Mail Order Sweetheart Page 21

  Fury carried her out the door. It slammed that door behind her and strode down the boardwalk with purpose. Fury would have to carry Fiona and Mary Clare to a new life, for she had nothing left here.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sawyer stared at the closed door. Fiona had walked out on him. He should be angry, but aching disappointment crowded in instead. Even though she hadn’t given him time to counter her claims, he had no defense. He was guilty.

  He had lied, had hidden his identity from the woman he intended to court. That was not a good foundation for any relationship, least of all one that could lead to marriage. His parents were a fine example of what not to do. Marriage must be based on openness and honesty, like Roland and Pearl. Nothing hidden from each other.

  Yet he’d begun on the wrong foot and continued on that path. From the advertisement to his parentage and change of name, he’d forged a trail of secrecy.

  The creaking of the staircase told him Father was coming down. The brief interval between Fiona’s departure and Father’s appearance meant he’d listened to every word.

  Father approached the desk with a smug grin. “Well done, son.”

  As a boy, Sawyer had longed for his father’s approval. Today it rang flat in his ears. “No, it wasn’t. I let a good and honorable woman slip away.”

  “Good? Honorable?” Father snorted. “You don’t believe her story—”

  “I believe every word.” Sawyer would not let his father manipulate him this time. The rumors of Father’s indiscretions had now been proved. “I know about your mistresses and how you’ve broken Mother’s heart.”

  Father’s face darkened. “Now, boy, that’s no way to talk to your father.”

  “I’m not a boy any longer. I’m a grown man who intends to make his own way in the world. I know what I’ve seen, and I want nothing to do with you or your business empire. Life isn’t about conquest and fortune. It’s about the people you love.”

  “Soft-hearted nonsense.”

  Sawyer stood firm. “The only way to live. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’m not going to let dishonesty be one of them. For the last time, I will not return to Chicago, and I will never work for you. This is my home, and I’m going to do everything in my power to convince the most beautiful woman in the world to give me a second chance.”

  “You’d throw away a fortune for a woman like that?”

  “I’m stepping away from a fortune for a noble, compassionate woman who cares more about others than her own comfort.” That finally sank in. Fiona’s attempts to marry weren’t for selfish reasons but for her niece. He wouldn’t blame her for turning him down, after all, he had nothing to offer, but he had to try. “Goodbye, Father. I suggest you take that ship to Chicago.”

  Father’s lips pressed into a hard line. “That’s your final word?”

  “It is.”

  “If you give up your inheritance now, it’s irrevocable.”

  “I understand.”

  “I won’t change my mind, no matter how much you beg.”

  If Father thought that would prod Sawyer in a different direction, he was wrong. Sawyer was no longer the son who chafed under Father’s “guidance” but went along with it anyway. He was a new man. He’d shed the old Paul and become Sawyer through and through.

  Sawyer Evans didn’t care about building a business empire. He cared about providing for his family, sure, but God was the ultimate provider, and Jesus said that God would provide all we needed. Sawyer would work hard and trust God for the rest. That included the family part. Somehow he needed to make amends to Fiona. Whether she forgave him was up to her, but he had to do his part. It began with bidding Father farewell.

  “I don’t beg.” Sawyer stood tall but with ease and confidence. “I won’t ask you for anything ever again.”

  Father stared a long moment, as if determining the truth behind Sawyer’s statement. Apparently deciding Sawyer would not back down, he ascended the stairs. A short time later, he descended, carrying his bag, and walked out of the hotel without a glance in the direction of the registration desk. No doubt Father intended the snub to stir up guilt. Instead, it did the reverse.

  Sawyer had never felt so free.

  * * *

  Fiona packed Mary Clare’s few belongings into her large trunks along with the most serviceable gowns she owned. A remote northern island wouldn’t give her any occasion to wear finery except at Sunday service. Even that, she suspected, would be less formal than Singapore’s makeshift services in between stops from the circuit preacher. Mr. Adamson hadn’t given her many details about life in Harmony, though he had agreed to her proposal.

  “Take the jewelry,” Fiona said to Louise.

  Mary Clare had been playing with the necklaces and earrings for over an hour, pretending she was a grand duchess ordering around her servants, Louise and Fiona. Since Fiona had suggested the duchess command that her trunks be packed, all was proceeding well. Separating the jewels from Mary Clare might be more of a problem.

  Louise looked dubious. “Are you certain? You might sell them. Or Mary Clare might inherit them.”

  “They’re worthless glass.”

  Louise’s eyes rounded. “Glass?”

  “Glass.” Fiona would have laughed if she wasn’t still steaming over Sawyer’s unspoken reprimand. Clearly Louise thought the same as Sawyer, that she had been given all her finery in exchange for favors. Fiona was tired of being judged. “I paid a night’s wages for the whole lot. I think the previous owner got the better end of the deal.” She picked up the fake emerald necklace and pointed out where a piece of glass was missing. “The glass stones fall out all the time. Usually I find them right away, but this one is gone. I never had a chance to get another made.”

  “It’s lovely,” Louise breathed, her cheeks uncommonly pink, “but where would I wear such finery around here?”

  “To concerts.” But the word caught in her throat.

  Once Fiona left, there might not be any more concerts. Sawyer would be too busy running the hotel and working at the sawmill to play piano or violin. Only the possibility of making a profit would tempt him to waste time playing music. Like father, like son. Why hadn’t she noticed that drive to succeed? Sawyer had skimmed past her idea of turning the hotel into a boarding school in favor of grandiose plans befitting a hotel in the heart of New York City, not in tiny Singapore.

  “I’m not sure there will be any concerts.” Louise echoed what Fiona had been thinking, except with a sigh of disappointment. “No one could take your place.”

  Her plea tugged at Fiona’s heart, but not as much as the thought of never seeing Sawyer again. Only anger dulled that ache, and he was the cause of that ire. She’d thought he was different, that he didn’t judge people based on appearances and rumor. How wrong she’d been. Instead of standing up for her, he’d believed that deceitful father of his. The very presence of Winslow Evanston had made up her mind. By now he’d probably begun spreading the same vile rumors as in New York. She must take Mary Clare away, so she didn’t have to endure the taunts and shunning sure to follow.

  “Please stay,” Louise pleaded.

  “I can’t.” Fiona glanced at Mary Clare, who was promenading beside the bed with her right arm extended as if to a nobleman. The glass rubies glittered in the sunlight streaming through the window. “You know why.”

  “Sawyer loves you. I know he does. At least try to mend your differences.”

  What could she mend? As much as she’d longed for Sawyer’s affection, he was Winslow Evanston’s son. The connection was there. It would always be there. Nothing could change that. She would take her broken heart north and make a new life for her niece.

  “It’s not possible,” she said, picking up another nightgown to fold.

  “Anything is possible for the Lord.”
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  “Maybe for God, but not for me.”

  “But—”

  “Enough, Louise. This is how it has to be.” Though she’d told Louise about Evanston last night, she couldn’t tell her that Sawyer was the man’s son. That information was Sawyer’s to disclose or not. “Mary Clare, give Louise the necklace. You and I need to go downstairs to eat some dinner.”

  “No! The grand duchess declares that she is not hungry.”

  Louise quietly cautioned Mary Clare, but Fiona sighed. Raising a child was not going to be easy. Memories of her younger siblings rushed in like flies through an open window. Fiona had failed with them. She could not fail with her niece. How could she do things differently? As a child, she hadn’t wanted to watch her younger brothers and sisters. So she’d ignored them. She could not ignore her niece. Perhaps joining Mary Clare’s world would work.

  Fiona stood with as regal a pose as she could manage. “The grand duchess might not be hungry, but Queen Fiona is. Since she will not eat without the company of her favorite duchess, your attendance is requested and required.”

  “Oh. All right, then.” Mary Clare jumped up to sit on the bed. She then began to undo the necklace.

  Fiona stopped her. “Keep it. The duchess must have her jewels, after all.”

  Louise gave her a grateful look.

  Mary Clare grinned, hopped off the bed and hurried to the door. “Are we going now, Queen Fiona?”

  Fiona reached out a hand, which the little girl grasped. Warmth, compassion and love flooded through Fiona’s heart. She was doing the right thing. It must be right.

  * * *

  Since Father refused to leave on the next ship, Sawyer hurried to the boardinghouse to warn Fiona. No doubt Father was up to something, and it probably had to do with Fiona. Sawyer was ashamed of his father’s behavior. That he’d slandered Fiona made him furious. Sawyer had botched things with her too much for reconciliation, but he could at least caution her.

  The Bible said to forgive. Receiving forgiveness depended on giving it. By that measure, Sawyer had to forgive Father if he expected to receive forgiveness from Fiona. That was a tough order. Sawyer would find a way to do it, but he couldn’t forget.

  “That’s up to you, Lord,” he murmured.

  “What’s up to the Lord?” Roland Decker settled in beside him, stride for stride. “Or maybe I should say what isn’t?”

  “Right.” Sawyer hunched against the chill breeze. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, signaling rain was on its way. “That doesn’t make it any easier to forgive—or to apologize.”

  Roland nodded. “All I can tell you is that it has to come from the heart.”

  “That might not be enough.” His thoughts wandered to Fiona. “I made a big mess of things.”

  “Well, for the really big apologies, a gift always helps. Now, I’m not speaking as the store manager, mind you. I’m speaking from experience. When Pearl was angry with me—for good reason—I bought her a new dress.”

  “That worked?” Sawyer had a tough time imagining Pearl excited over a dress. She was much too practical.

  “Well, I had to have Sadie give it to her.”

  “Oh.”

  Sadie was Roland’s niece. Pearl had rescued the little girl in the schoolhouse fire last November, so she had a tender heart for her. Who held a spot in Fiona’s heart? No doubt her niece, but Sawyer didn’t know the little girl. The stranded Harmony-bound ladies? Fiona displayed both compassion and frustration around them.

  “I need to haul my new merchandise inside before those storm clouds drop their rain. I wish you well.” Roland hurried to the dock behind the mercantile, where a stack of crates had been unloaded off one of the ships.

  Sawyer tossed around Roland’s advice but couldn’t find a practical way to use it. Fiona loved pretty gowns, but he couldn’t possibly afford one that met her standards. Moreover, he stood no chance of convincing Mary Clare to give it to her. They hadn’t even met yet.

  So forget dresses. The other traditional gift, flowers, wouldn’t work either. Other than a few intrepid crocuses that had popped up around the Elders’ house, there wasn’t a flower to be found. He’d never seen Fiona read. She would enjoy sheet music, but she had a copy of everything Roland had in stock.

  No, the heartfelt apology was the best he had.

  The boardinghouse was only a short distance from the mercantile, but it felt like miles while Sawyer considered what to say. He’d never been good at speeches, something his father had pointed out countless times while growing up. You’ll never be anything if you can’t persuade people, Father had told him over and over. He’d enrolled Sawyer in special classes designed to teach speech-giving, but Sawyer was no Abraham Lincoln. In the heat of the moment, his mind went blank.

  Too soon the boardinghouse’s plain and simple porch loomed before him.

  Simple. That was it. He’d keep it simple.

  Sawyer scaled the steps two at a time and knocked firmly on the door. He heard nothing at first. Finally footsteps padded across the wooden floor. Very light footsteps, perhaps one of the more petite ladies, since the Bayshore Clipper wouldn’t depart until midafternoon.

  The door slowly opened, and he saw no one.

  Take that back.

  When Sawyer lowered his gaze, there stood before him one confident young girl of perhaps seven or eight years old. Her dark hair was long and straight, and could use some brushing. Fiona’s ruby necklace was draped around her neck.

  “Hello,” the girl said.

  “Hello. You must be Fiona’s niece.” Sawyer searched his memory for the girl’s name. “Mary Clare.”

  “Actually, I am the Grand Duchess Mary Clare.”

  “Ah, forgive me, Grand Duchess. May I beg an audience with your aunt?”

  The girl scrunched her nose while she considered his request. “You wanna see her?”

  “Yes, please. Tell her it’s Sawyer. Mr. Evans.” He hoped Fiona had calmed down since the encounter at the hotel.

  “All right.” Mary Clare turned and tromped down the hallway and into the dining room, leaving the front door wide open.

  Sawyer stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  Mrs. Calloway came flying out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron as she too headed for the dining room. When she spotted Sawyer, she changed direction and jerked her head toward the parlor.

  Sawyer followed her into the room. “What is it?”

  Mrs. Calloway grasped both his shoulders. “Don’t let her go. I’m tellin’ you. Do whatever you got to do, but don’t let her go.”

  “Fiona?” A chill swept over him. “Where is she going?”

  “She’s up and decided she has to join those crazy people in their colony—what’s it called... Harmony or something like that—up north on an island, but I’m tellin’ you she’ll regret it. You hafta make her see sense.”

  Sawyer couldn’t believe it. Fiona was not the type for a utopian colony. A big city? Yes. Homesteading a remote island? Never. “You must be mistaken.”

  “Not one bit. Honest truth as sure as I’m standin’ here. And it’s going to be a sad day for our church, I tell you. Miss Fiona’s the only person in the whole area who’s got half a voice—yourself excepting, of course.”

  Sawyer stifled a grin. “If she’s only got half a voice, then I’m barely a quarter.”

  “There’s no time for quibblin’ about particulars.” Mrs. Calloway pointed toward the hallway. “She’s in the dining room. Get down on bended knee. Tell her what you’ve been wantin’ to tell her since she set foot in town.” The woman winked at him. “I know your little secret.” She patted her ample chest. “But it’s safely locked in here. Unless you don’t do the right thing. Then there’s no telling what’ll pop out of my mouth.”

  Sa
wyer was tempted to tell her that the secrecy wasn’t necessary, but she added, “I haven’t told a soul. I always give a man a chance to do the right thing before I take charge.”

  Sawyer took that as a warning—an unnecessary one but one worth heeding. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mary Clare appeared in the parlor doorway. “The queen don’t want to see you.” The girl then walked away.

  “The queen?” Sawyer had no idea what the little girl meant.

  “Miss Fiona.” Mrs. Calloway chuckled. “I never heard so apt a title. She’s the queen all right.”

  “Mary Clare calls her aunt the queen?”

  “Oh, it’s a little game they’re playing.” She chuckled, but an instant later grew somber. “Go after her. Make her see reason. She can’t take that child away to that place. You have to stop her. Please.”

  It was the last that told Sawyer this was no ordinary situation. Fiona must indeed be planning to leave Singapore for Adamson’s colony of Harmony if she was bringing Mary Clare with her. She wouldn’t fit in there. Neither would the little girl. These sorts of colonies didn’t encourage the sort of individuality that Fiona and Mary Clare exhibited. Fiona’s talent would be squashed.

  He stepped into the hallway in time to see Fiona ascending the stairway.

  “Fiona!” He hurried to the foot of the stairs.

  She turned briefly. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “But I need to warn you. My father insists on staying. I tried to get him to leave on the schooner that came in overnight, but he refused.”

  “I see.”

  Was that all? No thanks. No reaction at all.

  She resumed climbing the staircase.

  He’d better move on to the apology. “I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have hidden who I was from you.”

  She stopped again and this time turned to face him. “But it’s all right to claim to be someone you’re not to everyone else?”

  Sawyer ignored that jab. He had to finish his point. “I’m not that man anymore. I haven’t been for a long time. It started ten years ago when I rejected Father’s plan and enlisted in the war. I foolishly hoped I’d be killed. After one battle, that changed. So did I. I vowed never to go back.”