Always (2 page)

Emily interrupted. “You won’t settle any of my bills, Ross Gallagher. I can certainly take care of my own—”

Ross snagged her elbow and propelled her to the door. “See you tomorrow, Doc!”

They came out into the deserted alley between the doctor’s office and the drug store next to it. As soon as the door slapped closed, Ross swung Emily around to face him. “You’re all grown up, but you sure haven’t changed much, have you, Em?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Still stubborn as a tick.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Ross dropped her arm. “Come on.” He started toward the back end of the alley, a shortcut they both knew well.

Emily followed on his heels. “I mean it, Ross. I’m grateful for your help, but you don’t have to pay my bill. And you don’t have to walk me home.”

“I think I can afford a dollar for an office call, and knowing Doc Weaver, he won’t even take that much seeing as he couldn’t find anything wrong with you.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you both. I was just tired from the trip, and then when I saw you, I... I—” She cut off sharply. 

Ross glanced back to find that she had stopped. Her head was bent, her face averted. She raised a hand and turned away, but not before he saw that she was trembling.

He hurried back, afraid she might faint again. “Em? Are you all right?”

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. “They told me you were dead.”

Ross realized that she was on the verge of tears, and he was at a loss as to what to do with her. Her anger and resentment he could handle, but this? He wanted to reach out to her but wasn’t at all sure where he should touch her or even
if
he should touch her. Too much time had passed since they had parted, and the manner in which they had parted… Well, Ross knew from the way Emily had treated him in Doc Weaver’s office that his greatest fear had come to pass. Nothing would ever be the same between them again.

“Everyone assumed I was killed in the battle at Wilderness,” he began, “but I was wounded and captured by the rebs. I spent about seven months as a prisoner before I came back and found out there had been a mistake.”

“How long have you been home?”

“I was released in December, then I passed some time with friends in Washington. I came home three months ago.”

There was a long pause before she turned to fix him with moist, red-rimmed eyes. “Three
months
?”

Again, Ross felt an urge to reach out, to comfort her somehow, but his arms felt leaden and clumsy. “I went to see your father for a job. That’s when I heard the newspaper shut down.”

“Why didn’t they tell me you were still alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“You could have written. Didn’t you know where I was?”

“The day after I got back, I went to see you, but Karen told me you had moved to Baltimore to live with your aunt Esther. She gave me the impression that—” Ross stopped, reading her puzzled expression. Something was wrong.

“The impression that what?” The tremulous note in her voice was all but gone. She lifted her chin as she spoke, and Ross thought he saw the hint of storm clouds forming in the depths of those deep blue eyes.

“She gave me the impression you were going to be married. I didn’t think your fiancé would appreciate you hearing from me even if we are just... friends.”

Emily stared at him, betraying nothing that went on inside her head. Ross had no idea whether she was angry, hurt, or just surprised. “My sister told you I was getting married? That doesn’t make any sense. You must have misunderstood her.”

Ross’s gaze dropped to Emily’s bare left hand, confirming that she wore no betrothal or marriage ring. That sight filled him with an unexpected sense of relief as well as a new suspicion. Oh, yes, there had been a misunderstanding, all right, but he was beginning to think that it was a misunderstanding deliberately created by Karen to keep him away from Emily.

He weighed whether or not he should pursue the subject. He had not misunderstood Karen. He recalled every word they exchanged on the front porch that day.

He’d gone to see Emily the day following his visit to Nathaniel at the shop, and so it hadn’t come as a shock to Karen that Ross Gallagher was alive and standing on her doorstep. Her expression, however, made Ross feel about as welcome as a fox in a henhouse. There was no mistaking that look. She held a grudge against him, and that had come as a bewildering surprise. In all the years Ross had known the Winters family, Karen had never been standoffish.

Ross was even more surprised to learn that Emily was living in Baltimore. Nathaniel had made no mention of it the day before, and it only occurred to Ross later that Nathaniel had, in fact, been deliberately vague when he had inquired after Emily. Why hadn’t he told Ross that Emily wasn’t living at home? Ross could only surmise that Nathaniel and Emily might have had some sort of falling out. They were both hot-tempered and hardheaded, and if they’d had a serious quarrel, it would have been a snowy day in hell before either one of them admitted to being wrong.

Now, Ross looked away from Emily’s face. What had happened between her and her father was in the past. Nathaniel was dead, and this wasn’t the time to bring up Karen’s odd behavior.

“Maybe you’re right,” he allowed. “Maybe I misunderstood Karen about you being engaged, but she made it clear that you had a life of your own. I figured that if you wanted to contact me, you would.”

“You thought
I’d
contact
you
?” There was a short pause, then, “I certainly doubt that any proper young lady would take it upon herself to initiate correspondence with a gentleman.”

Proper young lady? Since when did Emily Winters give a fig about propriety? When had she ever referred to him as a gentleman? Ross looked back at her. Just as he suspected, a teasing smile curved her lips.

“Miss Winters,” he replied with mock formality, “I’m gratified to see that you have been studying your etiquette manuals with such obvious dedication while I’ve been gone.”

“Indeed,” she said. “I’ve studied them
devotedly
.”

He raised a brow at her emphasis, not missing this pointed reference to the word games they used to play. “You were quite
zealous
, then, Miss Winters?”

“One might even say
assiduous,
Mr. Gallagher.”

Assiduous. A tough one to beat. Ross smiled. “Well done, Miss Winters.”

Their eyes held. For just a fleeting instant the impenetrable barrier of time collapsed and things were as they used to be. Easy. Comfortable. Right. A faint voice, a voice from the distant past, sprang to life in his mind. That voice was his own.
I’ll never betray you, Emily. From this moment on, you’re my blood sister and I’m your blood brother. I’ll stand by you and I’ll never lie to you. Forever and always. Now, you say it, Em.

Then, the moment was gone. Passed as quickly as it had come. Emily was the one to look away this time. “We should be getting along.”

“You’re right.” Ross tried to adopt a note of lightness he didn’t feel as he gestured toward the south end of the alley. “You do remember the way, don’t you?”

“Better than you, I’ll bet.”

Soon, they emerged onto the sunlit street. They turned west, walking in silence as they passed many familiar faces. Ross nodded politely to some and waved to others, taking notice that Emily kept her attention focused ahead, acknowledging no one.

He soon became aware that heads turned to follow their progress down the street. As a boy, an Irish Catholic in a German Protestant community, he had learned to sense the subtle prejudice that followed in his wake. More recently, as a man risen from the dead, he had been quite the news, but Ross wasn’t the one people were staring at now.

Before long, the brick sidewalks and storefronts were behind them. The landscape took on a rural cast. Spreading young cornfields, verdant green meadows, sprinkles of butter yellow and soft lavender wildflowers, rolling hills and woodlands stretched as far as the eye could see.

Emily and Ross stayed to the side of the Columbia Pike as an occasional buggy, horsecar, or wagon rattled by, headed out of town. They turned onto a quiet dirt road. It was the same road they’d taken home from school years ago.

The more he thought about it, the more curious he became about Emily. In order to spark such interest from the townspeople that knew her, she must have left home not merely a few months ago, but years ago. Maybe that helped explain why she’d stopped answering his letters. But why had she left in the first place? And hadn’t she come home to visit her family during that time?

Emily chose that moment to shatter his train of thought. “How’s the family?”

Ross was surprised at the question. He’d never been very close with the Pennsylvania Dutch farm family that had raised him. “Sam died a couple years ago, you know.”

Emily nodded but didn’t say anything. Ross couldn’t tell whether this was because she already knew or because she wasn’t surprised.

“But Alma’s doing well,” he added. “I visit her from time to time.”

“Where are you living now?”

“I’m renting the old Hockstetter house. It’s not that far down the pike from here. You remember it?”

“Of course I remember it. But it’s an old farmhouse. Don’t tell me you’ve taken to tilling the land at this late date.”

“No, but I do like living out in the country. It’s quiet, and I have time to think, and... well, you know.”

“Time for writing,” she finished. Her attention was on the road ahead, but her mouth curved in a private little smile.

“You know me too well,” he replied, thinking that no girl he had ever met, not even his beautiful fiancée, Johanna, had ever been able to hold a candle to Emily Winters when she smiled.

“So, what are you doing for a living these days?”

Ross hesitated. He had anticipated this question, but he still wasn’t sure how to answer. He opted for the truth. “I’m writing for the newspaper.”

“The newspaper? But...” Her voice faded as his meaning dawned on her. She stopped in her tracks.

Ross stopped two steps ahead of her. He didn’t look back. He knew what was coming.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “The newspaper folded.”

“The
Gazette
folded.”

“But you just said— ”

“I’m writing for the newspaper, Emily, the only newspaper left in town. The
Herald
.”

Silence. Ross turned to meet her hard stare. The afternoon breeze loosened a wisp of dark hair from her chignon to stray across her face. She batted it away, not taking her eyes from him. “The
Herald
. You’re working for that vile Malcolm Davenport. Again.”

And so there it was, hanging in the air between them. As damning as if no time had passed at all. Betrayal.

“He offered me a job,” Ross said evenly. “Your father wasn’t in a position to do that.”

“You didn’t have to take it.”

Ross felt his own anger stirring. “What was I supposed to do? Starve on principle?”

“That wouldn’t have been a bad start. Many writers do.”

“Your father understood my position, Emily. Why can’t you?”

“I’m not my father.”

Ross had to clench his jaw to hold his tongue. She was a woman now, full-grown, poised and beautiful, but underneath it all lurked the same exasperating, mule-headed little girl in pigtails he had known so many years ago. There would be no changing her mind on this subject. Not today, anyway.

Emily held out her hand. “Could I have my bag, please?”

Ross gave it to her without a word.

“Thank you for seeing me home,” she said curtly, then continued up the road toward the red-painted covered bridge known as the Kissing Bridge. For Ross and Emily, that bridge had marked the spot where they’d parted ways on their walks home from school. The Winters’ gray stone colonial home stood within shouting distance on the other side of the creek.

As Ross watched Emily disappear inside the bridge, his anger faded, and he felt a painful stab of regret. The plain truth was, he missed her. It didn’t matter that she was impulsive and exasperating. It didn’t matter that her passion for justice sometimes blinded her when it came to life’s impossibilities. He missed her laugh and her enthusiasm and her imagination and her dreams. He missed her because a long time ago she had believed in him when few others had. He missed her friendship most of all.

“We sure did make our share of mistakes,” he said under his breath. They’d gotten off track a long time ago, but that didn’t mean it had to stay that way. Whether she liked it or not, Ross vowed to do whatever it took to make up for the past.

He would make things right again.

Chapter Two

“I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never fainted before in my life.”

Emily sat on her old bed, stripped down to her cotton chemise and drawers, two fat feather pillows stacked behind her. Through her childhood, she had shared this room with her sister, Karen. Now it belonged to Karen’s daughter, but, much like the town that had greeted her upon disembarking from the train, it was the same as Emily had left it. The rose floral wallpaper, the white muslin summer curtains that billowed in the open window, the writing desk, the crazy-patchwork quilts on each of the beds.

Karen perched on the edge of the bed, holding a soup bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Em. What with Papa’s death and that long train ride and—”

“And what with coming home and seeing Ross again, you mean,” Emily interrupted pointedly.

Her sister merely frowned. Like their mother, Karen was a natural mediator, skilled at smoothing over arguments and upsets. Her troubled expression told Emily she perceived a disagreement on the horizon and would try to deflect it. “Here,” she said, dipping the spoon into the bowl of chicken cornsoup. “Have some more.”

“I don’t want it.”

Karen lowered the spoon with a sigh. It wasn’t only in temperament that they differed. A stranger would have been hard-pressed to tell they were sisters. With her generous, round face, her cafe-au-lait curls, and wide gray eyes, Karen took after their mother’s side of the family. Emily, by contrast, had her father’s narrower countenance, his ebony hair and piercing blue eyes. And there were those who also said she had inherited more than his physical traits. Nathaniel Winters had loved nothing more than a rousing good argument.