The teasing banter, the friendly smiles, the general attitude of welcome and acceptance in this small town was refreshing. Victoria had grown so accustomed to barbed comments and veiled insults among the circle of people she knew that she appreciated being able to go to the mercantile or bakery, knowing no one would bring up her husband or the horrible deeds he’d committed. No one would speak in feigned whispers, blaming her for the destruction he’d brought to her family. No one would make her feel stupid or insignificant.
That just wasn’t the way of the good-hearted people of Hardman. Assumedly, most of them had to know it was her husband who came to town last December and attempted to kill Gray. Anyone in the area could have seen Wendell hauled off in handcuffs by a U.S. Marshal.
Yet, everyone she’d met had been so kind and gracious, immediately putting her at ease. Far more at ease than she’d been in a long, long time. Even at Aunt Octavia’s home, the gossip had followed her from Philadelphia to Boston, infiltrating her aunt’s social circles until Victoria spent the majority of her time hiding at the house, hoping to avoid contact with those who looked down their nose at her and judged her for being the reason Wendell had become part of the Carter family.
Dark thoughts threatened to surface, to assail her once again, so she chased them away, determined to enjoy the beauty of the autumn day. Many of the leaves had fallen due to a recent cold snap. A slight breeze caused them to skitter along the boardwalk in a pleasant dance. The sky hinted at a sunny day, even if the temperatures remained cold.
Victoria admired the way frost coated everything in a layer of white, making the day seem fresh and full of possibilities.
She crossed the street, made her way past the mercantile, and lingered for a moment in front of Abby Dodd’s dress shop. The woman sewed exquisite gowns. Tempted to order one for Christmas, she truly had no need for a new dress. However, she had enjoyed helping Claire choose fabric for a new dress for Maddie when they visited the shop last week.
Victoria had been shocked the first time she saw both Maddie and Claire in britches, but Gray didn’t seem to care. He’d said he couldn’t expect his girls to wear skirts when they went to the woods to practice their archery skills. In truth, Victoria considered asking Claire if she could borrow a pair of britches and tag along, then thought better of it. Her mother would roll right over in her grave if Victoria ever did such a thing.
Thoughts of her mother filled her with happy memories tinged with sorrow that they’d had so few years together. She’d only been eight when her mother passed away quite unexpectedly. Gray had been hardly older than Maddie then, and their two older brothers were twelve and fourteen.
The family had been devastated by the loss of a woman who had been so loving, gentle, and kind. Madelyn Carter had loved them all dearly, but Victoria felt especially close to her mother. Far closer to her than she ever had her father. He’d always been so proud of his three sons who would carry on the Carter violin legacy. It hadn’t helped matters that Victoria couldn’t play an instrument to save her life. The few times she attempted to play a violin, it sounded as if some poor beast was being slowly tortured to death. Her efforts on the piano, harp, and flute were just as bad, if not worse.
When her mother died, Victoria felt as if she’d lost not only a beloved parent but her closest friend and confidante. She’d always been able to ask her mother anything, share any childish dream with her. How she missed those special moments she’d spent with her mother. Sometimes, they did nothing more than sit by a cozy fire and read. Other times, her mother taught her necessary domestic skills. Her favorite times, though, had been when her mother would brush her hair and tell her stories of her own childhood days.
About to make herself heartsore, Victoria shook her head to clear her thoughts and continued on the way to the bakery across the street.
A bell tinkled merrily as she pushed the door open, and the scents of yeast, spices, and chocolate wafted enticingly around her face along with a gust of warmth.
Victoria smiled at those seated at tables enjoying a morning treat then moved toward the counter. She stepped in line behind a pair of familiar broad shoulders. Trace Travers had been in her thoughts far more than he should have been. Even if she’d been able to forget about her first encounter with him, he seemed to turn up everywhere she went. He attended the same church as Gray and Claire. He was at Sunday dinner at Tom and Lila Grove’s home last week when Victoria had attended with Gray’s family. Just a few days ago, Claire had insisted he join them for a meal. Of course, the meal made by the new cook was delicious, but the addition of his company had made the evening memorable.
Too memorable, Victoria concluded as she continued to stare at Mr. Travers’s back. He wore a heavy wool coat over his bibbed overalls, and he had on work boots that laced up nearly to his knees that helped him climb up the telephone poles. The other day, she’d stopped to watch him work and found herself rapturously studying his every move including the way he wrapped his leg around the telephone pole to hang on or used the spikes he fastened on the boots to anchor himself far above the ground as he worked.
Frustrated with her wayward thoughts, she’d marched home and dusted the entire first floor of the house, hoping to distract herself. In spite of the fact Wendell would spend the rest of his life in prison, Victoria would do well to remember she’d vowed to never wed again. Her father insisted she divorce Wendell, but Victoria didn’t want that scandal added to the long list already dragging around her heels. Despite her wishes, her father had obtained a divorce for her in a quiet manner. Although everyone assumed she was still wed to Wendell, the divorce had been finalized in the spring, leaving her free of her ties to the murderous maniac.
Regardless, she had no intention of marrying again. She just needed to get her thoughts aligned to the resignation she felt over the matter. She would remain alone the rest of her life because she’d chosen a terrible man to marry. That was that. Wishing it was different wouldn’t change a single thing.
And happy or not, she had no business wondering what it would feel like to have a certain handsome man’s freshly shaved cheek pressed against hers. The scent of Trace’s shaving soap tantalized her nose, along with his masculine aroma that continued to make her think of mountain air mingled with snow.
Forcing her gaze to the floor, Victoria recited one of her favorite poems as she waited for her turn in line.
A gentle touch on her arm drew her from her thoughts and took her by surprise, drawing out an involuntary gasp. She glanced up at Trace as he smiled at her, holding his woolen cap in one hand.
“Mornin’, Miss Carter. I was just asking if you left Miss Maddie Mae at school?”
Victoria nodded, grateful he removed his hand before the heat of it seared through her coat and dress right down to her skin. As it was, an electrified tingle shot up her arm and gave her a moment of pause, wondering if it might sizzle through the last bit of sense she owned. At the moment, being sensible and reasonable were the last things on her mind. Not when she found herself much more interested in discovering if Trace’s tanned jaw would feel as taut and smooth as she imagined.
Quickly gathering her scattering wits together, she nodded. “I did leave her at school.”
“And you needed something warm to drink before you make that long trek home?” he asked with a teasing glint in his glorious blue eyes.