Chapter 12
Easter Sunday,April 10th, 1898, Eagle Creek, Montana
The church had been decorated inside and out with special care for Easter, with bright spring blossoms and gaily colored ribbons. All the little girls were dressed in their finest dresses, with their hair curled, while the boys were struggling not to get their smartest clothes dirty while they played in the bright sunshine. The air was still a little cool, but there was a real feeling of renewal and much to be celebrated. Mayor Holroyd had called a town meeting just last night, to tell everyone about Dr. Hartshorn’s plans, and there was a lot of excitement about the town having its own hospital.
Rachel glanced around as everyone gathered in the town hall for an indoor picnic, and games for the children. She spotted Matthew, sitting near the door, reading a letter. She crossed the hall to join him. “That was a lovely service, wasn’t it?” she said, noticing that the handwriting on the paper he was reading was hers, though as disguised as she had been able to make it.
“It was,” he agreed, tucking the letter into his pocket and blushing a little. “You are spending today alone?”
“How can anyone be alone, surrounded by everyone in town,” she said gesturing to the people milling around, offering tasty treats and chatting together.
“It is a nice tradition, for everyone who wants to do so to gather here. It is so easy to feel alone at Christmas, or Easter, or at other such times when everyone is usually tucked away with their families, if one does not have one.”
“It is easy to feel alone tucked away with one’s family,” Rachel pointed out.
“You don’t talk much about your family,” Matthew said perceptively as she took a seat beside him.
“Neither do you.”
He grinned at her. “I suppose I don’t. But to tell the truth I don’t much remember them.”
“That is sad.”
“No, that is for the best. They aren’t worth recalling.”
Rachel couldn’t help thinking that he remembered more than he cared to admit, but she didn’t push him further. There was little point. He would only clam up and not say anything, and then things would be awkward between them. She did still find it strange that she still knew him only marginally better than she had when she’d first arrived in Eagle Creek, but that seemed to be the way he wanted it. It was a shame, for she sensed a deep well of loneliness in him, but he showed no desire to let anyone close enough to relieve the pain of it.
“How did your meeting with – oh, I forget her name – the young lady you were writing to?” she asked, changing the subject. “You were meeting with her in Billings for lunch yesterday, weren’t you?” He had unwittingly let it slip that he was to meet a young lady as they had finished rounds. He’d immediately looked as though he’d told her the greatest of secrets and that he regretted it completely – and now she’d brought it up again, he looked like he wished the ground would swallow him whole.
But, Rachel hoped to glean as much information as she could about how she should attract his attention, what she should or shouldn’t say to him, in order to ensure that she continued to keep him interested long enough for him to grow attached to Caitlin, her alter-ego. She could not meet with him, and it certainly seemed that he preferred to meet with possible matches sooner rather than later, so she knew she had to be as fascinating to him as possible, so he would keep writing.
“It was a disaster,” he admitted with a rueful shake of his head. “She had written that she was interested in literature and culture, but she knew nothing more about literature than the inside of dreadful romance books and her interest in culture only extended as far as how to wear the latest fashions. She was so dreadfully dull, talked of nothing but herself, and how much money her father has.”
“Oh dear,” Rachel said. “That sounds most unpleasant for you, though if you don’t mind me offering a little advice?”
“Go ahead,” he said cautiously.
“Well, if you do not wish people to talk only of themselves, it would be helpful if you perhaps permitted yourself to talk of yourself just a little more.” She grinned, to let him know she was teasing him, but she hoped that he might see the truth in her words, too.
He laughed. “You are right, of course. I tend to not say much, but mainly because I fear that people might find me terribly dull when they find out that my only real interest is my work.”
“But your work is interesting, and that you love it as much as you do is a fine quality in a man.”
“It shows I am single-minded and that anyone in my life will come second to my work.”
“It shows that you care about people,” Rachel persisted. “And that you are dedicated to helping them.”
“That is a description I would apply to you,” he said softly. “You’re the one with the big heart. Not me.”
Rachel felt her cheeks warming and prayed she wasn’t blushing too much at his compliment, or the way he had looked at her as he said it. There had been something uncharacteristically soft and tender in his expression. If she didn’t know him better, she would think he was perhaps flirting with her a little, but Matthew was not that kind of man.
“Have you tried Cook’s stew?” she asked, changing the subject abruptly. “It is quite the most unusual, but delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. She has a massive pot, full of it, over with the rest of the food.”
“I have not, but will definitely seek her out,” Matthew said, smiling a little, though whether it was because he was amused by how discomfited he had made her, or because he was interested in the stew, Rachel did not know. He stood up, gave her a nodding bow and headed towards the other end of the hall. He turned to look back at her twice, and his gaze seemed somehow different, more intense. Rachel dismissed the thought. It was nonsense. There was nothing more than camaraderie between herself and Matthew, and she did not want for more than that. It would be too awkward otherwise.
Meredith and Elise spotted her and hurried over to join her. “So, has he written back to you yet?” Meridith asked as Elise bit her lip and wrung her hands nervously.
“Not yet, but I think he has received my letter. I cannot be certain, but when I came over here to speak to him he was reading a missive that may have been mine. The script was very like the one I have been using to write to him.”
“That is good news, isn’t it? That he is keeping your letter with him, and perhaps re-reading it? For he couldn’t have received it today as the postal office is closed,” Elise said, her words coming quickly, with barely a breath.
“He seemed to be smiling at it,” Rachel said. “And he told me a little about his meeting with one of the other young ladies, that she talked too much of herself and her father’s wealth.”
“Well, that is useful to know. Did he say anything else?”
“That if someone says they are into literature and culture, that they should be more broadly read than those cheap penny romances and care for actual art, not just pretty clothes.”
“He did not say that,” Elise said, giggling.
“In as many words,” Rachel confirmed. “It is helpful to know that he is not looking for a vacuous woman. I should find it too difficult to pretend to be one of those, I think. But it still does not tell me much more about what he would want in a wife.”
“I overheard Tom and Aidan talking,” Meredith said. “Aidan is sure that no matter who crosses his path, that Matthew’s head will not be turned. He is sure that Matthew is just not the marrying kind.”
“I do hope that isn’t true,” Elise said. “Tom has to win this bet. We cannot afford for him not to.”
“I am doing all I can, but if he ever finds out that I have been writing to him, it will ruin everything,” Rachel admitted. “We work together, and it is vital that we trust one another, especially now with the new hospital to plan, too.”
“I’ll understand if you want to give up,” Elise said sadly. “After all, it is already half way through April, and there are only eight months of the twelve left. Love can sometimes take time, and time is something we might not have enough of.”
“We mustn’t give up hope,” Meredith said firmly to her friend. “You aren’t saying you’ll stop writing, are you, Rachel?”
“Not at all. But there may come a time when I have to,” she said cautiously.
Elise nodded. “I understand.”
Meredith turned to look back at the crowds of people milling around. Her gaze fell upon Matthew, who was talking to Aston and Helen Merryweather. “He is a very fine looking man, though,” she teased. “Are you sure you are only doing this for Elise’ sake, or do you have an ulterior motive?”
“Meredith,” Rachel scolded. “I do not see him that way.” But the easy way he talked with the Merryweathers, the way his smile lit up his face, making the skin around his eyes crinkle, Rachel had to admit that he was a very handsome man. And she did like him, as much as it was possible to like someone you knew so little about. But she knew the important things, didn’t she? He was good and kind, generous with his time and knowledge. He was patient and diligent. There were many women who married men with far less attractive qualities. But she couldn’t get past the simple truth, that he just didn’t seem to trust anyone enough to tell them who he truly was – and that would always be something she could not accept.
Even though she had lost her mother at a young age, she remembered how close her parents had been. They shared everything, the good, the bad and the downright bizarre. They had no secrets, and they loved one another deeply. Rachel had always been sure that if she could not find a match like theirs, that she would rather remain alone, and so she still was. She had watched many of her friends settle for the best they thought they could find, and whenever any of them wrote to her now, they spoke of not feeling fully valued in their marriages, of being discontented in their lives, wishing they had waited. Except Jo, of course, who had unexpectedly fallen in love with a good man, while she had been on the lookout for a wealthy, well-connected man to marry. Luckily for her, he had turned out to be reasonably wealthy, too.
Sadly, though, Jo was an exception. Until she had come to Eagle Creek, Rachel had not met many truly happily married couples, but here they seemed to be found in abundance. She watched Meredith tend to her husband, as he grumpily rolled himself around the churchyard in his adapted bath chair, and the Denny’s as they tried to herd their brood of children and their friends, as well as the Merryweathers and Walkers, whose gentle companionship spoke of years of trust and contentment together. And so many of them had met because one of them had placed an advertisement, and they’d gotten to know one another in writing, long before they had met in person.
Would she find a way to break down Matthew’s carefully built wall? Would he ever open up to her, or anyone else? Sadly, she doubted it. She had never known anyone so skilled in avoiding any and all conversation about himself and his past. And somehow, virtually nobody else seemed to notice that he never really said a word. He was charming and polite, and not in any way did he seem insincere. Yet, she knew very little more about him now than she had when she’d first arrived in Eagle Creek. And she wanted to know him. Even though she would never have admitted it to anyone else, Rachel longed to know Matthew, the good and the bad.