Courting Miss Adelaide (24 page)

She cleared a spot and put it on the desk. “It’s for you, as a thank-you for repairing the pane of glass.” Though now she wanted to take it back. Let Fannie bake him a cake. She hoped he realized the bottom would be charred.

Charles lifted the napkin and leaned over the plate, inhaling. “Angel food cake, prepared by an angel.” He gave her a wink. “Even if at the moment, her halo is off-kilter.”

Without thinking, Adelaide gave her hat a tug. Some halo, decked out with feathers. “Laura made the cake, not me.”

“Did she ask you to bring me a piece? Or was it your idea?”

“Can’t you just say thank you? Not everything is a story for the paper!”

He chuckled. “You
are
grumpy, but you’re right. Thank you for the cake.” He pulled out the chair. “Have a seat. I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.”

The coffee smelled strong enough to stand a spoon in, exactly what she needed to summon the starch absent from her spine since the break-in. “I’d enjoy a cup.”

Adelaide removed her gloves and laid them in her lap. Charles returned with her coffee, looking confident and in control. She wanted to punch him.

“You’re fresh as a daisy. I’d never guess what a hard day you’ve had.”

“Are those the same words you said to Fannie?”

He grinned. “Why, Miss Crum, you’re jealous.”

She dipped her head to sip. “Jealous? Certainly not.”

Beaming now, he resembled a bullfrog all puffed up with pride. “Is that so?”

Adelaide lowered her gaze, not daring to look him in the eye. She
was
jealous. And that surprised her. And, worse yet, he knew it. That put her at a disadvantage. “Not at all. As half owner of the paper, I perceived your behavior as…unsuitable for the editor of our newspaper. In public, no less.”

She took a second sip of coffee and grimaced. It tasted twice as awful as the first gulp. She jutted out her chin. “I’ve no interest in who you kiss. Or who kisses you.”

His eyes twinkled. “If you’re not interested, then I won’t tell you why Fannie kissed me.”

He played with her like a cat toyed with a mouse. Adelaide let out a gust of frustration. “All right, why? And I’m only asking out of journalistic inquiry, I’ll have you know. In case I should decide to write a column on—” she scrambled for something to say “—lip ointments.”

He whooped with laughter. “With a tale like that, have you considered writing fiction, Miss Crum?”

“Perhaps I will some day.” Here she told one fib after another, trying to pretend Charles meant nothing to her. If she kept this up, God might not think much of her, either.

“I’ll give you the scoop. I told Fannie I’m old enough to be her father, figuring that might cool her interest.” He grimaced. “I needn’t have bothered. James came in and before he left, the two of them were drooling over each other.”

Adelaide’s coffee splashed up the inside of her mug.
“James and Fannie?”
She’d been wrong, as wrong as she could be.

“Grateful for my introduction to James, Fannie gave me a kiss.” Then he chuckled. “I never had a woman drop me so quickly, except maybe for you, just now.”

Did that imply they had a relationship?

She reached over and set the mug on Charles’s desk. “You might have told me right away why Fannie kissed you.”

Charles guffawed. “So it’s my fault you’re mad at me?”

Her claim lacked logic, but she had no other. “Yes, it is.”

“Well, you should’ve asked instead of skulking in the shadows, spying.”

“I did not skulk or spy. I…I merely checked my reflection in the glass.” She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“In that case, will you forgive me?”

“Since you asked nicely, yes, I will.”

He took her hand and held it for a long, quiet moment, his large palm, warm and slightly rough against her own. Their gazes locked. Adelaide’s breath stopped coming, her heart held its beat. With his other hand, he ran a finger along her jaw, sending shivers down her spine, and then spoiled it by tweaking her nose. No wonder. She probably appeared as desperate as Fannie.

Teddy walked out from the back, carrying an inky piece of equipment. “Boss, can you take a look at this?”

Charles headed over to confer with Teddy. Adelaide rose and crossed to the window. Outside the wide plate glass, the world kept moving. Buggies, wagons, people…

But in this office, a different commotion brewed, one inside her. She pressed her palms to her hot cheeks, and then drew in a breath that sank to the bottom of her stomach to war with the other conflicts between her and Charles. Yet even with all that troubled her, she had to face the truth.

She wanted Charles.

How did she get into such a mess? Whenever he came near, he kept her heart drumming double time. Why? Besides driving her crazy with his untidy desk, he didn’t want her interference in the paper, even when she had every right. And he was pushy and opinionated and stubborn.

And yet…this man helped Mary and her boys. He’d stood up to the committee and had brought her Emma.

In short, though he didn’t appear to know it, he gave of himself. And she knew he cared about her. She looked at him, so strong, dependable. He gave her a feeling of comfort, of safety. For a woman used to relying on herself, that was…nice.

Well, sometimes. Something she could get used to, though she knew she shouldn’t.

And yes, she liked his kisses. But she could do without them. After all, he wanted her to behave as he thought she should, not how she needed to be. He tried to keep her out of his dream, out of everything important. And he couldn’t commit to anything but the newspaper, making it his life.

No, she didn’t need a man.

And now she must convince him to continue publishing her suffrage articles. To light a spark that would help other women have the power and voice she, and the generations before her, had lacked. And yet…

A sigh slipped from her lips. She stepped to Charles’s chair and ran a hand over his coat. She fingered his pencils, the things he’d touched; somehow dearer than mere objects should be because they’d been in his hands.

Earlier when Adelaide had seen Fannie out front, the young girl glowed, had a spring to her step. Just being in the reporter’s presence had left her changed. Adelaide understood that change, all too well. Caring brought happiness but also recklessness, a tendency to forget what was important.

A moment later, Charles pulled up a chair beside her. He gave her a smile. “You’ve had a tough day. How about I take you and Emma on a picnic? I want to talk to you about something.”

Chapter Seventeen

A
delaide watched Emma clamber over the rocks by the river, delighting in every flower, every bug she came across. Scattered clouds moved slowly across the pale blue sky. What an idyllic spot for their picnic.

Adelaide leaned back, letting the sun warm her face. “When have you seen a more beautiful spring?”

Charles moved closer. With gentle fingers, he turned her face toward his. “All I can see is how beautiful you are.”

“Thank you.” Her heart leapt at his words.

His gaze locked with hers. “You and I are a lot alike. We’re both afraid of feeling too much. Of getting hurt.”

“That’s because we’ve been hurt by the people who were supposed to love us.”

He plucked a blade of grass. “Except for you and Mary, I’ve known few truly good people in my life.”

“Not even your mother?”

He draped an arm over his bent knee, his gaze focused on some distant point. “Ma said and did things to protect us, to keep the peace as best she could. If that meant stretching the truth or bending her principles, well, she did.” He turned to her. “I’m not blaming her, you understand. She lived scared.”

Adelaide nodded.

“Now Pa, well, he wore his values like a Sunday suit, shrugging them off when he walked in the door.” He cleared his throat. “We’d try to please him, but we never could.” Sudden moisture filled Charles’s eyes and he blinked it away. “Eventually Ma quit trying. That’s when things got really ugly.” He raised his gaze. “No one in my life has been like you.”

“I’m far from perfect, Charles.”

“To me you are.” His voice grew gruff. “I don’t want to bring you any harm.”

“How could you harm me?”

He took her hands and studied her face. “In countless ways.” His eyes filled with misery, something close to despair.

She shook her head. Charles would never hurt her intentionally. “No matter what you say, I believe in you. It’s your relationship with God that divides us. Even our dispute about writing my column pales in comparison.”

Charles released her hands. “I believe in God.”

She leaned toward him. “Then why won’t you attend church?”

His gaze wandered the grassy bank, watching Emma chase a butterfly. He cleared his throat. “Church has been your haven. My father used Scripture as an excuse to beat us. Attending church was a farce, a pretense to dupe the community into believing we were a happy family.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t worship now.”

He waved a hand to indicate the green grass, tall leafed-out trees, the gurgling water winding through the river. “I feel closer to God right here than I would in church.”

“When you stay away from church, you separate yourself from the teachings, the chance to serve and praise God.”

Charles rose. “God can’t want me there, knowing the resentment I harbor. Knowing the man I am.”

What did he mean? She reached a hand to him, but Charles moved out of her grasp. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m a man who can’t trust.” He stepped farther away, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Even myself.”

Adelaide scrambled to her feet. “Why not?”

His head drooped. “I told you. I’m not good like you.”

“We’re all sinners, Charles. I see the decency in you.”

He shook his head. “You see what you want to see.”

“You don’t have to be perfect before you can come to God. He’ll give you the strength to overcome your past.”

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.” He pulled her close. “I’m sorry.” Taking her chin in his free hand, his voice turned rough with emotion. “I know that’s not what you want to hear.”

It wasn’t, but she could see the conflict in his eyes. “Trusting is a choice, a decision. People might disappoint you, but God won’t.”

“Don’t you see? He’s already disappointed me.” Charles pulled away. “I have to work this out on my own.”

“Until you’re able to make peace with God, you’ll never heal from the past.”

Without Adelaide noticing, clouds had gathered. The rising wind warned of an approaching storm.

“I hope—”

He stopped her with a raised palm. “Let’s take a walk.”

They strolled along the bank. Emma scampered over to show a toad she’d found, then dashed off in search of more discoveries.

Adelaide turned her gaze on the man, who, regardless of her intention, had taken up residence in her heart. Perhaps in time, he’d see how God walked through every day, held the present and every tomorrow in His hands.

As much as Adelaide wanted to convince Charles to come to church, she understood his hesitancy. She’d continue to pray for healing from his past.

They came to a large rock along the riverbank. Charles sat and pulled her down beside him. He drew in a breath and turned to face her, capturing her hands in his. “I have something to ask you, something important.” His grip on hers tightened. “Hear me out before you answer. I’m hoping your answer will be yes.”

Say yes? She blinked. “Yes or no about what?”

“This has to do with us, with our future. From you, I’ve learned to speak up about what’s important to me.”

What did he mean? Her mind ran through the possible questions he could ask and arrived at one.

Did Charles intend to propose?

She’d known him for such a short time. Huge issues between them needed to be resolved. Still, marriage to Charles…

Her heart tripped in her chest. “What do you want to ask me?”

His gaze met hers and he drew in a breath. “Will you—” he hesitated “—sell me your half of
The Ledger?
”

The words slammed into Adelaide’s head.
Ledger. Sell.
She jerked her hands out of his grasp. Her supper formed a lump in her stomach. “
That’s
what you wanted to ask me?”

“You can still write your fashion column—”

“You want
full
ownership?” A strangled laugh escaped her lips and she rose to her feet. “You’ll be so generous as to
let
me write a fashion column?”

Charles only cared about regaining control of the paper. He didn’t want to share that part of his life with her. Any part of his life, really. “What a fool I’ve been.” Every inch of her hurt. Tears sprang to her eyes but she willed them away. Pride was all she had, pride and Emma and God who strengthened her.

Back straight and shoulders set, she signaled to Emma. “Time to go home!”

“Addie, wait, I’m only trying to protect you. Can’t we—”

“No, Charles, we can’t. Not now, not later.”

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Emma raced over, interrupting Charles’s efforts to argue his point.

“Do we have to go?” Emma whined.

“Yes, it’s going to storm.” Adelaide took Emma’s hand and the three of them walked to the area where they’d picnicked. “We’ll come again. Just you and me,” she promised Emma.

Pain twisted in her heart until Adelaide could barely breathe. Had she been thinking she could trust a man? That she could risk her heart? Whenever she did, she paid the penalty.

Once again a man wanted to silence her. Even knowing its importance to her, Charles wanted full ownership of the paper, asking her to sacrifice the opportunity to express her views. Well, she couldn’t make him love her, but she could hang on to ownership of the paper.

She straightened her shoulders. She would survive without Charles, as she had survived when her mother had kept her at arm’s length. The days might be drabber, might not hold the promise they once had, but she would not think about that now.