His Forgotten Fiancée. Evelyn Hill M.

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Matthew cocked one eyebrow at her. It felt odd, someone so dainty stepping up to be his champion. It was a new sensation, but he rather liked watching this little spitfire stand up for him. He said mildly, “The fact is that this man does not remember me and I do not remember him. We are back where we started.”

      Mr. Keller said, “I recollect that your man used to talk some with old Mrs. Martin, help her carrying water and such. Maybe you could ask her.”

      Matthew thought that Liza was forcing her smile as she thanked the other man. Certainly, this smile had nothing of the effect of the one she had given him when they were alone in the dry goods store. Thankfully.

      He opened the door for her and followed her outside again. Standing on the plank sidewalk, he said, “I’m not sure meeting people I’m supposed to know is having any effect on my memory.”

      “You can’t be sure from just that one encounter. I’ll introduce you to everyone we met on the wagon train if that’s what it takes to help you remember.” She sighed. “Except most of them aren’t around this area. The available land near here was claimed before we came, so people went down south, toward Salem. Never mind. Meeting old Mrs. Martin will trigger your memory.”

      When they arrived at Mrs. Martin’s place, her daughter-in-law listened to Liza’s explanation, then she looked at Matthew doubtfully. “She’s been feeling poorly of late. But I remember her telling us how kind the people she came out with had been. I was glad to hear it. It worried me that she came out on a wagon train without family to help her, but she said she had to come. After we left, she found she couldn’t bear to be parted from Tad, not after losing her other sons.”

      She led them into a stuffy back room, smelling strongly of a mixture of lavender and licorice cough drops. An older woman sat in a rocking chair, reading her Bible. “Mama, this man here wants to know if you remember him.”

      He stepped into the room and stopped, assaulted by a memory. An older woman, the lines in her face carved from pain and years of hard work. Matthew frowned, trying to grasp the memory that had surfaced. Something about coming too late. Even as he reached for it, the image slipped away, elusive as a fish in a stream.

      The frail older woman put down her book and took off her spectacles. She took one look at Matthew, and her face lit up with joy. “Yes, that’s him! That’s him. You’ve found him.” Her hands came out to caress his cheek. Tears ran down her face. “That’s him. That’s my son Elliott.” She asked Liza, “Have you seen his brother Quincy? They told me they got a fever and they died, but I knew better. I knew you’d come back to me.”

      Liza winced. This all was her fault. Matthew, looking intensely uncomfortable, tried to step back. Mrs. Martin clung to him, pressing her cheek against his jacket and crying.

      “Madam, forgive me, but—” His voice faded. He raised one hand and gave a few tentative pats on her shoulder. “It will be all right.” Liza had never heard him speak so gently. His deep voice carried conviction in a way that was subtly reassuring. “If the Lord took your sons, then He has them safe. He’ll keep them in His heart until you can see them again. It will be all right.” Despite his own obvious discomfort, he wanted to offer comfort to the poor woman.

      Mrs. Martin’s daughter-in-law roused herself from her mortified stupor and stepped in to soothe the older woman. Liza grabbed Matthew’s arm and they left.

      Out in the fresh air again, Matthew took a deep breath. His face was even more pale than it had been last night. “Please tell me there isn’t anyone else you think I should meet today.”

      Something twisted inside her, right about the region of her heart, at the thought of putting him through any more trauma. “One more person. The barber. You were clean shaven when Mr. Keller and Mrs. Martin knew you. How can you expect anyone to recognize you when you look so different?”

      “I do not currently possess any funds.” He fingered the ends of his beard. “And you have already paid for the doctor’s visit.”

      “I’ll take it out of your wages,” she said lightly. “You want people to recognize you, not run away in fright.”

      Under that fearsome beard, she thought that she saw one corner of his mouth twitch upward. “Lead on, m’lady.”

      While Matthew was at the barber’s, Liza went to stock up on supplies. Coming down the sidewalk, she saw Mr. Brown walking toward her, his head bent so he did not see her. By his side walked Dr. Graham. They were deep in discussion. She hurried into Abernethy’s mercantile store before they noticed her. Mr. Brown always made her uncomfortable. It was the way he stared at her. Made her feel as if she was touching a toad.

      She bought tea, beans and, of course, salmon jerky, since it was so prevalent. If she could persuade her father to build a smokehouse, they could make their own. But that was a battle she would have to fight later. Once they harvested the grain, they’d have enough to live on through the winter. That was all she could concentrate on at the moment.

      At least, that was all she could concentrate on before she stepped out of the store and saw Matthew coming down the sidewalk in his slow, easy stride.

      She stopped moving. Somehow, she had forgotten how handsome he was. Clean shaven, with neatly trimmed hair, his impact swept over her like a physical wave. High cheekbones, elegant bone structure, those thin well-shaped lips that used to smile at her so easily. Only a bruise on one side of that square jaw and the thin red line by his temple reminded her of the injured man who had stood in her doorway last night demanding to know who he was.

      He raised one eyebrow. “Do I pass muster?”

      “I’m sorry?”

      “You’re staring.”

      She swallowed her disappointment. For a moment, she had expected him to be his old self again, holding out his hands to her and smiling. The new Matthew did not behave like that.

      She felt sorrow for the loss, something precious as gold slipping through her fingers. If ever he loved her, that part of him was forgotten. Maybe he’d never loved her at all. How could she tell?

      “You’ll do.” She hefted the basket with her shopping, but he slipped it from her grasp. He offered her his left arm, escorting her down Main Street for all the world as if he were promenading down the finest street in St. Louis on a Sunday afternoon. Despite her depression, she spared a moment to be amused by his air. He had always treated her like a rare precious object. Right up to the point he had left. How many other women had he treated in the exact same manner while he’d been away? Granny Whitlow’s comment about all the pretty women in California was probably true. She sighed. He looked at her sideways but made no comment on her mood.

      When they got to the livery stables, they found Frank Dawson leaning against the wall, arms folded. He ignored Matthew and spoke to Liza. “I’d like a word with you.”

      Matthew frowned, but he handed the basket back to her. “I’ll help harness the horse.”

      Frank waited until Matthew was out of earshot before he spoke. “Are you serious about that man? He looks like a vagabond, from what I can tell.”

      “I thought he looked much more respectable now that he’s had a shave and a haircut.”

      “He don’t seem like the man you described when you came up here, is all.”

      “Frank СКАЧАТЬ