The Last Bloom Read online

  Her eyes widened. “Even if others are hurt in the process?”

  “Mrs. Beachum’s just as proud,” Clara said.

  Cassia sighed. “Then I feel sorry for those poor children. With two proud, stubborn parents, they’re caught in the middle and denied the things they need.”

  “As sad as that is, it has to be. Can’t be offendin’ folks,” Clara said.

  “Then perhaps there’s another way,” Cassia said, her face brightening with her thought.

  He could almost see the wheels of her mind working to concoct an alternate plan of action. “And what other way might there be?”

  “Well, hiring someone to do a job isn’t charity, right?” she said.

  “Right,” he agreed.

  Clara frowned. “Other than Ned workin’ for Owen, what else can he do?”

  “Not him…her. Perhaps Mrs. Beachum can work at something,” Cassia countered.

  Clara arched a brow. “What’s the poor woman gonna do with the youngins while she’s gone?”

  “She doesn’t have to go anywhere,” Cassia said, a smile spreading across her face. “Mrs. Beachum can sew. When we were at the house to care for Ned, I spotted an old treadle sewing machine in the kitchen. And when I asked her about her sewing ability, she admitted to making their clothes. Now,” she went on without taking a breath, “I have tons of things needing to be mended. With my busy days and my mother liking the task less and less lately, the work is piling up. I’m sure, when I tell Mama my plan; she’ll be more than pleased to hire Mrs. Beachum.”

  Clara smiled. “I think ya just might be on to somethin’ there, Cassia.”

  “I do too,” he said, admiring the beautiful woman standing before him—her brains, her heart, and, aha yes, her body.

  “Well, now that we’ve got that settled, we best get to makin’ a batch of tinctures and balms,” Clara pointed out.

  “Would you like to join us, Brodie?” Cassia said. “We can always use an extra set of hands.”

  “I accepted an invite to Shailyn’s house for dinner,” he said.

  “Well, then, perhaps another time.” Cassia sounded disappointed as she bent to retrieve the shovel she’d been using.

  His eyes were drawn to her well-rounded hips, attached to a most inviting bottom. The denim overalls hugged her form in all the right places. Nervously he cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the pocket watch he freed for a quick glance. “And yet, it appears I do have some time before I’m due.”

  She turned to face him, looking deep into his eyes. “I’m glad you don’t have to leave yet.”

  He matched her gaze. “So am I.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Cassia controlled the urge to become positively giddy.

  What was it about Brodie that turned her insides into mush? His mere presence had her acting like a school girl on her first date. She felt awkward, clumsy, and worried about her appearance. Was it the way he scrutinized her every move with those lush, emerald green eyes, or the way he smelled of musk and spice that left her weak in the knees? Was it the deepness of his voice, the muscles in his arms, or how tall he stood, that made her heart race? Maybe it was everything blended so perfectly into one caring, intelligent package—the combination giving her sweaty palms and a dry throat. What baffled her as well was the fact she’d known Brodie all her life and never, ever did she have these self-conscious moments. He was like a big, protective brother.

  She’d climbed on his shoulders as a toddler for piggy-back rides and sat upon his lap to be read a story. He’d wiped her tears, a snotty nose, a chocolate ringed mouth, and muddy hands. He’d seen her naked and diapered when his sisters watched over her on many occasions. If there was anyone in the world she could be herself with, it was Brodie. And yet, right now as he helped her and Clara chop herbs to make tinctures, oils, and medicinal balms, she was completely out of place working beside him.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” he said playfully. His unexpected comment, pulling her from her musings, nearly made her jump out of her skin.

  “Yup, was just about to ask ya the same thing. Not to mention yer a bit jumpy to boot,” Clara added.

  Then please don’t mention it.

  Instead she shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Just wanting to make sure we accomplish all that needs to be done.”

  Clara’s two children, Blythe and Morgan, joined the task at hand. Cassia secretly admired how well Brodie interacted with them, making them laugh and getting them to enjoy doing the work their mother set before them.

  One day he will make a good father…and a good husband. How fortunate his lady love is to have him.

  And suddenly, to her complete surprise, Cassia envied the nameless, faceless woman in Boston. Truthfully, she felt a bit jealous the woman had been able to win Brodie’s heart. Frowning over her selfish and inappropriate thoughts, she stood. Leaving the table to check on the pot boiling on the stove, she tried to wipe her misplaced musings from her mind. She had no right whatsoever to be jealous. If anything, she should be happy for her dear friend. How wonderful to find that forever person—true love and companionship. Isn’t that what she hoped would happen for her? So, how could she begrudge Brodie such happiness?

  His hand upon her shoulder pulled her back to the present situation. “Is everything all right with you, Cassia?”

  The rich, warm tone of his voice went straight to her core. She nodded. “Just a bit tired,” she lied, turning from the pot to face him. He was so near, so very close. It would take nothing to reach out and trace the strong line of his jaw or the inviting curve of his full lips. She was sure they’d feel soft and warm against hers. She closed her eyes briefly to gain control. “It’s been a long week.”

  “I agree,” he said, not attempting to move.

  For a moment they just stood looking into each others’ eyes. And she could have sworn there was something more in his gaze. Did he have the same thoughts about her? And if he did, what would she do? After all, he was spoken for. Any decent woman, and she was a decent woman, wouldn’t allow herself to be involved with a man promised to another. But it would be so easy to…so wonderful to…

  It was then that Clara cleared her throat, and instantly the enchantment forming between them was broken.

  He stepped back.

  She sighed, both relieved and disappointed.

  He took out his pocket watch and checked the time. “I really must be going.” He turned to smile at Clara. “It’s been interesting.”

  She glanced over at Cassia and arched a brow. “It sure has.”

  Quickly she averted her glance, busying herself in packing the bottles and jars of finished products into her bag. “After I help to clean up, I should be going as well.”

  “Ya go on, before it gets dark. My youngin’s can help clean,” Clara said.

  Both Morgan and Blythe groaned simultaneously.

  “Never mind, now,” Clara scolded. “Ya know what’s gonna happen if I have to ask ya again.”

  Both sighed heavily, and together mumbled, “Yes, Mama.”

  “I’ve got to pass your house on the way to Shailyn’s, so why don’t I walk with you? Then I can help carry the bag,” he offered.

  “Oh no, Brodie, that’s not necessary…” she began.

  He interrupted. “Nonsense, I won’t have you lugging that heavy bag home on your own,” he countered.

  “But I have…” she began again.

  This time Clara interrupted her. “Now, that’s a right nice offer. And whatever else ya need, I’ll send Morgan to yer home with later.”

  She frowned, realizing Clara was preventing her from mentioning she rode over on her bike, as she was accustomed of doing, and able to place her bag in the basket.

  “Best ya both be gettin’ on yer way, now,” Clara urged.

  On the walk home, the wind picked up. She raised her eyes to the sky. “It looks like we’re in for a bit of rain.”

  He chuckled lightly. “Do you remember the fun we
had playing in the rain?”

  She joined in on his mirth. “Oh, I do… I came home caked in mud. Mama wouldn’t even allow me to walk through the house in such a dirty mess. I was stripped by the back door and partially scrubbed down in the kitchen before I was permitted to walk through to the bathroom.”

  He laughed harder. “My mother wet us down out in the yard, then made Tucker and I change in the woodshed.”

  “What about the time we all ate the blueberry pie your mother baked for the church social and ended up having a bad case of the diarrhea all night,” she reminisced.

  He arched a brow. “I remember quitting after the third piece. You and Tucker finished off that pie. The two of you were smothered in blueberries.”

  She laughed again. “Another night I was washed in the kitchen.”

  “How did our parents put up with such antics? At least your mother had only one naughty child to handle. Mine had four.” He shook his head. “I often wonder now, between the children and the medical practice my mother helped my father build, when the poor woman ever did a single thing for herself?”

  “Well, like my own mother, your mother loved the church socials,” she reminded him.

  “And then we went and ate her pie,” he countered.

  They both broke out laughing.

  “I can’t wait to have a family of my own,” he blurted out.

  The thought of him sharing such affections with another woman suddenly dampened her spirits. The laughter froze on her face, as she tried desperately to hide her feelings. “Well, I’m sure, once your father’s back on his feet, you’ll be able to return to Boston and the life you’ve made there with…with…”

  “Dorothea Malone,” he interrupted.

  Now, with the woman’s name known, Cassia felt even more envious of the situation. “Yes, with Dorothea.”

  He sighed heavily. “Truth be told, Cassia, Dorothea has chosen to be with another.”

  She stopped walking. “I don’t understand.”

  Nervously he cleared his throat. “There’s not much to understand. Dorothea found a man more suited for her, and so we’ve parted.”

  “And how is all that setting with you?” She hated Dorothea Malone with a vengeance. How could she discard such a kind, handsome man as Brodie for another?

  “I won’t deny how much her actions hurt at first, but as I look at the relationship, I don’t believe Dorothea and I were ever right for each other,” he said. “We come from different backgrounds and have different ideas on what love and marriage is all about.”

  “And what do you believe love and marriage is all about?” she countered, surprised at herself for asking such a bold question.

  “Sharing while caring,” he began. “Loyalty, friendship along with the love and passion. Sometimes sacrificing for one another, definitely cooperating, and most certainly trusting and being trusted in return.”

  She smiled to herself. All the things he wanted, she wanted too. Once again they picked up their pace, walking the rest of the way in silence. When they’d reached her house, he turned to her and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “And what does love and marriage mean to you, Cassia?” he asked softly.

  “Everything you mentioned, except for two things more,” she confessed.

  “And what might they be?”

  “Faith and hope,” she said. “Without faith we lose sight of humanity. Without hope we lose the courage needed to journey on through our challenges.”

  His smile was one of immense approval. “Yes, faith and hope,” he repeated with a whisper. “I’m not surprised to hear such wonderful virtues spoken from a reverend’s daughter.”

  She shrugged. “It has been a staple in our household, and never has the duo done us wrong.”

  He handed her the bag he’d been carrying. “It’s been nice spending time with you, outside of our workdays that is,” he quickly added.

  “I feel the same,” she agreed.

  He glanced at the heavens. “Hopefully Morgan will get here with your bike before it rains.”

  She gasped, feeling her cheeks warm. “You knew?”

  He nodded with a devilish grin. “I saw the bike parked on Clara’s porch when I came around to the front door.”

  She frowned. “Then why did you offer to…”

  “Because I wanted to walk you home,” he interrupted.

  She arched a brow. “It seems we’ve both left out something on our love and marriage ideal list.”

  He frowned now. “What’s that?”

  “Honesty,” she said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She thought of Brodie all through the Saturday night service, while she made ready the chapel for the next day, and during dinner. Even while she sat at her dressing table brushing her hair before bed, her mind wandered to him again. He’d known about her bike yet still asked to walk her home. He wanted to have the opportunity to spend time with her outside of work. Didn’t a man, interested in a woman, go out of his way to be in her presence? She felt at a loss, only having a school-girl crush on Tucker as any sort of an example.

  All these years she fashioned herself in love and jilted. But in all truth, she’d built dreams on vacant hopes. What she and Tucker had was a childhood fancy. No wonder it didn’t hold up. And all this time she’d blown up their time together as a love affair. And when she lost his attention, she stupidly vowed to keep her heart safe from ever being broken again.

  “How foolish I’ve been,” she whispered. Certainly there was no long-lasting, real relationship between her and Tucker. Lord sakes, they were just children. What did either of them know about commitment? Blaming Tucker all these years for abandoning his promise to her suddenly seemed unfair now—to both of them. As a grown woman, able to see clearly the way love with the right man really can be, she realized her mistake. She regretted all the time she wasted being resentful, or thinking her time to love and be loved had passed.

  “You were right, Mama,” she mumbled.

  “About what?” came her mother’s reply.

  She turned to see her mother standing in the bedroom door’s frame. Amanda Holmes, now in her seventies, was still a formidable woman. Even dressed in a faded pink robe, with her long golden braid streaked with silver and hanging down one shoulder, she looked beautiful. Her sun-kissed complexion was flawless. The signs of aging looked appealing on her. No wonder she turned men’s heads, captured their hearts. Her father adored her. The Apache risked his life for her. Oh, that she could ever be that sort of woman to a man.

  “I was heading to the kitchen for a drink of water and saw your light on.” Amanda made her way into the room. “Now, what was I right about?”

  “That Tucker O’Clarity wouldn’t be the only boy to win my heart.”

  Amanda took the brush from Cassia and began brushing the short curls, which had grown a bit since she’d returned from England. As she wound a lock around her finger, Amanda reflected. “That’s because the key word here is boy. You were infatuated by a kiss from your very first love…a childhood sweetheart.”

  She gasped. “How did you know Tucker kissed me?”

  Her mother smiled. “Because when you came home, you were elated. There was a flush upon your cheeks and a twinkle in your eyes. Only a girl’s first kiss can render such a glow.”

  She cast her eyes to her lap. “And now I am so tormented.”

  Amanda chuckled lightly. “I see no reason why you should be.” Her mother went on before Cassia had a chance to explain. “You and Tucker were mere children when your hearts took notice of one another. What did either of you know about life, or death for that matter? Now, with the work you do, you’ve been on both ends of the spectrum. You’ve seen things most young women your age don’t even read about. And you’ve grown—matured. As I knew you would. And so, it is quite natural you’d no longer draw satisfaction or loyalty from a childhood crush, or its memory.”

  She raised her gaze to catch her mother’s in the mirror. “Is it ev
en right to love two men in one lifetime?”

  Amanda stopped playing with her daughter’s curls to gently stroke her cheek. “Oh, my darling child, how can you ask that of all people—me, when I’ve done exactly that?”

  She reached for her mother’s hand and held it, remembering the warmth of them as they lovingly cared for her as a child. “And how could you, Mother?”

  Amanda sighed. “If anyone had asked me that question when I was young, I wouldn’t have been able to give an answer, as I believed true love only happened once. But since then I’ve learned the heart is resilient…large enough to truly love someone again.” She smiled. “And I’m so blessed I discovered how wonderful second chances are, as now I have you—my last bloom.”

  “Papa always says there are reasons and seasons for all things,” she said.

  “He speaks the truth, Cassia,” Amanda said. “And if you’re as smart and as resourceful as I believe you are, you’ll take that advice and embrace the changes presenting themselves.”

  “It’s Brodie O’Clarity,” she confessed. “He’s filling my thoughts, touching my heart in ways I never imagined were possible.” She frowned. “But I don’t understand how this can be happening? Brodie’s been a good and dear friend…almost like a big brother to me all of these years. Why now are my feelings for him turning into something more?”

  Amanda’s smile returned. “I can’t tell you the why of it, my darling daughter. Matters of the heart can be mysterious. But I can tell you it is positively enriching to fall in love with your best friend.” Softly she kissed the top of Cassia’s head and stroked her hair. “Will you decide to let it grow again?”

  “Yes, I believe so,” she said.

  Amanda nodded and handed her back the hairbrush before making her way to the door.

  “Mother.”

  Amanda turned to face her daughter, the true beauty of her face softened by a mother’s love. “Yes, Cassia?”