Page 18 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)

Chapter Eighteen

“Are you sure you don’t need to help Louisa today?” Joanna asked as Burke helped her into his carriage. While they’d been eating supper yesterday, he’d told her he had a surprise for her this morning and to wear her oldest dress. Both of her sisters pleaded innocence after Emily confirmed that as a widow Joanna did not need a chaperone, but Josh had winked at Burke when he’d issued the invitation, making her suspect he’d been involved in whatever Burke planned.

Curious and admittedly eager to see what Burke had in store for her, Joanna had donned a dark brown dress with a twice-turned hem, one she would not have worn in public had it not been for his recommendation. When she’d tried it on last night, she’d discovered that it was tight around her waist, and so she’d let out the seams, exposing darker fabric. Mama would not have approved, but Joanna’s shawl covered the evidence of her alteration.

Burke settled onto the seat next to her and reached for the reins. “Louisa will be fine on her own. One of the things I’ve learned since I came here is that I don’t need to work every minute of every day. Others are capable too.”

The slightly acerbic tone told Joanna he was thinking of someone other than Louisa. “Including your partner.”

“Former partner.” When Joanna raised an eyebrow, Burke continued. “I received a letter from Felix yesterday saying he was having no difficulty handling all the patients now that Edna’s helping him.” As he guided the carriage past the town limits, Burke loosened his grip on the reins, apparently confident that the horse could be trusted not to run. “Reading that erased my last doubt. Whether or not Dr. Fielding accepts me as his assistant, I will not return to Alabama permanently. Even if Edna could forgive me, the town no longer needs me.”

“You still haven’t heard from Dr. Fielding?” Joanna knew how frustrating it could be to wait for a response. She hadn’t received a letter from Marta since she’d been home, despite her sister-in-law’s promise to write regularly, and while transatlantic mail took longer than posts from San Francisco, the delay made her worry about Marta’s health.

“It’s possible I’ll never hear from him. Not everyone responds to each letter.”

The discouragement she heard in Burke’s voice made Joanna want to lighten his mood. “Have you been talking to my sisters? I was a horrible correspondent when I was gone.”

He shook his head, but whether in response to her question or her statement wasn’t clear. “Surely they understood when they learned how ill you’d been.”

How Joanna wished that had been the only reason she hadn’t written to her family. “It started before then. I was so caught up in my new life that nothing else seemed important. I don’t think I sent my parents more than three letters before I caught scarlet fever.” She bit her bottom lip, thinking of how her silence must have hurt them. “I never imagined that I wouldn’t see either of them again.”

This stretch of the road was straight, allowing Burke to take his eyes off it. “We can’t change the past,” he said, his green eyes solemn. “We can only go forward.”

But had he? Though he’d seemed more relaxed since the day they’d spoken of Mrs. Arnold’s death, Joanna suspected it was still weighing heavily on Burke.

“Going forward is what Della told me she’d resolved to do when we talked the other day.” Joanna paused, unsure whether she should pose the next question. “Has she spoken to you about Harold?”

Burke seemed confused. “Not much. Why?”

“My sisters and I believe there’s a romance brewing between them. How would you feel if she stayed here permanently?”

His response was immediate. “Happy for her. Other than the house she inherited, there’s nothing tying Della to Samuels. She deserves a second chance at love, and Harold is a fine man.”

“That’s what we think too.” Joanna studied the area they were passing, trying to imagine where Burke was taking them. “Are you sure you know where we’re going? There’s nothing out this way for miles and miles.”

“That’s not what Louisa said.”

The mention of her sister’s name surprised Joanna. “Louisa was part of this?”

“She gave me the idea. Josh helped with the matériel.”

“Matériel? That sounds like we’re going on a military excursion.”

“No armies will be involved.” As they rounded a bend and the sparkling surface of a slowly moving river was revealed, Burke guided the carriage off the road, stopping a few yards from the water.

Still puzzled, Joanna turned toward him. “There’s nothing here but the Guadalupe.”

“And fish, or so I’ve been told.”

“We’re going fishing?” His recommendation of old clothes made sense if that was true, but there was a problem. A big one. “I don’t know how to fish.”

“So I’ve been told.” Burke’s lips quirked into a smile. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“So I’ve been told.”

As she’d hoped, Burke laughed when she repeated his words. “I know there’s such a thing as beginner’s luck, but I hope you don’t expect me to catch anything.” He might not be disappointed, but Joanna hated the idea of any kind of failure. Even though she knew it was because of things outside her control, she felt as if she’d failed as a pianist and a wife.

Seemingly unaware of the depressing turn her thoughts had taken, Burke gave her a reassuring smile. “From what you’ve told me, the bigger problem would be if you catch something, since Emily doesn’t like to cook fish.”

“That’s true, but what’s the point of fishing if it isn’t to catch something?”

“Fun,” Burke said as he helped Joanna descend from the carriage. “Whether or not we catch anything, you’ll have the fun of fishing. That was one of my favorite pastimes as a boy.” A nostalgic smile lit his face. “Even though I was the youngest, I caught more fish than my sisters, because they never learned the first rule of fishing: you have to be quiet, or you’ll scare the fish away.”

“Wasn’t it difficult not to talk to your sisters?” Joanna couldn’t imagine Noah remaining quiet for any length of time, but Burke would have been older, so silence might not have been a problem.

He chuckled. “Sometimes I would make faces at them, but that only made them chatter more, so most of the time I just ignored them. As strange as it may sound, I find fishing both relaxing and exciting.”

Burke reached into the back of the carriage and pulled out two rods and a covered pail that she assumed contained bait. “What do you think of these? Josh told me they’re the finest bamboo rods he’s ever stocked.”

Joanna eyed them and smiled. No wonder Josh had been so pleased by the prospect of today’s outing. “Did he also tell you they’re the only ones he’ll ever stock? When he took over the mercantile, Louisa said he grumbled about some of the merchandise the Bentleys had bought, and these rods were among them. Josh claimed it would have been easier to sell an albatross than fancy fishing rods.”

“These aren’t albatrosses. Look at how flexible they are.” Burke demonstrated that characteristic. “With the right bait, the fish will practically hook themselves.” He grabbed both rods in one hand, the pail in the other, and began to walk toward the river, keeping his pace slow enough that Joanna had no problem staying at his side.

“That sounds like an exaggeration.”

Burke’s smile was wry. “Fishermen are infamous for that. Now, let’s get you started.” He handed one rod to Joanna, then stood on the bank and lifted his. “The first thing is to learn how to cast.”

“Don’t we need bait?”

“Not yet. Watch me.” To Joanna’s surprise, instead of flinging the rod forward, he tipped it up and backward, then flicked it forward, stopping when the hook rested on the water’s surface.

“You make it look easy.” But it wasn’t. Joanna was certain of that.

“It isn’t difficult. It simply takes some practice.” Burke laid down his rod and moved to stand behind Joanna. “Let me show you how.” He positioned her hands on the rod and line, then lifted her arms to demonstrate the correct motion.

There was nothing inappropriate about it. She’d been closer to men when she’d danced. And yet nothing—not even the waltzes that some still considered scandalous—had felt like this. With Burke’s arms touching hers, his body so close that she could feel the heat radiating from it, she felt protected and, odd as it seemed, cherished.

Joanna took a deep breath, trying to settle her thoughts. This was nothing more than a fishing lesson, and yet all of her senses were heightened, making her wish the lesson would never end.

Two hours later, the man whose touch had scrambled Joanna’s thoughts untangled the line that she’d caught in a tree for what felt like the hundredth time. “So, what do you think of fishing?” he asked.

“You were right. It was fun, but I wish I’d caught something.”

“You did.”

Joanna shook her head and tried to hide the smile at her catch. “An old shoe doesn’t count. I’m convinced the fish don’t like me.”

“But I do. Doesn’t that count?”

“It does.”

Joanna was more tired than she’d expected by the end of the day and wondered if Burke would object if she canceled their nightly walk. To her surprise, no one had mentioned the fishing excursion at supper, perhaps because Beulah might have thought she should have been included. But Beulah was no longer in the dining room. When Mrs. Carmichael and Della had taken Noah to the parlor, Beulah had joined them, claiming she wanted to read her new book to him. Now there were only six adults left.

Josh’s gaze moved from Joanna to Burke. “I thought one of you would say something, but since you didn’t, I have to ask. How did you like my bamboo rods?”

Burke kept his expression as solemn as if he were weighing in on a subject of great importance. “Mine was the best rod I’ve ever used.” Joanna knew he wouldn’t brag, but he’d caught half a dozen fish, releasing each of them, since her attempts had been unsuccessful.

“What about you, Joanna? Did you like the rod?”

“I have to agree with Burke. It was the best one I’ve ever used.” She paused for a second. “Of course, it was also the only one I’ve ever used, but I had fun.”

“Then the day was a success.”

“I’d say so.” Burke winked at Joanna. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” Unlike the fish that Burke had tossed back into the river, the shoe she’d caught was drying in the barn, a souvenir of her first fishing excursion.

When Josh and Louisa exchanged pleased looks, Craig grinned. “I’m sure my wife is happy that you didn’t bring her any fish to clean and cook.”

“He’s right,” Emily said. “I consider that a successful end to my sister’s introduction to fishing. But now that we’re alone, I have something for the six of us.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew four envelopes. “Joanna and Burke get individual ones. Louisa, you and Josh have to share, as do Craig and I.” She handed Burke, Louisa, and Joanna theirs.

As she’d expected, Joanna’s name had been inscribed on the heavy cream-colored envelope. What she hadn’t expected was that rather than script, it had been written in calligraphy.

“I assume these are from Gertrude,” Emily said, “since her mother brought them over this afternoon.”

Louisa fingered the envelope with her name and Josh’s on it. “I’d forgotten Gertrude knew calligraphy.”

“She tried to teach us,” Joanna reminded her sisters, “but none of us could master it. It’s true art like those Chinese characters she showed us.”

Emily frowned. “I’d forgotten about them.”

“So had I.”

When both of her sisters appeared disappointed by their memory lapses, Joanna attempted to reassure them. “The only reason I remember is that I tried to find a similarity between the Chinese brushstrokes and musical notes.”

“Did you?” Though she wouldn’t have thought he’d be interested, Burke appeared to care about her response.

“No.” Joanna opened the envelope and slid out a carefully written card. “Gertrude’s invited us to supper Saturday evening.” She bit her lip, debating whether to share her concern. “I know it would be rude to refuse, but even Gertrude admits that she doesn’t excel at cooking.”

Emily shrugged. “Even if she isn’t the best cook, I’d appreciate an evening when I don’t have to prepare the meal. And with all of you there, it should be fun.”

“But not as much fun as fishing,” Louisa quipped.

As she’d undoubtedly intended, everyone laughed.

When they reached what the sisters still referred to as the Albright ranch, although it was now Gertrude and Thomas Neville’s home, Burke studied the building. Unlike Finley House with its three stories, this house had been constructed with only one floor. It was probably almost as large as Finley House, but instead of being designed to impress by standing tall, it sprawled across expansive grounds. This was a true Texas house, well-built but unpretentious.

Burke revised his opinion when Thomas ushered them indoors. Though the interior was more casual than Finley House and the Albrights’ two-story home in town, the dining room displayed the same elegance that Burke had seen in Della’s father’s home: fine china, delicate crystal, heavy silver flatware, all arranged on a lace tablecloth that allowed the beauty of polished mahogany to shine through its intricate pattern. It was a room designed to impress guests.

Perhaps that was the reason the sisters had worn what Burke suspected were their finest gowns. Years of listening to his sisters discuss fashion told him that while not made of silk or satin, the lower necklines and lace trim proclaimed that these were not ordinary dresses. Emily kept a shawl wrapped around her, presumably to hide her expanding midsection, but Joanna’s gown merely hinted at the new life she carried.

Their hostess, dressed in a gold gown with more ruffles than Burke had seen on a single garment, greeted them with a broad smile. “It’s so nice to have you all back in town,” Gertrude told the sisters as she hung their cloaks on a coat-tree. “Sweetwater Crossing wasn’t the same without all three Vaughn girls here.”

Joanna was the first to respond. “We each left for different reasons, but speaking for myself, I’m happy to have returned. My sisters have given me the support I needed.” That was, Burke suspected, a reminder that while she had eschewed traditional mourning clothing, Joanna was still a recent widow.

Gertrude gave a short nod, then extended her hand to Burke. “Clive, I hope Miss Samuels doesn’t mind that she wasn’t invited tonight. I wanted the party to be for the younger generation.”

Burke decided to ignore both her mistake with his name and the fact that Gertrude was part of the same generation as Della. “I’m sure she wasn’t insulted. She and Mrs. Carmichael were planning to cook a simple supper with Noah.”

Craig, who’d rested his hand on the back of Emily’s waist, grinned. “They’re brave women. My son is fascinated with the kitchen, but at three, he’s hardly old enough to cook.”

“What I heard was that he was supposed to tear the bread for bread pudding.” Emily tipped her head up to smile at her husband. “He can’t make too much of a mess doing that.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Having observed the state of Noah’s plate when he finished supper, Burke suspected Craig’s skepticism was well-founded.

After letting out what sounded suspiciously like a scoff, Gertrude led the way into the dining room, “We’ll keep you here long enough for the older women to have the kitchen cleaned and ready for tomorrow’s breakfast.”

Once again, Burke was surprised by her reference to age. Mrs. Carmichael was indeed an older woman, but Della was almost the same age as Gertrude. Why was she placing so much emphasis on age?

As Emily had predicted, the evening was pleasant. Despite Joanna’s concerns, the food was good, although it could not compare to Emily’s cooking or the meals at Ma’s Kitchen. The conversation was lively, ranging from Thomas’s experiences as a rancher to the hope that the new minister would not change too many of the town’s Christmas traditions. It was only when he saw Joanna stifle a yawn that Burke realized how much time had passed. He caught Emily’s eye, then tipped his head toward Joanna, relaxing when she nodded and turned to Gertrude.

“This has been a delightful evening,” she told their hostess, “but morning will come all too soon. Thank you for inviting us.”

As everyone rose to make their farewells, Thomas cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming. This has been a special time for Gertrude and me. I can’t remember when I’ve seen my wife so happy.”

She touched her husband’s hand, then let her gaze travel to each of her guests. Surely it was Burke’s imagination that it lingered on him. “It has been special,” she agreed. “I feel like I’m fifteen again.”