скачать книгу бесплатно
“Your disappointment would be no less than I deserve.”
The widow’s smile came fully now. “Indeed.”
“So you are not angry with me?”
“I should be, but no.”
Best not to push the subject, Callie decided.
“Cook has several questions about the menu for Friday evening.” Callie moved casually through the room, running her fingers along a stack of books on the shelving to her left. “She seems to be confused as to how many guests will be attending. I told her twelve. She thought it was only ten.”
“Cook is right. You are wrong.” The widow wagged a finger at her. “And that was a wonderful attempt at distracting me, but it won’t work.”
“It was worth a try,” she muttered.
“You changed back into that ugly gray dress, and I want to know why.”
“It’s not ugly. It’s just—”
“Dismal, drab, dreary. All three apply equally.”
Yes, she supposed they did. “I was going to say respectable.”
“I thought I made myself clear.” Mrs. Singletary circled her again, clicking her tongue as she made a second, slower pass. “You were supposed to remain in the blue dress all day.”
“It needed several alterations.”
“Not even one.”
Callie pressed her lips together, but refrained from responding. What could she say, anyway? That she felt too pretty in the dress? That would only encourage the woman in her efforts to update her style.
“At the risk of being redundant, and I do so hate to be redundant, I will say it again. The way you dress reflects directly back on me.”
“I know, Mrs. Singletary. But my goal is to blend in with the crowd, not stand out.” She attempted a smile. “It would be unseemly of me to attract attention away from you.”
“That’s utter nonsense. With the right clothing and hairstyle you would, I think, be a great beauty, even more attractive than your sister.”
Callie felt panic gnawing at her, tearing at her composure. No one was more beautiful than Fanny. “Please don’t say such a thing.”
After the incident in Boston, Callie had made sure her sister outshone all others, including Callie. Especially Callie. She’d chosen Fanny’s dresses and steered her toward the proper hairstyles to set off her unusual amber eyes and doll-like features.
How she missed her sister. As the only two girls in a house full of brothers they’d grown up with a special bond between them. They’d had their share of arguments through the years, the majority following Fanny’s broken engagement. Nevertheless, Fanny was Callie’s favorite person in the world. She missed her so much she thought she might weep.
As if sensing her fragile state, Mrs. Singletary pulled Callie to a chair and urged her to sit with gentle pressure on her shoulders. “Why do you insist on playing down your assets?” Her gaze softened, her tone warmed. “When there are so many to highlight?”
“Scripture teaches us that we are not to focus on external adornment.” Callie lifted her chin. “The Lord doesn’t look at outward appearances but what is in our heart.”
Could she sound any more pompous, prudish and self-righteous? The moral high ground was a dangerous place for a woman like her...with her sordid past.
“I’ll not deny God doesn’t look at the things we humans look at. But Scripture also teaches that we are not to hide our light under a bushel. And, Callie, my dear, you are the very essence of light.”
Simon had said something similar to Callie when they’d first met at a theater production of As You Like It. His leading-man good looks and smooth, practiced words had turned her head. Only when it was too late had she discovered his declarations of love held no substance. He’d been playing a role with her, merely acting a part as he did on the stage.
As a result, she carried the shame of her foolishness with her every minute of every day. “There’s nothing special about me. I am a very ordinary woman.”
“Now that’s just false humility.” Mrs. Singletary all but stomped her foot in outrage. “You are anything but ordinary. I never want to hear you say such a thing again.”
Callie bristled.
Mrs. Singletary laid a gentle hand on Callie’s shoulder, her gaze holding her eyes with deep sincerity. “You are a beautiful child of God, never think otherwise.”
What a lovely thing to say. How she adored this woman. Mrs. Singletary had come into Callie’s life when she’d been at her lowest, when the three most important people in her life had left her without a backward glance.
She could have returned to her family’s ranch. But she couldn’t see herself there anymore.
She couldn’t see herself anywhere.
Where do I belong, Lord?
“Tell me, dear, why do you hide your true self from the world? What are you afraid of?”
If the widow knew what Callie had done, she would dismiss her on the spot. Mrs. Singletary may have a reputation for being unconventional in business matters. But she was an upright, faithful Christian woman who lived a blameless life. She would expect nothing less of her companion.
“I asked you a question.” The words were spoken as gently as if she was speaking to a hurting child.
She knew Mrs. Singletary meant well. The widow only wanted to help, but Callie hesitated still, fearful of relaxing her guard and thereby spilling the entire story.
Her foolishness was not something she wanted to revisit, ever. The gullible belief that she was the most important woman in a man’s eyes had nearly been her ruin. How foolish she’d been, falling for the famous actor’s ploy. But Simon had only wanted her as a temporary substitute, until he could marry the woman he truly loved.
“I dress this way because it is respectable.” Too late, an ugly voice in her head whispered. It is far too late to regain respectability now.
“What happened to you? What terrible trauma did you suffer that has made you afraid to embrace who you really are?”
“You...you wouldn’t understand.”
“You might be surprised.” The widow closed her hand over Callie’s. “I have my share of secrets and I’ve certainly made mistakes in my day. You’ll find no judgment from me, no condemnation. You can tell me anything.”
“I...I...wouldn’t know where to start.” That was certainly true. “It’s complicated.”
“Now I understand. The cause was a man.”
“Yes.” The cost of admitting that was so great tears welled in Callie’s eyes. She stiffened her spine, refusing to allow even one to fall.
“However he betrayed you—”
“I didn’t say he betrayed me.”
“You didn’t have to.”
As if sensing her distress, Lady Macbeth hopped on her lap. Callie hugged the animal close, burying her nose in the thick, silky fur.
In much the same way she would pet the cat, Mrs. Singletary ran a hand over Callie’s hair. “Whoever he was, he didn’t deserve you.”
Callie lifted her head, felt the burn of tears in her throat and dropped her face back to the cat’s neck.
“There is a man out there just for you,” the widow said. “He will love you and care for you. Even the most mundane details of your life will matter to him. He is out there, Callie, and I will find him for you. I promise.”
“No, Mrs. Singletary.” Callie’s voice hitched over the words. “Please, don’t try to match me with anyone. I—” Give her a reason. Any will do, even the truth. “I...I’m not ready.”
Crouching in front of her, the widow waited for her to look into her eyes. She studied Callie’s face longer than was comfortable, her eyes searching, boring in as if she could read the very secrets of her soul. “No, perhaps you aren’t ready,” she decided at last. “Not yet. But you will be soon.”
* * *
Reese went straight to his office after leaving Mrs. Singletary’s home and shut the door behind him. He needed privacy, craved it as badly as air.
He laid out the contracts on his mahogany desk and began reviewing the changes he’d scribbled along the margins. He lost himself in the process, managing to focus for several hours before his mind wandered back to his morning meeting across town.
What had he been thinking? Agreeing to allow Beatrix Singletary to help him find a suitable bride?
He blamed the weak moment on the melancholy he’d been unable to shake since his disastrous evening at the opera.
Now he was stuck.
If he cried off from their agreement at this point, Mrs. Singletary would only continue her quest without his assistance. He’d seen her do it before. Several times, in fact. She wouldn’t rest until she had him happily married off.
Reese wasn’t opposed to getting married again. But he’d already had his chance at happiness. It had slipped away like water through splayed fingers. A split second had been all it took. One unseen root in the ground and Miranda’s horse had gone down hard, landing on top of her after the initial tumble, crushing her delicate body.
Reese had spent the next three days at her bedside, holding her in his arms even as it tore at his heart to watch her life slip away one strangled breath at a time.
Shutting his eyes against the memory, Reese drew in a slow breath of air. He would never love again. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t know how to go at it half measure. He’d learned during his brief marriage to Miranda that he was a man who felt too much, gave too much, needed too much in return. Unspeakable pain accompanied such uninhibited emotion.
Thus, he would insist the widow keep to their agreement, and only suggest women who met his specific requirements.
With that in mind, he pulled out a fresh piece of paper and began constructing his list. He came up with seven items, the number of completion.
Fitting.
A familiar, rapid knock, knock, knock had him folding the list and setting it aside. “Enter.”
The door swung open and his father’s broad shoulders filled the gap. Other than the graying at the temples and the slightly leaner frame, it was like looking into a mirror and seeing himself twenty-five years from now.
As always, Reese Sr. got straight to the point. “I need to speak with you immediately.”
Unsure what he heard in the other man’s tone, Reese pushed away from his desk. “Of course.”
He started to rise.
His father stopped him with a hand in the air. “Don’t stand on my account.”
Reese settled back in his chair.
Face pinched, his father strode through the room, then flattened his palms on Reese’s desk and leaned forward. “I’m worried about you, son.”
“There’s no need to be.”
“You left the theater abruptly last night.” He searched Reese’s face. “I need to assure myself you are well.”
“I had contracts that required my final review.”
“That wasn’t the reason you left early.” Pushing back, the older man stood tall. “I haven’t seen that look on your face since...”
He hesitated, seeming to rethink what he’d been about to say.
“Since when?”
“Since Miranda’s accident.”
Reese’s stomach took a hard roll. They never spoke of Miranda, or the accident that had taken her away from him. Now, after last night at the opera, Reese couldn’t stop thinking of her, or how he’d sat at her bedside, willing her to stay alive, begging her to come back to him, praying for God to intervene.
She’d woken but briefly, said his name in a soft, wheezing whisper and then died in his arms.
She’d been eighteen years old. He the same age. They’d had only one month of happiness together. Thirty days.
Not enough.
And yet, far too much. He knew exactly what happiness looked like, felt like and, more important, how quickly it could be taken away.
“I don’t wish to speak of Miranda.”
“You can’t run from the past.”
He had every intention of trying. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me? Something important?”
“This is important.”
Reese said nothing.
His father came to stand next to him. “You need to get married again. I think it will help you.”
Was the man in collusion with Beatrix Singletary? Impossible. Though they were polite with one another on most occasions, the two rarely saw eye-to-eye on most subjects. “I attempted to marry again, but—”
“You chose the wrong girl.”
Although he’d come to realize that himself, his father’s quick response gave Reese pause. “I believed you liked Fanny. You’ve been friends with her parents for years. If I remember correctly, which I do, you said you would welcome a match between myself and Cyrus Mitchell’s daughter.”
“I meant the other one. There is substance to Callie Mitchell, something far more interesting than most see when they first meet her. I thought you agreed.”
His heart gave a few thick beats in his chest. Oh, Reese agreed there was much lurking beneath Callie’s sensible exterior—a wild, perhaps even passionate streak that, if unleashed, could possibly lead to a life of recklessness.
