within her, something that made her tremble, and her heart try to escape from its cage, and she snorted her disgust. He gave her a puzzled look and released her arm.
She breathed deeply and strengthened her resolve. The sooner she got this over with, the better. She needed to escape from Fritz Brokken before he broke her heart if it was not already too late. He led the way down the train’s narrow passage and out to the platform where blinding sunlight and a cool wind greeted them. The fogged-up windows had let little sunlight into the dark train, and it took a moment for her to orient herself.
Brokken was a pretty little town. She’d forgotten what it looked like, probably never took a second glance the first time she’d visited—if you could call that first time a visit. She had simply dropped Sally Jane off to her doting grandmother who would raise her to the best of her ability. But she’d died.
Cam’s heart constricted, and she fumbled for her handkerchief. She wiped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes, the first she’d cried for Miss Edna.
Fritz bent his head close to her. “Is anything amiss?”
She sniffled a bit but managed a smile. “No, no. The sun is so bright that it made my eyes water.”
That seemed to satisfy Fritz who turned away to give orders to the porter. It was but a moment before he was at her side again.
He smiled. “I asked for your luggage to be taken to a house next door to mine. I will make arrangements for someone to stay with you, to tend to cooking duties and...”
She frowned and cut him off. “Fritz, you, of all people, know I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I do not need a maid.”
He shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone in the house. You need a companion.” His jaw tightened and a muscle twitched.
“Is Brokken so wild?” She could not suppress a giggle.
He took her by the elbow and guided her down the steps. “No, but that does not mean evil does not exist here. Unfortunately, evil is pervasive. Remember that your mother was killed not long ago.”
His words made her shiver, but she stiffened her spine. “I am used to doing for myself,” she said, stubbornly.
He shrugged although the muscle still twitched in his jaw. “Suit yourself. On the other side is the sheriff’s house. I’m sure you will be comfortable—and safe—between us.”
“I’m sure I will. But why secure a house for me? The hotel will do fine.” She spied it as he led her away from the train depot, and she eyed him.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable in a house, but either is fine by me. We can turn around and go to the hotel.” His expression was innocent, calm, and he stopped, pulling her to a stop also.
“No, the house will do.” She was silent for a few minutes before Fritz gave a nod.
They continued walking, and one or two people called out a greeting to Fritz and looked at her with unconcealed curiosity. Most folks, however, ignored them. An uneasiness permeated the town, or so it seemed. She bit her lips. Under the scrutiny of these folks, she was sure to be found out if they had not already done so.
They reached the house, and before swinging open the gate of the white picket fence, Fritz paused. “Is this suitable?”
She stifled a laugh. She wanted to punch his arm or pinch him. Instead, she nodded and said as coolly as she could, “This is fine.”
The white house had dark shutters, a bluish-green, she believed. It was difficult to tell because they were so dark. A porch traversed the front, the same white as the house, with gingerbread trim extending its full length.
They walked up the path and up the steps. Cam paused, to wait for Fritz to open the door. He swung the door open, and she stepped inside, but he did not follow.
“The porter will arrive in a few minutes with your trunk. He’ll place it wherever you wish.”
“You’re not coming in?” Her heart constricted. She realized too late how forlorn her voice sounded.
He tipped his hat. “It would be improper, of course. I will see you tomorrow. In the meantime, I will send a box of food over from the general store.”
She should have hidden her disappointment but could not make her face conform to her wishes. “It is not yet noon.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you until tomorrow. I have matters to attend to. As I said, if you wish for a companion...”
“No. I told you I can manage on my own.” She sighed heavily, distraught at him leaving, and angry at herself for feeling so.
He hesitated a moment, searching her face. “Perhaps I will come in for a minute. I can get a fire started.”
She moved farther into the foyer, and he came in, not looking at her, but heading toward a doorway on their left.
“This is the sitting room,” he said over his shoulder without glancing at her.
“When will Mr. and Mrs. Hale be over
? Or, are we going to meet them?”
He gave her a quick glance as he knelt at the fireplace. “That is one of the matters I must attend to. I will ride over to their cabin as soon as I leave here.”
She nodded, although he was no longer looking at her and did not see. He had spoken to Cam of the Brokken ranch and had told her Deborah chose to live at the hunting cabin instead of the house at the ranch. Cam wished Fritz would invite her to join him on his visit to his sister’s, but he did not. And she understood. It would be a shock for the Hales to see her unannounced—not to mention what effect it might have on Sally Jane. No, she couldn’t go with him even if he asked.
The fire flamed up, and Fritz stood without glancing at her. “I will see to the stove also.”
“No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but as you have said, you have matters to attend to.” The sooner he spoke to Deborah and Chance, the sooner she could leave Brokken and get away from Fritz.
He finally looked in her direction although his eyes did not meet hers. “In that case, I will send someone over with the supplies. If you need anything else, please let the boy know.”
“Thank you, Fritz. For everything.” She had managed to gain a semblance of calmness.
He gave a short nod and headed for the front door, and she followed behind.
With his hand on the door handle, he threw her another quick glance. “As I said, I will be back tomorrow—I’ll send word to let you know when. My house is next door, on the left; the sheriff’s house is on the right. If you need anything at all, please let one of us know.” His voice was cool, contained, without emotion.
“I will.” The words had barely left her mouth before he was gone, pulling the door closed behind him, but not before a cool breeze had blown in, making her shiver.
Two long windows, with a mosaic design, flanked the door. She peered through the prismatic glass, although, as far as she was able to note, he did not look back but kept going, through the gate, and to the right, continuing down the road. She stayed at the window even though he had disappeared from sight. Cold crept into her, and her teeth chattered before she returned to the sitting room.