Chapter Seven
True to his word, Beauhad memorized the Morse code for the telegraph in one day. The man was certainly determined, if nothing else. Another message had come in that evening, and he’d transcribed it perfectly.
And when Celia arrived in town late the next morning, Beau urged Faith to enjoy tea with her sister in the kitchen while he manned the office. Reluctant to leave everything in his hands, Faith finally acquiesced after he assured her he would retrieve her immediately if there was an emergency.
Now, as she sipped a soothing chamomile tea with Celia, Faith found her mind wandering back to the man at the front of the building. Why was he so assured and so determined to do right by her? He barely knew her.
“How are you finding married life again?” Celia asked with a slight grin. Her sister might be the quieter of the two, but Faith knew better. Celia’s red hair had come with a streak of mischievousness that not many people saw.
“Oh, hush. He might hear you!”
Celia made a face over her tea. “He couldn’t possibly. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“We’re hardly married,” Faith said. She set her teacup down and frowned at it. “And you know how I felt about Aaron.”
Celia reached across the table and laid a hand on Faith’s arm. “I do. But I also fully believe that Aaron wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your life alone.”
Faith squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn’t cry. She’d already done enough of that for five widows in the past several months.
“Mr. Landry seems quite taken with you. And I think he was awfully gallant to swoop in and save you from Pastor Collins.”
“I know.” Faith stared at her tea. “I don’t understand why. I haven’t been particularly kind to him since he arrived here. I ran out on him, in fact. All the way to the river. He followed me.” She glanced up at Celia.
Her sister’s lips lifted in a smile. “I’m not surprised.”
“Butwhy? Why does he care so much?” The thought kept Faith up at night. She’d done nothing at all to deserve such kind treatment from a man who hardly knew her.
“How many letters did you exchange with him?” Celia asked.
Faith shrugged. “I’m not certain. Several.”
“So many that you lost track of the number?”
“I suppose. What does that have to do with anything? I only met him three days ago.”
Celia cradled her teacup in her hands. “I’ll tell you what I think. I believe that man fell in love with you from your letters.”
