Flora's Wish (57 page)

As always, her heart thumped at the sight of him. “Lucas?” she said softly.

He did not look up when she stepped inside, nor did he appear interested in conversation. When she cleared her throat, he finally spared her a glance.

“I wondered if I might get you anything.” She craned her neck to see what he was working on. This certainly had nothing to do with Father's books. Rather, it appeared to be some sort of ladies' hat, its plume of feathers quite fashionable, though the maze of wires and things beneath the brim appeared baffling.

“Thank you, no,” he said as he moved the papers out of her view. “Will there be anything else?”

She sank into the chair across from him. “Yes, actually. I was wondering…that is, you appear to be healing quite nicely. I wondered if you might want to…” She looked away. “Take a walk in the garden,” she finally managed.

Silence.

When she returned her attention to him, he had already gone back to his drawings. She could see the concentration on his face as he attempted to draw a straight line with his left hand, mostly failing miserably.

“Lucas, did you hear me?”

“Yes, Flora, I did.” He looked up sharply. “I'm busy. Do you mind?”

“Do I
mind
?” Her temper spiked. “Yes, Lucas, I mind greatly!” She rose to grab the papers and toss them behind her. “Oh, this is just wonderful. I regain my sister only to lose the man I…” She shook her head. “No, my deportment teacher was right. A lady is never the first to say…” Flora stopped herself, anger blinding her. “You don't remember a thing you told me when you first awakened in the parlor, do you?”

His expression went blank. Either he had no recall of the promise or he wished to forget it.

“Right.” Flora let out a deep breath in hopes a small measure of her anger and despair might escape with it. The attempt failed miserably. “I promised to wait, but not forever.”

Again she searched his face. Nothing.

“I see.” She shrugged, hoping it would hide the deep wound forming. “Well, then. If you have no further need of me, I'll not take up any more of your time. Should you realize you miss my company, that's just too bad. I won't be back until I get an engraved invitation to visit.”

A nod.

“Did you hear me?” she asked as she rose.

No response.

Humiliation forced her from the room, though pride propelled her with her spine straight and her eyes focused on the door. Only when she had given that door a good slam did she allow her feelings to take hold. Racing up the stairs, heedless of anyone's thoughts of impropriety, she found her room before her tears blinded her.

Everything in Lucas demanded he follow Flora up the stairs and set her straight. Never had he loved a woman so much as he loved her. It killed him to pretend he had no feelings left for her.

Every time he left a meal where he'd hurt her by ignoring her or bypassed an opportunity to spend time with her, Lucas told himself it was for her own good. She needed a man who could be a husband to her.

A man who was a whole man, able bodied and worth something.

A man who didn't awaken during the night in a cold sweat, reliving the moment a coward hiding in the bushes fired bullets that took him down.

Nine days after the shooting, Kyle Russell came to visit. The butler announced him, and Flora went down to offer her greetings. For all her anguish over the change in his friend, she held no ill will against Kyle.

With him in the foyer was an elderly man whose gait was surprisingly spry. “Do come in,” Flora said as she greeted the pair. “Lucas is in Father's office, though I suppose it should be called his office as Father has happily ceded the space to him.” She kept her tone intentionally light, her expression happy. Should Kyle learn of the change in their relationship, it would come from Lucas, not her.

“That's good to know,” Kyle said.

She gestured toward the closed door. “Yes, well, I have no idea what he does all day, but it appears he's creating all sorts of designs.”

“As requested,” Kyle said. “You see we've had news on some of our patents and, well, where are my manners?”

She looked to the man at Kyle's side. “Is this your father?”

“No, he is—”

“Augustus Girard,” Grandmama supplied as she descended the staircase.

“My dear Miss Merriwether.” The old man's face beamed. “I never did get used to calling you Mrs. Brimm.”

Grandmama's smile was brief but genuine. “You're awfully cheeky for a man who dared to break my heart.” She allowed a chaste embrace, and then she said something in French before she stepped away. The old gentleman's response was brief, soft. His expression tender.

“Flora, dear, do stop gaping and say hello to my friend Monsieur Girard. He and I had occasion to make each other's acquaintance on many occasions before the war. Has it been so long?”

“Time is irrelevant where you're concerned,” he said to Grandmama before turning to Flora. “My dear,” he said softly. “Do forgive an old man his surprise. When I first saw you I thought…” He glanced over at Grandmama. “Well, suffice it to say you do cause the years to fall away.”

“Thank you,” she said as she accepted his handshake.

“Shall we go in, then?” Grandmama said, indicating the closed door of the library.

“After you, Millie,” Monsieur Girard said.

Millie? No one called Grandmama by that name—at least not to her face. Even Grandfather Brimm wouldn't dare.

And yet off she went, blithely followed by the stranger and Mr. Russell into Lucas McMinn's inner sanctum. Flora fell in line until Grandmama turned to stop her.

“No, dear,” she said before closing the door in her face.

She'd almost reached the stairs when the door flew open again. There stood Lucas, rage causing his entire frame to quiver. “Are
you
responsible for this?”

“This?” Flora shook her head. “What on earth do you mean?”

“Lucas,” she heard the old man say. “The girl did not contact me.”

His expression softened, but only slightly. Another moment and he turned his back to close the doors again.

“Men,” Violet said from the door to the parlor. “They are a confusing group. Come on, let's go for a walk.” She looked down at her wheelchair. “Or rather, a roll.”

“Only if you promise not to make me read
Pride and Prejudice
.”

She stepped back to allow Violet to pass through the corridor ahead of her and then roll out onto the sidewalk on the specially designed ramp Lucas had hastily designed for her—the lone good deed the despicable man had accomplished since his injury.

“And before you start lecturing on the benefits of this great novel, Violet,” Flora continued as she pressed away thoughts of Lucas McMinn, “you know I've tried to read it.”

“Just as I've tried to read your lady detective books. Honestly, Flora, I do not see the attraction to law enforcement stories.”

From her vantage point on the sidewalk, she spied Lucas deep in conversation with the elderly man through the library windows. He spared her a brief glance before turning his back on her. A moment later, Grandmama rose to close the curtains.

“You know, Violet,” Flora said as she followed her sister down the path toward the cottonwoods and the river beyond, “I'm beginning to agree with you.”

“Good, because today I brought
Little Women
to read. Can we both agree on that one?”

“Oh, yes. Lead on. I have all afternoon.”

Violet caught the attention of the ever-present Daisy, who hadn't quite gotten used to her charge's newfound independence. “Might you have a late lunch brought out? Say in an hour? And tea later.” When the older woman had left them, Violet returned her attention to Flora. “All right, tell me about Mr. McMinn.”

“There's nothing to tell. He seems to be recovering nicely.”

Violet fixed her with a look. “But you are not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that since our recuperating Pinkerton agent awakened after saving your life, both of you are quite changed.” She shrugged. “He is closeted with Father's books and the odd drawings he attempts with his left hand.” A pause. “Actually, I saw him practicing his signature yesterday. He's getting quite good.”

Flora nodded as her sister babbled on about Lucas McMinn's many virtues. Finally the talking ceased.

“But you. Well, let's just say I know a woman who is grieving when I see one. Do you think you've lost him?”

Flora sighed. “I don't know if I ever had him.”

The truth. So much for the happily ever after she'd wished for.

“May I change the subject?” At Flora's nod, Violet continued. “Your near miss at marriage with this Mr. Tucker…was it because of me?”

Flora looked away. “It was because of Brimmfield.” A partial truth.

“And because I refused to leave it.” Violet wheeled around to intrude on Flora's view. “Nothing holds you here, sweet sister of mine. Not even me. You've written of adventures. Perhaps it's time you go and have some.”

“But Brimmfield—”

“Will prosper long after its inhabitants are gone.” She reached to touch Flora's sleeve. “Including you and me.”

“But the will.” Her eyes searched Violet's face. “I must keep Brimmfield in the family.”

“It's just a big expensive plot of land.” She paused to glance around. “None of us will leave here destitute. Grandfather was not that cruel.”

“I suppose.”

“And Cousin Winny's not such a bad man, is he?”

Flora shook her head. Silently she looked back at the house and thought of the afternoon that changed them all.

“Stop. You're woolgathering. We're no longer children susceptible to whims and dares.”

“No,” she said softly, though Flora couldn't tell whether it was a statement or a question.

“Then go and have adventures. I dare you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Flora couldn't help but laugh. “All right, but shall we read about the March sisters and their adventures today? I have plenty of time to see the world tomorrow. Or next week.”
Or once my broken heart has healed.

“Of course.”

And so they read, each taking turns and pausing only for lunch and tea. Finally, when the sun dipped below the cottonwoods, Daisy came and insisted on taking her charge indoors lest she chill in the evening air.

Exhausted from their extended visit to the gardens, Violet retired to her room upon their return to the house. Flora wandered into the foyer, surprised to find the door to the library open.

She wandered inside, shocked to find that the person seated behind the desk was Winthrop Brimm. “Come to take over so soon?” Regretting her stinging blow, Flora shook her head. “Forgive me. That was uncalled for.”

Winny rose to take a few tentative steps in her direction. “No, what was uncalled for was Grandfather's need to put us both in such an untenable position.”