Part 20 (1/2)

Over the years, other men had declared their devotion, but she had turned away every suitor - without a single twinge of regret. Morgan was different. She didn't want to be courted, and yet she couldn't bear the thought of not being with him. She didn't want a serious suitor, had no desire to wed, and yet the idea that he might turn to another woman nearly broke her heart.

A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways, she reminded herself. And her recent thoughts and emotions certainly must be what the Lord meant when He caused James to write that verse. She was definitely of two minds when it came to Morgan.

”Lord, I need Your peace.”

As the horse's hooves fell on the wooden surface of the bridge, Gwen remembered the day she'd first seen Morgan. If she closed her eyes, she could picture him still, the top down on his touring car. How could she have guessed what impact he would have on her life from that moment on? No man had ever made her feel this way before.

Feel what way?

Gwen drew back on the reins, stopping Shakespeare in the middle of the bridge.

Feel what way?

Excited but scared.

Lost and found.

Sad yet happy.

Perplexed.

Befuddled.

Gwen was a person who liked order. She wasn't given to wild flights of fancy. Her feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Well, they used to be.

She slapped the reins against the horse's rump. ”Walk on, Shakespeare.”

Cleo rested her knuckles on her hips and gave Gwen a hard look. ”Gwennie, it's clear as the nose on your face. You're falling in love with him.”

Gwen shook her head. ”No, it isn't - ”

”You may be the pretty one, but I'll be doggone if you aren't the silly one too. Otherwise you'd recognize your feelings and give in to them.”

Gwen sank onto one of the feed bins in the barn. ”I can't can't be in love.” be in love.”

”Why not? Land sakes! Falling in love isn't a disease. It's the most natural thing in the world.” Cleo leaned against a post and crossed her arms over her chest. ”So he told you he cares for you and he kissed you. Didn't you like his kisses?”

”That's beside the point.”

”Is it? I may not know much about these things, but I suppose liking a man's kisses must be a good thing if the both of you are falling in love.”

”I am not not falling in love.” falling in love.”

Cleo clucked her tongue. ”You trying to convince me or yourself, Gwennie?” She leaned forward. ”If you could've seen your face last Sat.u.r.day when McKinley was talking. Land o' Goshen! You were hanging on his every word. Like pearls were dripping from his mouth. And when he said he was going to vote for you come Election Day, there was a second there when I thought you would jump up and give him a hug right there in front of everybody.”

”It's not true.” Gwen covered her face with her hands. ”It's not true, Cleo.”

”You know how some say the ostrich down in Africa sticks its head into a bush or the sand. I heard that's just a myth, but it's a good description all the same.” She pushed off from the post. ”Don't go being an ostrich, Gwennie. My guess is that Morgan is a man among men. One in a million. If he's everything I've observed, you won't have to worry about living under his thumb. My guess is he'll love you so much that pretty soon you'll be thinking he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars in the heavens.”

Gwen groaned as she lowered her hands, feeling miserable.

Cleo's expression said she was losing patience fast. ”I'd be happier than a fox in the hen house if I was in your shoes. And there you sit, looking like the world's about to end. If you don't beat all.” She grunted her disgust. ”Maybe the good Lord's got you and me mixed up. I sure wouldn't turn a fine man like Morgan away if he loved me the way Morgan loves you.” With that, she spun on her heel and strode out of the barn.

Was Cleo right? Was Gwen falling in love with Morgan?

Oh, it was all so mixed up in her head that she couldn't think straight. And instead of making things better, her visit to the ranch had only made things worse. She was more confused than before, and she couldn't remember a time when Cleo had been this angry with her.

If it weren't for that kiss...

Two days later, Roscoe Finch - the gardener and handyman who worked for Morgan - delivered a note to Gwen.

Dear Miss Arlington,I am afraid I will be unable to have my lesson next Tuesday as I have gone to Boise on matters of business and expect to be away from Bethlehem Springs until week's end. I do, however, look forward to receiving my lesson the following week. I trust you are willing to continue to instruct me since I have heard nothing to the contrary.

Your servant, Morgan McKinley ”Thank you, Mr. Finch.” Gwen looked up from the sheet of paper, composing her expression to reveal none of her conflicting emotions.

”You're welcome, miss. I'm always glad to do whatever Mr. McKinley needs. He's a good soul, giving an old man like me work and a place to live.”

”You're not old.”

He chuckled. ”You're wrong about that. A person can't argue with the pa.s.sing of time, and I don't mean to try. If you're wise, Miss Arlington, you'll take note of it now while you're young. The years, they go by faster and faster, and you don't want to find yourself at my age, looking back and wis.h.i.+ng you'd done things you hadn't or wis.h.i.+ng you'd gone places you didn't. You only get one time around on this here earth. You gotta make the most of life while you can.”

She acquiesced with a nod.

Roscoe tipped the brim of his hat in her direction. ”Well, good day to you, Miss Arlington. I'd best be about my work.”

”Good day to you, Mr. Finch.” She watched him as he moved toward the gate, a slight limp in his walk.

Loneliness tugged at Gwen's heart as her gaze dropped once more to the note in her hand. She wouldn't see Morgan for another whole week. It already felt like a lifetime.

She groaned at the thought. Only yesterday she'd been determined to tell Morgan she could no longer be his piano teacher. Only yesterday she'd been convinced that putting him from her mind was the best thing to do - for both of them.

Only she couldn't do it. She realized that now. She wanted to see him. If only for half an hour once a week, she wanted to be with him. Because despite all her denials and words to the contrary, she cared for him.

Cleo was right about her. She was a fool with her head stuck in the sand.

TWENTY-SEVEN.

Morgan was strolling back to his hotel after a late lunch with William Rudyard at the senator's private club when a female voice stopped him.

”Morgan! Morgan McKinley!”

He turned around.

A young woman with dark hair and eyes hurried toward him, smiling broadly. Who on earth? Was it - ? No, it couldn't be.