Lonely In Longtree (8 page)

Incoherent prayers flashed through Marva's mind as a wave of dizziness struck her.

Thudding hoofbeats approached on the track, and a rider came into Marva's view. “Monte!” she whispered.

The stranger turned around at the approach of his new visitor, releasing his grasp on Marva's arm.

Monte trotted up on his bay mare. “Here you are. We were about to send out a search party, Miss Obermeier.” He gave her a smile and a wink. “Sorry about the intrusion, Blanchard. This young lady has a talent for heading off on rabbit trails.”

“Why are you out this way?” Blanchard growled.

“Following my guest, here. May we water our horses before we move on?”

Blanchard gave a sniff. “Help yourself.” He lumbered back toward the house.

Monte dismounted, pumped fresh water into an algae-filled trough beside a broken hitching rail, and let both horses drink sparingly. “Take it slow, Buzz ol' boy.” The horse rubbed his sweaty ears on Monte's shoulder. Marva watched them from her seat with a strange sense of detachment. She kept seeing black spots that wouldn't blink away.

Taking hold of Buzz's bridle, Monte led both horses along the track until they were out of sight of Blanchard's cabin. Then he led his mare to the back of the dogcart and tied her to a metal ring on the tailgate. Standing beside the cart, he handed Marva a canteen. “Scoot over. I'll drive.”

Marva made room for him on the seat and handed over the reins. Relief flowed through her, and she took a long, shuddering breath. The black spots nearly filled her vision, and her head swam.

“Are you sure you still want to visit the Northwoods Oasis? Not to be unkind, but your face is red as a beet, and you look about ready to drop.”

Great sobs suddenly shook her, and the canteen slipped from her limp fingers. Everything seemed confused after that.

Nine

Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.

Genesis 2:24

“Miss Obermeier? Marva!” Monte caught the canteen, then grabbed Marva's arm before she could fall out of the dogcart. But she flopped forward and would have smashed her face on the dashboard if he hadn't caught her. “Marva!” Clutching her with both hands, he glanced around, trying to decide on his next move.

“Stand, Buzz,” he told the horse. Holding Marva on the seat, Monte climbed down, then hefted her into his arms. She moaned softly and lifted one hand to her face.

He laid her on a bed of pine needles beneath a tree and removed her hat, then shrugged out of his coat and made it into a pad for her head. Next thing was to cool her off. He opened his canteen, lifted her head, and held the bottle to her dry lips. She drank a little, coughed, and tried to sit up. “No, just lie still. See if you can drink a few more swallows.”

After taking another sip, she squinted up at him, her brow furrowed. “I feel awful.”

“I think you've had too much sun. Just a minute.” Pulling his handkerchief from his vest pocket, he hurried down to the lakeshore. He dunked the cloth and wrung it out, then returned to Marva's side.

Her eyes flew open when he laid the folded handkerchief on her forehead. Instead of leaving it there, he patted it over her cheeks and temples. “That's nice. Thank you,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut again.

He took the opportunity to study her attire. A high-necked white shirtwaist and a skirt of some stiff, shiny blue fabric flattered her coloring and figure. However, such a trim and immobile waistline suggested stays, which would also explain her rapid, shallow breathing. But a gentleman could hardly suggest that she loosen her undergarments. “You might unbutton your collar,” he suggested.

She gave him a shocked stare.

“I could toss you in the lake instead, I suppose. I've tried that method of cooling off, and I know it works.” He grinned, and her lips twitched in response.

“Very well.” When she reached for her collar, Monte turned away and loosened his own tie. He felt much better himself without that wool coat.

Picking his way back down to the lake's edge, he dipped his handkerchief in the water again to freshen it. “You'd best relax and rest here awhile longer. Then I think I'll take you to the Oasis and send for a doctor. We're not heading back to Lakeland Lodge until late afternoon. No more sun for you today, my lady.”

She blinked up at him as he approached. Her flushed face made her eyes seem bluer than ever. “How did you come to be here?”

“I followed you,” he admitted and knelt beside her. “Had to make sure you came to no harm. These Northwoods are not as domesticated as people like to think. Too many uncivilized loggers and drifters in the area.”

“Mr. Stowell told you?”

“Told me that the map was for you? I already knew you wanted to visit other lodges, so guessing didn't require great powers of deduction. I'm also guessing that you didn't request my escort for the day because your parents would disapprove.” Monte talked while smoothing Marva's damp hair away from her face with his handkerchief. “What did they think of your taking this jaunt alone?”

She closed her eyes. “I didn't tell them.”

“I see.” He studied her tightly closed mouth and the flare of her nostrils. Aside from a few faint lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, her skin was still nearly flawless. Even while damp and sweaty, her hair was fascinating. Such a handsome woman was seldom seen on the streets of Woodruff; he could scarcely blame other men for staring. Good women were still rare in these parts.

He slowly stroked the handkerchief down her cheek, letting his thumb slide over her skin. She gave a little gasp and held her breath. Her lashes fluttered, though her eyes remained shut. The wild thought struck him that he would like to kiss her. Startled, he scooted around to sit with his back against the pine's trunk, squeezing the handkerchief in his tight fist. The lake's color and sparkle resembled Marva's eyes.

A laugh rose in his throat, but he turned it into a cough. Obviously he had not been writing enough fiction lately, since his cowboy hero's poetic musings were starting to replace his own rational thoughts. Marva had made it clear way back in her first letter that she desired a marriage conducted like a mutually beneficial business partnership.
I neither expect nor desire romantic overtures.
She meant during courtship, surely. Or did she?

Tugging at his collar as if it choked him, he gave her a quick sideward glance and shook his head. Unless she married a man already on his deathbed, a platonic marriage would never work. And it
shouldn't
work. God had not ordained marriage to be a platonic relationship. From Monte's observations of Marva, admittedly limited, he suspected she wanted more from a marriage than her letters indicated, whether she realized it or not.

He would allow her to rest and recover for a few more minutes. They would have to return to the main road whether he took her to the lodge or back into Woodruff, and he wasn't eager to expose her to more afternoon sun.

“I hope that awful man doesn't come this way or release his dog,” she said into a long silence. “I can't tell you how relieved I was to see you. I felt as if I might faint both from heat and from fear, and then what might have happened? God sent you. I know He did.”

Monte couldn't honestly say that Blanchard would not have harmed her. “I know little about him, actually. Blanchard, I mean.” He laced his hands around one upraised knee and pondered how to phrase his next statement. “I don't blame you for wanting a few hours to yourself, for wanting some privacy and independence, but it's just not safe for a woman to drive out alone around here.”

Now would be the time to indicate that he knew why she wanted to interview local lodge owners, but he couldn't find the words. Come to think of it, why didn't she connect
him
with Lucky in Lakeland? He obviously fit the role. Her attitude was confusing, almost as if she hoped anyone besides Monte would prove to be her correspondent. It was slightly insulting, if he were entirely honest with himself.

She rolled to her side and sat up, leaning on one hand and rubbing her temple with the other. “I'm no longer overheated, but my head aches terribly.” A thick lock of hair studded with two hairpins dipped over her shoulder.

“Drink more water.” He shifted closer to her and held out the canteen.

She scooted over a little and accepted it, and for a moment, their eyes met. Tipping back her head, she drank. A little water dribbled down her chin and dripped on her blouse. She lowered the canteen and wiped the back of her hand over her lips. “Thank you.”

He took it back and drank a few swallows himself. Anything to keep occupied. While screwing the lid back on, he considered his next move. “I want you to see a doctor. Sunstroke can be dangerous.”

“I don't think I'm that ill. Mostly I just want to lie down in a cool, dark room and sleep. I
feel. . .weak.” Tears suddenly brimmed in her eyes. “And stupid.”

“You're not stupid. Far from it.” The tears were his undoing. He scooted just a little closer and put his arm around her shoulders, hoping she might see it as a fatherly move and allow the familiarity this once. His actual motivation was anything but paternal. To his surprise and delight, she laid her head on his chest and let her shoulder touch his side.

An unfamiliar blend of passion and protective tenderness whipped through his veins, making him feel twenty years younger. He rubbed her arm and tightened his grip, realizing in a flash that he was unprepared to handle this onslaught of temptation. A quick plea for strength gave him just enough willpower to sit upright and try to brush the moment aside. “We'd better get to the Oasis quickly. You can interview Hendricks while we wait for the doctor, if you feel well enough, that is.”

❧

Marva sat upright. Monte's abrupt withdrawal stung her pride. She had sought only consolation and a safe haven. Did he imagine she'd been craving romance? Utterly ludicrous! Tears burned her cheeks until she wiped them away.

He brushed off his trousers and offered her a hand up. She thought about ignoring his offer but reconsidered. Her head still swam, and she still felt sick. After shifting to a position from which she could rise, she gripped his hand. It felt warm and rough with calluses.

He pulled her up, but her legs refused to cooperate. Again he caught her before she could pitch forward on her face, quickly shifting his grip to her shoulders. The world spun around her, and her stomach roiled.

“Marva, can you walk, or should I carry you?”

“I can walk,” she tried to say, but it came out sounding more like a breathy wail ending in a sob.

He put one arm behind her shoulders and the other behind her knees and scooped her off the ground. She felt him stagger to regain his balance, but otherwise he didn't seem overly strained by her weight. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hid her face in his shoulder and tried to pretend he was someone else. Anyone else.

He gently deposited her on the seat of the dogcart, waited to make sure she could sit upright unattended, and then went back to retrieve her hat and his coat. Marva's vision narrowed to a small tunnel of reality; everything else was black. Yet when she closed her eyes, she was fully aware of her surroundings. She felt the cart tip to one side when Monte climbed in beside her; she felt his shoulder bump hers, then the comforting warmth of his arm sliding around her and pressing her toward him. She heard him exhale a deep breath just above her head. Her position was awkward, yet she knew it enabled him both to drive and to make sure she didn't fall out of the cart.

Monte shook the reins and clucked. Marva heard the creak of harness and the clop of Buzz's hooves, and the cart lurched forward. Light flickered over her eyelids, and motion freshened the air on her face. She drew a deep, shaky breath and let it out in a sigh.

How would he treat her during the remaining days of her vacation at the lodge? She couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen to follow her. What if Harding Stowell had come to her rescue? How very different she would feel about resting against
his
shoulder! Monte Van Huysen was easily the most attractive man of her acquaintance, married or single. Why couldn't he have been her newspaper correspondent?

If she had waited for God's timing and not attempted to find herself a husband, she would have met Monte without her head full of plots to hunt down a certain lodge owner, and maybe, just maybe, something might have developed between them. It might still. After all, he might come to Longtree to visit his brother's family sometime. And if he did, she might encounter him at church or in town. . . .

Marva had little experience interpreting the behavior of men, and though she was probably ridiculously mistaken, her heart conceived the tiniest hope that Monte found her attractive. Not in her current sunburned, bedraggled condition, of course, but maybe at her best, she might catch his eye. Just maybe. Any hope at all was better than none.

If only her head would stop spinning.

Ten

Wherefore be ye not unwise,

but understanding what the will of the Lord is.

Ephesians 5:17

The sun had dropped behind the tallest trees before Marva succeeded in convincing Mel Hendricks, owner of the North-woods Oasis, that she felt well enough for Monte to drive her home that evening. Monte wrapped his arm around her shoulders with a proprietary air as he escorted her out to the waiting dogcart.

Seeing his rifle on the floorboards as she climbed to her seat, Marva looked up at him, wide-eyed.

He climbed in beside her. “Just in case. I don't expect trouble, but it's best to be prepared.”

After a quick wave at Hendricks, he clucked up Buzz and headed home. Petunia, tied to the cart, trotted behind.

Although dark circles underlined her eyes, Marva sat upright on the seat beside Monte, chin up, shoulders back, hands folded in her lap. She wore her jacket again now that the temperature had cooled, and he once again wore his sack coat, conforming to propriety.

“Mr. Hendricks was kind to send for the doctor, but it was unnecessary,” she said into a peaceful silence. “I simply had too much sun.”

“Better to be safe.” He clucked Buzz into a faster jog. “I hope your parents aren't worried.”

“I do, too.”

A flock of ducks flew overhead, quacking, headed toward Johnson Lake.

“Did you have a chance to interview Mr. Hendricks?”

“No, but it doesn't matter. I've abandoned the idea.”

“What idea?”

As he expected, she didn't answer the question.

“We should be home within the hour, before dark. The drive home should be faster than your drive out, since I don't reckon on taking the scenic route like you did. I lighted the side lamps just in case we don't beat the dark, but we shouldn't need them.”

“I'm not very good with maps.” Her voice sounded humble. “You also carry the gun ‘just in case.' What kind of ‘trouble' might we encounter?”

He rolled his shoulders and heard his spine crackle. He gave her a quick glance, hoping she hadn't noticed. “Oh, maybe a bear. Maybe a drunken drifter. You never know in these parts. The rifle wouldn't do us much good if I left it in the scabbard on Petunia's saddle.”

“Have you shot a bear before?”

“Sure. Out in Wyoming, that was. Nothing but blackies around here, but we used to shoot grizzlies out West. Big, mean bears.”

“Myles got attacked by a grizzly bear back home.”

“Huh, not in southern Wisconsin, he didn't. He must have been pulling your leg.”

“No, it was a grizzly bear. It escaped from a circus.”

Monte thought about that one. “If you say so.”

She chuckled. “You don't believe me.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to say it. Ask Myles when we get home. He'll tell you. It stole a steer from Obadiah Watson—he's Beulah's stepfather—and when the men hunted it down, it nearly killed Myles. That was right around the time he committed his life to God.”

“Really? He didn't tell me that story. I'll have to pound it out of him.”

“Spoken like a true big brother.”

He smiled at her, then couldn't look away.

“What?” she inquired, looking self-conscious yet pleased.

“Smile again.”

She smiled readily but covered her cheek with one hand. He pulled her hand down.

“You have a dimple in your right cheek. I noticed before but didn't really notice.”

She turned her face away.

“Why have you never married, Marva? You're a lovely woman, sweet, able—I don't understand it.”

She touched her cheek again but kept her face averted. “The right man never came along. I waited patiently for God's timing, but it never happened.”

He recognized sadness and a hint of bitterness in her voice. “You could still marry now.” Realizing how that comment might be construed, he faced forward and studied Buzz's hindquarters. The horse had dropped to a walk without his noticing.

“The right man would have to ask.” Her voice trembled as if with restrained tears. “I spent years being angry with God because He never gave me the husband I wanted. All those years gone, wasted! I should have enjoyed each day as it came and recognized that if I remained single it was because God knew singleness was best for me.”

Had she married years ago, she would likely not be available to marry Monte now. This fact occurred to him while she spoke. But should he be so arrogant as to imagine that God had reserved such a woman and set her aside to be his bride?

“Why have you never married?” She returned the question.

“I've never asked a woman to marry me.”

“But why not? Surely you have met many attractive women during your travels.” Although she spoke lightly, he sensed heaviness underlying the questions.

“None that I wanted to share my life with.”

She turned on the seat and fixed him with a quizzical stare from beneath her hat's brim. “But why ever not? Are you so difficult to please? Or do you conceal some dark secret in your past?”

That last question struck home. She obviously did not know—Beulah must not have told her—or she would never have spoken so lightly.

“I never stay in one place long enough to suit a woman,” he improvised. “Some men aren't cut out for marriage.”

“But you—” She fell silent.

“But I what?”

“Never mind.”

A mosquito whined in Monte's ear. He smacked himself on the side of the head and knocked his hat askew. “Bugs are bad tonight.”

“They seem to be bad most every night.”

The first stars glimmered in the steel gray sky above. “It won't be long now. I hope they saved us some supper.”

“I'm not hungry, but for your sake, I hope so, too.”

Before he turned off the main road into his long driveway, the last glimmers of twilight had faded and stars filled the night sky. The bobbing lanterns threw small puddles of light that scarcely reached the nearest trees. One of the dogcart's wheels bumped into a pothole, and Marva bumped into Monte's shoulder. “Sorry about that,” he said teasingly.

“I shall try to forgive you,” she retorted calmly.

He grinned, and a sudden wave of affection for her rolled over him. Driving along with this woman at his side felt right somehow. He could easily imagine spending the rest of his life in her company, and the thought started a longing ache in his soul.

As they approached the lodge grounds, a bonfire's glow appeared between the trees. Hardy must have lighted it for the guests, who sat on the log benches around the fire pit, singing hymns. He slowed his horse, thinking Marva might like to join her companions, but she laid her hand on his forearm. “Please don't stop. I need to go to my room.”

Without a word, he drove the dogcart to the lodge steps, secured the reins, and came around to help Marva alight.

Lanterns burned dimly on either side of the main door. No one sat on the porch tonight; the lodgers must all be down by the bonfire. Marva reached out to take his hand. Her grip felt uncertain. Courage and determination must be keeping her upright. He sensed that she was ready to collapse. Releasing her hand, he reached for her waist to lift her down. She murmured a token protest. He set her on her feet, facing him, but did not let go. “Can you walk?”

Her head bobbed. “I think so.”

“I don't.” For the third time that day, he hefted her into his arms then mounted the porch steps and fumbled for the latch. She simply let her head bob against his shoulder.

Once inside, he carried her across the foyer. No one was behind the desk. He entered the hall, trying to avoid bashing her head or feet on anything, then walked its length and stopped at the door to her room. It was unlocked, so he pushed it open and carried her inside. Guessing which bed was hers, he laid her on it. “Marva, are you all right?” he said, trying to stop gasping for breath. His heart raced, mostly from exertion.

“I'm. . .terribly. . .sleepy,” she mumbled as if drugged.

He untied her hat and tugged it off her head. Her forehead was warm but not feverish. He gripped her hand and considered what to do next. Feeling around at the foot of the bed, he located a wool blanket, which he spread over her. He would have liked to remove her shoes, but that seemed too personal.

“I'll let you rest now,” he said, reluctant to leave her alone. Deep, steady breathing was her only reply. He smiled. Once more he touched her forehead then bent way over and kissed her soft cheek. “Good night, my dear.”

❧

“Marva! Marva. . .why, you slept in your clothes! Whatever possessed you to do that? Where were you all day yesterday? Your father and I began to worry when you didn't show up at the bonfire.”

They hadn't worried until then? Marva sighed and reached up to push tickling hair from her face. She groaned. Every muscle ached, and her head still felt heavy.

“I went for a drive and got lost. Mr. Van Huysen found me and drove me back home. I had too much sun.” She shifted her legs over the side of the bed and watched listlessly as the blanket slithered to the floor.

“You'll have to repeat that, since not one word of it was clear.” Mother sounded irritable. Mother was never irritable.

Marva straightened her shoulders and groaned again. “I hurt everywhere.”

“Now that I understood.”

Mother stood beside the bed in her faded lavender dressing gown, her silver braid hanging over one shoulder. Her normally serene face was creased with frown lines.

Slowly Marva repeated her explanation, holding out her blistered hands for her mother's inspection.

“I should say you did have too much sun! Child, will you never develop good sense? Why did you drive out alone, and without gloves, and on such a hot day? We can be grateful that Mr. Van Huysen found you, or you might have become hopelessly lost in these dreadful woods!” She suddenly clasped Marva in a tight hug. “The Lord watched over you, for certain. Had I known all this before I went to bed last night, I'm sure I wouldn't have slept a wink! We saw you sleeping when we came in after the bonfire last night, but I never dreamed. . .”

“I'm fine, Mother, only rather tired and blistered.”

“Marva, is there anything you want to tell—”

A knock at the door brought her mother upright in an instant. “Now who could that be? Your papa went fishing.” She hurried to remove the chain lock.

“Ma'am.” Marva heard a woman's voice say. “Miss Obermeier's
bath is ready in the washroom across the hall. We left extra rinse water.”

Mother paused then said, “Thank you very much. I'll tell her.” Closing the door, she regarded her daughter in surprise. “You ordered a bath?”

Marva blinked in confusion. “There must be some mistake.”

Her mother's head tilted. “Actually, you could use one. Why not take it, since it's already prepared for you?”

Reaching one hand up to her hair, which was stiff with sweat and road dust, Marva nodded. A bath sounded like heaven.

Minutes later, she soaked in steaming, rose-scented water in a huge aluminum tub. Her hair floated around her shoulders. Her sunburned hands stung in the water, but her aching muscles began to relax.

She remembered Monte carrying her into the lodge the night before. Or at least she had vague but lovely memories of his comforting arms and gentle voice, the scratchiness of his coat against her cheek, the bump of her foot against a doorpost, and his apology. He had laid her on the bed. She knew that much but recalled nothing afterward.

Tightness built in her throat. He was so dear! So kind and considerate and gentlemanly! Why had such a man never come into her life before now?

Hot tears blended with the water while she rinsed soap from her hair. Yet a faint hope grew within her that maybe, just maybe,
now
was God's perfect timing.