hung in the air, as if the printed words hung there too. In her mind, frightening headlines swirled: “Medicine Man Makes Off With Orphan. Local Boy Claimed By Peddler.” At the prospect of losing Ben, Mary could barely breathe.
Charles rose from behind his desk, and Mary put Ben down. Still clutching the ball, the little boy ran to his uncle, throwing his free arm around Charles’s legs, and beamed up at him. “A nice man gave me a new ball!”
Charles shot Mary a puzzled look, and then smiled at Ben. “That’s a great ball, Ben.”
Though taller and leaner than Sam, her brother-in-law looked enough like her deceased husband to have been his twin instead of his older brother. Some days the resemblance hurt, fueling Mary’s regrets, but today the likeness brought comfort. Since Sam’s death, Charles had been her rock. He would help her.
He kissed Mary’s cheek. “Are you okay? You look pale.”
“I’ve got a headache.”
“One of your bad ones?”
She nodded. If only Charles knew. This time her headache was six feet tall and refusing to leave town.
Without a word, Charles ushered her into a chair, then led Ben into the back where he kept treats and toys for his children. Ben could play freely there while she unburdened herself to Charles.
He returned and gave her a smile. “Ben’s nibbling graham crackers and rolling his ball into the wall.” He motioned across the street. “You just missed Addie. She finished her column, then walked over to her shop to go over the accounts. Why don’t you join her for a cup of tea? I know she’d like a break, and a visit might do you good. I’ll keep an eye on Ben.”
Charles’s wife had become Mary’s best friend. She’d like nothing better than to confide in Addie. But her thoughts about Luke Jacobs were mere speculation. Still, they would alarm her sister-in-law, especially after what she’d been through with William and Emma.
“Actually, I want to talk to you.” Mary glanced out the window, relieved to see no sign of Luke Jacobs. “Alone.”
The crease deepened between Charles’s brow, and he took a seat across from her. “Sounds serious.”
“Have you heard about the new peddler in town?”
He nodded. “We’re always looking for news. Today, he was it.” He smiled. “From what my reporter said, you weren’t on the town’s welcoming committee.”
Mary bit her lower lip. “That man has me in a tizzy, Charles. First selling a remedy he concocted himself, making all kinds of claims about what it can do. Folks can’t throw their money away fast enough.”
Charles took Mary’s hand. “Just because your mother took ill from nursing a peddler isn’t a reason to judge them all.”
Mary couldn’t think about her mother. Not now.
But Charles’s words reminded her that the Bible had plenty to say about judging others—none of it good. Still, how could she protect her loved ones if she wasn’t alert when problems came knocking?
“Ben and I ran into him a few minutes ago. From the rapt expression on his face, he has a special interest in Ben. He even went against my wishes and bought him a ball.”
“I’m surprised he disregarded your authority, but I can’t see any harm in being generous.”
“I do, if he bought the ball to get into Ben’s good graces and discover his name. Why would he do that? What does he want?”
She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. Luke Jacobs meant trouble. Not merely for her or this town but perhaps for Ben, an innocent little boy she loved like her own.
Charles rose and crossed to the window, staring out on the street. Her brother-in-law guarded his opinions until he had all the facts, which Mary found both endearing and frustrating. But today she wished he’d drop his editor hat and share her apprehension, instead of refusing to sense a threat when it stared him in the face.
“Other than his expression, did he say something to alarm you?”
“Well, no, but Sheriff Rogers said when he mentioned the orphans, Luke Jacobs’s eyes lit.”
“I’d hardly call that evidence of a particular interest in our orphans.”
“Mark my words, Charles. Nothing good will come from that peddler’s presence in our town. I can feel it in here.” She tapped the spot over her heart.
Yet, if she hadn’t been taken with Luke Jacobs, why did she get lost in his dark, captivating eyes? How could that scoundrel have that control over her?
The man was a magician, pure and simple.
Charles crossed to her and took her hand. “Let’s not panic. Still, we should pray about this, asking God to put His shield around Ben.”
But even as she heard Charles’s words and admitted their wisdom, Mary knew she would not stand by waiting on God and let Luke Jacobs destroy Ben’s world.
Saturday afternoon, Luke climbed the stairs to the room over the Whitehall Café, his home in this town whether Mary Graves liked it or not.
His landlords had equipped the space with old, mismatched furniture, shabby but surprisingly comfortable and clean. When he crawled into the iron bed at night, the springs creaked, but a cozy quilt covered the mattress. Quite a change for him, a man accustomed to posh dwellings and elegant restaurants. This trip had been yet another in a long string of lessons on what mattered. With a roof over his head and food in his stomach, he had everything he needed.
When he’d spoken to the café owner Monday, she’d appeared glad to have him move in, gladder still to get his money, though disappointment he’d rent by the week had clouded her eyes. She’d asked for cash in advance, no doubt seeing him as shiftless.
Not so long ago, her description would have fit him like a glove. If only he’d done right by Lucy. If only he could undo his past. How could he have repeated the family history he despised?
He slumped into a chair by the window, staring aimlessly at the street. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t erase those years when he’d rejected God. He’d tried to make up for his past. Spent months searching for Lucy and his child, only to learn she’d died from complications not long after delivering his son. Every piece of the puzzle since that revelation had shaken him to the core.
His eyes stung. That he could never ask her forgiveness for covering his responsibility with a pile of dollars rippled through him. His only recourse now was to ensure Ben was loved and would not pay for his father’s sins. Luke’s breath caught.
Father. Luke could barely wrap his mind around the word. He didn’t feel like a father. He didn’t know how to be a father. He didn’t want to be a father.
He rose and paced the room. His central goal, to find a cure for epilepsy without potent narcotics like laudanum, had evaded him. He’d interrupted his quest to find Ben. Now that he’d found him, he’d stay just long enough to evaluate his health and make certain he received good care.
He
