Chapter Thirty-Five

Timothy paced his bedroom in the hotel. Hell, he was nervous. He had never taken a woman out with the intention of simply talking and getting to know her. And that was all Tim had intentions of doing—sure, he'd laid with Eleanor before, but he had been drunk, and while he was ashamed of himself, those times hadn't meant anything to him. He hadn't truly taken the time to think about the woman he was laying with, hadn't worried about giving her pleasure, hadn't been thinking of anything at all really.

Damn, he'd been an ass. He was lucky that Eleanor would even spare him a glance—let alone that kiss on the cheek and a dinner date.

Timothy smiled at the memory of that kiss. Sure, it had only been to the cheek but it had been like whiskey—burning him in a real good way.

Then he recalled the tears that had still be drying on her cheeks and her puffy blue eyes when he had gone to fetch Samantha from her room at the docs. Something was still wrong with Eleanor—something she didn't seem to want to talk about. Had she talked to Samantha? Timothy hoped so. Would she open up to him? Hell, he hoped for that too.

Letting out a long steadying breath against the nerves swirling in his stomach, Timothy glanced in the full-length mirror beside the wash basin. He had splurged a bit of his new found fortune on a brand new outfit. Crisp black trousers, a white buttoned shirt, and a red vest with paisley designs on the front and a black silk back. He had attempted to polish his boots but the worn leather had simply refused to shine so he'd bought new ones. He had even gone so far as to pomade his blond hair and slick it back for the first time in his life and had gotten a shave. He felt more than a little foolish as he stood there looking at himself. Tim had never in his life thought about what he was wearing or worried about what he looked like, but he wanted to impress Eleanor—and women liked a well-dressed man. Didn't they?

Damn.

Maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe the woman would laugh at him if she saw him all gussied up like this. Maybe he should just change into his regular work-stained, worn at the seams, and well broken in clothes. Maybe he should just breathe and stop worrying so much. Glancing at the clock, Timothy realized it was nearly time to go pick Eleanor up. He had everything all set up for their evening out—all that was missing was the woman herself.

Scowling as he took one last glance in that mirror, Timothy grabbed his duster coat off the chair, left his room and made his way down the stairs and out of the hotel. Glancing up and down Main Street revealed a nearly desolate town. The storms had passed but the rain was still falling steadily, and most folks had yet to leave their dry sanctuaries to brave the weather.

Slipping his coat on, he stayed under the protection of the boardwalk roof until he was across the street from the docs. Pulling his coat over his head, Tim jumped down onto the street and made a run for the protection of the doc's porch. Once there, he glanced down at himself and saw the mud coating his new boots and splattered nearly to the knees of his brand new black trousers. Well hell.

Should he go change? He would just get muddy again. Goddammit he wasn't a damn schoolboy. He was a twenty-five year old man and it was time he quit being so nervous and act like it! Squaring his shoulders, Timothy stepped into the doc's office and saw Lewis behind the counter.

"Hey there, Lewis."

"Oh..." Lewis frowned and averted his gaze. "Hello Timothy."

That was a less than friendly greeting. Sure, the doc's young nephew and Timothy had never been friends, but they'd always been friendly. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. No. Yes. I don't know."

Timothy chuckled. "Thanks for clearing that up."

Lewis slammed a crate down on the counter and glared at him. "I'm guessing you're here for Eleanor?"

"That's right. Is something wrong with her? Is that what's got your bloomers so tied up in a knot?"

Lewis came around the counter, shoved his hand over his slicked red hair and stuck a finger in Timothy's chest while Timothy stood there torn between amusement at being threatened by the red-haired, freckle-faced boy and confusion over why he was being threatened by the red-haired, freckle-faced boy. "You better be good to her. She's a good woman in a bad situation and doesn't need to be hurt by a man who's gonna just walk away when he finds out....."

Lewis paled and fell silent. He took a step back and swallowed hard. Timothy's amusement had faded. He was now feeling anger mixed in with that confusion. Eleanor was a good woman. And she was in some kind of bad situation that she didn't seem eager to talk to him about—a situation that she must have talked about with Lewis. That hurt a little bit. But what pissed him off the most was being told he was a man who would just walk away from her—Timothy might have spent much of his life wasting his time but there was one thing he had in bucket loads. Loyalty. He knew how bad it hurt to have someone you thought you could trust turn their backs on you. He wasn't a man who simply walked away from anyone he cared about—no matter what kind of situation they might find themselves in.

"I know she's a good woman, Lewis, and I understand that there's something going on with her that she doesn't seem real eager to talk to me about. And while I can't see how my relationship with her is any of your business, I do appreciate you looking out for her. I don't have any plans on hurting the woman."

Lewis crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "You better not."

"Is everything okay down here?"

Both men turned quickly at the sound of Eleanor's quiet voice. Timothy's breath caught in his chest at the sight of her slender body in that pink blouse and black skirt with that blond hair pulled half up and hanging down her back, shimmering in the light from the oil lamp lit on the wall beside her. Timothy wished he was better at deciphering the wealth of emotions in her big blue eyes and guarded expression.

He threw his hand up. "Hey there, Eleanor."

Her pink lips, the top just a little thinner than the bottom, curved in the slightest smile. "Hi Tim." Her gaze turned to Lewis and Timothy was almost certain she appeared afraid or maybe worried. "Lewis, I don't need protecting."

Lewis' expression turned sheepish as he stepped back to the counter and wrung his hands. "I'm sorry, Miss Eleanor. I just don't want to see you hurt...."

"I don't want to see her hurt, either." Timothy assured him. He turned his gaze back to Eleanor. "You ready to head out?"

Her eyes went to the window and the rivulets of raining running down it. "It's raining, Tim. We could just stay here and talk."

Timothy shook his head. He pulled his coat out to the side. "There's plenty of room under here for you to stay out of the rain. Besides, our supper is all set up in a dry spot."

She hesitated a moment before her posture relaxed a bit and she came to his arms. Eleanor curled herself up beside him under his arm and he kept her covered with the jacket. Damn it felt good to have her this close. He felt stronger somehow knowing that she seemed to trust him—even if it was only to keep her dry.

"So, where are we going?" Eleanor's asked from beneath his coat as they stood on the boardwalk.

"The post office. It's closed but Gavin let me set us up a picnic dinner in there so we could stay dry and not have to worry about Judith coming around with her nose in the air."

"Okay."

Out in the rain they rushed and after several near face plants caused by slipping and sliding on the muddy street which caused their laughter to ring out in the evening air, they arrived under the protection of the post office porch. Timothy pulled his coat off her and felt his heart thundering at the sight of the happy smile curving her full cheeks, lighting up those blue eyes, and taking away every bit of sadness, worry, and guardedness from her expression.

Holy hell, to see her look up at him like that every day from now until the day he died, Timothy would do just about anything. He was so tempted to kiss her—so tempted to taste those lips that he had never before tasted despite the drunken times he'd laid with her. Instead, he swallowed hard and slid a stray blond hair from her face and opened the door. "Ladies first."

Eleanor ducked her head and stepped inside. The lamps were lit but turned down to a soft flickering glow. Timothy had laid a soft blanket out on the floor and a basket containing their supper sat upon it as well as a pitcher of lemonade and some cups. He'd even gone so far as to swipe some lilies and tulips that had been blooming in Widow Allens' garden and had them in a glass sitting beside the picnic basket.

"You... You did all this?"

Damn. Maybe he'd done too much. Did she think he was a fool? He kinda felt like a fool. Timothy tossed his duster coat aside, shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, avoiding her gaze. "Is it too much? It's too much, isn't it?"

"No..." Her voice sounded thick. Shit. Was she about to cry? He turned his gaze to her quickly and saw that Eleanor had her hand on her throat and was gazing around the room—and her blue eyes were bright with tears. "This is.. I've never had a man take the time to do anything like this." She turned and looked up at his face. "I don't deserve all of this, Tim. The flowers? The picnic? The lighting? You all dressed up and looking so handsome... I've never been treated like this..."

Timothy felt shame. Bone deep shame. He'd been one of those men who had treated her bad—treated her like a whore. No woman, even one who worked in a brothel for a living, deserved to be treated like a whore. "You deserve this and more," he assured her, reaching out and taking her hands in his. "I've said it before but I'll say it again. I'm real damn sorry for any and every time that I treated you with anything less than respect and caring. I don't deserve the chance to treat you right but I'm glad you're giving it to me."

Her blue eyes were confused and her brow furrowed as she searched his gaze. "You've always been kind, Timothy."

He sighed and decided to drop that subject. He knew he had been an ass, but it was also clear that Eleanor had been treated so badly by so many men, that even his poor treatment had seemed good to her. That was damned sad. Timothy knew that, if she would let him, he would treat her like gold for the rest of his life.

Giving her hands a squeeze, Tim leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her brow. He released one hand and pointed toward the blanket. "Let's get some food."

Leading her to the blanket, Tim watched her take a seat before he settled himself down beside her. "You really do look handsome, Tim. You didn't have to dress up for me."

Timothy chuckled. "I feel pretty foolish to be honest with you. I've never once in my life gotten gussied up."

Eleanor smiled, causing Timothy to nearly spill the lemonade he'd been pouring for her. "Then why did you do it now?"

He shrugged, holding the cup of lemonade out to her. "Because I knew I was taking out a pretty lady."

Eleanor took a sip of the lemonade and reached out her hand to his slicked hair. "I don't think I like your hair this way." Timothy was shocked into laughter when her hand began to ruffle it roughly, freeing some of it from the confines of the pomade so it fell over his brow. "That's better."

"I reckon I'm glad you don't like it all slicked back—I felt pretty ridiculous while I was doing it."

Tim grabbed two plates from the basket and placed some fried chicken and green beans from the diner on each plate. "Make sure you save some room for cobbler. I didn't get to eat mine last night so I got extra today."

They began to eat and Timothy had never felt more at peace in his life than he felt sitting there with Eleanor. How hadn't he realized sooner that this woman was made to be at his side? "Tell me more about yourself, Tim," Eleanor urged.

Tim took a big bite of chicken. "What do you want to know?"

She broke a small piece of chicken off with her fingers and held it to her lips. "Anything you want to tell me," she encouraged before placing that chicken in her mouth.

"Uh... There's not a whole lot to tell...."

"What about you and Zachary's cow tipping adventures?"

Tim laughed loudly. "Yeah, we had fun. Zach was always a bit more serious and reserved than I was, but I could nearly always talk him into getting into mischief."

"And you lived with him and his family?"

"Yeah. My real pa died when I was three so I don't remember him. My mama remarried a mean alcoholic when I was five. He never laid hands on her I don't reckon, but he hated seeing the reminder that she'd had a man before him. I tried to stay out of his way most of the time. I spent a lot of time at the Marston's—more time there than at home. They'd seen the bruises and Evelyn, that's Zach's mom, she wanted to take on that step-pa of mine but there wasn't much they could do. Then came the day when I was about ten that he beat me so bad, I couldn't get out of bed for two days. Broken ribs, eye swollen shut, and a broken arm."

"Tim...."

He smiled gently at the horror in her voice and took another bite of chicken. "I reckon I healed up okay. When I went two days without showing up, the Marston's knew something was wrong. Evelyn was a woman who took charge and had a temper when those she loved were wronged—Zach is a lot like her. She showed up at my house, told my mama and step-pa at gunpoint that I was her son now and would be coming home with her, and she took me out of there. I never went back."

Her expression was sad. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Timothy waved his hand and took a big swig of lemonade. "Don't be. The Marston's were the best people I ever knew. They loved me and gave me a real family."

"Tell me more stories about them," Eleanor insisted. "I like seeing how happy they make you."

Timothy smiled. Hell, if the woman wanted to hear him talk, he'd always been good at that. And so he did. For a long while he told her stories of growing up with the Marston's and the trouble him and Zach caused from time to time. She would laugh and tease and ask questions now and then. Timothy loved seeing that side of her—open, light-hearted, happy. To keep seeing that brightness in her eyes and smile on her face, he would do anything she asked.

Timothy had no idea how much time passed as they talked but he realized it had fallen dark outside so it had to have been hours. He felt so at peace and at ease with Eleanor this way. She had even laid her head on his shoulder and begun to talk a bit about her happier memories growing up with her family before they had died.

Timothy realized the rain had stopped falling outside and he shoved himself to his feet. "Come for a walk with me?"

Color stained Eleanor's cheeks as she took Tim's hand and he pulled her to her feet. "Of course I will."

Timothy took a moment to clean up the mess they'd made and tuck the basket, blanket and dishes into the corner out of the way. He killed the kerosene lamps and led her to the door.

"I've had a really nice time with you, Ell," he admitted as they walked hand in hand down the lamp lit boardwalk. A few people were milling about town but not many.

"Ell?"

"Is it alright if I call you that?"

Eleanor smiled up at him and Timothy nearly tripped over his own feet at the sight. "Yes. I like it. Now I really fit in. Zach and Sam, and Tim and Ell."

Timothy swallowed hard. "I uh... I really like you, Ell."

Tim had hoped that she would say she liked him too, offer him a smile, and maybe even lay her head on his shoulder again or move closer. But the opposite seemed to happen. Eleanor tensed. Her entire posture changed. Timothy could practically see that wall come back around her as she let go of his hand, moved away, and her blue eyes that had been looking at him with such softness and affection were suddenly guarded once again.

"Tim.... I want to go back to the docs' now."

Timothy's heart fell as he swallowed hard. "Did I do something wrong?"

She shook her head. Her face looked pale in the lamp light as she wrapped her arms around herself. "No. I'm tired. I want to go home."

"Sure..." He tried his best to offer a comforting smile. "Eleanor, you can trust me. You can tell me anything. I want you to know that. Whatever it is that you're hiding, whatever is wrong, I'll help you."

Instead of saying a word, she turned her gaze down to her shoes and simply began walking toward the doctors' house, leaving Timothy no choice but to simply follow along behind her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and wondered what was going on in her mind. They'd been having such a good night. Tender touches, holding hands, sharing stories, and laughter, and truly getting to know one another. What the hell could be so wrong that she would close herself off to him so completely without warning.

They walked up the back steps of the doctors' house and stopped at the door. "I know you were probably hoping to come in and... well..."

Timothy frowned. "Is that why you thought I was taking you out tonight? So, I could come to your bed?" Goddamn, that made his gut twist. "I want a future with you, Eleanor. Not just a night."

She never met his gaze as she simply continued to stare at her feet. "No.. I'm sorry. I just.. I'm not used to a man caring and I don't know how to act or what you expect..."

Timothy sighed. He put his finger under her chin and forced her gaze up to meet his. "I do care. I care a lot. And I don't expect a thing from you, Ell. Like I said, I'm hoping we might have a future together—I'm hoping you might want that too."

A tear slid from her eye and Timothy caught it with the pad of his thumb and wiped it away gently. "I do," she whispered.

"Really?" Timothy couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Hell, Eleanor, you have no idea how happy that makes me." Then he frowned. "But something is wrong with you. Something you're hiding from me and I want to know what it is. You can trust me."

Her entire body was trembling. She wrung her hands and the fear in his eyes made Timothy's heart ache. What could possibly be so damned bad?

"I'm going to tell you something and I don't want you to say a word. I want you to listen and then I want you to let me go inside and I want you to leave. I want you to think about it and what it means and how it would impact your life. Whatever you decide is fine. I won't be angry. I won't blame you. You are a good man. I don't want your pity. I don't want you to simply agree to stay because you feel obligated. I want you to truly think on things before you come back to me with a response."

Fuck. Now Timothy was scared. He let his shaking hand fall and took a step back. "Okay...."

Eleanor squared her shoulders, licked her trembling lips, and took a deep steadying breath. "I'm with child, Tim. Nearly three months. I have no way of knowing who the father is. That's the main reason I left the brothel because I couldn't keep working there and risking my child. I did what I was supposed to do to prevent this but it happened—and I waited too long to try to end it. I guess because a part of me, the part that remembered my family and the love that we had, wanted that for myself. So, that future with me would include raising another mans' child."

Timothy's mind whirled as he tried to process what she had said. His eyes dropped to her stomach and he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Eleanor, I...."

"Stop." She raised her hand and shook her head. "I said I didn't want you to say anything. You have no obligation to me. I will not hate you. I will not blame you. Thank you for a wonderful night."

Silence was not something Timothy had much practice with but he kept his jaw tight as Eleanor turned, opened the door, and disappeared inside, closing it with a click behind her. 

A/N: Ahhhh! Tell me what you think. Eleanor was finally honest with Timothy. What do you think his response will be?