Chapter 7
Chapter
“Oh, Noreen, I’m so sorry.” Jane leaned forward on the chair in her parlor and clasped Noreen’s hand, her eyes gleaming with heartache on her friend’s behalf after hearing the recounting of Sunday’s unfortunate episode.
Noreen had waited to fill her friends in on what had transpired until they met for their weekly Tuesday afternoon tea.
Thankfully, the sharp sting of hurt had dimmed to a dull ache after two days.
Unexpected flares of anger occasionally burst upon her, but Noreen had been doing her best not to succumb to bitterness.
Prayer had been helping, but additional motivation had arisen from a surprising source.
A smiling, good-natured deputy who was quick with a laugh and even quicker with a kind word.
Somehow in the last few days, his opinion had started to matter to her, and the thought of disappointing him bothered her more than her stepfather’s callous treatment.
Martha’s teacup clinked as she set it on its saucer. “Has your mother reached out since then?”
Noreen nodded as she squeezed Jane’s hand.
“She stopped by the hotel kitchen this morning during my breakfast shift to apologize. She didn’t stay long and wore a scarf draped over her head as if trying to hide within its folds.
It wouldn’t surprise me if Arthur has forbidden her from associating with me in any capacity. ”
“Her poor heart must be breaking,” Jane said. “I can’t imagine being separated from one’s own child.”
“That’s because you’d never willingly allow such a travesty to happen.
” Martha set her cup and saucer on the small table in front of her chair and aimed an indignant look at Jane, who perched on the sofa next to Noreen on Martha’s right.
“Even as mild mannered as you are, you’d fight to your last breath for your child.
Any of us would. It’s our duty and our God-given privilege to love and protect the children in our care. ”
Noreen laid a hand on Martha’s arm. How her heart swelled in her chest to have the support of two such loyal friends.
“I appreciate your outrage on my behalf. I have to admit that I felt quite the same in the moment. The little girl inside me longed for Mama to speak in my defense, to defy her husband and declare that I am welcome in her house whenever I wish to visit. But once the feeling of betrayal faded, I remembered that I wasn’t that little girl anymore.
Unlike your pupils, Martha, I’m a grown woman.
I don’t need my mother to fight for me. I can do that myself. ”
“And you have us.” Jane’s fierce look reminded Noreen of a kitten imitating a mountain lion. It was utterly adorable and completely genuine at the same time.
“That’s right,” Martha agreed with a teacher tone that brooked no argument, “and we’ll never abandon you.”
“Thank you both. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Lord willing, you’ll never have to find out.
” Martha pushed to her feet and began pacing the room, her face a study in concentration.
“I’ve never been terribly fond of manipulative men who use their power to get their way.
But it makes me wonder why your mother capitulated so easily.
” She paused her pacing and turned a concerned glance Noreen’s way.
“You don’t think he will harm her, do you? ”
“Not physically, no. That is one thing my mother will not tolerate. She told him before they married that if he ever laid a hand on either of us she’d leave him.
But there is more than one way to assert an unhealthy dominance, especially over a woman who believes it is her Christian duty to bend to her husband’s will in everything. ”
Jane’s brow furrowed. “But isn’t that true? Ephesians 5:24 says that ‘as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing.’”
“Yes, but have you noticed that sermons preached on that topic fail to go on to the next verses? The ones that stipulate that husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the church, giving himself up for her. Sacrificing himself for her good. Not subjugating her opinions and will in order to promote his own. Verse twenty-nine states he is to nourish and cherish his wife as the Lord does the church.”
Martha chuckled softly. “I see you’ve given this some thought, Noreen.”
She shrugged. “Yes, well, my mother and I have had a few debates on the topic over the years. Especially when she decides to nag me about marrying. I’ve told her that as soon as I find a man who loves me as Christ loves the church, I’ll be subject to him in marriage.
Until then, I’ll hang on to my freedom.”
Jane shifted on the sofa. “Do such men exist? Christ was perfect, and his love is perfect. That seems like an impossible standard to achieve. Not even my papa, a man of the cloth, can claim perfection.”
Noreen offered a cheeky grin. “Hence why I’m still single.”
“You’re terrible.” Martha jostled Noreen’s shoulder, amusement thickening her voice. “But not exactly wrong.”
Noreen joined Martha’s laughter, and even Jane smiled, but at the back of Noreen’s mind a thought stirred.
Could there be a man out there who might come to love her in such a nourishing, cherishing way?
One who would put her needs above his own as Christ did for the church?
She’d never credited the existence of such men, but Deputy Paxton was starting to challenge her assumptions.
Oh, he’d never love her that way. She annoyed him far too much, and the secrets she harbored would destroy any goodwill she managed to build.
Yet the fact that he existed meant that others might as well.
A radical paradigm shift for a staunch spinster to consider.
Martha circled around to her chair and reclaimed her seat. “Have you ladies made your decision about joining the society?” Her gaze darted from Noreen to Jane and back again as if she were actually nervous about their answers.
“Of course we’re joining. Right, Jane?” Noreen looked to her friend for confirmation.
Jane nodded, though her slow chin bob lacked Noreen’s adamancy.
Martha’s perfect posture sagged a bit in relief.
“Oh, good. I’ve been on pins and needles since the meeting last Thursday.
Hortense and I have such hopes of encouraging a sisterhood among ladies in similar circumstances.
In fact, the reason she sought out my partnership was because she recognized the close friendship that exists between the three of us. She claimed we inspired her.”
Noreen sat a little straighter. Who would have guessed that someone as respected as Hortense Lockwood would find inspiration in something in which Noreen was involved? What a novel experience.
“I should probably warn you that I promised Luella she could be a junior spinster. When she told me that she’d helped you gather research for the reports on impactful single women in history, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to offer a little more comradery.
She’s so young, but she’s in desperate need of a community she can count on.
She doesn’t get that at home, and she was so excited by the prospect. ”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Martha said.
“She’s such a bright student, but she has trouble making friends her own age.
And with no siblings at home, she’s a bit adrift.
She wouldn’t be allowed to attend the meetings, of course, but maybe we can look for other ways to involve her.
I might even be able to save her a handkerchief. ”
Jane reached for the teapot and refilled her cup. “What’s this about a handkerchief?”
Martha’s eyes danced. “You’ll have come to Thursday’s meeting to find out.”
Noreen sat forward. “You’re going to keep us in suspense?”
“Patience is a virtue, Noreen.”
“One I don’t possess.” She sat back with an exaggerated huff, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Consider it a chance to practice,” Martha teased. “You might need it the next time you take on Milton Taggert.”
Not if her secret weapon came through. And she intended to see that he did.
She’d spent all day yesterday planning the perfect menu to present to him tomorrow in order to gain his cooperation.
If fried chicken, glazed carrots, yeast rolls, and her famous mashed potatoes didn’t put Deputy Paxton in her debt, nothing would.
James peered out the jailhouse door on Wednesday evening and spied a willowy woman marching his direction with purpose and a basket filled with what were sure to be tasty vittles.
Instead of purring in anticipation, though, his stomach clenched in dread.
Whatever delicious meal she’d prepared, it came with a giant string attached.
One that could easily hog-tie his career aspirations if he didn’t handle it right.
Noreen must have spotted him, for her face brightened, and she raised a hand in a cheerful wave.
Which caused his stomach to flip-flop around like a landed fish on its last breath.
Dread. Delight. Discombobulation. He could do without all the acrobatics in his midsection.
’Course that was business as usual when Noreen O’Sullivan was around.
Why’d he have to pick this woman to be attracted to?
She could ruin him. Yet she could also spice up his plain-potato existence.
Just as she’d taken his pitiful taters and turned them into a feast, he got the feeling she could do the same thing with his orderly life.
He just wasn’t sure if he wanted his simple life complicated to that extent.
If she’d even have him. She was married to her reform work and gave no indication she’d entertain a suitor made of flesh and blood.
He pushed to his feet, strode to the doorway, and leaned against the jamb as she approached, hoping he looked nonchalant.
He lifted his gaze from her face to scan the surrounding streets, a cowardly part of him hoping to uncover an excuse to avoid her.
Not only because he had no idea how to help her cause without damaging his career, but because she looked far too fetching in pink gingham.
Where were the no-frills white blouses and dark skirts she usually wore?
She hadn’t dressed up for him, had she? His heart gave an extra hard thump.
Surely not. She wasn’t the feminine wiles type.
Maybe she was behind on her washing. Yeah, that made sense.
He’d donned Sunday duds on a weekday more than once when he’d run out of clean clothes to wear.
“Deputy Paxton.” Her smile widened, and a gentle flush painted her cheeks as she drew to a halt in front of him. “I hope you’re hungry.” She lifted the basket between them, and the unmistakable aroma of fried chicken immediately set his mouth to watering.
He straightened away from the doorjamb and politely tugged on the front brim of his hat. “Miss Noreen.” Figuring speaking as little as possible might be his best strategy for this encounter, he stepped aside and motioned with a sweep of his hand for her to enter.
He followed her in, casting his gaze safely past her distracting form to the wanted posters tacked to the notice board on the office wall.
Maybe he should find someone to arrest. The lack of privacy might discourage her from trying to rope him into her plans.
Or at least provide a somewhat valid excuse for him to escape to the cells upstairs.
After setting her basket down on his worktable, she sauntered over to the jailhouse stove and took down the tin plates they kept for feeding prisoners as if perfectly at home in her surroundings.
The woman had cooked one meal at his stove and now moved about as if she belonged there.
Worse yet, she made it far too easy for him to imagine her there on a regular basis.
“Would you like coffee with your supper?” She helped herself to the towel hanging from a nail beneath the shelf, folded it over her hand, and took up the coffeepot as she turned to face him, the question reiterated in her eyes.
“Sure.” He turned toward his desk and retrieved his cup that still had a few dregs in it from an afternoon spent working on reports documenting the arguments and scuffles he’d intervened in so far this week.
He dumped the dregs into the spittoon Sheriff Adair kept in the corner between the back of the door and the edge of his desk, then plopped the cup on the table.
Noreen’s smile faltered as she beheld the unwashed cup, but she rallied in a blink and poured coffee into the vessel without further hesitation.
She did make a point to wipe out one of the cups from the shelf before she filled it with water from the pail he’d filled at the pump a couple of hours ago.
She remained blessedly nonverbal as she unpacked the supper she’d brought—a feast of crispy chicken, creamy white potatoes, glistening glazed carrots, and yeast rolls as big as his fist.
Man, he was in trouble. The wafting aromas had already started seeping into his brain to erase his reasons for not getting involved with this woman.
“You shouldn’t’ve gone to such trouble, ma’am.” She really shouldn’t have.
“Nonsense. I enjoyed cooking for a particular person instead of faceless hotel patrons. It was a nice ch—”
The explosive crack of gunfire shot a bolt of electricity through James, crystalizing his focus in an instant.
“Stay here!”
Drawing his revolver, he ran out into the street and headed west to the heart of town, praying he’d not find anyone dead.