on her neck stood as the front door’s shade flopped with each rap of a fist. Who thought the library would be open on Sunday?
The door flew open, and Dex slid in, breathing heavily.
Rachel’s heart jumped, but she stuffed the reaction down and glanced at the ceiling. What is this, Lord?
“Hello.” Dex’s voice rumbled through her, starting her heart flopping again. Even glistening with sweat, the man looked good.
She closed her Bible and gazed out the west-facing window though she couldn’t see past the buildings across the street. Why was he here? A visit from Dex certainly wouldn’t alleviate her envy for Miss Pratt’s position. Or rather, Mrs. Stanton’s.
“Aren’t you supposed to be headed to Lawrence already?”
“Yes.” He stalked over and stood beside her, running a hand through his damp hair. “But I needed someone to write a letter for me, and I only trust you. The woman I love . . . was upset when she left me.” He fidgeted, then quickly strode back to the door and shut it. “I figured she might hear me out if I sent her a letter.”
Rachel suppressed a groan. He was asking her to win back a woman who’d left him within a day?
Father, I know I asked You to say something to me today, but I wasn’t requesting torture!
She straightened in her chair and stared out the window. “If she came to you despite your spelling the first time, then you can convince her in your own hand.”
“No, this has to be perfect. Every single letter.”
Maybe God planned to show her through Dex’s own words why she couldn’t have him. A way to heal perhaps from a desire God never wanted her to have. She swallowed hard and steeled her spine. “All right.” She set aside her Bible and crossed over to the librarian’s desk.
“I’ve always admired you for giving of yourself to anyone who asks. Even when they ask more of you than they ought.”
“No need to flatter.” If only he knew how much this favor would pain her.
“Neil mentioned you might not be going to school. Is that so?”
She sat behind the desk, pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer, and dipped the ink pen. “I don’t know. I’d enjoy going to Elmira or Mary Sharp’s, but . . . it isn’t my dream.” Sighing, she looked up at Dex who’d taken the seat across from her, but couldn’t hold his intense gaze. “I’m ready when you are.”
Not really. But would she ever be ready to hear this?
Dex pulled out his letter and unfolded it behind the desk where she couldn’t see. On the ride in he’d decided to say this to her, to make it more meaningful. He glanced down, but he knew the words by heart—they weren’t the words of a poet, but they were his own.
He cleared his throat, but the words seemed glued to his tongue. Maybe he should change some of the wording . . .
Rachel peeked at him for less than a second.
He clamped his hands between his knees, willing his heart to stop thudding against his brain and causing the sloppy roar in his ears. Neil said she’d leave with him today. If so, it didn’t matter if his voice broke or he stumbled over his own words; if she loved him, she’d want to come with him no matter how badly he messed up the proposal. But what if he couldn’t find a minister willing to marry them today? What were the Kansas Territory laws on matrimony?
“Are you going to be a while? I could read until you’re ready.”
“No, no. I just don’t want to mess this up. And then I started thinking that if the woman I love answers me the way I’m hoping, I have no idea how I’ll pull this off.”
Did Rachel sniff?
“Well, she shouldn’t expect perfection. If she didn’t hold to her end of the deal and ran away, then maybe—” She grimaced. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be trying to talk you out of anything. It’s your life.”
She propped her chin in her hand and stared at the paper. Her thick hair, usually caught up in a bun, hung loose in a tempting curtain of curls. A pair of gold rimmed
The door flew open, and Dex slid in, breathing heavily.
Rachel’s heart jumped, but she stuffed the reaction down and glanced at the ceiling. What is this, Lord?
“Hello.” Dex’s voice rumbled through her, starting her heart flopping again. Even glistening with sweat, the man looked good.
She closed her Bible and gazed out the west-facing window though she couldn’t see past the buildings across the street. Why was he here? A visit from Dex certainly wouldn’t alleviate her envy for Miss Pratt’s position. Or rather, Mrs. Stanton’s.
“Aren’t you supposed to be headed to Lawrence already?”
“Yes.” He stalked over and stood beside her, running a hand through his damp hair. “But I needed someone to write a letter for me, and I only trust you. The woman I love . . . was upset when she left me.” He fidgeted, then quickly strode back to the door and shut it. “I figured she might hear me out if I sent her a letter.”
Rachel suppressed a groan. He was asking her to win back a woman who’d left him within a day?
Father, I know I asked You to say something to me today, but I wasn’t requesting torture!
She straightened in her chair and stared out the window. “If she came to you despite your spelling the first time, then you can convince her in your own hand.”
“No, this has to be perfect. Every single letter.”
Maybe God planned to show her through Dex’s own words why she couldn’t have him. A way to heal perhaps from a desire God never wanted her to have. She swallowed hard and steeled her spine. “All right.” She set aside her Bible and crossed over to the librarian’s desk.
“I’ve always admired you for giving of yourself to anyone who asks. Even when they ask more of you than they ought.”
“No need to flatter.” If only he knew how much this favor would pain her.
“Neil mentioned you might not be going to school. Is that so?”
She sat behind the desk, pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer, and dipped the ink pen. “I don’t know. I’d enjoy going to Elmira or Mary Sharp’s, but . . . it isn’t my dream.” Sighing, she looked up at Dex who’d taken the seat across from her, but couldn’t hold his intense gaze. “I’m ready when you are.”
Not really. But would she ever be ready to hear this?
Dex pulled out his letter and unfolded it behind the desk where she couldn’t see. On the ride in he’d decided to say this to her, to make it more meaningful. He glanced down, but he knew the words by heart—they weren’t the words of a poet, but they were his own.
He cleared his throat, but the words seemed glued to his tongue. Maybe he should change some of the wording . . .
Rachel peeked at him for less than a second.
He clamped his hands between his knees, willing his heart to stop thudding against his brain and causing the sloppy roar in his ears. Neil said she’d leave with him today. If so, it didn’t matter if his voice broke or he stumbled over his own words; if she loved him, she’d want to come with him no matter how badly he messed up the proposal. But what if he couldn’t find a minister willing to marry them today? What were the Kansas Territory laws on matrimony?
“Are you going to be a while? I could read until you’re ready.”
“No, no. I just don’t want to mess this up. And then I started thinking that if the woman I love answers me the way I’m hoping, I have no idea how I’ll pull this off.”
Did Rachel sniff?
“Well, she shouldn’t expect perfection. If she didn’t hold to her end of the deal and ran away, then maybe—” She grimaced. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be trying to talk you out of anything. It’s your life.”
She propped her chin in her hand and stared at the paper. Her thick hair, usually caught up in a bun, hung loose in a tempting curtain of curls. A pair of gold rimmed
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