“Lanna. I-I didn’t expect to see you here of all places. And working for my mother.”
“Y-yes.” She swallowed hard, finding her voice unnaturally thick and her mouth as dry as a summer draught. “It’s good to see you again, Joe.”
Is that all she could say to him now? The last time she had seen him, she’d dissolved in heartbreak and tears. She had known Joe the schoolboy so well, but this man, wide of shoulder and radiating a sense of accomplishment, may as well have been a stranger to her.
The past was truly gone. She forced her feet forward, bringing her closer into the light where he could see how time had changed her. Her face was not soft with youth. Her blond curls had grown darker. She no longer wore velveteen dresses and pearls.
He knelt and handed her the brush. “You have never looked lovelier,” he said.
TWO
Lanna stared at the man standing in the doorway, feet braced like a Western hero in fine, black wool. Somehow she found her voice. “You have turned into quite a charming gentleman, Joe Wolf. And, I’m afraid, a terrible fibber.”
“Me, tell a fib? Never. You’ll have to accept the compliment, Lanna, for I meant it. It’s good to see you.” His eyes warmed to a friendly deep brown and the smile that had been in his voice softened the rugged edges of his face. “You are still the loveliest woman to me.”
“Right now I am the only woman around, so there’s not much to compare me with, I’m afraid,” she quipped. Lanna fought to keep her tone light, but her spirit felt as heavy as a blacksmith’s anvil, carrying the weight of life’s disappointments. She was no longer that carefree, ringlet-haired girl-but wasn’t that just like Joe, always seeing the best in everything?
Lanna touched the side of her face, severe, because of the tight bun she wore in accordance with Geneva’s requirements. Her boxy dress and starched apron were about as complimentary as a burlap sack. He bent down to pick up the brush from the floor and she ached a little, knowing he must be trying not to notice her worn shoes and once-soft hands, now red and horribly chapped from hard work. No, she was far from lovely.
He held out the brush to her but she merely stared at it, afraid to come closer. She had not guessed that seeing him again would pain her like a badly healed bone in mid-winter.
Somehow she was going to have to take back the brush. She had the floor to finish or it would cost her the best paying job she had been able to find. She thought of her ma and stepfather at home, probably bundled up by the stove and took another step closer to him. To Joe. To the man whom she had been praying not to see since she’d taken this job last August.
“How is it that you’re working here? Mother hasn’t said a word.”
“No, I doubt that she would. I’m a maid, Joe. Somehow I don’t think you talk about the household help.”
“That’s true,” he laughed.
She was close enough to feel the force of his smile. It was like a sun break through winter snow, just like she had remembered. Her chest gave a funny quiver, as if her heart was getting ready to tumble. She reached out for the brush, keeping her gaze down. Snowflakes were melting on the sleeves of Joe’s wool coat, and his hands were still big and strong. City life had not changed that. But surely it had changed him?
She reached out to take the end of the brush, avoiding his fingers, but he moved to place the flat of the wooden handle against her palm and his touch whispered against her skin. She trembled. Like a dam breaking, old memories rushed unstoppable to the surface: the warmth of his laughter, the tenderness of his baritone as they talked in the schoolyard, the bright joy that lit her up whenever they were together. That joy sputtered to life within her now, forcing light into places that had known too much defeat.
Shaking, she took the brush and stepped back. “I-I’m glad life has been good to you, Joe. You look well.”
“Now how do you know that? You have yet to look me full in the eye.” His baritone dipped gently, laced with tenderness. “What has happened to you?”
But the fall from happiness was hardest when she was reminded of all that she had lost-and what she could never have hope of again. She had always known Joe would come back to Angel Falls when his schooling was done. But she was no longer the kind of girl who would fit into his life. No longer a woman he would want.
There was no point in sugarcoating her situation. “My stepfather came down with a hard case of scarlet fever,” she said simply, turning her back and swirling away. “He refused to listen to the doctor, went back to work too soon and fell sick again. His heart was greatly weakened and he never fully recovered after he was fired.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Lanna. You must have been afraid of losing him.”
“We nearly did.” She squeezed off memories of that dark time. “My mother had fallen ill too and then me as well. With none of us able to earn any money, we lost the house. We lost everything.”
“And now you are supporting them?”
“Yes.” That she was proud of. But she didn’t expect Joe to understand that. Even if God had spoken to her at the time of her stepfather’s illness and given her a choice, she would have chosen this path. She loved her family- she would choose love. That was her life. That was her value. Although the loss of what could have been still stung from time to time. Like now.
She blinked hard and knelt back on the floor. She dipped the brush in the water and began scrubbing. “It was good seeing you again, Joe. Excuse me, but I must get this finished for your mother.”
“Yes, I understand, Lanna.” He sounded so sad. “But you still didn’t even look at me.”
His words were like an arrow piercing deep and she grimaced at the pain of it. How could she tell him that she was afraid? Afraid of the damage he had already done by bringing to life those forgotten places within her that now glowed like a faint star in the dead of night. Just that one touch had done that. A touch of tenderness. If she had needed proof that her love had endured all this time, this was it. Her love, but surely not his.
With effort, she kept her head down, his retreating steps striking like nails through her heart.
Joe found his mother in the kitchen hovering over the cook’s helper who was preparing a tray. “Why didn’t you tell me about Lanna?” he demanded.
“Why, you were in the middle of courting Adrianna Beauchamp. I did not think you would care.” Geneva bustled away, the teacups on the tray clattering. “Now come have a snack. Cook made you a nice roast beef sandwich.”
Wasn’t that just like his mother? Joe huffed out a sigh, trailing after her. “And why are you taking this to the day room?”
“I thought you would be more comfortable here,” said Geneva, entering the room. “There’s a fire going quite nicely and we should not be disturbed in here. Shame on you for surprising me like this. I don’t have a single thing ready for you.” He took the tray from her and set it on the small table next to the sofa. “The fact that Lanna Gibson is now farther down the hall has nothing to do with your room choice?”
“Why would it?” Joe’s mother cast him an innocent look.
She truly believed it-he could see that plain as day. He shrugged out of his coat. “You know very well that I’m not-nor have I been-beauing Adrianna Beauchamp.”
“But your uncle said she was quite smitten with you.”
“I was not smitten with her.” He said it firmly, so his dear mother would understand-if she decided to actually listen. He could only pray she would this time. There had been only one woman for him, and ever would be. He had lost her once when his family and pressured him to move. He had only been seventeen and had little choice. But the years had passed and he never forgot Lanna. He had grown to manhood, went to college, studied law and had the chance to beau beautiful women, but none of them had ever held his interest. The moment he had spotted Lanna kneeling at her work, he knew why. His heart and his soul had been waiting for her.
