Книга - The Engagement Charade

The Engagement Charade
Karen Kirst


A Temporary BetrothalPregnant widow Ellie Jameson is hiding a secret: her betrothal is a sham to keep her safe from her interfering in-laws. It’s simple friendship that prompts her reclusive boss to pose as her fiancé. But can Ellie keep her feelings for Alexander Copeland from developing into something more?When he moved to Gatlinburg after losing his wife and child, Alexander had one rule: stay out of other people’s lives. Easier said than done with the café owner’s eternally optimistic cook interrupting his enforced solitude. He only intended to protect Ellie, not propose to her. But with a little trust, and a helping of forgiveness, this temporary arrangement could be a recipe for lasting happiness…Smoky Mountain Matches: Dreams of home and family come true in the Smoky Mountains







A Temporary Betrothal

Pregnant widow Ellie Jameson is hiding a secret: her betrothal is a sham to keep her safe from her interfering in-laws. It’s simple friendship that prompts her reclusive boss to pose as her fiancé. But can Ellie keep her feelings for Alexander Copeland from developing into something more?

When he moved to Gatlinburg after losing his wife and child, Alexander had one rule: stay out of other people’s lives. Easier said than done with the café owner’s eternally optimistic cook interrupting his enforced solitude. He only intended to protect Ellie, not propose to her. But with a little trust, and a helping of forgiveness, this temporary arrangement could be a recipe for lasting happiness...


“Ellie, please don’t forget this is make-believe.”

“You’re assuming I want a husband,” she retorted. “And that I’m somehow lacking the ability to discern what’s real and what’s not.”

Alexander could never know how wonderful his attentiveness made her feel. Ellie liked being his fiancée. She liked being one half of a couple and the sense of belonging that imparted. And if she’d occasionally imagined what it would be like to be his wife, she’d quickly dismissed the notion. He was too afraid to risk his heart again, and she was too afraid to risk disappointing someone again. Failing at marriage had eaten away at her self-esteem. She wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

“I wanted to remind you. Just in case...”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tumble into love with you and hang on your heels like an affection-starved puppy dog.” Spinning on her heel, she stalked toward the door.


Dear Reader (#u9c11879c-af3e-5dd8-8298-8cd0a1c7ee53),

Thank you for choosing my book! I hope Alexander and Ellie’s story was an entertaining one. The Plum Café has been a long-standing feature in my Smoky Mountain Matches series, so it was a treat to write about the employees who spend the majority of their time there. Not much is known about our hero, Alexander, in the previous books. In trying to avoid dealing with his grief and loss, the former Texas rancher has cut himself off from everyone around him. Only a pregnant widow with an indomitable spirit could tempt him to start living again. I came to admire Ellie’s faith and optimism. And seeing how Alexander’s initial resistance transforms to first friendship and ultimately love was a thrill.

Next up is the final book in this series, one where the debonair deputy Ben MacGregor finally meets his match! For more information about my books, please visit my website, www.karenkirst.com (http://www.karenkirst.com). I’m also on Facebook and Twitter.

Blessings,

Karen Kirst


KAREN KIRST was born and raised in East Tennessee near the Great Smoky Mountains. She’s a lifelong lover of books, but it wasn’t until after college that she had the grand idea to write one herself. Now she divides her time between being a wife, homeschooling mom and romance writer. Her favorite pastimes are reading, visiting tearooms and watching romantic comedies.


The Engagement Charade

Karen Kirst






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.

—Psalms 139:13, 16


To my friend and lunch buddy Christy Barton, whose love of tea sparked a friendship.


Contents

Cover (#u6586902f-08e0-570d-b20f-3b916c21f1fa)

Back Cover Text (#ufad317cc-6b1f-5d4e-aa82-e0f5487e426d)

Introduction (#u29dc97aa-6f3d-5f0e-a90a-9a459db3f026)

Dear Reader (#u5d356f58-1ab7-559a-9133-a17287299757)

About the Author (#ubcd00444-414f-5dcd-af77-7828fb4d5779)

Title Page (#u9f5851a9-b102-5adc-9d53-7cc7ed6e3900)

Dedication (#u52734727-af00-520d-88c4-7e1e36079300)

Chapter One (#u06a7b484-06e8-585b-8375-37b110314eb7)

Chapter Two (#u96785602-962c-5877-a82a-f1d26c873a1f)

Chapter Three (#ua0f77f0a-f451-5c9b-bf12-c5f9f9858a1a)

Chapter Four (#u03c236ce-da5c-51d5-b4af-5accca70471a)

Chapter Five (#u62e349c0-5203-5f5e-896c-bf8f76fbaf8f)

Chapter Six (#u6476722b-e6b8-543f-bc23-ebc4d564b493)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

Gatlinburg, Tennessee

September 1887

Alexander Copeland’s one goal in life was to be left alone. Not an easy task for a café owner, but he’d managed just fine until Ellie Jameson entered his life uninvited. He hadn’t hired the new cook. She had been hired for him without his permission. And because of her skills in the kitchen, he wasn’t prepared to fire her. Yet.

If only the woman would accept that he didn’t wish to be involved in the daily operations. He didn’t care whether she was serving roast duck or chicken livers, boiled potatoes or sautéed squash, apple pie or pumpkin fritters. Nor did it matter if she embellished the menu board with dainty little chalk flower drawings and arranged late-summer bouquets in Mason jars to use as centerpieces. Nothing mattered save passing the hours until he could retire upstairs and shut out the world.

At 10:15 a.m., her succinct rap sounded on his office door. He could say this about her—she was punctual and persistent. Snapping the ledger closed, he sank against the leather chair and considered ignoring her.

“Mr. Copeland?” She knocked again, and the burning in his gut spread to his entire abdomen.

Stalking to the door, Alexander wrenched it open and leveled her with a formidable glare. “Must we do this again today, Mrs. Jameson?”

“I’m afraid we must.” The young widow—she couldn’t be more than twenty—smiled in the face of his annoyance. Not a tremulous, placating smile, but a sunny one that brightened her gamine features and made her coffee-brown eyes shine. “As the proprietor of the Plum Café, you should be informed as to what I’m serving your customers.”

“My other cook didn’t share your opinion. He did his job and left me out of it.”

“Perhaps that’s why this place earned the nickname the Rotten Plum,” she countered.

“Excuse me?”

Twin brows raised a notch. “You didn’t know?”

He winced. How could he? He made a point not to interact with the locals, and his employees were hardly going to tell him that to his face.

“No.”

Mrs. Jameson’s gaze lowered to where he cradled his midsection. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew.” She held a glass of frothy milk out to him. “Here you are.”

“I’ve already had my breakfast, Mrs. Jameson.” A bland one of lukewarm oatmeal, toast and weak tea, just as the doctor had prescribed.

“Please, call me Ellie,” she said, not for the first time. “Trust me, this will help soothe the fire in your belly.”

Pressing the cold glass into his hand, she slipped past him and, after crossing to the windows, proceeded to tie back the thick brocade draperies. Bright light filtered through the windowpane, dispelling the ever-present gloom and revealing multiple layers of dust coating the bookshelves along the right wall and the carved wood furniture crowding the room. The once-vibrant Oriental rug covering the plank floorboards had faded to dull reds and browns, and multiple threads had snapped and frayed.

“Might I remind you this is my office? If I’d wanted the draperies open, I would’ve opened them myself.”

She sneezed. “If you choose to ruin your eyesight, that’s your business. But I need light to see my list.” Pulling out a slim pad and pencil from her apron pocket, she perched on one of the chairs facing his desk, her posture straight and proper, and began to read through the menu items for today’s noon and supper meals.

Alexander remained in the doorway. Instead of attending her words, his mind wrestled with the puzzle before him. Few people in this quaint mountain town dared approach him. Since the day of his arrival, he’d discouraged interaction. He wasn’t interested in making friends. Most folks respected his wishes. Why couldn’t Ellie Jameson?

He contemplated the glass in his hand. This wasn’t the first time she’d tried to soothe his ailing stomach. It was as if she studied him for signs of discomfort. Was it some nurturing instinct that spurred her to ignore his unspoken but very clear desire to be left alone? He thought it very likely considering the circumstances of her employment. Several weeks ago, the same day his former cook quit, Alexander had suffered one of his worst episodes since developing an ulcer and had become an unwilling patient of Dr. Owens. Deputy Ben MacGregor and several others had taken it upon themselves to hold cooking auditions without his knowledge. They’d pinned the blue ribbon on Ellie Jameson.

He didn’t recall seeing her before she came to work here—not that he took the time to acquaint himself with his patrons. He’d overheard her tell his waitress, Sally, that she’d moved to Tennessee in May, only four months ago. Beyond that, he knew she was an excellent cook, a dependable and conscientious employee, and far too cheerful for his tastes.

While she continued her recitation, he took the time to study her.

Her hair, worn in a high, girlish ponytail, spilled over her shoulder in nondescript brown waves. Of medium height, she possessed an average, almost boyish build draped in unbecoming gray. Her dove-colored blouse was ill fitting and nearly worn through at the shoulders and elbows. Her skirt was of a darker, charcoal gray and several inches too long, so that the hem skimmed the toes of her old black boots. Her only piece of jewelry was a slim gold wedding band.

Alexander thought of his own ring, hidden in his dresser drawer upstairs. Wearing it would invite questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. He didn’t need to see it every day to be reminded of what he’d lost. Not lost, he thought bitterly. No, it had been ripped away from him.

She finished speaking, and her expectant gaze met his. “Does that sound agreeable?”

“Uh, sure. Yes, very agreeable.” He rubbed the stubble along his jaw. “Now, if that will be all, I’ve got work to do.”

Tilting her head to one side, she arched a single brow in a way that dispelled the illusion of youth. She clearly suspected he hadn’t heard one word. “It’s been a while since we’ve offered fish. Would you have time today to catch us some? I could fry it up tomorrow and serve it with corn bread, snap beans and coleslaw.”

She’d requested his input before, but nothing that required action. “You want me to go fishing?”

“I think folks will enjoy a fish fry, don’t you?”

He shrugged and, leaving the drink on his desk, wandered over to the window. Using his handkerchief, he rubbed clean a saucer-sized circle. The alley between his establishment and the post office didn’t see much foot traffic. The other building’s exterior log wall dominated much of the view. Above the roofline, a brilliant blue strip of sky was visible.

“It’s a gorgeous day,” she enthused. “There’s a consistent breeze that eases the sun’s heat and carries with it the remnants of summer. The humidity is low. Doesn’t feel like rain, either. I—”

“Fine. You’ll have your fish.”

At her silence, Alexander turned in hopes she’d quit the room. Instead, she’d abandoned her chair to take up position in the middle of his office, her person a study in grays and browns broken only by faint strokes of pink on the apple of her cheeks and a rosebud mouth that was, in its delicate perfection, her one intriguing feature.

Startled by the thought, he said in clipped tones, “We’re finished here, are we not?”

“Before I start on the noon meal, I’d like to show you something in the dining room.”

Emitting a resigned sigh, he gestured with an impatient flick of his fingers for her to lead the way. The sooner he listened to her concerns, the sooner he’d be rid of her.

* * *

To most folks, Alexander Copeland was an irascible recluse who couldn’t be bothered with his customers’ needs or wants. In the brief time Ellie had worked for him, she’d come to the conclusion that he was a hurting soul who desperately needed a friend. Someone to gently nudge him from the nest like a baby bird.

In the spacious dining room, she watched him pace restlessly from one window to the next, his remote blue gaze surveying the various aspects of Main Street. The café was currently closed for the two-hour break between breakfast and the noon meal, an opportune time to broach the subject of sprucing up the place.

He ceased his restless movements and directed his full attention to her. Despite his recent health problems, Alexander Copeland cut a commanding figure. Over six feet tall, he favored austere, formal clothing at odds with his tousled, collar-length raven hair and habit of shaving every third or fourth day. His features were classically handsome. His light blue eyes were ringed with darker blue and fringed with lush black lashes any girl would envy. Noting how his black vest shot through with silver threads over an ice-blue shirt complemented his coloring, she recalled the gauntness of his appearance upon his return from the doctor’s not so long ago. Sensitive to others’ suffering, she was grateful he was following his prescribed diet. While he could stand to gain a bit more weight, he was well on the way to complete recovery—physically, anyway. Whatever tormented his mind remained—that much was obvious.

“What is it that requires my personal attention?”

Arms stiff at his sides, he looked around the room, his gaze snagging on the back wall and the large blackboard where she’d written the day’s menu. Did he disapprove of her drawings? Or perhaps it was the Bible verse she’d included? According to her assistant, Flo Olufsen, Mr. Copeland hadn’t darkened the doorstep of the church since his arrival.

“It’s the curtains, sir.” Ellie indicated the maroon draperies that should’ve been replaced years ago. “They’re in bad shape, as are the tablecloths. Their appearance gives a poor impression of the state of the restaurant.”

There were twelve tables in total, all rectangular in shape. Four windows overlooked the street and two windows flanked the fireplace on the alley side. Alexander inspected the cloth on the table closest to him. When his finger pierced the worn material and opened up a hole, his face puckered in bewilderment. Ellie couldn’t squelch a giggle.

He straightened immediately, his mouth tightening.

Feeling chastened without him ever speaking a word, Ellie hurried to cover the gaffe. “I was thinking we should choose material of a lighter, neutral hue that would brighten the room,” she said. “Nothing too feminine, of course. And it would have to be sturdy. You won’t want to be replacing them every year.”

“You’ve given this a great deal of thought.”

“I want the Plum to be a place where folks feel comfortable. Somewhere they can be assured of a fresh, hot meal in an inviting environment.”

He skimmed his fingers along the mantel and inspected them. “Are you responsible for the cinder-free fireplaces?”

Thrown by the question, she said, “Sally and I did the work while you were indisposed.”

“It was your idea, though.”

“Yes.”

“And the windows? You scrubbed them, as well.”

“We did, yes.”

Folding his hands behind his back, he rocked on his heels. “For a new employee, you’re awfully committed to the success of my café. Neither Sally nor Flo, whom you might say I inherited from the former owner, have shown a thimbleful of the initiative you have. While I appreciate your commitment to excellence, I have to wonder at your motivation.”

His gaze probed hers and, for a wild moment, Ellie wondered if he might’ve guessed her secret. But that was silly. No one else in the entire world knew about the precious baby she carried.

“I need the work,” she stated baldly. “I happen to enjoy cooking for people. It’s a rare occurrence to find a paid position doing what you love. I’d like to keep it.”

“You’re a recent widow, I understand. My condolences.”

Ellie stammered out something unintelligible, her tongue suddenly tied. It was his first mention of her loss. She’d gotten the impression he expected her to burst into tears if he broached the subject. He’d be wrong.

Her marriage to Nolan Jameson had been fraught with difficulty and failed to be the loving union she’d hoped for. She had mourned his sudden passing but rejoiced at this unforeseen chance to finally be a mother, to have a child of her own to raise. Her last two pregnancies had ended in tragedy. She’d beseeched God morning, noon and night on behalf of this baby, praying this time would be different.

“Tell me, do you have someone in mind for the changes you’ve mentioned?”

“I’m a decent seamstress. I’d be happy to do it.”

His dark brows lifted. “Will you have time?”

Ellie’s days were long and arduous. Six days a week, she woke before dawn in order to be at the café by five to start breakfast. The morning serving hours were from seven to ten. After a brief coffee break, she and Flo prepared the noon meal, available between the hours of noon and two. The afternoon break was longer, as supper didn’t begin until six o’clock. By closing time at nine, her energy was at its lowest point.

“I’ll make time,” she told him. “I can utilize my afternoons. Flo may be willing to take over the desserts for a week.”

“I’m not sure the customers will thank me for that.” He shot her a dry look. “Very well. I’ll inform Mr. Darling to expect you at the mercantile. Put the supplies on my account.”

“Don’t you want to approve the fabric choice?”

“I trust your judgment.” He made to walk past her and paused. “I’ll pay you extra wages, of course. Expect it with your next earnings.”

Overjoyed, for she would need yarn and thread to crochet blankets, and fabric to sew clothes for the baby, Ellie seized his hand and cradled it between hers. “Thank you, sir. You’re a godsend. First the cooking position, which I relish, and now this...” Her throat grew thick. “You can’t know what a blessing you’ve been to me.”

The roughness of his palm registered, as did the nicks and fine scars across the top expanse. She’d expected the slippery smoothness of a businessman’s hands. Without thinking, she traced the faded pink lines intersecting his skin. “You hurt yourself,” she murmured.

Alexander’s lips parted. Then his jaw hardened to stone. Yanking free, he glowered at her like a bear whose honey supply had been disturbed.

“It’s an old wound,” he gritted out.

Cheeks stinging, she sucked in air as an alarming bout of nausea assailed her. She knew how standoffish he was. This was one of the longest conversations they’d shared. He barely tolerated her presence, and here she’d been caressing his skin. How could she have been so forward?

“I apologize. I—I didn’t mean to...” Act with an absolute lack of professionalism? Make them both uncomfortable?

“It’s already forgotten.”

Striding from the room, his steps continued past the office and storage room and into the kitchen. The rear door slammed. Cringing, her stomach revolted and, hurrying to reach an empty pitcher on the hutch, she thanked the Lord no one was around to witness her humiliation—most of all, Alexander Copeland.


Chapter Two

He’d nearly come undone at an innocent display of gratitude. His overreaction had caused the young widow a great deal of embarrassment. Her pained expression had remained with him throughout the day, despite his best efforts to put it from his mind. Hiking through the forest at a brisk pace hadn’t done the trick; nor had sitting on the riverbank waiting in vain for the fish to bite. Alexander was convinced his brother and sister wouldn’t recognize him either by his appearance or his actions.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he passed the almost indiscernible outlines of the vegetable garden and modest barn behind the café. He met Flo Olufsen on the kitchen stoop. The jolly sixty-year-old had come with the purchase of the café. A jill-of-all-trades, Flo’s tasks varied from day to day depending on what Ellie required of her. While she didn’t pester him, she didn’t spare him from her dry wit.

A circle of light spilled from her lantern. Frizzed corkscrew curls sprouted in all directions, faded strawberry mixed with gray, and her carpet-like eyebrows rested above twinkling blue eyes.

“Evening, boss.” She grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. “The kitchen’s tidied and ready for another day of business tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Good night.”

His fingers had closed over the knob when her voice stopped him. “Oh, you should know Ellie’s asleep at the table. Poor thing’s all tuckered out. Said she was going to rest for but a minute before heading home. Next thing I knew she was sound asleep.”

Alexander stared. “Why didn’t you wake her?”

“I saw you coming along the trail. My Eugene is waiting for me. He gets out of sorts if I’m too late getting home.” Waggling her fingers in the air, she bustled around the corner and disappeared into the alleyway.

Wonderful.

His steps measured, he entered the darkened kitchen. Spanning the entire width of the building, the room was divided by a natural walkway to the hallway smack in the middle of the far wall. The cooking was accomplished on a pair of cast-iron stoves to his right. A square table was situated nearby for food preparation. Opposite the stoves, a waist-high counter affixed to the wall held a dry sink, carving and bread knives, spoons and other utensils. An ice cabinet sat beneath the alley window. On the left side, stairs tucked against the wall led to his living quarters. Beyond that, another, larger table was situated before a pie safe and floor-to-ceiling shelving holding cooking and serving dishes. It was at that table where he discovered his cook.

Slumped over the surface, her face was hidden in the crook of her elbow. A single wall lamp flickered beside the hallway entrance. Her dark hair spilled in an unruly waterfall over her shoulder. Her even breathing suggested she was in the throes of sleep.

Alexander propped his fishing pole against the table.

“Mrs. Jameson?”

No response.

Frowning, he propped one hand on the chair and bent closer. “Ellie? It’s time to go home.”

Making a protesting warble in her throat, she turned her head so that he was afforded a view of her milk-white cheek and pert nose. She looked extremely fragile to him in that moment, nothing like her usual energetic, upbeat self. Annoyance flared. He wasn’t supposed to be making personal observations about his hired staff.

Giving her shoulder a firm shake, he repeated her name once more.

“Hmm?” Slowly sitting up, she stretched like a cat after a nap in the sun. Her vision must have cleared, for she appeared startled at the sight of him. “Oh! Alexander... I—I mean, Mr. Copeland.” Glancing about her, she passed a hand over her face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was more tired than usual.”

Watching her gain her feet, Alexander wondered if he was working her too hard. He experienced a pang of guilt. While he was the proprietor and could do as he saw fit, it went against his upbringing to allow others to shoulder the majority of the hard labor while he sat behind a desk balancing ledgers. The state of affairs hadn’t bothered him before she’d come around. But then his previous cook had been a stout, gruff man in his late forties who could shoulder fifty-pound sacks of flour without breaking a sweat.

Ellie pushed her chair in, took one step toward the door and swayed on her feet. Alexander caught her around the waist. Her palms found his chest to balance against. Her mouth slack, her big doe eyes blinked up at him.

“I’m sorry. I got a tad light-headed.”

The scent of vanilla surrounded him like a warm hug. “Can you stand on your own?”

She nodded. Her hands fell away, and he released her.

“I’m fine,” she said, smoothing her hands along her skirt. Then she gasped. “What time is it?”

“A quarter until ten.”

“I have to hurry.” Brushing past him, she selected a kerosene lamp from an upper shelf and quickly lit it. “My in-laws aren’t thrilled about my working. They’ll pitch a fit if I come home late.”

Alexander realized he had no idea where she lived. “How far is it?”

“About a twenty-minute walk,” she said matter-of-factly.

He hid his consternation. In a bustling city with lots of people around and gas streetlamps, that might not be a problem. In mountainous, sparsely populated terrain, a single woman walking alone at night courted trouble.

“Do you have a horse? Or mule?”

She opened the door, giving him a glimpse of the star-studded navy sky. “No. I don’t mind walking, though. Helps clear my head.”

No wonder she was exhausted. Walking that distance after a good night’s sleep wouldn’t be a burden. However, after a full day of slaving over a hot stove, her feet had to be sore and her body begging for rest.

“I’ll take you.”

She twirled the reticule dangling from her wrist in endless circles. “I don’t want to trouble you. I’m accustomed to walking.”

“No trouble.” Waving her onto the stoop, he locked the door behind him. The cooler air hinted that autumn was around the corner. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He had the team hitched and ready in a matter of minutes. Once Ellie was settled on the high seat, he climbed aboard and listened to her instructions. They rode along the back lane past darkened businesses. His passenger fell silent. Considering her typically chatty nature, Alexander attributed it to fatigue.

Glancing at her profile, he noted the weary slump of her shoulders and the tight clasp of her hands in her lap. He’d bent the truth a bit. Giving her a ride home was inconvenient and awkward. Outside of the café, he hadn’t been alone with a woman since before leaving Texas. In fact, he’d had limited interaction with anyone. Alexander had always been one to enjoy his own company, but his hermit-like existence would shock his brother and sister.

Grimacing, he absently rubbed his midsection. What had stirred these thoughts of Thomas and Margaret? Nothing good could come of dwelling on everything he was missing.

“Are you in pain?”

“What?”

She pointed to his middle. “You do that a lot.”

Resting his forearm on his thigh, he shook his head. “Force of habit.”

“How long have you suffered stomach troubles?”

Since my wife and son were murdered.

Curling his fingers into a fist, he said aloud, “A couple of years.”

“That must be difficult.”

“My flare-ups happen when I’m not careful with my diet. Or when I go long stretches without sleeping.” He clamped his lips shut. Why had he told her that?

Thankfully, she didn’t pepper him with questions, and his tension ebbed. The clop of the horses’ hooves competed with whirring wheels. When the distant yowl of coyotes echoed through the mountains, she didn’t react.

“I had a great-aunt who suffered from ulcers. She was adamant that cabbage juice was the only true remedy.”

Stifling his curiosity about her background, he kept his focus on the dark lane as they entered a thick-growth cove. The avenue was barely passable. More than once, his black bowler was nearly lost to overhanging branches. She apologized.

“Howard, my father-in-law, has been promising to trim this for weeks. As you’ve surely heard, the list of farm chores is endless.”

Images of his family’s vast ranch surged unbidden in his mind. Farm or ranch, living off the land took energy, determination and raw grit. Homesickness rose up so fast he felt robbed of breath. What he wouldn’t give to see those rolling green pastures dotted with cattle, the ranch house and stables framed by boundless cerulean skies. And his siblings... His throat became clogged with emotion as he imagined how they’d changed. They exchanged letters every now and then, but it wasn’t the same as seeing them in person.

Memories of the fire that had stolen his home and his wife and child threatened, and, in order to stave them off, he sought conversation he normally wouldn’t have.

“I heard you arrived in the area in May. Where are you from?”

If she was startled by his interest, she didn’t show it. “Originally Lexington, Kentucky. Beautiful country. My parents died when I was ten, so I went to live with my grandparents in a different part of the state. Their farm abutted the Jamesons’ property. That’s how I met Nolan. My husband.”

Like him, she was no stranger to loss. “My mother died giving birth to my youngest sister,” he said. “I was eight.”

“I’m sorry. Is your father still alive?”

“His heart gave out on him the year I turned twenty.”

Lionel Copeland had seemingly enjoyed good health. His death had blindsided everyone. Thomas and Margaret, their cook and mother-figure Rosa and even the ranch hands had turned to Alexander for reassurance that their way of life would continue as it always had. While it had been an immense burden for one so young, he’d embraced his duty without complaint.

“Loss like that stays with you, doesn’t it?” she sighed. “The normal days are hard enough, but the momentous occasions are worse. Those are the days you really grieve their absence.”

Again his thoughts turned to a painful place. His wedding day had taken place four years after his father’s passing, and yet he’d craved his steadfast presence. He would’ve given anything for his father to have had the opportunity to meet Sarah. Then there was the day Levi was born...

He must’ve gasped aloud, because Ellie angled toward him. “Is something wrong? Are you hurting?”

Alexander glanced into her liquid brown gaze. The wagon lanterns swinging from their hooks had light patterns playing across her face. He felt suddenly like a man who’d been encased in ice, his mind and body numb, and now the ice was thawing and he was beginning to sense every pinprick of discomfort. He gritted his teeth. I’m not ready. I can’t relive the nightmare. Not yet.

“I’m perfectly well, thank you,” he told her in stilted tones.

With a skill born of practice, he locked away his past and concentrated on his surroundings, soaking in details he could transfer to paper later. He’d taken to sketching in his free time, mostly nature scenes and animals. He didn’t possess natural talent, but his work no longer resembled a child’s scribbles.

Unfortunately, Ellie did not sense his need for retreat.

“Nolan was excited about this move. Everyone was, including me. I had hoped it would provide us with a fresh start. We couldn’t have known what lay ahead.” Her voice hitched, and she cleared her throat. “The men started on Howard and Gladys’s cabin first. Nadine, Nolan’s sister, was insistent that she and her husband, Ralph, would have theirs built next. Within a month, they had both cabins finished. And then they started on ours. They were felling trees one drizzly June day, and Nolan was standing in the wrong spot. I wasn’t there... I didn’t see what happened. I was dressing a rabbit for stew I’d planned to serve that evening.”

Up ahead, lights shone in the windows of two dwellings situated on opposite sides of a stamp-sized yard. Relief coursed through him. He hadn’t asked to travel memory lane with her. Getting sucked into other people’s problems was a sure way to lose his hard-won control. Living their pain brought his own rushing to the surface.

As he guided the team to a stop, she didn’t seem to notice his lack of response. She appeared to brace herself as the door on their left banged open and an older couple already in their nightclothes emerged onto the porch. The gray-headed man with square features sported a rifle.

“Do you have any notion what time it is?”

The woman Alexander assumed was Ellie’s mother-in-law studied him with ill-concealed malice. Probably in her early-to midsixties, she was tall for a woman and big boned. Her dark hair hung to her waist and was striped with wide swaths of silver.

Ellie hurried to disembark. “I apologize, Gladys. I accidentally dozed off after my shift.”

“You know not to bring strange men here.” The man balanced his weapon against his hip.

“This is my boss.” Ellie’s voice was low and strained. “I’ve told you about him.” Not looking at Alexander, she waved her hand between them. “Alexander Copeland, meet my in-laws, Howard and Gladys Jameson.”

He touched his hat brim. “I’m sorry for the disturbance.”

Shooting him a baleful look, Gladys gestured behind her. “Get inside, Ellie.”

Even in the darkness, Alexander could sense her resistance.

“It’s late,” Ellie hedged. Motioning to the other cabin, she said, “I’d like to go to bed. How about we talk tomorrow?”

“We’ll talk now.”

Spinning on her heel, the older woman stalked inside, holding the door ajar. Howard reeked of suspicion.

Something inside Alexander demanded he seize his employee and take her back to town.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Copeland.” Her reticule balled in her hand, she started to follow her mother-in-law.

“Ellie.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes?”

“Do you have need of anything more?” Will you be all right?

She hesitated. “No, sir.”

She continued inside the cabin. Howard joined them, shutting the door firmly without a word of goodbye. As he set the team in motion, he was startled at the sight of a man on the other cabin’s porch. Shrouded in shadows, he didn’t nod or wave, and his intent gaze followed Alexander’s progress. Must be the brother-in-law she’d mentioned. Apparently, these Kentucky natives weren’t keen on visitors.

Beyond the cabins, a crude shelter housed several horses. Ellie had indicated she didn’t have a mode of transportation. He realized it was more a case of not being allowed to make use of it.

The situation hauled him back years to another young woman who’d been bullied by her father and his twisted crony, Cyrus Pollard. He’d rescued Sarah from both men by marrying her, but there’d been consequences. If Ellie needed help, she had resources, men like the sheriff or Deputy Ben MacGregor. Alexander wasn’t about to get involved.

* * *

“Are you lookin’ to sink your hooks into that highfalutin businessman?”

Gladys had spun to face her, her hair in disarray and her bloodshot eyes shooting accusations. Harold remained by the door. Ellie felt hemmed in.

Shock ate at the bone-deep weariness weighing her down. She yearned for her bed. “Certainly not. I’m not in the market for a new husband.”

“You don’t behave like a woman who’s in deep mourning,” Gladys spit. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re relieved my Nolan’s dead and gone. You act as if four years of marriage meant nothing to you.”

“That’s not the case, Gladys. I’m as sorry about what happened to him as you are.”

Guilt wormed through her defenses. Of course she hadn’t wanted any harm to befall Nolan. Whatever his faults, he’d been a faithful husband, a hard worker who provided for her needs. Her physical ones, anyway. She’d never had to worry about a roof over her head or enough food and clothing.

But part of what she’s saying lines up with the sense of freedom you feel, doesn’t it?

Not long after the wedding, Nolan began displaying a troubling side to his personality. He’d become suspicious and controlling and had doubted her commitment to him and their marriage. He’d forbidden her to socialize with her friends and had limited her outings to church services and the occasional trip to the mercantile—always in the company of him or one of his family members. The isolation had chafed. She’d battled loneliness and had turned to God for comfort and strength.

If only Nolan had kept his misgivings to himself, she might’ve received support from her in-laws. But he’d complained to them to the point they’d become hostile. The youngest child, Nolan had almost died at the age of three. Because of this brush with tragedy, his parents and older sister had cossetted him. They thought he hung the moon and stars and refused to attempt to see Ellie’s side of things. Their treatment of her had grown more antagonistic since Nolan’s passing, and she worried for her child’s quality of life in such an environment.

“If you loved my son, if you respect us at all, you’ll give up your position.” Grief made the lines in Gladys’s visage more pronounced.

“I did love Nolan.” Maybe not in the way God intended for a wife to love her husband, but she’d loved him as a fellow human being. She’d wanted good for him. Had tried to please and honor him. “And I can’t express how grateful I am to you for providing me with a home. However, I can’t do what you’re suggesting. I enjoy cooking. I haven’t done much of that since we got here. More than that, I need the income.”

“For what? We feed you. Clothe you. We need you doing chores around here. Poor Nadine is working her fingers to the bone.”

The stench of Howard’s cigars permeating the room made Ellie’s stomach churn. “She wasn’t complaining when I paid her my portion for room and board. She’s bought enough fabric for three Sunday dresses since I started work.”

Gladys shot forward and gripped Ellie’s forearm so hard she yelped. “Don’t you sass me, girl. My Nolan may be gone, but that doesn’t give you the right to disrespect us. This is our home you’re standing in, don’t forget.”

How could she? The Jamesons hadn’t welcomed her into their fold. They’d treated her like an outsider from the start. “You’re hurting me.”

Howard finally spoke. “It’s late.”

He moved to stand beside his wife. Tall and muscled from years of physical labor, his craggy features were so like Nolan’s it made her chest twinge with sorrow. She wished she’d been better at making her husband happy. She wished they’d had a stronger marriage.

“We can discuss this tomorrow morning.”

Uttering a huff of disgust, Gladys released her and trudged off to bed. Ellie didn’t waste time making her escape. “Good night, Howard.”

Outside in the inky-black night, she breathed in fresh air tinged with scents of earth and pine and lightly rubbed the sore spot on her arm. She gazed at the star-studded heavens. You hung those stars, God. You placed the planets in the sky. My problems seem mighty to me, but to You they’re easily managed. Lead me, Father. Give me wisdom.

She put a protective hand over her stomach and felt a rush of joy tempered with uncertainty. Please God, I beg You, let me keep this one. My husband is lost to me. The other babies are in the arms of Jesus. I want this child with every fiber of my being. I promise to love him or her and teach them to love You.

“Ellie.”

She jumped. “Ralph! I didn’t know you were out here.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Is there something you needed?”

Quiet, gentle-giant Ralph Michaels had been a surprising ally. While he didn’t possess the backbone to go against his wife and mother-in-law, he’d provided subtle support, especially since Nolan’s passing.

The lack of a lantern made it difficult to make out his expression. “I know your secret.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Was he referring to her desire to find a place of her own? Couldn’t be. She hadn’t voiced that to anyone, which meant...

“You know about the baby?”

“I saw you being sick the other morning out behind the barn, and again the other night.”

Pressing her hands to her throat, she pleaded, “I beg you to keep this between us. I’m not ready to tell Nadine or Gladys.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“Then why...”

“You should leave this cove.” His eyes gleamed with purpose. “I love my wife. I’m aware of her faults, however. Never could figure why she and Gladys treated you the way they did.”

“I wasn’t good enough for Nolan. I failed to make him happy.”

“They worshipped him,” he agreed. “I’m afraid of what they’ll do once they learn you’re carrying his child.”

Apprehension coiled tight. What if they tried to turn her own child against her? If she hadn’t been good enough for Nolan, she certainly wouldn’t be a satisfactory mother for his child. The fact that Nadine had never been able to conceive added an extra layer of worry.

His fingers brushed her upper arm. “Do you have enough money saved for a place of your own?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t spent any besides the portion I’ve been giving Nadine.”

“You should make inquiries in town,” Ralph said softly.

Her mind spinning, she agreed. “I think you’re right.”

She’d been toying with the idea for months—now it seemed she had to put thoughts into action. Ellie would go to any lengths to protect her child.


Chapter Three

Ellie was patting out the biscuit dough the next morning when Alexander descended the stairs earlier than usual. Her pressing problem was momentarily forgotten as embarrassment stung her cheeks. She could only imagine what he thought about her tactless in-laws.

“Good mornin’, boss.” Flo cracked another egg into the bowl of flapjack batter. “Would you like breakfast?”

He stopped on the bottom tread, his inscrutable blue gaze locked onto Ellie. “I already ate.”

Shrugging, Flo went back to cracking eggs.

Alexander was in the habit of fixing his own breakfast in his apartment. No doubt he stuck to bland foods like oatmeal or scrambled eggs with toast. She wasn’t sure what he’d done for lunch and supper before she came, but since the day he’d returned from the doctor, she’d prepared special dishes that wouldn’t aggravate his stomach. He ate them alone in his office, a sad state of affairs in her opinion. Not that what she thought would make a difference to him.

As usual, his formal attire accentuated his natural reserve. Clad almost completely in mourning colors—midnight-black vest, pressed black trousers and polished, round-tipped shoes—a bottle-green dress shirt provided welcome color. His clothing fit his whipcord-lean frame to perfection. His glossy raven locks were combed off his forehead, the ends curling around his collar. He’d shaved today. Ellie admired the clean planes of his handsome face before jerking her gaze back to the biscuits.

I’m happy his health seems much improved, that’s all, she assured herself.

His footsteps didn’t carry him to the hallway, as expected. Instead, he approached the table near the stoves where she worked.

“Mrs. Jameson.”

She frowned, wondering exactly when she’d come to dislike being called that. “It’s Ellie,” she countered. “You call Flo and Sally by their first names. Why do you refuse to use mine? Did you have a schoolmate named Ellie when you were young? A girl who teased you unmercifully? Or an old, crotchety aunt named Ellie who pinched your cheek too hard and made you eat beets?”

Flo’s chuckling filled the sudden silence. Alexander looked taken aback. “You’re the first Ellie I’ve encountered.”

“Then may we cease with the formality?”

“Ellie, I’m going into my office now.”

“Can I get you a glass of milk? Or chamomile tea?”

“No milk. No tea. No weak coffee. Under no circumstance do I wish to be disturbed today. I do not want to hear the day’s menu or be consulted about decorations. Is that clear, Ellie?”

Irritated, she slapped the dough with more force than necessary. Flour puffed about her fingers. Why must he be so determined to resist her attempts at friendship? “Perfectly clear, sir.”

“Good.” Turning on his heel, he stalked toward the hallway.

“Oh, Mr. Copeland?”

Shoulders tensing, he twisted around, one haughty brow lifted in impatience. “Yes?”

“Does fire warrant your attention?”

“Excuse me?”

“Fire. Do you wish to be told if there’s a fire?”

Flo ceased stirring the batter, humor touching her fleshy features.

Alexander opened his mouth to speak.

Ellie cut him off. “What about a robbery? Would you like to be informed of such an event? Or an altercation between customers?”

He tilted his head to one side, an errant lock of hair sliding into his eyes. “Did you skip breakfast?”

Her fist slipped from her hip. “Sir?”

“I’ve noticed you have a tendency to lose your equanimity when you skip a meal.” He made a circling motion to indicate their workspaces. “Perhaps you should eat something.”

He quit the room, his office door closing with a decided click.

Flo’s chuckles brought Ellie out of her stupor.

“What just happened?” Ellie spread her hands wide.

“Our boss revealed he’s not as oblivious to goings-on as we thought.” She winked. “He’s right, you know. You do get tetchy when you’re hungry.”

“Humph.”

Ellie tried not to take her frustration out on the dough. Her customers wouldn’t be satisfied with biscuits as hard as river boulders. She contemplated the puzzling exchange all while bustling about the kitchen. Part of her was inexplicably pleased that he’d paid enough attention to notice something as personal as her moods. The other part quailed at the prospect. What else had he concluded but hadn’t voiced? Could he have added her extreme fatigue and frayed emotions together to equal her current condition?

She wasn’t sure why the thought of his knowing unsettled her. Pregnancy was a sensitive time for a woman, especially one without a husband. Alexander was her boss. Not only that—he’d created an emotional barrier between himself and his employees. He was neither amiable nor approachable. Alexander Copeland was not a man to invite confidences. Hard and aloof, he didn’t possess finer feelings. Why, he probably had never even courted a lady!

By the time ten o’clock rolled around, Ellie was eager to embark on her mission to find lodgings. Ralph’s warnings resurfaced, dislodging her consternation over Alexander. She had more important matters to attend to, like securing a future for herself and her baby.

After explaining her intentions to Flo, who readily agreed to start on the potato gratin that would accompany the roast at the noon meal, Ellie went to inspect the room for rent at the post office. The owner of the building, Lyle Matthews, was a pleasant man who’d likely be a good landlord. However, the room was narrow and musty and the weekly fee far beyond her means. She thanked him for his time and, disappointed but trusting God would provide for her needs, hurried across the street to the mercantile to pick out material for the café.

The proprietor and his wife, Quinn and Nicole Darling, were exceptionally helpful. No matter how busy, the couple remained patient and kind and treated each of their customers with respect. Today, Nicole laid out bolts of fabric for Ellie to peruse. She came close to choosing a ridiculous lime-green cotton printed with pink birds simply to irk Alexander. She reined in the impulse and, for the curtains, chose a sensible, soft yellow that would lend cheer to the space. The tablecloths would be white with matching yellow overlay. With her purchases recorded in Quinn’s ledger, she was on her way out the main entrance when a board of announcements caught her eye.

The papers consisted mostly of ads for prized bulls and assorted livestock, farm equipment and workers. Her hope had fizzled by the time she read the last one.

“Excuse me, miss.”

Ellie scooted out of the way as a heavyset farmer removed an ad for a rabbit hutch and, with a nod, ambled down the aisle. She looked at the board again and realized a second paper had been hidden by the one he’d taken. As she peered closer at the wrinkled note, her heart leaped with excitement. She ripped it from the nail and hurried onto the boardwalk.

After leaving her purchases at the café, Ellie walked to Mrs. Calvin Trentham’s house. Located near the church, the white clapboard house boasted a shingled roof and black shutters. Late-summer flowers provided bursts of violet, orange and green along the foundation. Thick groves of deciduous trees dominated the landscape and gave way to the steep, forested mountainside a couple of acres behind the house.

Ellie’s chest grew tight. The farmhouse was very similar to her grandparents’, the last place she’d felt completely safe and free to be herself. She squared her shoulders and knocked lightly on the door. Her summons was answered by a diminutive woman with gray coronet braids and periwinkle-blue eyes set in a thin face.

“May I help you?”

“Good morning, I’m looking for Mrs. Trentham?”

“That’s me.”

“My name is Ellie Jameson. I saw your note at the mercantile. Do you still have a room to let?”

Blinking in surprise, the woman chuckled. “I posted that months ago. When I didn’t get any takers, I figured Mr. Darling had tossed it in the waste bin.” Waving Ellie inside, she closed the door and gestured toward a room to their left. “Would you care for coffee?”

Clutching her reticule in her hands, she shook her head, her ponytail tickling her neck. The scents of cinnamon, nutmeg and yeasty bread clung to the air, putting her in mind of cinnamon rolls. Her stomach rumbled. If she wasn’t queasy, she was starving. There was no in between.

“No, thank you. I can’t linger. I work at the Plum, and I’m needed back to help with the noon meal.”

“I patronized the place years ago. Hated to see Mrs. Greene leave.” She nodded in understanding, her gaze keen. “Are you from here originally? I don’t recognize the surname.”

“I arrived in Gatlinburg in May. My husband passed in June, and now I find myself in need of alternate lodgings.”

Mrs. Trentham made a commiserating noise and patted Ellie’s hand. “You poor dear. I lost my Calvin a decade ago. We were together for forty-five years.” Glancing about the neat room made cozy with quilts and colorful knitted throws, she said, “Our children have all moved away. The quiet gets to me sometimes. That’s why I decided to rent a room. I’ve been praying for just the right person.” She smiled, little wrinkles fanning out from her eyes. “You’re the only one to answer my ad. How about I show you around and then you can decide if it suits you?”

“I’d like that.”

While not large, the house boasted a separate kitchen and pantry, main living room and two bedrooms. The room Ellie would reside in had two windows, both with views of the rear property, pretty rural scenes. Blue-and-white-checked curtains echoed a blue, white and rose quilt covering the bed. An oversize wardrobe dominated one corner. A slim table carved from pine held a kerosene lamp and pitcher and bowl for morning ablutions.

Mrs. Trentham tapped the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. “I store extra mattress covers and blankets in here, but I could clear it out for your things. What do you think? Will it suit you?”

Ellie turned from the window. “I like it very much. But there’s something you should know.” She sucked in a breath and took the plunge. “I’m expecting a baby. Come March, you’d have not one but two boarders.”

Her face lit up. Clapping her hands together, she enthused, “How wonderful for you! A child to remember your husband by. I wouldn’t have placed that ad if I hadn’t craved company. A baby in this house would bring it back to life.”

“A baby fussing in the middle of the night won’t bother you, Mrs. Trentham?”

“Please, call me June.” Her expression became reminiscent of bygone times. “My husband used to say I slept like the dead. My sleep is rarely disturbed.”

Ellie pushed aside her lingering concern. They’d adjust once the time came. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll take it.”

* * *

Alexander was perfectly aware he was behaving like an adolescent. His younger brother would tease him unmercifully for hiding out in his office and waiting for Ellie to leave before making his escape. Shifting on the fallen tree that served as his seat, he watched as one by one the stars popped out in the post-sunset sky. His fishing string bobbed in the water. His lamp cast golden light on the bank but did little to disperse the shadows. Night blanketed the countryside in complete darkness.

He smothered a yawn and considered going home. Ellie had asked for fish, however, and it felt wrong leaving empty-handed again.

In his peripheral vision, a second man-made light registered. Balancing his pole against the log, he stood to his feet and studied the figure traversing the field. He was about to have company.

“Hello there,” he called.

The light stilled. He could make out the figure of a woman. “Mr. Copeland?”

Shock washed over him. “Ellie? What are you doing out here on your own? I thought you’d gone home.”

Her steps were slow. “I did.”

The brush of tall grass against her boots joined the frogs’ chirruping and occasional hoot owl. When she reached him, the evidence of tears made his mouth go dry. Curious emotion locked his chest in a vise. Aside from her periodic bouts of testiness related to hunger, the young widow was consistent in her sugarcoated optimism. Ellie Jameson looked at life through rose-colored glasses. Seeing her in such a despairing state was so unusual he wondered briefly if he’d nodded off and was engaged in a rare dream.

Circumventing him, she set her lamp down, spread a quilt on the bank and lowered herself to the ground, using the tree trunk as a support for her back. Her head fell against the trunk, and a deep, shuddering sigh escaped her. Alexander returned to his spot and resumed his seat.

“Did something happen?” Bewilderment tightened his voice.

“I informed my in-laws of my decision to move.” Staring straight ahead, she spoke in a monotone. “They didn’t take it well.”

Dismay flooded him. “You’re leaving Gatlinburg?”

She turned her head, her brown eyes appearing coal black. Her ponytail had long since lost its starch. The ribbon was close to coming undone and tendrils of hair had escaped to tease her ears and cheeks. She looked young and vulnerable...and alone, like him.

“No. I don’t have the resources to return to Kentucky. Even if I did, there’s no one left there to return to.”

Her words eased the tension in his body. “That’s a relief.” When she regarded him quizzically, he rushed to add, “I won’t have the tedious task of searching for someone to replace you.”

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” she muttered.

He winced. “Where are your new accommodations?”

“I’ll be staying with a widow named June Trentham. She lives near the church.”

“That will save you some time.”

“Yes.”

Her gaze dropping to the quilt beneath her, she traced patterns with her fingertips. She seemed troubled.

Since leaving Texas, Alexander had determined not to get involved with anyone’s problems. He’d learned in the worst possible way that doing so led to disaster. Up to this point, he’d stuck to that decision. The wisest course of action would be to gather his things and bid her good-night. Ellie Jameson was a grown woman capable of seeing to her own affairs.

But what true gentleman would leave her in this isolated spot?

“Why are you here, Ellie?” he said at last.

“The river is peaceful, don’t you agree? It’s a good place to come when you have troubles weighing on your mind.”

“It’s not safe for you to be wandering these mountains alone.”

She paused in her efforts to tighten her hair ribbon. “What do you think I’ve been doing every night?”

“Until yesterday, I had no idea where you lived. Which begs the question—why don’t you make use of one of those horses I saw on your property?”

“The Jamesons don’t approve of my working. I suppose denying me a horse was their way of trying to dissuade me.”

Alexander shot to his feet and began to pace along the water’s edge. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been angry on someone else’s behalf. Granted, the situation smacked of bullying, something he hadn’t ever been able to abide.

“You aren’t leaving that cove simply to save yourself travel time, are you?”

“No.” She lowered her hands wearily to her lap. “My relationship with my husband’s family has never been easy. Things got worse after his death. Gladys and Nadine blame me for Nolan’s accident.”

“I thought you said you weren’t there.”

“I wasn’t. They accused me of rushing him to complete our cabin. They think he was in too much of a hurry to take proper precautions.”

He admitted that he’d judged Ellie for her lack of obvious grief. She hadn’t fit his idea of a grieving widow. Truth was, he didn’t know much of anything about her or her circumstances.

“Your husband’s death was a tragedy. Blaming you for what happened is ridiculous and small-minded.”

“They made up their minds about me a long time ago, I’m afraid.”

Knowing Ellie’s personality, things must’ve gotten untenable for her to decide to leave.

“I’m assuming you had an argument tonight. Are you comfortable that things have calmed down enough to return?”

“They kicked me out.” She lifted a shoulder. “I can’t go back.”

The familiar burning sensation spread through his midsection. “What were you planning to do? Pass the night on the riverbank?” His outrage at her in-laws sharpened his tone.

She jutted her chin. “It’s still technically summer. The temperatures are pleasant. I have my grandmother’s quilt to protect my clothes from grass stains. And it’s quiet. Why shouldn’t I stay here?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were a reasonable person.”

“I don’t have another choice, all right?”

At the telltale wobble in her voice, concern leaped to life. “Let’s go. I’m taking you to Mrs. Trentham’s.”

“She’s not expecting me until tomorrow.”

“Does she strike you as an unsympathetic person?”

“No, she seems all that is kind.”

He grabbed his pail and rod—yet another failed fishing attempt—and held out his free hand to her. “Then she’ll understand, as I do, that you cannot possibly sleep in the elements exposed to any manner of danger.”

Ellie’s uplifted gaze, stamped with uncertainty, switched from his outstretched hand to his face .

He wiggled his fingers. “Come. We’ll stop by the café and saddle a horse for you.”

“Why are you involving yourself in my troubles? You’ve gone out of your way to distance yourself from everyone.”

Her fatigue must be why she was speaking plainly. Unhappy with the development, he adopted a stern stare and his haughty employer voice. “As my employee and the reason the Plum is once again packed with customers, you are my responsibility. I can’t have you in the kitchen if you’re overtired. You’d be a danger to yourself and others.”

Her mouth pursed. Reluctantly, she clasped his hand and allowed him to assist her to her feet. As they walked through the silent countryside, Alexander took comfort in the fact this was a singular event, a onetime kindness. He would settle the widow in her new home and tomorrow everything would return to the way it was before.


Chapter Four

Ellie could tell by the sun’s slant that she’d overslept. Although reluctant to leave the soft bed, the prospect of Alexander’s ire prodded her out of it. He’d gone out of his way to be a gentleman last evening, and this is how she repaid him? She rushed through her morning routine, only to discover the one outfit she’d left the cove with was missing.

She padded through the quiet house and found her hostess seated at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and her Bible open before her. Her coronet braids neat as a pin and not a single wrinkle in her sprigged cotton dress, June radiated cheerfulness that Ellie found refreshing.

Her smile was bright as she marked her place with a handmade bookmark. “Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?”

“A little too well, I’m afraid.” The mantel clock had confirmed her fears. It was past nine o’clock. “I haven’t slept this late since I was a child.”

“You needed rest.”

Fiddling with her housecoat belt, Ellie shook her head. “Not at the expense of my job. Mr. Copeland will not be pleased. And poor Flo’s had to prepare everything on her own. I’ll have to make it up to her somehow, but first I need to find my clothes. Have you seen them? The wardrobe was empty. I looked under the bed to see if they’d fallen—”

June went to the stove and uncovered a plate crowded with biscuits, sausage and eggs. “I spot-cleaned them for you. They’re hanging in the pantry.” She indicated the empty seat across from her own. “As for Mr. Copeland, it was his idea to let you sleep for as long as you wanted.”

Ellie’s jaw went slack. Such thoughtfulness coming from a man who made it his mission to remain indifferent to everyone and everything around him?

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Heard it with my own ears.” She winked. “He was very concerned about you. Does he know about the baby?”

“No.” At least, she hoped he didn’t. Sinking into the chair, she picked up a fork. “I’m not ready to tell him.”

Shooting a significant look to Ellie’s midsection, she quipped, “Before long you won’t have a choice.”

Absently rubbing the slight thickness in her middle, she tried to imagine how such a conversation would go. She tried to picture Alexander’s lean, handsome features wreathed in happiness, his mouth curved in genuine delight. Unable to manage it, she tucked into her breakfast, more ravenous than she’d realized.

June refused to let her clean the dishes. After expressing her thanks, she quickly dressed and left for the café. The September morning was pleasantly warm. About half of the trees sprinkled throughout the fields and mountainsides were displaying their fiery autumn colors. The rest remained stubbornly green. Robins chirped and squirrels sprang from branch to branch as she passed by. Near the church, a group of white-tailed deer emerged from the forest, graceful creatures that delighted Ellie no matter how many times she encountered them.

Her steps were light the remainder of the way. For the first time in a very long while, she felt refreshed, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Fragile hope trickled through her. Sure, she was apprehensive about the birth, as well as the prospect of being solely responsible for her child’s well-being, but she trusted God to provide. He’d sustained her through a troubled marriage and blessed her with employment and now a nice, comfortable place to live. He’d give her the strength to deal with the future.

Unsurprisingly, Alexander was closeted in his office when she arrived. Ellie watched his door like a hawk waiting to pounce. By two o’clock, her patience had evaporated. A plate of food in one hand, she read the paper he’d attached to the smooth wood surface.

“Do not disturb.”

She scowled. He was wrong if he thought a flimsy piece of paper would prevent her from her goal.

He took his time answering the door. When his towering form filled the doorway, his closed-off features inches from hers, a quiver of awareness vibrated in her middle. His eyes were so very blue, the inner ring made more vivid by the darker, outer one. When they were locked onto her like this, she felt slightly dazed by their beauty. His black locks were like rich silk against his pale skin. His mouth fit his carved features, but it was also full and soft-looking, too.

The faint scent of soap that clung to his clothes wafted to her, mingling with that of the sliced beef and cabbage on his plate. She switched to breathing through her mouth. Being sick all over her boss’s polished shoes was a humiliation she couldn’t afford.

“Ellie.” His expression was one of long suffering. “Did you not see my sign?”

“I saw it. You have excellent handwriting.” Lifting the plate, she said, “It’s long past noon. You missed your lunch.”

His lips compressed. “This may come as a surprise to you, but I am able to see to my own needs.”

“And I’m not?” she quipped.

“I’m not sure to what you’re referring.”

“You informed my hostess not to disturb me this morning, did you not? Without consulting me.”

His gaze searched her features with disconcerting intensity. Then he stationed himself behind his desk. Ellie took that as an invitation and, stepping inside, closed the door. When she’d placed his meal between a thick sheaf of papers and his pen holder, he said, “You didn’t enjoy the extra sleep?”

“I didn’t say that.” A rueful laugh escaped. Without waiting for his permission, she sat in one of the chairs, tugging her apron down to cover a stain on her gray skirt. “I feel more refreshed today than I have since arriving in Tennessee. For that, I thank you.”

He hesitated, staring at her and then the food. Apparently accepting she wasn’t going anywhere, he sank into the leather chair and started eating without saying grace. She didn’t recall seeing him at church. Was he not a believer? Or had his walk with Christ suffered due to whatever trouble had befallen him?

Since she likely wouldn’t get an answer to those questions, she didn’t bother posing them.

“Flo said the crowd was sparse this morning.”

The café did the most business during the dinner hour. Lunch was brisk, as well, with bachelors making up the majority.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

His ongoing disinterest in his own business flummoxed Ellie. He must have wealth independent of this venture, which meant the Plum’s success or failure wouldn’t impact his livelihood. The same couldn’t be said for his employees.

“Have you owned other restaurants?”

“No.”

Perhaps it was his inexperience guiding his inattentiveness? But that didn’t make sense. Alexander struck her as a shrewd man.

“What did you do before this then?”

He was silent for several long beats. A muscle ticked in his square jaw. His focus on his plate, he said quietly, “I owned a ranch in Texas.”

“Texas? You don’t fit the image I have of a rancher.”

Alexander’s gaze collided with hers. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”

The pain he couldn’t quite hide—emotional this time, not physical—underscored her conviction that he needed a friend.

“Do you have family there? Friends?”

His throat working, he laid his fork down. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’d rather not discuss my past.”

She noticed he’d only eaten half the food. Standing, she said, “I didn’t mean to disrupt your meal. It’s just that...”

He arched a brow. “Just what?”

“Well, I—”

His full attention made her self-conscious of her shabby clothing and her unsophisticated hairstyle. She suddenly yearned to be admired by this man, which was wholly impossible and not thoughts an expectant widow should be thinking!

Balancing his elbows on the surface, he steepled his hands. “You may as well speak your mind,” he drawled. “You usually do, eventually.”

“Pardon my bluntness, but you seem very alone. I think you could use a friend. Yet you do nothing to encourage friendships.”

His gaze promptly lowered, thick lashes resting against the hollows beneath his eyes. “It’s the way I prefer to live my life. Less chance of complications.”

“The loneliness doesn’t bother you?”

“A small price to pay for peace.”

His expression didn’t share the conviction of his words. He didn’t seem peaceful in the slightest.

“I know what it is to be lonely,” she admitted. “It wasn’t by choice. Living with my grandparents, I led a full life. We were involved in our church and were friends with most of the neighbors. I didn’t stop to wonder why the Jamesons weren’t part of our circle.” She brushed her fingers over the faded lace edging on the apron that had once belonged to her grandmother. “I was young and naïve. After my grandmother’s passing, I was overwhelmed by everything that needed to be done. The funeral service. The sale of the farm—I wanted to stay but I couldn’t work it by myself. Howard’s offer to buy it seemed like an answer to prayer. His property abutted ours. I’d still be close, you know? And then Nolan proposed...my future went from being scary and uncertain to being assured.”

Lost in memories that stirred sadness and regret, she belatedly registered Alexander’s piercing regard. His thoughts were impossible to decipher.

“The Jamesons restricted your social interactions?”

The inquiry surprised her. It wasn’t his habit to pry. “They did. I resisted at first, but it only angered Nolan and made life uncomfortable. So I adjusted.”

“You shouldn’t have had to.” He pushed the food around on his plate.

“I was compelled to cut off my friendships. No one is requiring you to.” She made an encompassing gesture. “I’m discovering that Gatlinburg is home to plenty of caring folks, but they won’t force themselves on you. You have to invite their company.”

His fork clinked against the plate, and he gave up the pretense of eating. “I’m not sure what gave you the impression that I’m discontent with my current lifestyle. I don’t need anyone, Ellie.”

The resignation with which he spoke, combined with the hint of sadness in his eyes, prompted her response. Why wouldn’t he admit the truth? “You need Flo and Sally. You need me. You need customers.”

His gaze became hooded. “You mistake my meaning.”

“But—”

He stood to his feet like a king expecting immediate obedience. “I believe we’re done here.”

Ellie smoothed her apron. “You’ve been more than kind to me. I simply wanted to offer you...” She swept her hair behind her shoulder and made a dismissive gesture. Why would a man like him value her friendship? “I wanted to express my gratitude for everything you’ve done.”

His chest rose and fell in an exaggerated breath. “I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”

“Still, your thoughtfulness means a lot, especially after the past four years.” She clamped her lips shut. He didn’t wish to hear any more about her disappointments. “I’ll, ah, go get started on that rhubarb pie for tonight.”

Alexander didn’t attempt to stop her. Her mood dampened, she left him to his solitude.

* * *

Raised voices coming from the dining room startled Alexander, and his pencil skidded across the page, marring the sketch of a black bear and her cubs. Irritated, he left his office and walked through the short hallway, pausing on the threshold. The tables were full of customers enjoying their evening meal, an unheard-of phenomenon before Ellie. At the moment, they were focused on three people in the corner near the fireplace.

His waitress, Sally Hatcher, wore a cowed expression as a patron, a man taller than Alexander and who likely outweighed him by a hundred pounds, shook his finger in her face. Gauging from the wet stain on his shirtfront and bits of coleslaw scattered on his person, Sally had had a bout of clumsiness. The man’s face was mottled.

How anyone could be angry with the earnest, soft-hearted eighteen-year-old was beyond him. At only an inch or two above five feet and thin as a fence post, Sally was the type of girl who provoked protective feelings in most men.

The man let loose another verbal lash. Sally’s big brown eyes filled with tears. Her head lowering, her wispy, corn-colored hair slid forward to hide her flaming cheeks. With a disgusted sound, Ellie inserted herself between waitress and customer as a living barrier. The sight made Alexander’s throat close up. He felt the crowd’s attention switch to him as he wove through the tables to reach them.

“It was an unfortunate accident, sir.” Ellie projected a calm front, but Alexander detected her underlying distress. The irate man was at least a foot taller than her. “Sally didn’t mean any harm. I’m sure you’ve had mishaps before. None of us are immune, unfortunately.”

“How am I supposed to finish my dinner with my shirt wet through and smellin’ of vinegar?” he growled.

Ellie’s forehead wrinkled. “I understand that would be uncomfortable. If we had a shirt to give you, we would.”

“My meal is ruined, and I want to know what you’re gonna do about it.”

“Leave her alone, McCauley,” someone from another table muttered.

Alexander pulled Sally aside. “Go fetch something to clean the food off the floor,” he murmured.

“Yes, sir. Right away.” She fled the room.

As she at last registered his presence, the color in Ellie’s cheeks surged and waned. He couldn’t resist the silent appeal for help in her coffee-brown gaze.

Moving close beside her, he stuck out his hand. “Good evening, sir. I’m Alexander Copeland, the proprietor of the Plum. I see you’ve met with a mishap.”

“Any fool can see that,” he snapped, indicating his chest.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. If you’d like to accompany me to the kitchen, we can get you cleaned up. And of course, your meal will be on the house.”

His unkempt brows formed a deep V.

“You’re welcome to your choice of dessert, as well.” Ellie piped up. “We have rhubarb pie and fried apple pies.”

“Go with the rhubarb,” another patron called out. “Finest pie I’ve put in my mouth.”

“Harry!” the lady beside him complained.

“Oh, not as fine as yours, my dear.”

A few chuckles filtered through the room.

“I’ll take you up on your offer,” Mr. McCauley consented. “Rhubarb it is.”

Alexander had managed to calm a customer. Glancing at Ellie, he acknowledged she was the reason he’d gotten involved. Once he had the mess sorted out, he joined her at the stove where she was sprinkling salt and chopped herbs into a fragrant potato soup.

“In the future, I want you to alert me immediately if another scene like that one arises.”

Dusting her fingers on her no longer pristine apron, she tilted her head to one side, causing her ponytail to swing wide. “Sally and I are accustomed to dealing with unruly customers.”

He grimaced as once again he pictured her squaring off against the giant of a man. “It’s my responsibility.”

Clearly mystified, she nodded. “All right. I’ll let Sally know.”

“Thank you.”

He was about to turn away when he noticed she was wearing the unflattering gray blouse and skirt beneath her frilly apron, the same clothes she’d worn several days in a row. Suspicion wound through him.

He made sure Flo was properly occupied on the other side of the room before voicing his thoughts.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive, but is that your only outfit?”

Her eyes rounded before she became inordinately interested in the simmering soup. “At the moment it is.”

While he knew he’d embarrassed her, he couldn’t let the matter drop. “Did your in-laws prevent you from taking your belongings?”

The spoon’s stirring slowed. “H-how did you guess?”

The soft pink hue tingeing her cheeks mirrored her rosebud mouth and lent a feminine delicacy to her features. She wasn’t beautiful, exactly, but definitely intriguing.

Shaking off the thoughts, he answered her. “They’re spiteful enough to forbid you to utilize one of their horses for transportation. Based on your comments of how they took the news, not to mention the fact you had only a quilt with you the other night, it was a logical conclusion.”

“Ralph snuck the quilt out to me. He wasn’t able to get anything else,” she said. “I don’t wish to be an embarrassment to the café. Once I save up enough money, I’ll buy fabric to make new clothes.”

Without thinking what he was doing, he grasped her chin and gently tipped up her face. “You’re not an embarrassment, Ellie. That’s not why I asked. As I said before, I’ve had brushes with bullies and I detest such behavior. I won’t allow an employee of mine to be treated that way.”

Moisture gathered in her molten eyes. “Oh.”

Her warm breath fanned over his fingers. He had but to move his thumb an inch to test the texture of her bee-stung lips. Lowering his hand and shoving it in his pocket, he edged back a step.

“Immediately following breakfast tomorrow, I will accompany you to collect your things.”

Blinking fast, she laid the soup spoon on the table behind her. “That’s not necessary—”

“Oh, but it is.” His tone brooked no argument. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

Slipping outside into the tranquil evening, he gazed up at the stars, the same stars that overlooked his Texas ranch and the graves of Sarah and Levi. The familiar weight of grief and anger squeezed his heart.

“I don’t know what Your purpose is in bringing her here, God, but I won’t be part of it. I’ll do this thing for her, and that’s it. No more.”


Chapter Five

She was going to be sick. “Please pull over.”

Alexander shot her a dubious look. “The turnoff isn’t far ahead.”

“Please, hurry!”

He must’ve recognized the panicked note in her voice, because he hauled back on the reins and directed the team to the lane’s edge.

“Let me assist you.”

Ignoring him, Ellie scrambled down from the buggy and dashed into the woods. The trees and profuse underbrush hid her wretched state. Many minutes later, when she was somewhat reassured her stomach had settled, she trudged over ferns and fallen leaves, mortification seizing her. Alexander would have questions.

She’d awoken that morning with a vague sense of dread. There was no way of knowing how this confrontation would pan out, but having her boss there as a witness added a layer of anxiety to an already problematic situation.

He was waiting for her when she emerged into the lane. Standing on her side of the buggy, he swept her with his gaze, uncertainty an ill-fitting mantle on the usually unruffled gentleman.

He took a single step forward. “What’s the matter? Are you ill?”

“I’m afraid my nerves got the better of me. It’s quite embarrassing, losing my breakfast within my boss’s hearing. Let’s agree to forget about it, shall we?”

His frown deepened. Turning away, he removed a canteen from beneath the seat and held it out to her. “You looked peaked. Perhaps a couple of sips of water would help.”

After she’d finished, he withdrew a handkerchief from his vest pocket and dampened it. “Here.”

Touched by his patient manner, Ellie wiped her face. The damp cloth felt wonderful. Although mid-September, the days weren’t much cooler than those they’d experienced in the height of summer.

When she made to return it, he said, “Use it for as long as you need. Are you ready to resume our journey or do you require more time?”

She forced a smile. “I’m ready.”

Alexander didn’t immediately move aside. Beneath his bowler hat, his expression was difficult to read. “I could go without you. Spare you the trouble.”

Stunned, she worked to form a reply. “That’s kind of you to offer,” she said at last. “However, this is my battle to fight. While I don’t relish the thought of you having to witness this ugliness, I’m grateful for your presence.”

A peculiar emotion passed over his face. With a dip of his head, he lightly gripped her arm and assisted her into the buggy. The conveyance jerked into motion, and Ellie pressed her hand against her tummy, praying it would quieten. Her body tensed as the twin cabins came into view. Nadine was on her porch churning butter. Spying them, she moved to stand on the steps, arms crossed over her chest and her eyes flashing.

She waited until they’d disembarked to demand, “What do you want, Ellie?”

Tall like her mother, Nadine had flyaway blond hair offset by sunbaked skin stretched over harsh cheekbones. She wore plain, everyday work clothes that accentuated her slenderness. When Ellie had accepted Nolan’s proposal, she’d been thrilled by the prospect of gaining a sister. Unfortunately, Nadine hadn’t returned the sentiment. It was almost as if she’d been jealous of Ellie’s intrusion into their family unit. Prone to grumbling about everything under the sun, she’d found plenty to complain about concerning Ellie.

Drawing strength from Alexander’s watchful presence beside her, she said, “I’ve come to collect my things.”

“My folks aren’t here, but I’ll tell you what they’d say. Get off our property and don’t come back.”

Ellie felt Alexander stiffen beside her. “You know it isn’t fair to prevent me from having them.”

“Consider it payment for room and board.”

“I did pay you, Nadine.”

Ralph walked around the cabin, a box of tools in his hand, the sun shining on his balding head. His initial surprise turned to wariness.

“Ellie.” His gaze slid to Alexander. “Who did you bring with you?”

She made the introductions. Neither man moved to shake hands.

“Ralph, I don’t want her here,” Nadine implored her husband. “Make them leave.”

Alexander stepped forward. “We’ll do as you ask as soon as you grant Ellie’s request.”

“This is none of your business,” she snapped.

“She’s made it my business.” A vein ticked in his temple. He looked even more forbidding than usual. “Now, you can act in a reasonable manner or you can continue this foolishness, in which case I’ll be forced to involve the sheriff.”

Ralph hastened to his wife’s side. “He’s right, you know,” he ventured in a gentle voice. “It’s not right to keep Ellie from taking her belongings. She’s family.”

Nadine jerked away. “That woman has never been part of this family, and you know it! If not for her, my brother would still be here...” she choked out, tears threatening.

Ralph attempted to console his wife. Alexander angled his body toward Ellie, partially blocking her view of the pair. She hoped her expression didn’t tell the story of her deep dismay and the sense of failure that cropped up in her weakest moments. She hadn’t been good enough for Nolan or his loved ones.

“Let’s go for a walk.” Curving an arm about his wife’s waist, Ralph directed her toward the forest, surreptitiously signaling for them to hurry about their business.

When they were out of earshot, Alexander touched Ellie’s sleeve. “Let’s not delay.”

Upset by Nadine’s outburst, she didn’t speak as she climbed the steps and entered the cabin. The smell of Nadine and Ralph’s breakfast lingered in the close air, bacon and eggs cooked in animal fat, mixed with the strong hint of disintegrating firewood. Breathing through her mouth, Ellie walked to the far corner where her bed and dresser were situated. Alexander remained in the doorway, a silent guardian. She placed her clothes and a handful of books inside a small crate she’d stored beneath the bed. A framed photograph of herself and Nolan was wedged between her keepsake box and a mirror and brush set. Picking it up, she experienced a rush of sorrow at the reminder of the naïve girl she’d once been.

“You should take that.” Alexander’s rumbling voice behind her made her jump. “If you want to.”

She traced her image. “I’m glad that girl didn’t know what lay ahead.”

“Were they always this hostile?”

“Not in the beginning.” She placed the frame with her other things—her baby would wish to see what her father looked like. “Nolan developed a marked mistrust of my loyalty. His doubts spread to the others. While not ideal, life was tolerable in Kentucky. The cross-state move put tremendous pressure on us all. The trip was arduous and the living conditions once we arrived were strained.” Living in canvas tents in the height of spring had been fraught with multiple challenges. “After his death, I believe their grief exacerbated their already poor opinion of me.”

He studied the ring on her finger. “How long were you married?”

“Four years.”

“I’m not sure how you endured it.”

“I wasn’t in any physical danger. They weren’t nice to me, it’s true, but God saw to my needs. I had a roof over my head and clothes to wear. Food to eat. In my lowest points, I reread the account of Job. He lost everything, and still God sustained him.”

His blue eyes went flat. “I commend your fortitude and generosity of spirit.”

His demeanor hinted at his own troublesome trials. His past was a complete mystery, and he preferred to keep it that way. Why? What terrible wrong had he committed or had committed against him?

“Mr. Copeland—”

“I believe we’ve passed the formality stage, don’t you? Call me Alexander.” His gaze quelling any questions she might pose, he inventoried the room’s contents. “Do you have everything?”

“The furniture Nolan and I shared is being stored in the barn, but I don’t have need of it.”

Replacing his bowler hat on his head, he lifted the crate. “Then let us not tarry.”

Outside in the yard, Ellie scanned and rescanned the woods. When he’d secured her things behind the seat, he turned to assist her. She placed her hand in his strong one. To take her mind off his heated skin and the tingle of pleasure the contact wrought, she said, “I’m glad Howard and Gladys aren’t here. The scene would’ve been much uglier.”

He lifted the right panel of his suit jacket. “I came prepared.”

Ellie plopped onto the seat. “I’ve seen you with your hunting rifle, of course, but I had no idea you owned a six-shooter. That’s a nice model. My grandfather owned one, only his had a pearl handle.”

Alexander circumvented the horse and, once in the buggy, took hold of the reins. “I had quite the collection back home. You never know what or who you’ll encounter on the vast range.” He uttered a low command, and they were on their way.

Ellie tried to imagine him in cowboy gear. It was a stretch. His austere business attire fit his personality and role as café proprietor. “Tell me about Texas.”

His features shuttered. “I don’t like to discuss my—”

“Past. I know. I’m not asking you to divulge your secrets, Alexander.” It felt good to voice what she’d been calling him in her head. “I’d simply enjoy hearing about a place I’ve only read about in books and newspapers.”

He sent her a brief, considering glance.

“It’s only fair,” she tacked on. “You’ve had a front-row seat to my sideshow.”

A sigh gusted out of him. Once they were on the lane leading to town, he obliged her. “I grew up on a cattle ranch smack in the north central frontier of Texas. My father bought the land several years before he met my mother. He built the barns and workers’ quarters first. He didn’t bother with a proper house until later, when he found his bride and realized he’d need a place to raise a family. I was the first to come along. Next was Thomas, then Margaret.” He fell silent, his brow knitted in deep thought.

“How wonderful to have siblings. I always lamented my lack.”

Remembering her childhood longings, she wondered if her own child would ever have a brother or sister. For that to happen, she’d have to meet a man worth taking a chance on. Her marriage to Nolan had been such a disappointment. A trial, even. Ellie wasn’t sure she could take the risk.

“Yes.” He roused himself from his musings. “It has its advantages.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”

“Several years.”

“Any plans to make a trip home?”

He cast her a sharp look. “Texas is no longer my home. I will not be returning.”

“I see.”

Only, she didn’t. Whatever trouble he’d endured was linked to his home state. Ellie doubted he’d ever open up to her, but that didn’t stop her from wishing he would.

* * *

Sundays were Alexander’s only days of true solitude. The café was closed for business. Most of Gatlinburg’s residents attended church services in the morning and spent time with family and friends in the afternoon. He relished the quiet and the fact he had the building all to himself. No whining customers. No intrusions upon his time. No doe-eyed waif of a cook who poked and prodded his armor with disturbing regularity.

On his knees in the vegetable garden, pulling weeds and plucking beetles from his cabbage plants, he scolded himself for getting involved in Ellie’s troubles. He couldn’t seem to help himself, however...old habits reasserting themselves. Well, he was done. She had her belongings. She had a place to stay. She didn’t need a reluctant protector.

The knowledge didn’t keep him from getting angry every time he recalled her emerging from the woods after being sick. That awful gray outfit had washed out her complexion. Even her delicately-shaped lips had lost their color. She’d looked miserable. And he’d felt the insane urge to shelter her in his arms until she’d recovered.

And then there were her troublesome in-laws. He’d been tempted to deliver a scathing set-down to that woman, Nadine. Ellie’s goodness, her lack of bitterness, astounded him. Her bravery, too. Sarah would’ve jumped at the chance to let him take control of the situation. Not Ellie. Although anxious, she’d tackled her dilemma with reason and self-control.

“Good afternoon.”

Surprised to see the object of his thoughts at the edge of his garden, Alexander thumbed his old Stetson farther up his forehead and squinted into the late afternoon rays slanting over the mountains. His mouth dried up like the ranch’s creeks after a drought. Ellie looked different today. Gone was the nondescript outfit and perky ponytail. She’d paired a crimson, high-necked blouse with a sturdy navy skirt whose only nod to femininity was a wide ruffle along the hem. Dangly silver and amber earrings adorned her dainty ears. Her brown hair rippled about her shoulders, the top section pulled back and tied with a crimson-and-navy polka-dot ribbon. The hairstyle softened her gamine features, and the rich hue of her blouse made her coffee eyes shine. Bathed in the tawny light of approaching autumn, she was as pretty as a picture.

“How old are you?” he blurted.

Her brows lifted a notch. “Twenty-two. Why?”

“I assumed you were much younger.”

She adjusted the bundle in her arms. “How old are you?”

“How old do you think I am?”

She inspected him openly until he felt his ears burn. Did she realize how expressive her eyes could be? Admiration shone in the sparkling depths. No one had regarded him like that for a long time.

“Thirty.”

“Close.” Dusting his gloves on his pants, he stood and gathered the piles of weeds. “I’m twenty-eight.”

Ellie watched as he dumped the weeds in an old seed bag to be discarded later. As he walked to her side, a gentle breeze teased her loose strands, forcing her to shift her burden in order to dislodge them from where they’d snagged on her mouth.

“What’s this?” he said, indicating the mound of fabric.

“The new cloths and curtains. I thought I’d switch them out if you don’t mind.”

Alexander wasn’t as perturbed by her unannounced visit as he should’ve been. He stuffed his gloves in his back pocket and held out his hands. “Let me carry that inside.”

She released them into his hold, and he caught a whiff of her light verbena perfume.

“You finished these in record time.”

She fell into step beside him, her rosebud mouth curving in a bright smile. “June insisted on helping me. I tried to share my earnings with her, but she refused. Said I had to save up money for the—”

He shot her a side glance. “For the what?”

Moistening her lips, she said, “For the future.”

“You’re a widow like her. Makes sense she’d be sensitive to your position.”

“Yes,” she softly agreed.

They entered the unusually quiet café. Passing through the kitchen and hallway and into the dining area, he was very aware of her proximity, the differences in their heights, the way she walked and gestured and carried herself. Being alone with Ellie was becoming a habit, one he was growing too comfortable with and must take efforts to curtail.

When she started to drag a chair over to the first window, he intercepted her.

“You take care of the tables. I’ll see to the curtains.”

Finger to her chin, she studied the room. “How about we work together? You remove the old curtains, and I’ll hand you the replacements.”

“All right.”

While they worked, she gave him a commentary on that morning’s services. Apparently a bird had gotten inside and had interrupted the sermon, swooping toward women’s hats and causing mayhem as a few of the men attempted to capture it. She described the scene in such detail, Alexander couldn’t help smiling.

“I’ve never seen you there,” she mused. “Why don’t you attend?”

His smile faded. Rolling the ratty curtains into a bundle, he twisted to hand it to her. Why must she persist in stirring up painful issues? First she’d questioned him about Texas. Now this.

He stepped down from the chair, bringing him close enough to notice her thick, curling eyelashes and a tiny scar edging her lower lip. Once again, he became distracted by her loveliness.

The change in her wasn’t that dramatic, he reprimanded himself. Ellie was simply the first woman he’d spent any significant amount of time with since arriving in Tennessee several years ago.

“I haven’t gone to church in ages,” he said. “I have no desire to sit and listen about God’s goodness and love.”

Compassion softened her eyes. “I’ve suspected for some time that you suffered a horrible hurt, something you haven’t shared with anyone. But God sees your private struggle. He’ll give you the grace to work through it, if you let Him.”

Alexander couldn’t deny he craved freedom from the burdens coiled around him like heavy chains. Her gentle understanding and the conviction of her words tempted him to let go of the hatred he carried for his enemy, the disillusion directed toward his Creator, the guilt and anger he felt over his own actions.

Her small, soft hand curved around his forearm. “You don’t have to shoulder your burdens alone, you know. You could talk to me. Or Duncan. Reverend Munroe. No one will judge you.”

“Please, Ellie, don’t press me on this.”

Her countenance pensive, she gave a reluctant nod. “I can still pray for you, can’t I?”

Startled, he was trying to form a response when there came a rap on the door. Moving blindly to release the latch, he stared at the couple on the boardwalk wearing matching grins.

“Alexander.” Duncan McKenna clapped him on the shoulder. “We were passing by and saw you through the window. Mind if we come in for a minute?”

He absently moved aside as the auburn-haired Scotsman escorted his wife, Caroline, into the midst of their redecoration project. The pair was partly responsible for hiring Ellie. While he hadn’t been happy about their meddling, and he’d been pulled into his new cook’s affairs, he no longer resented their actions. The Plum was better because of it.

“How are you getting along, Ellie?” Caroline inquired, her blue eyes softening with fondness. “We’ve come in to eat several times, and we’ve yet to be disappointed.”

A blush tinted her cheeks. “Satisfying customers is my top priority. It’s nice to hear I’m succeeding.”

“I’m still learning my way around the kitchen. Eating here is a treat for both of us, trust me.”

Laughter rumbled deep in Duncan’s chest. Taking hold of his wife’s hand, he placed a gallant kiss on her knuckles. “You’re improving every day, my love.”

The affection passing between them made Alexander uncomfortable. He glanced at Ellie but was unable to gauge her reaction. She’d only recently lost her husband. Did it pain her to see a couple so deeply in love with each other?

He ran his finger along the empty spot where his wedding band once rested. The hole Sarah’s death had created was complete. He made it a point not to dwell on how much he missed having a connection to another person.

The blonde’s next words brought him out of his ruminations.

“Ellie, have you considered offering classes? I’m certain young women on the verge of marriage would pay for your instruction.”

“Don’t most girls learn to cook from their mothers? Or grandmothers, as I did?”

“There are some whose mothers aren’t around or aren’t able to impart their knowledge. Others might wish to further what skills they possess. I’d be your first student.”

Ellie’s hand drifted to her midsection in a protective gesture, something she did often, he realized. The move struck him as familiar, somehow.

“I’m not sure. I’d have to give it some thought.”

Alexander spoke up. “I have serious reservations about such a plan. While a valid one, Ellie is stretched thin as it is. Most of her time is spent planning and preparing meals.”

Caroline’s gaze reflected concern. “I didn’t think about that.”

Ellie simply looked surprised he’d voice an opinion.

Duncan’s grin had a sly slant. “We share your concern for Ellie’s well-being. She’s been an asset to this community.” Rubbing his hand along his jaw, he scrutinized Alexander. “For you, in particular. You’re looking much improved.”

When he’d been confined to the sickbed over at Doc Owens’s, the Scotsman had been his only visitor.

“I have benefited from Ellie’s nurturing nature,” he conceded. “She’s made it her mission to nurse me back to health and is always on hand with a glass of cold milk to soothe my upset stomach.”

A spark of mischief entered her dark eyes. “Don’t let him fool you. Alexander isn’t the least pleased with my interference.”

Duncan laughed outright. “Oh, I’ve had a taste of his displeasure. You’ve a thick skin, ma’am.”

“Most of the time,” she agreed, her gaze skittering away.

Alexander studied her. For so long, he’d been mired in his grief to the point of being oblivious to others’ feelings. Although he hadn’t been outright cruel, he hadn’t exactly been kind. Shame shafted through him.

“We’ll let you get back to work,” Duncan said. “Caroline and I are taking a ride into the mountains this afternoon.”

When Alexander remained silent, Ellie followed them to the door. “That sounds fun.” A gust of wind pushed through the opening, tugging at her ribbons. “Have a wonderful time.”

Caroline’s smile encompassed them both. “Thank you. We’ll see you around.”

“Thanks for stopping by.”

They left hand in hand, heads together as they engaged in conversation. This time, Ellie couldn’t hide a wistful expression. She leaned against the closed door and sighed.

Alexander resumed his spot on the chair. “Let’s get this over with so you can enjoy what’s left of your day off.”

She complied without a word of objection. They worked in disconcerting silence until every last cloth and curtain had been replaced. What was she thinking about? he wondered. The McKennas and their happy life? Was she considering finding a replacement husband? Alexander hadn’t spoken to anyone of his adjustment from husband to widower. He’d walked the lonely road of grief alone.

“You did a good job, Ellie.” He felt the need to express his gratitude. “The soft yellow color makes a big difference.”

He hadn’t realized how dreary and depressing the heavy maroon fabric had made the room seem. Sunlight passed easily through the swaths of cotton she’d chosen. If he’d been invested in his own business, he would’ve made the necessary changes himself.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “I had hoped you’d be pleased.”

“I am.” He gestured toward the hallway. “Let me walk you out.”

“What about the discards?”

“I’ll take care of them.”

Outside at the garden, she paused near his cabbage plants. “I can help you finish the weeding, if you like. I interrupted your chore.”

The breeze ruffled his hair. He impatiently brushed it out of his eyes and studied the sky. The towering white clouds didn’t appear to hold rain.

“I appreciate the offer, but I can do it on my own.”

Her smile had a sad quality. “Then I bid you good day, Alexander.”

She was about to turn away when another strong gust whipped her hair and flattened her skirt, molding the material to her slender body. Almost immediately, she moved to cover her midsection, but not before he saw the distinct bulge that couldn’t be explained by anything other than a developing pregnancy.

Cold shock shivered through him.

Her eyes grew round, her lips working in distress. “Alexander...”

The heat of denial raced through his veins. He felt disoriented. Sarah’s laughing face exploded in his mind’s eye. Memories rushed at him. The day she’d informed him he was going to be a father and the indescribable joy he’d felt. Her frequent sickness and complaints about her growing girth. Then, after months of anticipation, the day came that his beautiful baby boy had entered the world. He’d been giddy with pride.

Alexander’s muscles locked up. He had no idea what his expression revealed, but he could plainly see Ellie’s trepidation.

“Why, Ellie?” he scraped out. “Why didn’t you tell me you were expecting a baby?”


Chapter Six

Ellie had expected mild surprise, not outright dismay. “I was going to tell you. Eventually. You have to understand it’s not an easy conversation to strike up.”

His beautiful blue gaze was locked on her middle as a riot of emotions herded across his face. She folded her hands at her waist to impede his view.

“What would you have had me say, Alexander? We’re serving chicken and dumplings for supper and, oh, by the way, I’m expecting my late husband’s child in the spring.”

“That’s why you were sick the other day,” he murmured. “Why you’ve been exhausted.”

“You don’t have to worry about the café. I can work right up until time—around mid-March. I’ll require a couple of weeks off, of course, but when I’m able to return to work, I can feed the baby during the breaks. I assume she’ll sleep a lot in the beginning. I haven’t yet figured out what I’ll do once she’s older and toddling around.”

His gaze bored into her. Ellie fought the impulse to avert her face. She’d dreaded this moment, and now that he knew, it was somewhat of a relief.

Shoving his hand through his dark locks, he clamped his lips together and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t have you here. You’ll have to find alternative employment.”

Ellie’s jaw sagged as Alexander pivoted and strode toward the stoop.

“What?” He was firing her?

Rushing through the grass, she seized his hand and refused to let go.

“I deserve an explanation.”

He stiffened.

“I don’t understand your reaction at all,” she charged. “This baby isn’t going to affect your life that much. You’re hardly ever around, and when you are, you’re holed up in your office.” She increased the pressure on his fingers. “Please. I need this job.”

“You can let go of my hand now,” he pushed through wooden lips.

She slowly released him.

He twisted to face her, remorse etched in his features. “My wife and one-year-old son perished in a fire three years ago. It takes everything I have not to relive that nightmare day in and day out. I can’t live with the reminder of what I’ve lost. I can’t.”

Alexander’s stoic mask slipped, and Ellie glimpsed the depth of his brokenness. The word fire penetrated her mind, and she connected it with the scars on his hands. Alexander must’ve been at the scene. He would’ve done everything in his power to save them.

“I had no idea you’d even been married,” she murmured, her heart aching. “Or had a child.”

She knew what it meant to lose a precious little one. She hadn’t gotten a chance to hold her babies in her arms, but that didn’t make her mourning any less powerful. Her heart broke for Alexander. This was the answer to her long-held question—he eschewed the world in order to avoid further pain. While she didn’t agree with his method of coping, she understood what drove him.

“Now you do.” He heaved a sigh. “I truly am sorry, Ellie. You’ve been an asset to the Plum.” The finality in his voice troubled her. He started to turn away.

“Please listen!” She wasn’t too proud to beg. “I can’t go back to that cove. Ralph figured out my secret and advised me to leave. He’s right. Gladys and Nadine will see this baby as their last link to Nolan. You’ve witnessed their dislike. I fear they’ll try to turn my own child against me.”

“Surely there are other jobs you could do. Perhaps at the mercantile.”

“I didn’t see any advertisements when I was there searching for lodging. Not anything suitable, anyway. Besides, who’s going to cook for you? Do you really want to host another town-wide cooking contest? Start fresh with someone new?” She leaned in. “I’ve mostly left you alone.”

He arched a brow in challenge.

“I said mostly,” she defended. “What if the next person you hire is more interfering than me?”

His troubled gaze shifted to the forested mountain peaks and a pair of vultures riding the air current in a circular pattern over unseen remains.

“I promise I’ll stay out of your way,” she pressed. “No more daily intrusions.”

“I don’t know, Ellie...”

“At least let me work until the baby’s born.” By that time, he’d see that having her around wasn’t as difficult as he imagined. They’d be under the same roof, but they’d rarely see each other.





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