Heart of Eden (Colorado Hearts #1)(2)

As often as the Crowdaires expounded on what good catches she and her sisters were, only Mavis, the eldest, had received an official offer of marriage, and that from a man who had little more than two nickels to rub together. Even though Belle had liked Darvid, she’d been against the marriage from the first, feeling Mavis was settling because of Velma’s constant harping to accept the proposal. It had almost seemed like the Crowdaires wanted Mavis out in order to relieve the burden of expenses. It was understandable, she supposed. They had done so much over the years.

In reality, what did Belle or any of her sisters have to offer a husband, besides love? Each year the tiny stipend their guardians gave each girl grew by only a few coins. As soon as they were out of school, each of them had found work to help pay their expenses and supplement their wardrobes. They had all long passed the age where only hand-me-downs would do. Katie was the exception. The youngest Brinkman sister had taken a loan from Uncle Vernon to attend a normal school in Massachusetts and train to become a teacher. She’d graduated three months ago and was in the process of looking for a position.

Finally arriving at the tall brownstone, Belle ascended the crumbling brick steps, opened the door, and proceeded to the first apartment at the back of the lobby. She rapped several times.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me. Belle.”

Mavis opened the door dressed in widow’s attire. Her wavy mahogany hair was swept on top of her head, and she wore the wrist-length gloves she never went without to hide her disfigurement. Her blue, wide-set eyes gave away that she’d been crying, bringing an ache to Belle’s heart.

They embraced.

“How’re you?” Belle asked, stepping back, knowing well her sister was taking Darvid’s death extremely hard.

“Getting by. Everything still seems so surreal.” She glanced around the room. “Everywhere I look, I see Darvid’s face. I don’t know how I’ll get through this.”

Belle looked her up and down. “Mavis Brinkman Applebee, you’re resilient. The strongest woman I know.” She laid a gentle hand on her older sister’s arm. If she could take away her pain, she would, in a heartbeat. Mavis had always been Belle’s best friend. Loyal to a fault.

She glanced at Mavis’s left hand, and the abominable gloves hiding her missing pinkie. Belle’s guilt was ever present. Before they’d moved from the river area to a nicer neighborhood, Mavis had gotten her hand caught in some tangled fishing line. Cleaning up the litter in the alley beside their uncle’s home had been Belle’s chore, but she’d put the distasteful task off that day. Mavis, wanting to spare her sister a tongue-lashing from Aunt Velma, had come out to help. A passing carriage caught the line in its spinning wheels. In an instant, Mavis’s finger popped off at the knuckle as easily as a pea snaps in half.

Belle would never forget the sound.

Or the look on Mavis’s face.

Because of her mutilation, Mavis hid herself away at her accounting job at Thornton House department store. Until Darvid joined. In less than three months, she’d said yes to his proposal—even though she’d confided to Belle that the most she felt for him was a deep, abiding friendship. Darvid was a nice, considerate, mild-mannered man who smiled and laughed at every chance. And indeed, until now, that had seemed enough. Although they’d had little, they’d appeared happy.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” Belle asked.

Mavis closed the door. “All right. My manager has been quite understanding. If we hurry, I won’t be too late.”

She directed them to the secondhand settee in front of the fireplace, resting her hand over a small tear in its arm as she sat down. “What’s on your mind, Belle? I know you don’t enjoy coming to this part of town.”

“You don’t either, if you’re honest.”

Mavis ignored the comment. “Whatever you have to say must be important.”

“Actually, you’re right. It is important. I’ve received a telegram from Eden.”

Mavis’s eyes grew so wide that Belle could almost read her thoughts right through them. Eden. Where Mother and Father met and married. Where all five sisters were conceived and born. A place Belle wondered about all the time. Her memories of their departure when she was almost four were foggy. Her clearest image was of Mother stuffing clothes into a large trunk as a man, who must have been Father, stood back, taller than any tree, watching in disbelief. Belle thought she remembered a need to run to him, lay her small hand upon his cheek, but the tears on Mother’s face had fastened her feet to the floor. Belle convinced herself that must be a dream, something her mind had conjured up, distorting the truth for want of a father’s love. She’d been too young to know the kinds of questions to ask her mother. It was only after Mother died that Uncle Vernon told them—with unseemly glee—that their father had been a violent man, disrespectful and coarse. That their mother fled out of fear of what he might do to her or the children. The story each of the sisters carried inside was that John Brinkman had been a despicable character. And hadn’t he proved as much? He’d never come to see them or sought them out in any way. He’d turned his back on his family, pretending they never existed.

No point tiptoeing around the news. “Father has passed.”

The color drained from Mavis’s face. For a moment, they sat in silence.