It was all so…terrible.
But the Lord had brought some good out of the tragedies Emmeline had endured. All starting with Will Logan, the owner of the Circle-L. He’d taken Emmeline and her family in when there’d been nowhere else for them to go. No one could have predicted—least of all Emmeline—that the handsome rancher would turn out to be the love of her life. Rebecca had attended their wedding just last week.
But before she could dwell any further on the particulars of the ceremony, Emmeline returned to the kitchen carrying a brown paper package with a white string tied around its middle. One look at her shining face and it was clear the Lord had blessed Emmeline Logan with an enduring love for her husband. Will and Emmeline’s courtship had been unusual, more whirlwind than smooth and steady, but there was no doubt the two were blissfully happy together.
“Here it is,” she said, setting the package on the table so she could pull the string free. With slow, careful movements, she then spread the paper aside one corner at a time.
“Oh, Emmeline.” Rebecca swept her fingers across the light blue material, stopping along the way to trace a bold ivory flower. Tears threatened to escape her eyes, but Rebecca blinked them ruthlessly back into place. “This pattern reminds me of your wedding dress. You were such a beautiful bride.”
Emmeline smiled sweetly. So sweetly, in fact, that Rebecca had to gulp down another bout of tears. But this time, her emotions were far more selfish. Like this morning when she’d seen Cassandra and Percival Walker together, Rebecca didn’t want to feel the swift pang of jealousy that snaked through her. Yet there it was, coiling around her heart with a steely grip.
What was wrong with her this morning? First bitterness. Then anger. Now jealousy of her two friends’ happiness.
She felt like a stranger in her own skin.
Clearly unaware of her troubled thoughts, Emmeline moved her hand across the fabric and stopped it beside Rebecca’s. “I told Will I didn’t need another set of curtains, but he wanted me to make my own mark on the new house. I mean, our new house. He liked this material best, said the color reminded him of the blue in my eyes.”
“He’s right.” Rebecca held on to her sigh. Barely. “This will look lovely in your new home.”
“I hope so,” she whispered. “For Will’s sake. I want to make my husband as happy as he’s made me.”
How Rebecca wanted a love like Will and Emmeline shared. Unfortunately, the one person who’d captured her attention was Pete Benjamin, a man whose devotion still belonged to his deceased wife.
If only Pete hadn’t been so kind to her after the tornado, she might have been able to put her feelings for him into perspective. But each night as she drifted off to sleep, Rebecca remembered every second of their time together after the storm.
He’d refused to abandon her as she’d searched for her brother. With a gentle hand on her arm, he had guided her past dangerous debris until they’d found Edward helping with cleanup on the edge of town. Pete had made sure she was in good hands before he’d joined the efforts himself.
At the memory of his kindness, she sucked in a shaky breath. Why was there such pain in her heart every time she thought of that day?
Clicking her tongue, Emmeline set the material on the table. “You’re not thinking about what Matilda Johnson said, are you?”
“Not at all.” Rebecca wiped her forehead with her fingertips. “Other than my reputation suffering a little, I’ve been very fortunate. I made it through the storm without a single loss or injury.”
Emmeline’s smile faded, and she sighed as she lowered herself into her chair again. “You’re right, of course. We need to focus on what we have, not what we’ve lost.”
In spite of her words, a stormy expression gathered in Emmeline’s gaze. It was the same faraway look Rebecca had seen in Bess’s eyes whenever someone asked her about the unaccounted time she’d gone missing after the tornado. The girl had been the last to see Mikey and Missy. If only Bess would talk.
It was Rebecca’s turn to squeeze Emmeline’s hand in sympathy. “How is your sister? Any developments?”
“None.” Emmeline’s eyebrows pulled into a frown. “She hasn’t made a sound, not a single peep.”
“What does Dr. Dempsey say?”
Emmeline lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “That he can’t find anything wrong with her. That in time she’ll recover completely. But it’s been a month and she still isn’t talking. And between you and me, Dr. Dempsey is…rather…” Her gaze darted around the room. “Old.”
Holding her friend’s gaze, Rebecca nodded slowly, unsure if she wanted to admit the sad truth aloud. But the facts were undeniable. Dr. Dempsey had just celebrated his eighty-second birthday. And ever since the tornado, he’d been overwhelmed with a workload a man half his age would find daunting. He’d had neither the time nor the energy to devote to Bess’s treatment.
“If only Bess would make a sound, a sigh…anything,” Emmeline said. “I’d feel more hopeful. But ever since we found her under that bush where she’d been thrown by the tornado, she just goes about her business without speaking. And every so often, I catch her staring into the distance as though she knows things the rest of us don’t. I’m afraid whatever is keeping her silent is too terrifying to contemplate.”
“You think she knows what happened to Mikey and Missy?”
“Yes. And I fear the news is dismal.” She shuddered. “After all, she was the last person to see them after I sent them all off together to find shelter from the storm. Suppose the memory of what happened to the children is too painful for her to face and that’s why she won’t speak? Oh, Rebecca, what if…what if…the twins are dead? Or worse. What if they’ve been kidnapped by Kansa Indians and turned into slaves?”
The hopelessness in Emmeline’s voice had Rebecca squeezing her hand again. “I pray you’re wrong on both counts.” Unfortunately, they both knew either scenario was possible.
“Me, too. But at least if they were kidnapped they’d still be alive.”
“True.”
As silence fell between them, Rebecca eyed her friend a moment, trying to decide if this was a good time to broach an idea she’d been mulling over for a while. “I’ve been thinking about something that might help Bess,” she began cautiously.
Emmeline raised an eyebrow in question. “Oh?”
“Maybe if you found something for her to focus on other than her painful memories she might relax enough to speak again.”
“I’ve thought of that already,” Emmeline said. “She helps me and our mother around the Circle-L ranch without protest, but whenever we start asking her questions about the storm, she either shakes her head or simply walks away.”
“Why don’t you let me try?”
An intrigued expression flitted across Emmeline’s face. “What did you have in mind?”
“Let’s see if Bess will agree to help me here in the boardinghouse kitchen.” She rose and went to check her pies. They still had a while to go. “I could use another set of hands since the storm displaced so many people, most of whom she knows from the wagon train. Maybe the change of scenery will nudge her recovery along.”
Emmeline tapped a finger against her chin. “Hmm, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try. Maybe I’ll…”
Her