Page 63 of A Secret Heart
“Thank you.” Rebekah held her chin high, not meeting Ed’s gaze. She fell in beside Danna, already moving down the street.
“Wait—”
“I have nothing left to say to you.” There was a finality to her words.
And then she was gone, and he was left to grasp the side of the wagon bed with both hands, unsteadiness leaching through his bones.
He’d tried to explain everything…
All he could see was a memory of the tears standing in Rebekah’s eyes.I have nothing left to say to you.
He’d ruined everything by keeping secrets. But would it have mattered if she’d listened? She’d proposed to Isaac.
Always Isaac. Why couldn’t Ed be good enough?
Chapter17
Two days at the boardinghouse in town had only served to fray Rebekah’s nerves.
She finished pinning up her hair, then bent to lace up her boots. The marshal had insisted Rebekah stay in town. Insisted staying out at the Boutwell farm wasn’t safe, was too far away from the nearest neighbor if the bandit came after her.
She’d barely slept, waking often from nightmares of that knife on the door. As Rebekah slipped down the steps, hoping to leave without notice, a board creaked beneath her feet.
Mrs. Thorton poked her head out of the kitchen. “Would you like any breakfast this morning? I’m about to clear the table.”
The way Ed had beamed at Rebekah when she’d saved him a plate that morning at the McGraw homestead flashed across her mind. His surprised gratefulness had touched her. Made her want to save him a plate every day. But now? Thinking of it made her stomach hurt.
“Not this morning. Thank you.” Rebekah hurried down the stairs and out the front door, ignoring the woman’s tsk.
The smell of the dirt packed by rain settled in her nose as she started along the boardwalk to the newspaper office. These last few days, she’d half expected a note or a message sent from Ed.
She’d reacted badly. She could admit it now that the anger and humiliation had faded. If he asked, could she forgive him for his deception? She didn’t know.
As she neared the office, Billy nodded at her from the other side of the street. What would he do if Mr. Sullivan followed through with his threat to shutter the paper?
Just ahead, Danna strode toward her. Rebekah slowed her steps. The marshal made a show of cutting her eyes in all directions.
“You out by yourself?” There was a slightly accusatory tone to Danna’s voice.
Rebekah had been trying to tell herself not to be nervous, but the marshal’s words reminded her that this wasn’t over. “I’m on my way to see Mr. Sullivan about getting my job back.” Surely he’d have repaired the press by now.
“Things are still dangerous.” Marshal O’Grady nodded to a man passing by, then focused back on Rebekah. “I thought I was closing in on the bandit. We tracked him to a hideout near the county line, but he disappeared.”
“I appreciate the warning,” she said tightly. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Danna couldn’t expect her to stay sequestered indoors forever, could she?
“Be careful.”
Rebekah tried not to let the marshal’s concern worry her. But as she walked down the familiar streets that made up the town that had been her home for years, every shadow between the buildings was a threat.
A shout from the saloon turned her head. She faced the splintered door to the newspaper office, her body poised to run. She took a long breath, straightened her blouse, then let her fingers press against the door. It opened slowly. A shadow moved inside. It had to be Mr. Sullivan.
She let her eyes adjust to the light. He bent over his desk, riffling through papers, stuffing his personal belongings in a satchel.
Her gaze lingered over the mess. The desks were righted, but all the papers were cluttering the front in an odd array of haphazard stacks. Metal letters were strung out on the floor along with pieces of the broken-up stand for the printing press. Her job. Her dreams. All lay scattered in a hundred pieces across the floor.
“How can I help?” Her voice trembled with emotion.
