A Wish For Love (Gates-Cameron 2)

Reluctantly, he noticed the slight tugging that would take him away until the next time he could return, whenever that might be. He hated having no control, no choice. He hated the loneliness, the meaninglessness, the hopelessness.

He opened his eyes and looked longingly at Bailey, the symbol of everything he wanted and could never have. “Bailey,” he murmured, reaching out to her despite his reservations. “Ah, Bailey, I wish…”

He was taken from her before his unsteady fingers could touch her cheek.

BAILEY STIRRED against the pillows, frowning as she struggled to awaken. Had someone said her name?

Blinking against the pale light just creeping through the curtains, she peered through her tangled lashes. “Bran?” she murmured, still half-asleep. “Are you—”

A moment later, she was fully awake. And definitely alone.

Shaking her head at her foolishness, she rolled onto her side and pulled the covers up to her chin, telling herself that his voice must have come from her provocative dreams of him.

4

June 25, 1903

I met a very nice gentleman today. His name is Gaylon Peavy and he is a widowed farmer from Saline County. Esther Cunningham introduced us. His late wife was her first cousin.

He seems quite nice. He has a young son, Charles, who is only two years older than the twins. Charles is a very quiet little boy, but well-behaved. Esther tells me that Mr. Peavy is a good father

Mr. Peavy asked several questions about the inn. I could tell it interested him, but he was also quite flatteringly attentive to me. He laughed at my jokes. Mr. Carpenter never did, not that I made that many when he was around. Thank goodness, he finally accepted the futility of his unwelcome pursuit and turned his attentions to Lydia Nesbitt. Her father’s general store appeals to him almost as greatly as my inn did. And wasn’t that an uncharitable thing for me to have said? Please forgive me for my pettiness, diary.

Ian wasn’t very well behaved during Mr. Peavy’s visit, I’m afraid. His unruly behavior was very unlike him. I realize that he is jealous of my attention, but I do wish he would try a little harder to be polite. Esther says a strong-willed boy needs a man’s firm guidance. Perhaps she is right.

Mr. Peavy has invited me to attend the Independence Day symphony concert with him. I told him I would give him an answer as the date drew nearer, though I know it was rude of me to put him off that way. I am tempted to accept Everyone tells me it is time to go on with my life. At least Mr. Peavy seems more likable than the others, though my heart does not beat faster when he smiles at me, the way it always did when dear James …

Now I’ve blotched the page with my tears again. How foolish of me.

I will always miss you, my darling James.

AFTER HER middle-of-the-night visit, and the spell of restlessness that followed, Bailey slept later than usual Saturday morning. It was almost eleven by the time she’d showered and dressed for the day in a simple sweater and slacks.

She glanced out the window and saw that the parking lot in front of the inn was nearly empty. The breakfast diners had already gone, and the lunch crowd had not yet arrived. She wasn’t hungry, so she settled for a cup of coffee. The small electric coffeemaker was the only cooking accessory she’d requested when she’d moved in.

It was going to be another nice afternoon, though the weatherman had predicted rain for the evening. Glancing around the cottage over the rim of her coffee mug, she thought it might be a good day to do some furniture shopping. Dean had left a list of items he wanted her to locate for him, along with a budget. She’d spotted a few likely stores in Hot Springs the day before. Maybe Aunt Mae would like to go with her and check them out.

She rinsed out her mug and headed outside, making sure she locked the cottage door behind her. She found it hard to believe she’d forgotten to lock it last night, but she doubted that Bran had a key, and there had been no sign that he’d broken in.

She still didn’t quite know what to make of his unexpected visit. Though he’d claimed he wanted to ask about Anna, he’d spent little time talking about his sister.

He confused her. And he fascinated her. She was more than a bit embarrassed to remember how prominently he’d appeared in her dreams. She’d actually awakened once murmuring his name.

She was distracted from her thoughts of Bran when she noticed Cara and Casey sitting in the gazebo. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Cara replied.

“How’s school going, Casey?” Bailey asked.

The little girl shrugged. “Fine, thank you,” she answered with what Bailey now recogruzed as her characteristic reticence.

Looking more closely at the child, Bailey thought she seemed a little pale, and her blue eyes were shadowed. “Aren’t you feeling well, Casey?” she asked in concern.

“Casey didn’t sleep well last night,” Cara explained. “She had a bad dream.”

“It wasn’t a bad dream,” Casey insisted, sounding as though this discussion had been going on for a while. “I saw someone looking in our window. It was a man. I just didn’t want to wake you up and tell you.”

“Apparently, she lay awake for a long time, worrying about what she thought she saw,” Cara told Bailey, her own expression deeply troubled.