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CHAPTER 8

C HAPTE R 8

Orson stopped the buggy at the gate where Ava was standing, waiting for him. He jumped down in time to assist her into the seat next to him. She smelled of lilacs, his daughter's favorite flower, bringing on a wave of homesickness. He missed Sheena, and the fact she had no mother to call her own, bothered him. Upon sitting back in the driver's seat, he stared openly at Ava, and a forbidden thought entered his mind.

"You are studying me in a very peculiar manner, Mr. Shilling."

In light of his recent thoughts, he corrected her. "Orson—shall we stick to first names?"

"Of course." The woman blushed, and he was thrilled. Could he have finally succeeded in his mission? That would allow him to go home and put to rest his bedside promise to his dying wife.

"I have a question: "I've been wondering, have you heard anything more from that secret admirer?"

"Almost every other day," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "but no further ahead as to his identity, I'm afraid."

"What has my competition sent?"

"Well, you know about the flowers…, then came candy, next was the chocolate, and a silver bracelet, which Gracie declared to be presumptuous on his part, but I did like it and I hate to hide it in my room. Sometimes, I wonder if he watches when I am in public to see if I wear it."

"It sounds like you have narrowed it down to a man," Orson said as he continued down the road away from the town limits.

"A woman would not send such gifts," Ava said. "Just yesterday, I received perfume, but it was not my favorite fragrance, so it was easy to put that away in my drawer."

"I agree. The gifts are far too personal. Perhaps he is not an admirer worth your consideration."

Ava laughed. "He truly never was. I place a man's merit in his actions and getting to know him face-to-face. Things might have tempted me at one time, but I have been adorned with fine attire and jewelry and did not like it one bit."

"Now, I am confused. You gave the impression you came from a poor background, but now you are saying you've worn fancy clothes and jewelry," he said. Would she open up to him or remain closed-mouthed concerning her past?

"Perhaps I've had a taste of both worlds, sir," she said. "Now, you must tell me about the woman you are building the house for. How can I give advice when I don't know if she is an aristocrat or a homeless ragamuffin?"

She managed to avert the subject again, but despite his homesickness, he'd be patient and see it out. Everything so far pointed toward his desired objective.

"My client is a mix of both worlds, as well," he said, casting her a teasing grin.

"You are a mystery. Even when I spend time with you face-to-face, I sense that you're holding back the tide as coy as my secret admirer."

"Life would be no fun without a bit of chance in it, wouldn't you agree?"

"I believe in chances," she said, and he watched her eyes pool before she turned away to take in the scenery. "I love the area, but if your lady is a city girl, the location may be too isolated."

"I picked it for its spectacular view, hoping she would appreciate the back-to-nature solitude when she is not busy with her social calendar."

"A city girl who enjoys dwelling with nature in its rawest form. Interesting."

He steered the carriage right, pulling off the main road and heading down an overgrown laneway. When they rounded a corner, and the foliage opened up to a clearing, he turned to see his passenger's initial response.

Ava stared in awe. Orson dared imagine the response was the one he'd sought. The afternoon sun glittered across the surface of the water like a lake of diamonds, and he could almost see the gems dancing in her eyes. The hills in the distance seemed to bow to the everchanging creation to make room for the spectacle of the hour, but for him, she was the main show.

Could he be falling for her? That had not been the plan, but his two previous attempts to free women from that awful saloon had failed the test miserably, while Ava sparked hope in his deadened heart. He almost expected to see Mildred Crenshaw's buggy loitering in the shadows, watching his progress with mail-order bride number three and cheering him on. She might feel like her agency's reputation is at stake, and although the matchmaker would be cheering for romance, she had agreed to sidestepping into helping him rescue the lost. But love? He—

Orson demanded a halt to his train of thought. No. He could not fall in love with Ava Gardner. His mother would be appalled, and his daughter deserved better.

Did he actually think that to be true? Was he that narrow-minded? He knew from experience that rare, unpolished gems could be found in the least likely of places. Perhaps this time, lady luck favored him with this one.

So many questions rippled through his brain, none of them presenting the answers he needed.

"I love it." Ava breathed in the air and crossed her hands over her heart. "I cannot imagine that a woman exists who would not fall instantly in love with this spot."

"Without a house?" he managed to say.

She glanced his way and smiled. "We can't have the wood you ordered go to waste, sir."

"Tell me the type of house you see here."

"Colonial, with a huge, full-length covered porch facing the water. Large windows, especially on that side of the house, to brighten the inside and bring nature inside."

"And the bedrooms on the laneway side?"

"Oh, no. Stretch out the space so every room can enjoy both views. The clearing is huge…unless you are planning a mansion. I suspect you can manage a few bedrooms…and maybe place the woman's room on the opposite side to allow privacy from her guests or from her children should she marry."

"I can almost picture the house, and we haven't left the carriage yet."

"Then, let's walk." Ava grabbed the basket in which she had packed two lemonade flasks and a container of cookies, before jumping to the ground and proceeding toward the lake.

Orson caught up just in time for Ava to stop short. He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she surveyed the land, lining it up with the water.

"You must put a large dining room window in this section. The sun will set here later, and what better magic than to eat your evening meal while watching nature's repeat performance day after glorious day."

"The dining room and the kitchen behind it so she can clean up her kitchen afterward with the same evening glow on her back."

"Or on her front. Have you ever constructed a working area to face the west and the dining room so she can be part of the chatter when she runs for dessert or more coffee?"

"Two working counters, one against the wall and one in the middle of the floor?"

"Not the middle, or she will wear herself out, jumping back and forth during food preparation. In restaurants, they have baking counters and cooking counters as they serve two very distinct purposes."

"It does sound like a kitchen a woman would want to be in."

"Making her family happy just to have her close instead of being shoved off in another room."

"I daresay the idea is novel."

"And your company will be the first to invent a house of dreams. You will be famous, Orson, especially if your client runs in influential circles. Every woman in the country will want a replica."

He laughed. "Now, I know you are humoring me."

"I am optimistic. A bit of advertising and I daresay your construction business will take on an alternative reconstruction service."

"You are surprising me with all your intuitions: a cook, a midwife, a house designer, and now, a business tycoon."

"Now, you are humoring me," Ava said. "A girl has dreams and a brain. She is also capable of learning skills or following procedures until she masters something foreign. I am living proof."

She curtsied in fun. "Meet the new me." The two of them laughed.

He reached for her hand and felt it tense, then relax under his hold. "Shall we bring your picnic treat to the lake and talk some more?"

"Yes, that would be delightful. I love the smell of fresh water and the sound of rippling waves. It is a piece of heaven here on earth."

"You talk of heaven as if you believe, yet you say you have not sat under religious instruction," Orson said.

"Some things you just sense in your heart. I have no trouble believing there is a God who has provided all of nature for His creation to enjoy."

He found a grassy section close to the water's edge and spread the blanket he'd snatched from the coach at the last minute after noticing she'd included it in the basket for their outing. At the time, he'd considered the idea of relaxing by the water with Ava Gardner an innocent activity, a mere opportunity to gain additional information that might settle any lingering doubts as to her credibility, but now, with his heart aflutter, he wondered if he was treading on dangerous ground.

Orson was sinking fast.

When Ava discovered the truth about him, she'd consider him a worse prospect than the anonymous secret admirer—the one who did not exist, other than his sorry self. The entire adventure had started out as a gesture to honor his deceased wife's request. She felt he needed to be proactive in healing the wounds he carried like a banner. Frances's leaving a respectable home to work in a saloon had grieved his heart and disappointed her mother—seems she had loved their intoxicated father far more than he ever had. Reluctantly, his mother had given her blessing, sending him on his quest.

Orson had never expected it to be such an emotional teeter-totter.

"What are you thinking?"

"How smart women are."

"I did testify to that very thing moments ago," Ava said, chuckling.

"You did. You are surely numbered among the bright stars of God's creation."

"How very poetic," she said. A crimson flow threatened to advance from the nape of her neck into her face. How refreshing that a woman of her age and reputation could blush so easily.

Orson knew from where Ava Gardner had escaped—that same despicable saloon in Dodge City that had ruined his sister and many other girls' lives—and that knowledge presented both a victory and complication. It was a victory that his plan to rehabilitate a lost soul had seemingly come to pass with prospect number three, the previous two failed attempts had returned to their former lifestyles and left him still needing to fulfill his promise. In Ava's case, the complication came in knowing he was falling for her—a definite, well-ordered no from his now stately mother upon his departure. His initial strategy had been to return home unmarried despite the matchmaker's involvement and find a wife of more suitable character to replace Sheena's mother.

The project had sounded so noble and self-healing…, before Ava. Now, the undertaking seemed somehow tainted by the deception the whole scheme had taken in light of her ignorance.

"Do you not like the cookies? Oatmeal is not Slate's favorite either, but Gracie and Blanche begged for a batch this morning, and I obliged."

Orson looked at the uneaten cookie he held in his hand while he sat lost in his thoughts. "I do like oatmeal. Thank you very much for bringing them." He nibbled on the edge and attempted to shake his head clear of the nagging doubt plaguing him. "Tell me more of your ideas for the house."

For the next thirty minutes, he listened to details that seemed to come from her inner being, as if she had walked through her future dream home in her mind many times. She was a good girl born from bad stock, who had landed in a pit of self-destruction by choice, not by preference, as was his sister's case. His mother's second husband, had adopted the widow's children and Frances could have had anything she wanted—a king for a husband if she'd set her mind to it. Instead, she had chosen to follow in her birth father's footsteps and frequent the saloons, until its lure gripped her soul and eventually claimed her earthly life.

His mother had grieved her eternal status while Orson missed his sister. As children, they had played for hours on end, and he'd protected her countless times from their abusive father until his death and the miracle of his family's redemption from the wealthy man who loved his mother. Would Mother remember the kindness her second husband had shown in reaching out to a desperate widow and her family when he confessed that he loved Ava Gardner? Tell the woman he must, or resign himself to lifelong bachelorhood.

"I'm afraid my conversation has lulled you to sleep," Ava said. "I tend to prattle on when given half a chance, but I fear you have tuned me out. What is bothering you, Orson? I am a good listener."

"I was reflecting on the narrow bridge that separates the aristocrat from what some might consider commoners, or those who struggle in our society."

He watched the color drain from her face.

"I'm ready to tell you a bit from my past if you care to listen," Orson said.

"I said I would listen."

"My parents didn't raise us in the Church, but Ma definitely harbored convictions: saloons were off limits. My father's bad habit of losing money at the card tables or drinking until he passed out and they had to carry him home, was enough to harden the heart of any woman, but not my sister. Frances was a daddy's girl, and she stole away on many nights to lay in wait for him, fascinated by the fancy dresses and the lure of the lively music. One night, the distraught girl put him on the back of a horse and led the animal home. They buried him the next day."

"Those are terrible beginnings." Ava sobbed. She allowed him to hold her, and he suspected she had compared the similarities in their backgrounds. When she pulled away, he dabbed her eyes with the hanky he withdrew from his pocket. "I have no idea what brought that on except that I could relate to some of it, but I never expected a man like you to harbor such a past."

"I was fourteen when my father died, and my sister was a confused twelve-year-old."

"A very impressionable age."

"Yeah, well, how my mother snagged her second husband remains a mystery to me. He was dignified, a perfect gentleman. He was kind to his wife, and he treated Frances and me as if we were his own. Unfortunately, he died young. I was twenty and a wealthy man, thanks to him. He made me promise to care for the family and keep the business afloat."

"That was a miracle. Sometimes, the best of angels are only with us for a short while, but their impact on our lives lasts forever."

"Did you have a visiting angel in your time of need?"

"When I was ten, the lady at the mercantile took a liking to me. Whenever I could slip away, I'd help her with some little project or other that she could have easily done herself. When we finished, she let me pick a stick of candy from the bowl to suck on all the way back…to my misery."

"Suppose, on Sunday we could give thanks for our ministering angels."

"I like the sound of that. Will you come with me and the family if they're up to it?" Ava asked.

"I'd be honored to sit next to you in the house of the Lord." She did blush then, and he squeezed her hand before lifting it to his lips for a slow kiss. "I should finish my story before I lose my nerve. I haven't told many people."

"I'm honored you chose me to tell."

"My stepfather and I had a good rapport. I loved working with wood, and construction is all about lumber. Mother says I have a special knack for visualizing and creating structures that people crave based on the pictures I draw, but I have nothing in the way of design after hearing your version of the house I will build here."

"We make a good team." She'd said it glibly, but his heart ached at the closeness teaming up with Ava would bring. Oh, how Orson wished it could be so, but the woman would hate him once he'd unfolded the final chapter of his story.

Not today, but soon. He couldn't stand the agony of secrecy much longer.

"I expanded the Shilling Construction Company and proudly took my stepfather's name. My ten designs are popular and have been used repeatedly on various sites."

"Why didn't you just complete one of them here instead of asking my opinion?"

"Perhaps I am looking for my eleventh, but do not despair—if it reaches the potential you assume is attainable, I will send you a percentage of my monthly profits."

"Don't be silly. That is totally unnecessary."

"Ah, but it will force me to stay in touch, which I am beginning to think will be necessary for my future well-being." There. Orson had voiced his feelings and as a result, witnessed her squirm. It seemed neither of them knew if the discussion was simply the past catching up to the present or if it held something promising for the future.

"At any rate, I presently have on staff three teams who are kept busy at different sites. Mind you, they are usually closer to home where I can oversee their progress. I am a stickler for perfection."

"Yet here you are, miles from home, building a house for… who—a friend?"

"Yes, you could say that."

"That is most generous of you. I know you miss your daughter," Ava said. "What happened to your sister?"

That was the question he dreaded, but if they were to move forward, it must be told.

"Frances chose a different path to follow. She became the Queen of Hearts; dancing, singing, and entertaining in a saloon. She seemed unable to shake off the fanciful memories of her birth father.

"Frances grew distant, and it was no surprise when she disappeared from the family estate on the eve of her coming out celebration and headed for Dodge City." He heard Ava gasp. He'd expected as much, but he continued.

"Mother forbade me to go after her, and we lost touch," Orson said. "I married, and shortly after Sheena was born, my wife, Iris, took to her bed. My emotions became knotted up in the three women in my life—mother, my wife, and my missing sister—while the demands of fathering a baby girl at the same time all served to keep me busy. I clung to the business, where nothing but prosperity changed, but my wife saw through my fa?ade. The responsibilities and heartache over my wife's worsening condition almost did me in."

"What snapped you out of the doldrums?"

"My wife's final request, but I was too late to save my sister."

"I am so sorry for that loss. I have heard of women who couldn't break the habit. Dancing and singing are a distraction that can ease a troubled mind."

He inhaled deeply, and searched Ava's face for any sign of recognition, but her expression was closed. Only the slight gasp she'd let out earlier suggested she might have known his Frances.

Orson was unable to continue with his story, whether it be for fear of the retelling or out of fear of admitting his deception to Ava. "I've kept you away from home long enough. Your cousin will feel it her duty to get the supper on."

Orson stood, and Ava joined him.

"I have a stew simmering on the cookstove, and the biscuits are ready for the oven. The preparation is nearly complete, so Gracie will not be tempted to return to her kitchen prematurely," Ava said. "But it has been a delightful afternoon, despite the sadness of your story. I hope the memories did not dampen your spirits too badly."

He kissed her fingertips and stared into her eyes. "How could I ever remain downtrodden with you next to me? You are an angel for a new season."

"Oh, dear. You must learn to pick your angels more carefully."

"I shall be the judge of that. Let's clean up here and head home." He bent to pick up the blanket, shook the sand from it, and folded it, watching Ava repack the basket all the while. Yes, Orson Shilling was smitten, and he had no idea how to go forward from there.

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