"warm and witty post-Civil War romance with an interesting clash of wills."
Reviewed by Audrey Lawrence
Posted January 27, 2006
Romance Historical
Nothing can match the determination of a good schoolteacher
in protecting the interests of her charges and Alicia
Merriweather was very concerned about nine year old Jason.
He was starting to get into more and deeper trouble and
Alicia wasn't going to let the sign on the door that
declared "No Visitors. No Peddlers. No Admittance." stop
her from talking to Jason's father, Jake McPherson, despite
the gossip it would cause. The residents of Green Rapids, Kansas in 1880 were well
aware of Jake's bad temper and desire for isolation and
steered well away from him. At one time, he was the toast of
the town for his impressive musical concerts, but already
angry from the loss of both legs in the Civil War, he was
devastated by the death of his beloved wife, Lorena, after
nine wonderful years of marriage. Nothing could replace the
pain in his heart and the bitter war veteran had sealed
himself up in his home, vowing to never leave or play again. Forcing her way into his house and wittily matching his
barbed insults, in spite of the pain they caused, Alicia
finally gets Jake to realize that Jason needs attention and
care and not just another housekeeper who would quit on the
second day. As their mutual concern for improving Jason's behavior
brings them together, Jake surprises the tall, plain
spinster with a proposal for a marriage of convenience.
Realizing her own harsh reality that she was unlikely to get
another offer and wanting to help, she accepts. They find
ready support from Jake's brother, Cord, and his hospitable
wife, Rachel But, just as they start to integrate as a
family, Jason causes more heart breaking problems and Jake
clings to his reclusive ways. Can she ever help them get
over the barriers of pain and loneliness and find love again? Carolyn Davidson has crafted a wonderful tale of two very
strong willed characters with priceless dialogue and a
highly effective and realistic plot development. While a
great read on its own, the many fans of Carolyn Davidson
will enjoy this extension of her earlier work, entitled
The Wedding Promise. For myself, I just wanted to read
on and on. You will not want to put this book down!
SUMMARY
Jake McPherson
Needed a bride... He
was a Civil War veteran, wounded in body and soul. And when
his wife
died unexpectedly, he retreated from life, craving only
solitude and
his happy memories. But his young son needed a mother's
love and
guidance -- even if Jake wanted no woman himself. So who
better to
choose than the town's spinster schoolmarm?
Alicia
Merriweather
Wanted so much to love . . .
She
had come to warn Jake his son was running wild. But she
stayed because
beneath his gruff exterior she saw Jake's pain and
loneliness. Having
borne the brunt of ridicule all her life, tall, plain
Alicia
understands both all too well. But could Jake ever learn to
share his
home and his heart?
ExcerptSpring — 1880NO VISITORS. NO PEDDLERS. No Admittance. Clear enough, Alicia thought, even as her fist pounded
loudly on the solid oak front door. For the third time,
she delivered four resounding thumps, then caught her
breath as the door opened far enough for her to see the
man facing her. One hand lifted and the index finger pointed to the hand-
lettered sign. "Can't you read plain English?" That the man was in a wheeled chair came as no surprise,
but his total lack of courtesy took Alicia's breath away.
As did the sight of dark brows and a cynical frown that
seemed intent on frightening her off his porch. "Can you
speak English?" he asked, his tone only marginally less
rude. "Yes, of course I can," she answered crisply, determined
not to backtrack. Indeed, had she done so, she'd have
landed in a fine crop of tall weeds, just to the left of
the rickety steps. She'd noticed them as she made her way
up the sidewalk, before her attention was drawn to the
porch stairs that sagged in the middle where a board was
broken. "You have a step in dire need of repair," she pointed
out. "You're lucky I didn't fall and break a leg." "At least you have one to break," he growled, his lips
drawn back over his teeth. He'd actually snarled at her. There was no other word for
it. Until this moment she'd never realized that a human
voice could mimic that of an angry dog. Perhaps he had
good reason, after all, she thought. "No, I have two," she said, correcting him mildly. "But since I need them both, I'm just as glad I didn't
have an accident making my way onto your porch." "You needn't have bothered to come visiting," he said
harshly. "As the sign clearly states, I'm not receiving
callers." One large hand lifted to halt her words as she
inhaled and prepared to explain the reason for her
visit. "I never receive callers," he reiterated. "Not
today. Not any day in the foreseeable future." He pushed his chair backward and prepared to close the
heavy door. Alicia was quicker than he, and her sturdy, black,
buttoned-above-the-ankle boot jammed into the space before
he could slam the solid chunk of wood in her face. "Get your damn foot out of my door." This time it was a
subdued roar, delivered from a face twisted with
anger. "Do I have to call the sheriff to toss you out on
your fanny?" He looked her up and down. "Though unless my
eyes deceive me, it might take two husky men to do the
job." Alicia felt the flush climb her cheeks. It was an insult,
delivered with scathing honesty — but an insult,
nevertheless. And as the town's schoolteacher, she had,
until this moment, been accorded the courtesy due her
position. She gritted her teeth. That her weight was, and
had always been, a problem, was neither here nor there.
But his blatant intention to offend her had touched a sore
spot, one she guarded closely. "Two husky men?" Her brow jerked upward. "More like
three," she answered crisply, "unless the blacksmith is
one of them." Jake McPherson bowed his head, and Alicia wondered if it
could possibly be a gleam of amusement she caught sight
of, as one corner of his mouth twitched. Then he offered
her his full attention, once more delivering a measuring
look at her person. "I don't entertain," he said, his mouth firm, his eyes
dark as the coals she'd shoveled into the potbellied stove
this morning. "I bid you good day…madam." As if he could
move her foot by a glare, he stared down at it again. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be given the privacy I'm
entitled to," he told her sharply. "I've wasted enough
time on you already." "Not nearly enough," she said firmly. "I think you'll find
you need to listen to what I have to tell you, Mr.
McPherson." "I don't need to listen to anything anyone has to say," he
answered. Then, as he would have forced the door closed,
never mind the presence of her shoe, he halted, his hand
touching the knob. "How the hell do you know my name?" "It happens to be the same as your son's. McPherson," she
said. "I'm Jason's teacher. I really need to talk to you,"
she added, and then awaited his cooperation. "I doubt that. I don't really need to talk to anyone,
lady." He looked beyond her to where two women stood at
the end of his sidewalk, just beyond the gate that sagged
on one hinge. "Did you bring a whole contingent of
cackling hens with you? Or did they just happen by for the
show?" he asked. "I didn't intend to perform for you, sir," Alicia told
him, wishing fervently that she were anywhere else in the
world right now. Back in her tiny bedroom or even in the
cold schoolhouse, where her desk awaited her attention and
the floor still needed sweeping due to the broken glass
that littered it. Not to mention that the blackboard had
not yet been wiped clean of today's arithmetic problems. "I doubt you could do any tricks I haven't seen at one
time or another, anyway," he said. "Now, take your damn
foot out of my door and leave my house off your list of
places to visit. Mind the step when you leave. I can't
come to your rescue if you fall." "If I write you a letter, will you read it?" she asked,
desperate to be heard by this man, in any way available. His look in her direction bordered on crude, his words
derisive. "I don't accept love letters from strange women." If he was trying to be offensive and rude, he was
certainly succeeding, she thought glumly. If the man
thought he was going to get the best of her, he had
another think coming. She hadn't gathered her courage in
both hands to be turned away at his front door. Besides,
there was some indefinable look in his eyes that compelled
her to continue this discussion. Her response was quick
and to the point. "Love letters? I doubt you'd ever get one," she snipped.
She watched him frown and look surprised at the same time,
then she leaned forward and shoved the door, causing his
chair to roll backward toward the wall, where it tilted
precariously for a moment before it settled back down. With a quick movement, she slid through the opening and
glanced back out to the sidewalk in front of the house.
One of the spectators had her hand over her mouth, the
other was leaning forward as if to look beyond Alicia's
sturdy figure. She'd managed to draw enough attention to
herself to last a long time, she thought resignedly. There was nothing for it but to face the man in his lair,
and hope he didn't have a gun handy. If looks could kill,
she'd be six feet deep in the churchyard tomorrow.
Fortunately, she'd faced down more angry opponents in her
life than Jake McPherson. She'd survive this encounter.
One way or another, she'd speak her piece before she left
this house. Some way, she vowed silently, she'd make him
smile before she was done. He trembled with anger, his hands gripping the tires of
his chair. Unless she was mistaken, his first inclination
was to run her over where she stood. Perhaps he was having
second thoughts, she decided. Having gotten a good look at
her, he might have recognized that she was not a woman to
be trifled with. Taller than most women, she stood eight inches over five
feet. Blessed by her family background with an ample
backside and a bosom to equal it, she was a match for any
average man. Any average man, she thought, beginning to
rue her actions. She blushed anew as she recognized her
brazen behavior, aware that she had crossed the boundary
lines of good conduct. "I apologize, Mr. McPherson," she said quietly. "I've been rude. If this matter weren't so important, I
wouldn't have come calling without first requesting an
appointment." "Rude doesn't begin to describe you, ma'am," he told
her. "You've forced your way into my house, attacked my
person and now you refuse to leave." From the rear of the house, a door slammed and Jake's head
turned in that direction. "You'll have to excuse me. My
son has come in, and he'll need help with fixing supper." "Jason fixes the meals?" she asked. The boy was only nine
years old. Certainly old enough for chores, but far too
young to be entrusted with cooking on a stove he could
barely reach with safety. "As well as you'd expect," Jake answered, "our housekeeper
quit." Alicia tried in vain to hide her smile. "I heard from one
of the ladies in the general store that you have a
difficult time keeping any hired help." "That's none of your damn business," he told her. "Now, just leave, if you please. That's about as polite as
I'm going to be today. You'd better open that door and
walk across that threshold right now, or I'll send Jason
after the sheriff." "Oh, I think perhaps the sheriff would be eager to see
your son, Mr. McPherson," she said quietly. "However, I
doubt that Jason is interested in showing his face
anywhere near a lawman right now." Jake's hands moved up to grip the armrests and then, as if
he sought a distraction, he smoothed the lap robe that
concealed his lower limbs. What there was left of them.
One was longer than the other, Alicia noticed, for the
small quilt outlined Jake's right knee and draped from it.
The other leg was even more damaged, it seemed, missing
above the knee.
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