To Win Her Heart

  Eden gazed out over her field one more time, then turned to look up into her blacksmith’s face. “There’s just one thing I must do first, before I can completely let it go.” She tentatively touched Levi’s sleeve. “Come with me?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Awareness passed through Levi at the touch of Eden’s fingers upon his arm. Go with her? The earth would have to open beneath his feet to stop him.

  He nodded his answer, and a smile blossomed across her face with all the glory of a rainbow emerging after a storm. Such a remarkable woman. And one he wanted so badly to claim as his own.

  Stepping away from him, she bent to retrieve a small drawstring bag from the far edge of the rock where they’d been sitting. She clutched it lightly to her chest, then pointed to a trail that curved between two large oak trees.

  “We can go this way. It winds around to the north, up past the schoolhouse, where we’ll meet the road that leads back to town.”

  He held out his arm to her as she neared. She glanced at his face in silent question, then lowered her lashes against pinkening cheeks and slid her left hand into the crook of his arm. An unexpected surge of possessiveness stabbed through him as he matched his stride to hers. It felt so right, having her at his side—like she belonged there.

  As they passed between the two oaks that stood like natural posts to an invisible gate, an idea began to take shape in Levi’s mind. The trees were smaller than the one atop the hill, but the two little ladies were elegant in their own right. They grew too far apart for their branches to form a canopy. However, he could easily aid their efforts. Some scrolled ironwork, a decorative arch, botanic details fitting for a woman who loved flowers . . .

  “You should see this place once spring is fully upon us,” Eden said, breaking Levi’s train of thought. “Wildflowers cover this field like a rainbow touching the earth.”

  “Harvey told me you like to come here.”

  She smiled at him again, and Levi doubted any wildflower could match Eden in beauty.

  “So that’s how you knew where to find me.” Her eyes shone, still a little red around the edges from her tears, but happiness glowed in their depths now. Happiness he had a part in putting there. Happiness he hoped to keep there always. If she’d let him.

  “My father bought this property for me two years ago for my twenty-fifth birthday. See that clearing over there?” She pointed to a spot about a hundred yards to the south. “I’d like to build a house there someday. One with a big plate-glass window in the front so I can sip my tea and watch the flowers grow.”

  Eden leaned into his side as she stepped around a hole dug by a ground squirrel or some other burrowing creature, and Levi couldn’t help but picture himself behind that same window, moving up behind Eden to touch his lips to the sensitive skin along her neck.

  She’d smile and ask about his day. He’d wrap his arms around her and say that the best part of it was coming home. Then perhaps a little girl with reddish curls and moss-green eyes would run into the room, call him Daddy, and latch on to his leg. He’d swing her high into the air and laugh at her delighted squeals.

  “It wouldn’t be anything as grand as my father’s house in town,” Eden said. “Just a cozy little cabin where I could escape every now and again. I don’t think I could reside here all year. Not by myself, anyway. I’d be too nervous so far from town.”

  She cast a slow glance at him, and his heart hit his ribs like a sledge against the anvil. Was she hinting at something? Or just making conversation? Either way, he’d gladly volunteer to keep her company.

  Levi cleared his throat. “A cabin out here would be ni . . . um . . . inviting. A pretty location.”

  “I’ve always thought so.” Her focus shifted from his face back to the ground, but the shy smile that lingered on her lips did odd things to his insides.

  The path led them around Eden’s field and over the east side of Lone Oak Hill. Occasionally she would point out a place where a particular wildflower grew and tell him about it—what time of year it was most likely to bloom, its color and shape, whether or not it had a strong fragrance. She chattered about how she would carry her small flower press out to the fields several times during the year to search for the perfect blooms to cut and press for her collection.

  She continued to ramble on about her flowers as they walked, not minding that the conversation was markedly one-sided. He appreciated that about her. Since they’d started exchanging letters, she seemed less flustered by his limited speech. She didn’t look at him with disdain or patronize him by trying to finish his sentences for him as others were apt to do. She simply waited patiently for him to spit out his words, and that acceptance made communication much less burdensome.

  It was easy to imagine a life spent with this woman.

  They met up with the main road and before long came upon the schoolhouse. Eden veered toward it, releasing his arm to take the lead. Curious about her intent, Levi followed her into the yard, where the wind pushed a pair of vacant rope swings and an abandoned seesaw plank tilted over a log. The place looked somewhat eerie without the children playing there. It must have been devastating for her to wait, book on lap, for those same kids to pour into her library, only to have them never show up.

  Perhaps she felt the need to try to reason with the teacher, to explain about Chloe. Or maybe she felt compelled to express her displeasure over the matter. It would certainly be within her right to do so, though he had a hard time picturing her haranguing the schoolmarm. Especially since Eden seemed to have made peace with the situation.

  Instead of walking up the front steps, Eden skirted around the outside until she reached a small room protruding from the main building. Levi hung back as she climbed the three steps to the stoop and knocked on the door.

  A young woman answered. “Miss Spencer.” The name came out on a squeak, and a guilty flush stained the teacher’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I truly am. I tried to talk them out of their decision, but Mrs. Fowler is on the school board and she threatened my position if I didn’t abide by their wishes.”

  The flustered woman reached for Eden’s hand but then seemed to realize a pencil was still woven through her fingers. She fluttered about for a bit like a bird that couldn’t choose where to land, then stabbed the writing utensil through the thick knot of hair atop her head, leaving the end to protrude like a stiff Indian feather. Having freed her hands, she captured one of Eden’s between her palms.

  “I was told to inform the children that there would be no more trips to the library for stories, that we would spend the time in our McGuffey readers instead. None of the children were happy about it, I can tell you, but they knew better than to cross their parents.”

  “Please don’t fret, Miss Albright.” Eden gently extricated her hand only to place it comfortingly upon the teacher’s arm. “I don’t blame you for any of this. That’s not why I came.”

  “Then why are you here?” The woman darted a glance over to Levi, only now realizing Eden wasn’t alone. Her eyes widened. He smiled and put a finger to the brim of his hat, but she continued staring, as if she expected him to huff and puff and blow the schoolhouse down around her ears. He was tempted to pucker up just to see what she would do but restrained the impulse.

  Eden released Miss Albright’s arm to stretch open the top of her drawstring bag, and the movement successfully regained the teacher’s attention. “I came to bring you this.”

  A book. With a very familiar cover.

  “We were so close to the end,” Eden said, handing her copy of Black Beauty to Miss Albright. “I hate for the children to be left hanging. Would you read the remainder of the story to them sometime next week? I’ve marked our place with a scrap of ribbon.”

  Miss Albright moved slowly to accept the book, her eyes searching Eden’s face.

  But Eden’s smile remained fixed, giving no hint to the upheaval he knew must be going on inside her.

  “That is very kind o
f you, Miss Spencer. The children will be delighted, I’m sure.” Miss Albright lowered her gaze as she ran her hand over the illustrated cover.

  “We had also been discussing our next selection.” Eden bit her lip as if to stem her emotion. Levi took a step closer but stopped when she pasted her smile back into place as the teacher raised her head. “If you would like to continue to read to the children, I would be happy to loan you whichever books you would like.”

  “I . . . um . . .” Miss Albright dropped her chin.

  “If you don’t feel comfortable coming by the library, you can mention a title to me at church, and I’ll see you get it.” Eden hesitated. Miss Albright fiddled with the pencil stuck in her hair, her eyes still downcast. “Or you could send a message through Mrs. Cranford if that would be easier for you.”

  Finally the teacher looked Eden in the face. “Forgive me for being so timid, Miss Spencer. It’s just that I can’t afford to lose my position. With my father ailing, my family depends on the income I can send them.”

  “I understand. But the school board doesn’t disapprove of the books themselves, only the people whom one might come in contact with while at the library. So if we take the library out of the equation and work through Mrs. Cranford, they shouldn’t be inclined to raise any objections.”

  Miss Albright appeared to find her backbone, for she straightened her posture and gave Eden a sharp nod. “You’re right. The children shouldn’t be kept from being exposed to literature simply because their parents don’t approve of the person who dusts the shelves where it is kept. I’ll be looking for you in church, Miss Spencer.”

  Levi wanted to pump his fist toward the sky over the small but pivotal victory. Instead, he waited for Eden to bid Miss Albright a good day, then handed her down from the stoop, squeezing her fingers and sharing a smile with her as they headed back to town.

  There would be people who disparaged not only Eden’s decision to keep Chloe under her roof but her character, as well. Levi had no illusions in that regard. Yet as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, he vowed to do all he could to soften the sting of the coming barbs. A man protected his woman, after all. And Lord willing, one day Eden would be his.

  Later that evening, Eden sat at the desk in her bedroom, penning a letter to her father. As usual, she updated him on the local happenings—the latest Ladies Aid projects, town council issues, social news, and church activities. Taking pains to ensure her report didn’t read like a gossip column, she reiterated only the facts, allowing her father to draw his own conclusions.

  When she scraped the nib across the stationery to confess her part in the library scandal, her habit of keeping things factual helped her contain her emotions. In as rational a manner as possible, she outlined her reasons for encouraging Chloe to stay and the ramifications that followed. Her pulse fluttered as she concluded the telling.

  She’d always hated disappointing her father. When she’d been seven, she ruined his razor by using it to trim the rosebushes in her mother’s garden. The look he gave her when he found out nearly crushed her soul. No whipping was needed. Her torture was already complete. She never wanted to see that look on his face again. That’s probably why she stayed with Stephen so long, even when, deep down, she knew he didn’t love her. She’d rather have gone through with the wedding than disappoint her father. Thankfully, he’d saved her from herself—although, in the end, she’d still been a disappointment, at least according to her mother.

  Would Daddy approve of her choice to keep Chloe? Or would he be upset at the scandal it was causing? After all, it was his house, not hers, that was sheltering a young woman from the saloon.

  Eden took a deep breath and twisted in her chair to focus on the photograph of her parents in the frame beside her bed. Her father’s eyes sparkled as he gazed out over the room. Mother would be in a dither over this mess, for certain, but something told Eden her daddy would understand.

  Turning forward again, her mind drifted to another man who understood, whose stalwart support had comforted her in a way not even her father could match.

  Eden reached for another piece of paper and dipped her pen into the ink. She paused, letting the penholder lean against the side of the inkstand. Her feelings were new and a bit frightening as she considered leaving herself vulnerable to another possible heartbreak, but they’d grown too deep for her to ignore.

  Should she keep the news to herself and wait to see how things played out with Levi, or should she solicit her father’s blessing and advice?

  Levi appeared to be everything she wanted in a man. He was a man of faith, he loved literature, and rarest of all, he shared her views on violence and aggression. What man could be more perfect? A year ago, she would never have believed it possible, but she trusted him. Completely. And so far he’d lived up to all her expectations. When he’d held her today out at the field, her heart had recognized the truth—she was in love with Levi Grant.

  Swallowing the last of her uncertainty, Eden took hold of the pen and set it to paper.

  Daddy, I’ve met a man. . . .

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The following Tuesday evening, Levi sat sideways on his bed surrounded by balls of crumpled paper. He read over his latest attempt and moaned. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to find the wording that would allow him to reveal another part of his past without completely alienating the woman he loved. Closing his eyes, he banged the back of his head against the wall.

  In his last two letters, he managed to make his violent beginnings palatable by sugarcoating them in the innocence of childhood. And Eden had swallowed them. She’d written about her experience with the boys in her reading group and how she’d caught them reenacting a battle scene outside her home after story hour one afternoon. They’d been sword fighting as pirates until one boy’s stick missed. Instead of crossing with his opponent’s sword, it lashed the bigger boy across the face. Retaliation ensued until she’d been forced to send Harvey out to break up the scuffle.

  She’d gone on to reassure him that she thought no less of him for his childhood antics. What mattered to her was that he’d had the maturity and insight to grow out of those aggressive tendencies. Unlike other men.

  If only she knew.

  And therein lay the problem. If she knew the truth, chances were good she’d never again look at him the same way. She’d not run into his arms for comfort as she had in the field. She’d probably run in the opposite direction. Instead of seeing his strength as protection, she’d see it as a weapon. What if she came to fear him? He couldn’t bear that.

  Would it really be dishonest to withhold his past? Surely there were things about her that he didn’t know. Why reveal something that would only kill the feelings that were growing between them? What good would that accomplish? He could tell her later. After their love was secure and deep. After marriage bound her to him. Maybe after they’d had a child and fortified their ties.

  Coward.

  Levi winced. He was afraid to lose her. Afraid that choosing God’s way would mean forfeiting a life with the only woman he’d ever loved.

  Was this how Abraham felt when God asked him to sacrifice his son? Did his feet drag as he trudged up the mountain? Did his resolve weaken as he tightened the ropes on Isaac’s wrists? Did his hand shake as he raised the knife? Or was his trust in God so complete that fear had no hold on him?

  I want to trust you, like Abraham did. Give me the courage to step out in faith. A sense of certainty filled him, cutting through his fear to convict his heart. You are the God of truth, and if I am to be your follower, I, too, must walk in truth.

  Levi opened the oak lap desk he’d borrowed from Georgia Barnes and pulled out another sheet of stationery. Knowing what he had to do, he dipped his pen into the ink and set the nib to paper.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead as he wrote. A drop rolled into his eye, the salt stinging the inner corner. He rubbed at it with the tail of his shirt and immediately returned to writing.
As if his soul were purging, he poured himself onto the page. Telling her everything. About rejecting his family in favor of quick money and counterfeit respect. About the thrill he found in being the best, the strongest, the victor. About the man he unintentionally sent to meet his Maker with a mighty right jab. About being sentenced to two years in prison for involuntary manslaughter.

  That wasn’t all that flowed from his soul, however. He also wrote of how the horrors of the Huntsville labor camps humbled him. How he rediscovered his faith through the influence and teachings of a prison chaplain. How he rededicated his life to following God and made a vow never to raise a fist against another human being again.

  He made no excuses. But he did plead for understanding.

  Levi closed the letter by sharing with Eden the regret he felt over betraying his family. The lesson had nearly destroyed him, but he’d learned it well. He would never turn his back on a loved one again. Never.

  By the time he finished, night had dipped into the wee hours of morning. He set the six written pages aside and collapsed onto the length of the bed. He’d purged himself of the past. Only time would tell if he’d forfeited his future.

  Wednesday morning found Eden and Chloe sitting around the reading room desk, part of their new routine. During library hours, Verna tutored Chloe in the culinary arts and had the girl help her with the cleaning and household errands in order to avoid any unpleasant encounters with patrons. Although Eden had started wondering why they bothered. They hadn’t had a single visitor outside of Levi all week. But maybe with time things would return to normal. Meanwhile, Eden used the morning hours to instruct the girl in reading, writing, and sums.

  Chloe absorbed the lessons like the sand soaked up the tide—little by little. She loved to listen to stories but struggled to read them herself. Her spelling and penmanship . . . Well, they offered much opportunity for improvement. And the only way Eden could get her to do sums was to use a ledger and fill it with pretend wages from her imagined employment at the café. Having had little to no schooling in the past, learning did not come easily to Chloe, but she wanted so badly to improve herself that once she realized the practicality of a skill, she threw herself into the task with dogged determination.