“Your eyes are the same. I knew them right away.” If only he knew how often I saw them when I closed my eyes at night.

  What did we look like to him? Did he pity us? I smoothed my free hand over my cotton dress, worn so thin I feared he could see right through the fabric. I had no corset, only an undergarment I’d made from a flour sack. Sadie wore a simple dress made from burlap.

  “I was nervous to come, but I wanted to see you.” Words rushed from his mouth, making me forget my concerns about my appearance. “Dax said it would be all right. I hope I haven’t scared you.”

  “No, no. I’m surprised but so very happy to see you.”

  “Sister?” Sadie tugged on my skirt. “Who is it?”

  I turned to Sadie. Goodness, I’d almost forgotten she was there. “Honey, this is Wesley. The boy who sent Dax to help us.”

  She smiled up at the broad-shouldered man. “Hi, Wesley.”

  He smiled back at her. “Hello, Sadie.” His hat dangled from one hand. The yellow dog reclined on his haunches. “This is Gus.”

  “He’s cute,” Sadie said. “May I pet him?” I’d taught her good manners. Even if we were poor, we could still behave like proper young ladies.

  “You may.”

  “Hi, Gus.” Sadie knelt in the grass. Gus flopped onto his stomach and rested his chin on his front paws. “Are you a nice dog?”

  Gus wagged his tail.

  “Sister says I can’t pet dogs I don’t know.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “Gus is a gentle dog.”

  Sadie petted his head before looking up at Wesley. “His fur is soft.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” Wesley shook his head as if astounded. “But, Sadie, you were no bigger than my shoe the last time I saw you. Now here you are all grown up.”

  Sadie beamed. “I was only a few days old, right, Sister?” She squinted into the late sun that had slid between trees as she looked over at me.

  “That’s right.” I swallowed against the ache at the back of my throat. Seeing him brought back the fear of those days. We would not have made it without him. “We can’t ever thank you enough. Dax helped us.” I waved toward the hill. “He did everything. All that first winter, he brought milk for Sadie and food for me. Come spring, he came out here with his saw and a hammer and repaired the chicken coop and built garden walls. Then he brought chicks for us. By fall we had eggs. He taught me how to grow vegetables.”

  “You’ve done well,” he said.

  “It’s all Dax.”

  “Not according to him. He says he can’t believe what you’ve done. Growing vegetables in hard dirt.”

  “Why are you here? Have you moved back?” The questions spilled from my mouth without heed.

  “My father died. I came to bury him.”

  I watched him carefully for clues. Was he sad? Or relieved, as I would be? “I’m sorry?” It came out as a question.

  “I’m not mourning him. No reason in the world I would.” His expression sobered. “What happened to your cheek there?”

  I touched my fingers to the bruise. “Pa. Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

  He looked up at the sky, then back to me. “Are you safe here?”

  I hesitated. How could I answer that?

  “Tell me the truth,” he said softly.

  “Safe enough.”

  For a long moment, he was silent, as if thinking through what to say next. “I know about what it’s like to be hit. Only my father used a strap. I have the scars on my back as proof.”

  My eyes filled with tears. I could see the little boy he’d been the last time I’d seen him so clearly just then. Such kind eyes and a sweet smile. He knew what it was like to be hurt by a person who was supposed to look after you.

  “That’s one of the reasons I was sent away to school. Mother thought it best if I was no longer living with them. She was right. Even though I didn’t want to leave Atlas or my sister.”

  “I’m sorry about Atlas. Dax told me he waited for you on the lawn.” My voice cracked. “It makes me sad to think of him.”

  His eyes clouded over for a few seconds before he shrugged. “All a long time ago.” He glanced over at Gus, who was currently lapping water from the creek. “Dax said Gus showed up at the house the day Father died. Mollie spotted him on the lawn in the exact same place Atlas used to wait for me.”

  I thought about that for a moment. Was it possible? “Maybe special dogs come back?”

  “Maybe they do.”

  Our eyes locked. We stood there, gawking at each other.

  “You’re beautiful, Luci. Do you know that?”

  I flushed with pleasure at his words. “I never think of it one way or the other.”

  “I’ve never forgotten you. All this time, I imagined what it would be like to see you again.” He reached toward me as if he was going to brush a strand of hair from my cheek, but he pulled back at the last moment. “I told you back then that I’d come back. I couldn’t then, but I can now. If you’d like.”

  “To do what?” I asked.

  “To court you.”

  “How could you possibly?” I tugged on the front of my ratty dress. “Look at this.”

  “I don’t care about your dress.” He placed his hat back over his curls. I missed them immediately “I’d like a chance to see if I’m right,” he said.

  “About what?”

  “If you and I are meant to be. I know it sounds overly romantic, but I have a feeling.”

  I wanted to say I did as well, but I held back the words. How could we possibly be right together when our circumstances were so different? “You’re rich, Wesley, and I’m poor as dirt. Do you see this?” I waved toward the creek. “When you came here, I was sitting on that rock trying to figure out how to make a hook so I could catch a fish for our dinner.”

  “I could bring you a hook.”

  I laughed, despite my twisted thoughts, which alternated between elation and terror. “That was an example of how far apart we are, not a plea.”

  “But you need a hook?”

  “And a pole, for that matter.”

  “I see. Well, let me see what I can do.” He called out to Gus. “Come on, boy. Time to go home.” He turned back to me. “What time should I come by tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. Do rich people sleep late?”

  He grinned down at me. “Maybe some do. Not me. I’m up with the sun every morning. Too much to learn and do to sleep away the day.”

  “All right, then. Come tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Why not tomorrow morning? I could bring breakfast.”

  I turned toward the water just as another fish jumped. The mischievous devils were taunting me. “That’s kind of you, but I have chores that take up most of the morning.”

  “Fine. I’ll come in the afternoon.”

  “Meet me here in case Pa’s home.”

  “Of course.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll see you then.” Gus was now at his side, as Sadie was by mine. “Goodbye, Sadie.”

  Sadie giggled. “Bye, Wesley.”

  I watched him gracefully bound up the hill and disappear over the other side. What just happened? “What was that?” I mumbled under my breath.

  “That was Wesley and Gus,” Sadie said.

  Yes, it was indeed.

  The next afternoon, Sadie and I waited down by the creek for Wesley. At the sound of twigs snapping, my stomach fluttered with nerves. Gus barked as he clambered down the hill toward Sadie. Wesley strode behind him, carrying a long pole and a net.

  Sadie straightened from where she’d been washing her feet in the stream and shouted out first to Wesley and then Gus.

  The dog barked once more and licked Sadie’s face when she knelt to hug him.

  “Hello there,” Wesley said to me. “I’ve brought you something.” He held the pole out for me. “Made of bamboo. And this is to scoop them out of the water when you’ve hooked them.” He made a swishing movement with the net. “I’ve got several hooks too.”

  “Where did you get this?” I ran my fingers up and down the smooth wood.

  “In town. I had to ask around, but I found a man who makes these and sells them to sporting types. He assured me this will catch a fish.” He pulled a small bag from inside his jacket pocket. “Hooks and twine to tie to the end.”

  “I’ve got feathers,” I said.

  “Feathers?”

  “Yes. See, I have this idea.” I told him about how the fish came up for the bugs. “I thought if I had something that seemed like a bug they would be tricked, and I could hook them. Then Dax told me this kind of fishing is called fly-fishing and rich people do it for fun.” I reached for the feather I’d been carrying around in my apron pocket. “Do you think we could get this onto the hook?”

  He took it from me. “Yes, but it would have to be much smaller to seem like a bug.”

  “That’s what I thought too.”

  “I have a pocketknife. I’ll see what I can do.” He shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over a maple tree branch. Next, he rolled up his sleeves and sat on the rock where I so often perched. “Here now, let’s see what I can do.” He snapped open the blade and cut the softest part of the feather from the rest. “I’ll tie it on here if I can.”

  He cut a small piece from the roll of twine. “Will you hold the hook for me?”

  I nodded and sat down beside him. He handed me the metal hook, and I held it between my thumb and index finger. My hand shook, so I wrapped my other hand around my wrist to steady it.

  “Good. Keep holding it still if you can.”

  This close, I caught the glorious scent of him. I took in a deep breath, light-headed. With deft movements, he tied the stiff part of the feather around the front of the hook.

  “There. I think it’s done.” He twisted to gaze directly at me and gave me a triumphant smile. “Shall we tie it to a line?”

  “Yes, please.” Reluctantly I stood, wishing I could stay seated by his side for a little longer, and followed him to the water’s edge.

  “And lastly, he told me to tie a cork to a spot right above the hook so that it will float and not sink.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a strangely shaped object that I’d never seen before. “This is a champagne cork that I took from the house. Dax drilled a hole in it for us.” He strung the twine through the hole, then attached the hook.

  “I asked him about fly-fishing, and he said the sportsmen use silk line, which he didn’t have. He said to use worms and forget this nonsense about fly-fishing. If this doesn’t work, don’t worry. I’ll dig you up some worms and we’ll try those.”

  “Trout don’t like worms,” I said. “They like bugs.”

  Wesley tied the hook with its feather to the end of the line. “I hope they like feathers pretending to be a bug,” he said as he tied the other end of the twine to the skinny end of the bamboo. “He made a little notch here where the string goes so that it won’t slide off.”

  When he was done, he handed it to me. “Would you like to try?”

  I nodded. “Sadie, move a little farther from us. I don’t want to hook you.”

  Sadie giggled as she and Gus moved farther up the creek. “Is this far enough?”

  “That’ll do,” Wesley said, clearly amused by my sister. “Wait, let me take off my shoes so I’m ready to wade in with the net.”

  “You’re so sure I’ll catch something?” I asked.

  “We must always imagine the best possible outcome.”

  I tried not to watch too closely, as I’d never seen a man’s bare feet except for Pa’s, but my eyes wouldn’t obey. He sat back on the rock and slid out of his shoes, then tugged off his socks. His feet were shaped as nicely as the rest of him. He rolled up the cuffs of his pants. His calves were muscular and covered lightly with hair. Seeing a part of him that was usually covered gave me a strange sensation inside my tummy. I didn’t know what exactly, but I felt like lightning had struck me and I was lit from within.

  He looked up and caught me staring at him. I flushed and turned away, pretending to be interested in the pole.

  “I’m ready now,” he said. Then he yelped as he walked across the rocky ground. “Ouch, my poor feet.”

  Sadie giggled again. She and Gus had settled against a log with his head in her lap.

  I’d imagined what I would do with my line many times before now. I thought that if I could swirl the line in the air above the water, imitating a bug before letting it settle on the surface, it would surely convince a trout to bite. I lifted my arm, but the twine was too heavy. It did not swirl but plunked into the water. However, the cork kept all but the hook above the surface. I shook the pole, hoping to make the feather quiver like a fly.

  To my utter amazement, seconds later I had a bite. “I’ve got one.” The pole bent from the weight of the fish. My palms dampened, but I held on as I stepped backward, pulling my catch toward shore.

  Sadie shouted with glee, followed by Gus’s bark.

  “I’ll get him.” Wesley sounded as excited as I felt as he waded out a few feet with the net in one hand. He scooped under the water and came up with a wriggling fish caught in the netting. “He’s a big one.”

  “You did it, Sister. You caught a fish!” Gus barked and circled around Sadie.

  Wesley came out of the water holding the net out in front of him. The speckled trout flopped and gasped, but I couldn’t soften to the poor creature. I’d caught supper.

  “You were right, clever Luci.” Wesley placed the net down on the grass. “The feather looked like a fly.”

  I knelt and took hold of the slippery fish to withdraw the hook from where it had lodged in its mouth. The feather was now wet and limp. I’d have to tie another onto the hook.

  Wesley sat back on the grass. When I looked over at him, he was watching me with a smile on his face. “You’re quite something, Luci girl.”

  Sadie sat next to Wesley. “Is that what you’re going to call Sister? Luci girl?”

  “I suppose so,” Wesley said.

  “What will you call me?” Sadie asked, looking up at him with adoring eyes. It seemed I wasn’t the only one taken with Wesley Ford.

  He tapped his temple and squinted his eyes as if thinking hard. “What shall I call Sadie? How about Sadie Bug?”

  Sadie giggled. “I’m not a bug.”

  “You’re cute like a ladybug,” he said. “Which rhymes with Sadie Bug.”

  If I hadn’t been in love with him before, I certainly was now.

  14

  Wesley

  * * *

  That evening, I paced about the sitting room, restless and unsettled. Lillian was at the piano playing a waltz. Roland had the newspaper open on the coffee table.

  “Shall we go into town?” I asked.

  “To do what?” Lillian continued to play.

  “Look around?”

  Lillian graciously declined, saying she’d rather stay in and go to bed early. “These last few days have tired me. But you go, Roland. Sow wild oats, or whatever the saying is.”

  Roland laughed as he got up from the couch to stand beside her. He lifted her hand to his mouth. “I’d rather stay with you, but I should keep your brother company and out of trouble.”

  We donned our hats and went out the front door. Gus followed and ran out to the lawn. As we were about to climb into the car, he came rushing up with a stick in his mouth. He dropped it at my feet. I tossed it out to the lawn. Gus barked, then leapt after it. He was glorious. Young and nimble, so full of life and zeal. Did we all have rebirth to look forward to at the end of our days? To come back again to chase dreams and sticks, youthfulness restored?

  Lillian had come out to the porch. “Come here, Gus. I’ll toss your stick. You boys have fun.”

  I thanked her with a wave, and we climbed into the car. A moment later, we were headed down the dirt driveway. The evening was pleasant and warm. The scent of honeysuckle wafted into the open car.

  The engine was loud, preventing us from talking. When we arrived in town, I parked near the saloon. “What should we do?” I asked.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Roland said. “I’ve something I want to talk to you about.”

  We headed toward the center of town. The main street of Devon had brick buildings with the usual types of businesses for a small town: dry goods, butcher, feed store. A church with a tall steeple stood in the middle of town, with a park and a gazebo next door. With the warm weather, couples were out for evening strolls in the park. Women strutted about in their pretty dresses. Luci should have a pretty dress, I thought. I’d like to give her one. At the thought, I smiled to myself. She preferred a fishing pole to a dress. For now, anyway.

  Roland was quiet until we reached the park. “Can we sit?” He pointed to a bench.

  “What is it?” I asked. “Are you all right?”

  “I want to talk about Lillian. To state my intentions and ask your permission to propose to her.”

  I was a great actor, I thought as I nodded calmly. “If she’ll have you, then you have my permission.”

  “There’s another thing.” His voice sounded tight, as if the words were hard to say. I supposed they were, for a man like Roland. “I’d like to take you up on your offer of a loan.”

  I wanted to shout for joy, but I kept it in check. “Excellent,” I said casually. “We’ll go into Rochester tomorrow to draw up papers. Do you want the corner lot?” I owned several of the empty lots in Castaway. The one on the corner of Main and First would be the best location.

  “Not so fast. We need to talk terms.” Roland laid out what he figured it would cost to build and stock the store. “If you cover the upfront costs, I’ll give you fifty percent of the store, plus pay you back with interest for the original loan.”

  I took a moment to come up with a counterargument. A couple near the gazebo had stopped to share a kiss. “No interest. Ten percent ownership.”

  “Unacceptable. That’s a pity loan.” He put up a hand. “Now wait, I have a proposal. I’ve been thinking this through for a while, playing with the numbers, and I have an idea. The way to make money as shop owners is through expansion. True profit comes from having multiple stores in multiple towns. We open the first in Castaway, and the following year, if things have gone well, we’ll open another one in another town. This is a way for you to continue acquiring wealth, in addition to the property you’ve bought. Something to leave to our sons, should we have any.”