Loving Eliza Read online

  When he left the bedroom, he found Eliza ready to start painting with her brush. He hurried over to her and showed her the dress.

  She looked down at her green dress. “I should change, shouldn’t I? I didn’t think about making a mess.”

  He smiled and tapped the side of his head.

  She grinned. “I know. You’re always one step ahead of me, aren’t you? Alright. I’ll be back.” She set down the paintbrush, took the dress, and departed from the parlor.

  Turning his attention to the light green paint, he dipped his brush into it. By the time she returned, he had painted around the bare window.

  He sighed at the sight of her. She needed to eat more. He’d forgotten his initial impression of her when she arrived in town. Maybe he could convince her to eat more dessert. That brown candy she made was sure tasty.

  She joined him with her own brush. “This will look much better than the faded old white paint. And since we already washed the walls, we can just get right to it.”

  He watched her as she moved the brush up and down on the wall next to him. She had a slight smile on her lips and her hair was pulled back into a bun for the task. He wanted to stand there forever and stare at her. She was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, and despite her insistence that Daphne would suit him, he refused to believe that. How could anyone come close to her now that he got the chance to know her? She was even better than he originally thought.

  She glanced in his direction with an amused expression on her face. “Are you going to help me or do you expect me to do all the work?”

  Blushing, he turned his attention back to painting his section of the wall.

  They worked in silence for a good hour before she decided to take a break. He covered the paint and followed her out of the house, wondering where she was going.

  When she realized he was behind her, she laughed. “You don’t have to come with me. I’m just going for a walk.” Though she said those words, she stopped and waited for him to catch up, which he did.

  He wanted to hold her hand. She’d stopped doing that ever since they went to church, and he wondered why. Of course, he couldn’t ask.

  “I think you’ll like the way the rooms look when we’re done. I never did like white walls. I like color and variety. White is boring.”

  He smiled. For her, white probably was boring. He likened himself to the white walls—easy to miss but serving a purpose. She was definitely color—dynamic and intriguing. Funny how he didn’t realize how empty his life had been before she came into it, but he supposed one didn’t realize how boring a white wall was until someone put some color on it. He had to admit that he liked the green paint she chose.

  As they strolled along the path he had cleared along the tall grass in the prairie, she continued to talk. “Sometimes I wish I could fly like one of those birds up there. I try to imagine what it would be like to feel the air beneath me. They look free up there, don’t you think?” As usual, she didn’t wait for his response. “When I was a little girl, I used to run around my house and pretend I was a bird. My parents thought I was ridiculous to want to be a bird. But my pa would humor me and put me on his shoulders so I could stretch out my arms and fly.”

  When he realized she had stopped talking, he turned his gaze to her. To his surprise, she wasn’t looking at him like she often did to see if he was even paying attention to her. Instead, she had her head bowed and a frown on her face, as if she was sad. He tapped her on the arm.

  Finally making eye contact, she shrugged. “I miss my parents sometimes. My life would have been different if they had lived.”

  He made a motion for her to continue but she didn’t.

  They reached the creek that ran along his property. It was the only section of his land that had a row of trees on it. The rest of the place was mostly prairie grass, though he did have four trees spread around his house.

  He found a bunch of yellow flowers grouped together close to the creek, so he gathered a couple of them and brought them to her.

  A smile crossed her face as she took them. “Is this your way of trying to make me feel better?”

  No, it hadn’t been. He just wanted to show her that he had yellow flowers nearby. He planted some close to his house too. He didn’t plant them near her home. There was no sense in making her too comfortable there. If he did that, she might never think of his house as hers.

  “Thank you,” she said. She sat next to the creek and put the flowers on the ground next to her so she could wash her hands.

  He settled next to her and also washed his hands. Deciding to press his luck, he inched toward her, trying to be subtle about it so she wouldn’t notice. When she finished and sat back, he joined her on the grass, happily noting that they were just a couple of inches from touching. He liked this. Just sitting next to her and enjoying the late morning under the shade of the tree. He wished they could stay there forever...without anyone or anything coming between them.

  She collected the flowers and placed them on her lap. “How many days do you think it’ll take to paint the rooms?”

  Since he could now count to ten, he held up seven fingers.

  “A full week?” She sighed. “I guess that’s right. At least if we want to do a good job. For some reason, I thought it’d go faster than that.”

  He shook his head and grinned at her.

  “I know. I need more patience. Things worth doing shouldn’t be rushed. Did anyone ever tell you that redheads have a terrible time waiting?”

  She had to be kidding. She had no trouble waiting to marry him. His gaze shifted to her hands. It was hard to judge the size of her ring finger from looking at it. He reached forward and touched her hand.

  “John.”

  He recognized the warning in her voice, so he quickly plucked a nearby white flower with his free hand and held it in front of her.

  She didn’t look convinced that his actions were innocent, but he pressed forward and opened the palm of her hand so it was facing up. He placed the white flower in it and collected two of the yellow flowers and put one on each side of the white flower. As he smoothed the flowers out, he took one of the petals and wrapped it around her ring finger.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  She didn’t sound annoyed, though there was a hint of hesitation in her voice.

  He rubbed his fingernail against the part of the petal that marked the width of her finger. Then he glanced around for a distraction. Finding the squirrel sniffing around the tree across from them, he nodded toward it.

  Success! She looked at the critter. “What is it?”

  He yanked the petal from the flower and let her hand go.

  “I don’t understand. What is so important about the squirrel?”

  He shrugged as he slipped the petal into his pocket.

  “Sometimes I don’t know what to do about you.”

  Holding his hand up, he pointed to his ring finger.

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “When are you going to give up?”

  He noted a hint of amusement in her tone instead of the usual exasperation, so he decided to press his luck. Wrapping his arms around her, he knocked her over so that they both landed on the grass.

  After a startled shriek, she wiggled so that she could face him.

  He held onto her and threw his leg over hers before she could get up.

  “Too bad those people in town can’t see you now. Just look at the way you take advantage of a poor, unsuspecting woman!”

  Shrugging, he gave her a wicked smile and kissed her cheek.

  “Oh John, you can’t be serious.” Despite her attempt to look stern, she also laughed. “You’re not playing fair. You know I’m not strong enough to get away.”

  He raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t even trying to get away from him. That meant there was hope, right? Even if she protested, she seemed to be enjoying it. Noticing that a strand of her hair was close to her eyes, he reached up and brushed it away. Noting the s
oftness of her skin, he let his fingers linger at her cheek.

  “I never met anyone more determined than you. You’re much too stubborn for your own good.”

  It was true so he didn’t deny it. Instead, he let his fingers drift to her pink lips. He’d never kissed a woman before, but he’d seen other men do it. It looked simple enough. And if it was so simple, why did he suddenly worry he couldn’t do it right?

  She wasn’t fighting him. In fact, her hands stayed on his arms. It was a very pleasant feeling—one he wanted to enjoy forever if she’d let him. He closed his eyes and kissed her. His movement was stiff. He knew it was, but he didn’t know how to relax when his heart was beating frantically against his chest. But he liked the kiss so he leaned forward for another one.

  Her lips were warm against his, and she returned his kiss, almost seeming hesitant but still willing. He let his lips linger on hers, never wanting to leave the sweet bit of heaven he’d suddenly discovered. He thought he’d like to kiss a woman some day, but he had no idea just how much he’d like it. This, he decided, was the most wonderful experience he’d ever had.

  Reluctant, he pulled away from her. His gaze met hers and he sensed the uncertainty in her eyes. He pointed to his temple.

  “What am I thinking?” she softly asked.

  He nodded.

  She took a moment before she responded. “I’m thinking we need to get back to painting the house.”

  Chapter Eight

  Eliza pushed John off of her and quickly stood up. What was she doing, kissing a man who’d never kissed a woman before? She’d kissed virgins before, and there was always that tentative moment in the kiss, like they weren’t sure of what to do next.

  The sweetest man she’d ever met had just kissed her, and she initiated him further into it by responding to him. She shouldn’t let her pleasure get in the way of her senses. Yes, she enjoyed it. Much more than she should have. After all, she’d kissed so many men in her time that she couldn’t even count them all. But even the most experienced men hadn’t affected her the way John had. He cared for her. And that terrified her.

  She strode back to the house and he followed her. She didn’t want to face him. Not now. Not when her hands trembled and her heart hammered loudly in her ears. She needed to get back to something concrete, something she could concentrate on and lose herself in. Painting was as good a method for escaping her unwanted emotions as anything else she could do.

  As she reached the house, a horse’s neigh caught her attention. She groaned when she saw Troy riding toward the house.

  “Morning, Eliza,” he greeted as he pulled back the reins. “You are certainly looking fine today.”

  The man was lying. The dress John had given her hung on her like a limp rag.

  “I’d ask John what he’s doing giving you Ma’s old dress to wear, but he won’t be able to answer.”

  She glanced at John who didn’t look pleased. Who could blame him? “John is right here if you want to ask. He may not talk but he has other ways of communicating. He can tell you almost anything you want to know just by using his hands.”

  “Is that so?” By the way Troy said that, it was obvious he didn’t believe it.

  John stepped in front of her before Troy got there first.

  She rolled her eyes. All she saw was John’s broad back. The man was worse than a protective mother bear.

  “Alright, John,” Troy said in irritation. “I get the message. I’m not taking her away from here. You can back off. I came out to talk to you anyway.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Good. “In that case, I’ll get back to painting!”

  Before anyone could protest, she scurried back into the house. The first thing she noticed was the strong smell of paint fumes. Well, John would just have to keep the windows open for awhile.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Troy demanded, shoving a piece of paper at John.

  She stopped at the kitchen window. She really had no right to find out what upset Troy. After all, it wasn’t like he was speaking that loud. But he was speaking loud enough for her to hear him. So technically, she wasn’t eavesdropping. Besides, she did need a cup of water. She went to the work table and lifted the pitcher, deciding it was a good idea to take her time at the task.

  She peaked out the window. Troy didn’t just look annoyed. He looked fuming mad.

  “You had no right to do this!”

  John stood still, his face unreadable.

  “I ought to make you deal with this.” He motioned to the letter in John’s hands.

  She poured the water into the cup and sipped it.

  “What’s the big idea, John? You wrote to a mail-order bride in my name?”

  Startled, she spit out her drink. She grabbed a towel and dried her lips and the table in front of her. John did what?

  “I don’t need you to find me a bride,” Troy seethed. “I’m perfectly capable of handling that area of my life on my own. It’s you who needs the help, what with you being a freak and all.”

  Oh, he didn’t! Not John’s own brother! Eliza set the cup and towel down and peered out the corner of the window without trying to be spotted in case they looked in her direction.

  John threw the letter back at Troy and pushed him back.

  “You think Eliza’s going to marry you? You couldn’t even get that mail-order bride of yours to show up. And she never met you. What makes you think Eliza’s going to want a mute for a husband?”

  John marched over to Troy’s horse and untied its reins from the tree.

  Troy strode after him. “What are you doing?”

  Eliza moved so she could see where they were going.

  John held up the reins and pointed to the saddle.

  “You think you’re going to tell me what to do? Well, let me set something straight for you. No one orders me around, you understand?” Then he pushed John away from his horse.

  John made a move toward Troy but stopped and then waved him off the property.

  “I’m not marrying Cara. You hear me?” Troy jumped on his horse. “I told her that my mute, freak brother wrote the letter as a joke. She won’t be coming.” He glared at John. “Since when did you learn to write anyway? Aaron teach you?”

  He shrugged.

  “It probably was him. He’s soft. Just keep your nose out of my business.” Then he tapped the horse in the sides with his boots. As the horse trotted off the land, he called out something.

  Eliza couldn’t make out what it was, but John rolled his eyes. She expected John to come into the house but he didn’t. Instead, he strode over to the shed he worked in, entered it, and slammed the door behind him. Well, who could blame him for being upset? Apparently, it wasn’t just most of the town who thought John wasn’t worth the time or effort to treat with respect. She had no siblings, but if she had, she’d like to think she’d be close to them.

  The more she got to know John and the people in town, the less she wanted to know about them. She didn’t know why she assumed that a small town would have a friendly feel to it. In a bigger place like Omaha, it was easy to be impersonal. She made a few good friends, other prostitutes like herself who had nowhere to go. She learned to appreciate what she did have and not think of things that could’ve been. That’s where unhappiness came from. Not being content with what one had. Always looking at how things could be better. Always wondering “what if”.

  She recalled her first friend at the saloon. Maggie had been a prostitute for five years when Eliza was sold into the business. Maggie was miserable there and ended up committing suicide. That was when Eliza decided she’d stop feeling sorry for herself. Yes, what happened to her was bad. Her uncle had taken advantage of her and then lied about it. To cover up his sin, he sold her to Ross. And she’d never forget how mad Ross was when he discovered she was carrying a child.

  She forced the memories back into the safe corner of her mind where she could lock it away and forget about it. It did no good to dwell on things she
had no control over. She also had no control over what people thought of John or how John reacted to it. All she could do was control how she reacted to it. Like everything else in life, she had to deal with it the best she knew how. So she’d put on a smile and find reasons to be thankful.

  She glanced around the room. She had food and shelter. She had a generous employer who was also kind. She was no longer a prostitute. She was a lady now. She could finally walk through town without pretending that the stares and whispers didn’t bother her. People now treated her with respect. It was a good feeling. Yes, she had lots to be thankful for, and she’d do her part to make life better for those around her.

  She returned to the paint and got back to work.

  ***

  That Sunday, Eliza put on her modest dress and adjusted her hat. It was as hot as August could get, but that was the price she paid for being a lady. Her clothing hadn’t covered all of her when she worked at the saloon. But she worked for John now. Honest work. Work she was grateful to have. And if no one could appreciate John and the fact that he gave her a good job and did honest work, then that was their problem. Not John’s. And not hers.

  Determined, she took one last look at her reflection and nodded. She left her home and strode over to John’s house. Just as she made it up the steps, he opened the door.

  “You look nice,” she greeted. “Isn’t it a beautiful day? It’s the perfect day for a Sunday ride into town.” Even as she said it, she batted away a couple of flying insects that circled her head. She laughed. “I guess the bugs think it’s a nice day too.”

  He pointed to his ring finger.

  Rolling her eyes, she decided to ignore him today. He seemed to think that just because they were going to church, it was the right time to propose. Well, that wasn’t exactly true either. He seemed to think that every day was a good day to propose...and any reason was a good reason.

  “I can’t wait for Daphne to show up.”