Mail Order Sweetheart. Christine Johnson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Mrs. Blackthorn and Mrs. Calloway waved their arms as if shooing crows from a cornfield.

      “You men must have someplace better to tell your tales than in the middle of the kitchen,” Mrs. Blackthorn added.

      Mrs. Calloway nodded in agreement. “Mr. Roland brought dry clothes for those of you who are wet through to the bone.”

      “You can change in the parlor.” Mrs. Blackthorn led them away. “The drapes are drawn, and the stove’s got it toasty as can be. You’ll feel a whole lot better once you’re dry.”

      Gradually the kitchen cleared out except for Mrs. Calloway, who gave Sawyer a sharp look.

      “That applies to you too, Mr. Sawyer. Go and get into some dry clothes.”

      The woman reminded him of his nanny when he was a boy. Mrs. Dougherty didn’t take one bit of nonsense from Sawyer or his brother, Jamie. The memory brought a chuckle to his lips.

      Mrs. Calloway braced her hands on her hips. “There’s nothing funny about freezin’ half to death. Get into some dry clothes. That’s an order.”

      The smile died on Sawyer’s lips. He’d heard his share of orders during the war. Whether they were foolish or wise, he was expected to obey without question. Mrs. Calloway clearly envisioned herself as the field general. But Sawyer was so exhausted that his legs could collapse if he tried to stand. Until the soup revived him, he preferred sitting right where he was.

      He tugged at his thick wool shirt. “Everything is pretty dry already from the stove’s heat.”

      “Nonsense. You men don’t know what’s good for you. Now, hurry along.” As if to emphasize her command, she walked toward the kitchen door, where she waited expectantly.

      “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’ll finish the soup first. It’s taking off the chill.”

      Mrs. Calloway sighed. “Can’t talk sense into a hardheaded man.”

      “I promise to change into dry clothes once I finish eating.” Sawyer placed a hand over his heart as a pledge.

      “I suppose that’ll have to do.” An odd smile twisted her lips. “I expect one other thing’ll help warm you right through.” She lowered her voice from a shout to normal volume. “I oughtn’t be tellin’ you, but Miss Fiona pretty near fainted when she heard your boat had gone down.”

      “She did?” Sawyer found that difficult to believe. Fiona was not prone to fainting spells. In fact, she was the strongest woman under trying conditions that he’d ever met.

      “Of course.” Mrs. Calloway waved a hand. “A woman who thinks she’s lost someone she loves can lose her head.”

      “You mean her niece.” Sawyer couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to relay the information to Fiona. “Tell her that there weren’t any children aboard.”

      “I’m not talkin’ about her niece. By now, she’ll have heard that the little one wasn’t on the ship.” Mrs. Calloway moved close. “You know exactly who I mean. When the word came in that the rescue boat capsized, she was beside herself.”

      Sawyer grimaced at the matchmaking attempt. “Must have been concerned for everyone. After all, everyone can see she set her cap on Carson Blakeney.”

      “The Carson Blakeney who dashed out of town without bothering to say goodbye? Balderdash. He’s not worth the clothes on his back.”

      Sawyer knew that, but Fiona didn’t. Her shock when he told her of Blakeney’s departure made that clear. The biting retort that followed still stung. “She made it perfectly clear that I don’t measure up to her standards.”

      Mrs. Calloway clucked her tongue. “Do you always believe everything a woman tells you?”

      Sawyer swallowed the memory of Julia’s hidden attraction to another man. That was another woman and another time. Fiona was different. “Shouldn’t I?”

      Mrs. Calloway laughed and threw up her hands as she left the kitchen. “Young people these days.”

      Sawyer savored another spoonful of pea soup while her words sank in. Mrs. Calloway believed Fiona liked him. The idea warmed his heart. Then again, her obvious desire to marry coupled with the arrival of her niece could bring a whole lot more attention than he was prepared to accept. He couldn’t take on a wife and family. Not now. Not even for Fiona.

       Chapter Five

      Louise had dressed and gone downstairs by the time Fiona awoke. She’d stayed up late making sure each survivor had enough to eat and a place to sleep. None of them could tell her if Sawyer lived. Guilt gnawed at the back of her mind even while she helped with blankets, nightgowns and hot tea.

      Only when Mrs. Calloway returned in the wee hours of the morning did she get her answer.

      “Chilled to the bone,” the boardinghouse proprietress had said. “Won’t surprise me if he catches a cold.”

      “But he’s alive.” Fiona had leaned against the wall, exhausted.

      “That he is.” Mrs. Calloway had said that with a twinkle in her eye. “No doubt he’ll come a callin’ soon as he can.”

      Fiona had made a flippant comment, trying to allay the woman’s matchmaking efforts, but deep inside she was truly grateful. At least she hadn’t caused his death by insisting he rescue her niece, who wasn’t even on the ship.

      “But they did manage to rescue everyone,” she’d commented.

      “That they did. My Ernie was right there at the forefront, bringin’ them up the dune to safety.”

      That must be why she was so relieved. Everyone was safe. Not just Sawyer. Then why did his face keep popping into her mind? Why recall the grace of his fingers moving across the piano keyboard? He never hit a sour note and never touched a piece of music. The first time she’d hummed a tune, and he then played it with harmony and bass notes included, she’d called him a modern-day Mozart. His face had actually gotten red.

      She smiled at the memory, but that’s all it was—a pleasant memory between two friends. Nothing more than that.

      Reassured, she had retired to the comfort of her stiff and somewhat lumpy mattress. It didn’t even bother her that Louise was already asleep and snoring softly.

      This morning, Fiona stretched her arms with a big yawn. Once she’d dressed and completed her toilette—all without seeing a soul—she headed downstairs. Just how long had she slept? The six ladies, who had received the upstairs rooms, were either still sleeping, or they’d been awake for some time.

      She got her answer the moment she set foot on the main floor. Giggling and excited exclamations came from the direction of the parlor. They were definitely awake.

      “Good morning, Miss Fiona.” Mrs. Calloway breezed from the kitchen with a platter of cinnamon rolls drizzled with sugar icing.

      Fiona’s stomach rumbled. “You’re serving breakfast?”

СКАЧАТЬ