Carol Arens - Rebel with a Heart

Trace twitched in his sleep. He groaned and woke up.

That night, he never did see Lils open her door. He heard her scream.

Bursting out of the woods, he saw the Higgins boys push Lilleth to the ground. Horn knelt over her, pinning her wrists to the parched earth. Pard laughed and called her obscene names.

Lils spat back oaths that would have sent ordinary mischief-makers running, but Pard and Horn weren’t ordinary. The twins fed off each other, one disrespectful and the other mean. Even adults kept out of their way.

Running full speed, Trace plowed into Horn, but didn’t see the jagged stick that Lils had gripped in her fist, ready to jab her assailant with.

He knocked Horn over. The bully slammed into his brother. Blood spurted, some from Horn’s ear and some from Pard’s nose.

It looked as if the boys didn’t care for having their own blood spilled, because they ran away crying and cursing. And a good thing, too, because Trace couldn’t have moved a muscle to protect Lilleth.

The stick that she had intended to jab Horn with now stuck out of his own chest. Blood pulsed from a long gash across his ribs. Lils looked like a blur leaning over him, pressing his wound and yelling at him. After a moment even her screams sounded like whispers.

Trace sat up in his chair and let his feet hit the cold floor. He’d been sick—close to death, he’d been told. Mostly, all he remembered was a visit from Lils.

She had come to his house weeping, and blowing a kiss at his scar. He told her he didn’t mind it, that the scar was bound to heal into an L, for Lils. She’d laughed and dried her tears.

That’s when she gave him a quick, sweet kiss on the lips, pressed his hand to her heart and vowed to marry him and only him.

Then, suddenly, she was gone, and no one knew where or even exactly when her mother had packed them off.

He’d been right about the scar. From that day until now, all he’d had of Lilleth was her initial across his heart.

* * *

Lilleth stepped cautiously onto the boardwalk. Ice crunched under her feet. Early morning sunshine peeked under her hat and gave the illusion of warmth even though her breath fogged in front of her face.

The storm had blown away with the dawn, and so had some of her worries. She couldn’t help it; she had to sing, if only under her breath.

Horton File, Realtor, had been the most agreeable of men. But then, who wouldn’t have been, receiving such an excessive amount of money to rent the only vacant house in Riverwalk?

Lilleth felt agreeable as well, even though she had been all but fleeced. She and the children had a place to live. A place that Mr. File had assured her was a lovely, furnished cabin tucked into the woods only steps from town.

The privacy of a cabin hidden among the trees was more than she had hoped for. The rent wouldn’t be a problem for the brief time they would live in Riverwalk. With luck, it would be only a month, maybe less, just until she figured out a way to free Bethany.

With sunshine smiling upon the town, Riverwalk appeared to be a charming place. Like many communities in South Dakota it was growing fast, filling with families and their commerce. Between the Realtor’s office and Clark’s lending library she had passed a dress shop, a barber and a baker.

It was only a couple of hours past sunrise and already the sign on the bakery door read Open for Business.

Clean morning air nipped her cheeks and filled her lungs. Lilly Gordon thoroughly enjoyed the quiet hours just after sunrise.

Lilleth Preston had performed her songs late into the night. Mornings typically found her with her head buried beneath her pillow.

She would miss seeing the sunrise once she returned to her life with Dunbar’s Touring Troupe.

Even more, she suspected she would miss the first fresh pastries of the day. She opened the door to Martha’s Baked Goods and was greeted by the aromas of cinnamon, vanilla and yeast.

She purchased four cinnamon buns drizzled with honey. The children would be thrilled with the treat.

Bethany would have provided her children with a healthy breakfast of eggs and milk.

But Lilleth wasn’t a mother, just an indulgent auntie who had never learned to cook. Life on the road, living from hotel to hotel with a group of traveling performers had never presented her the opportunity to learn.

Well, then, that would be one of her goals this month. By the time they rescued Bethany, the children would be eating meals that she had prepared with her own hands.

Lilleth warmed her fingers about the bag of baked goods and hurried the three doors down to Clark’s place, slipping, sliding and wobbling.

Clark had started a fire while she had been out. Warmth wrapped around her as soon as she stepped inside. Upstairs, she heard Jess’s footsteps and Mary’s good-morning coos.

Clark sat at his desk, head down on folded arms and fast asleep with a pair of glasses clutched in his fist. The poor man must be exhausted. He couldn’t have done more than doze in a chair all night.

“Clark,” she whispered. The familiarity of using his first name felt a little awkward, and a lot nice. “I’ve brought breakfast.”

He didn’t wake up, but his mouth lifted, revealing the barest hint of a dimple at one corner. My goodness, the man was appealing.

There was something about him that didn’t quite make sense. He was a complete bumbler, as likely to trip over his own feet as walk a steady line. Once in a while, though, he wasn’t.

Lilleth bent over to peer more closely at his face. She shouldn’t; he was nearly a stranger. She leaned another inch toward him. Something about him called to her. Why didn’t he seem like a stranger?

She had spent the night in his bed. That must be the reason.

He appeared to be dreaming. She watched his eyes move behind his lids. His lips compressed, then relaxed. Thick dark lashes twitched...they blinked.

Sleep-misted eyes opened wide and blue, then blinked again.

“Good morning, Lilly.”

By heavens, there was a dimple. And could she be any more of a ninny, staring and blinking back?

She straightened and backed up, holding the bag of cinnamon rolls between them. “I’ve brought breakfast.”

“Martha’s?” He rolled one shoulder, then the other, stretched...grinned and sat up. “I’m starved.”

An apology would have been called for, could she have found one appropriate to the situation. But just then Jess came downstairs with Mary in his arms.

“Morning, Ma, Mr. Clarkly. Is that sweets?” His eyes grew wide in anticipation. There were some things that Bethany would have to set straight later on. Her children’s diet being the first. “I’m starved.”

“Sit down there on the rug in front of the fire,” Lilleth told him. Jess did so, placing himself between the hearth and his baby sister. “Careful with the crumbs.”

Lilleth sat on the rug and broke off small pieces of cinnamon bun, feeding them to Mary. Clark, with his glasses perched low on his nose, completed the circle. He sat beside her with his ankles crossed and his knees sticking out. He didn’t seem to notice that his left knee bumped into her right one.

Any other man would get a swift boot in the... But this was Clark, and chances were he was oblivious to where his limbs ended up.

“I have good news,” Lilleth announced, scooting beyond reach of Clark’s knee. “I’ve found us a place to live!”

“Why, that’s... Well, it’s...” For some reason it took an instant for his smile to reach his eyes. “Truly wonderful news. Where?”

“We’ll be neighbors, Clark. I’ve rented the cabin in the woods, just down the path behind the lending library.”

He choked on cinnamon and honey.

“That’s just...” He managed to catch his breath despite the crumbs still lodged in his throat. “I’m pleased as can be.”