Unending Devotion (Michigan Brides #1)(101)

She nodded, her throat too constricted to utter the gratitude she owed him.

He made his way through the unguarded Stockade gate and down the hill. Shouts and cries of the brawl followed them each step. She clung to him, knowing she should get down and walk but not sure her legs could hold her if she tried. He didn’t stop until he reached the front step of the Northern Hotel.

His labored breath filled her ears with a strange feeling of comfort. He banged the door with his elbow. Immediately it opened and they tumbled inside, into the light and warmth of the hotel dining room.

Oren’s hand shook against the door. His bushy eyebrows formed jagged arches above his red-rimmed eyes. At the sight of her in Connell’s arms, his shoulders slumped and his face crumpled. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks. “Oh, thank the good Lord. Thank the good Lord.”

The gurgling fountain of emotions rose in her. She wiggled to loosen herself from Connell’s hold, leaving him little choice but to lower her. The moment her feet touched the ground she reached for Oren.

His arms folded about her, and he pressed her face into his shoulder. He held her tightly, as if he would never let her go. Silent sobs rose inside her chest, the sorrow and pain from all she’d lost and now all she’d gained. She clung to him as she would a real father.

She couldn’t remember anyone ever crying over her. Anyone worrying about her the way Oren did.

Hot tears streaked her cheeks. Maybe she didn’t have Daisy anymore. And maybe she’d have to give up her dreams of making a home for them. But God hadn’t left her alone. He’d given her an unlikely family in this old man.

For all his gruffness, she didn’t think a real father would have been capable of loving her any more than Oren did. And she was sure there were those, like Connell, whose fathers didn’t love or respect them even half as much as Oren.

She had to remember to count her blessings.

Oren pulled back and tugged a hankie from the inner pocket of his coat. The checkered linen was crumpled and crusty, but he wiped the moisture from his cheeks and then blew into it, making the noise of a rusty bugle.

She swiped at the dampness on her face with the back of her hand.

“You didn’t let any of them no-good boys lay a pinkie on you, did you?” He stuffed the hankie back into the tight pocket.

“Of course not.” She smiled at him through her tears.

“Good.” He took a deep breath, and his drooping shoulders rose like a weight had been lifted from them. “Then that saves me the trouble of having to go up there and start smashing heads together like rotten squash.”

Lily caught Connell’s gaze. The look told her what a struggle he’d had convincing Oren to stay back at the hotel during the rescue. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of threats he’d had to use to keep the man from barging out the door and striding into danger.

She nodded her thanks, hoping he could see how grateful she was for his protection of Oren.

He nodded back.

The door banged open and a gust of snow and cold swirled inside with Stuart. His brow was wrinkled, and he gulped for breath. “How’s Lily?” He stopped at the sight of her next to Oren. “Are you okay?” His voice was gentle and his eyes filled with agony—the agony of a man in love with a woman he’d just about lost.

Her breath stuck in her chest.

Did Stuart love her?

She’d always sensed his affection. But the look in his eye went much further than normal concern.

“I’m doing fine now that I’m here,” she said, avoiding looking directly at him. Had she somehow led him on? She’d tried to keep things plain and simple between them. She considered him a good friend and a companion in the fight for justice. But that was all.

She could feel his gaze probing her.

“Did Carr hurt you?” He took a step toward her.

“I would have died first before letting him defile me.” She turned away from Stuart, knowing the gesture would hurt him but needing to tell him somehow they could never be more than friends.

Vera draped a quilt over her shoulders. “You don’t know just how sick with worry we’ve been.” Her eyes were puffy and red, and when she patted Lily’s cheek, her lips trembled. Mr. Heller huddled nearby, his whittling abandoned in his chair by the fireplace. Even his face was full of worry.

Lily drew the quilt over the exposed flesh of her bosom. She couldn’t keep back a shudder at the thought of how close she’d come to ending up like Frankie.

The sorrow of the girl’s death squeezed Lily’s heart and brought fresh tears to her eyes. How had she managed to fail so miserably to help Frankie?

Her head dropped. She’d lost both Daisy and Frankie.

How could she have been so foolish to think she could orchestrate everything by herself? Why had she ever believed she needed to be the one in control, that she knew more about what needed to be done than God?

Look what had happened when she’d finally relinquished her plans—God had sent practically the entire town to her rescue.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about Carr anymore.” Stuart twisted his hands together. “Maggie helped him to his office. And once he was gone, his bouncers stopped fighting.”

For the first time, she noticed Stuart’s sling and the lacerations on his face. Guilt threatened to choke her. She didn’t need to ask him who beat him up.