An Enduring Love to Heal Her: A Historical Western Romance Book Read online

  An Enduring Love to Heal Her

  A WESTERN ROMANCE NOVEL

  LORELEI BROGAN

  Copyright © 2019 by Lorelei Brogan

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.

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  Table of Contents

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  An Enduring Love to Heal Her

  Introduction

  Emilia Johnson has always had a tough life. When her father is taken to a mental asylum, everyone turns their back on her. She is constantly being teased and treated cruelly by people who fear contracting insanity from her family. On top of it all, she has always been suffering from an illness and her health is getting worse day by day. Her mother can’t bear to see Emilia getting sick anymore, and she decides to send her out west, hoping that the warm weather will help her regain her health, as well as her confidence. Will Emilia seize this great opportunity and start her life over?

  Derek Stevens is a thoughtful rancher in Texas. He is running away from a painful past and a family that he is embarrassed to be a part of. When he first meets Emilia, he is completely uninterested in pursuing a relationship with any woman. Being truly wounded, he does not believe in true love. The unforeseen circumstances, though, will bring them closer together. Will they manage to overcome the obstacles and learn the whole truth about each other?

  While Emilia and Derek build a closer relationship, Derek’s evil twin brother tries to ruin things between them. Will they be able to clear up the misunderstandings and build a common future? Or will they continue to be emotionally distant for the rest of their lives?

  Chapter 1

  Emilia glanced around, trying to see if anybody was watching or listening to them. She felt anxious that someone would approach them, wondering where they had been all week.

  “I love days like today, don’t you? Maybe we’ll run into someone interesting on our way home,” Mary enthused, as bubbly and talkative as ever.

  Emilia sometimes wished that her sister would draw a little less attention their way. It was almost as if she could physically feel it when people looked at them.

  Maybe it was because she was the older sister that she noticed those things. Shopping day was her least favorite day, just like it was her sister’s favorite.

  “Did we get everything?” Emilia leaned over to check into the basket.

  “I think so. I wonder why Ma never comes with us to shop?” Mary replied thoughtfully, as Emilia tucked the cloth back over their items.

  “Maybe she just enjoys a little time at home by herself.” Emilia could relate to that. She didn’t mind some alone time, herself.

  She enjoyed reading a good book while sitting quietly in the parlor, or spending her day cooking and cleaning the house while her mother and sister worked outside of the home.

  It worked for all of them. Her sister loved her job helping a family with their children, and their mother also enjoyed working. They all appreciated coming home to everything already done.

  “How were your piano classes?” Emilia asked her sister. The piano was just one more reason Mary was Emilia’s complete opposite. Despite their mother’s insistence, Emilia had refused to learn to play.

  “They were good. I got to meet the teacher’s son today. He is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen—and he’s also quite wealthy, I’ve heard.”

  Emilia gave her a tight smile. She knew her sister was eager to impress and marry a man. Emilia, on the other hand, wasn’t eager for that step and she was unconvinced it was a good idea for Mary, either.

  What if the man that Mary made her husband decided that he no longer was happy with the match? Emilia had heard of men leaving their wives for silly reasons and she would hate to see something like that happen to her sweet sister.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Mary was giving her an annoyed look.

  Emilia tried to remember what her sister had been saying, but she couldn’t think of anything. “I’m sorry, I was distracted.”

  “I was telling you how my piano teacher invited us all to brunch this Saturday. Both of her sons will be there. The eldest is your age. Maybe you’ll like him.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Emilia didn’t want to ruin Mary’s enthusiasm, but she had run into the piano teacher’s son on more than one occasion and had never thought she would like to get to know him better.

  “You know, if you keep being so set apart, you’re going to end up an old maid.”

  “Would that be a bad thing?” Emilia shrugged her shoulders.

  Mary’s mouth opened wide, as if someone had just informed her the world was going to end at any moment. “Emilia, of course, it would be a bad thing! What would you do for money? Where would you live? How would you survive?”

  “I don’t know. There are jobs for women, sometimes. Look at you. You’re earning some money on your own.”

  “Well, it’s not something I would like to do forever. Someday, I’ll find myself a handsome, rich husband who will keep me very happy in a large home with lots of help around the place.” Mary’s eyes sparkled as she talked.

  Something that Emilia admired about her sister was her optimism. Mary hadn’t lived through some of the things that Emilia had, and when she had been dealt bad experiences, she had just brushed them off and moved on with her life.

  It was something that Emilia had tried to do, that she wanted to do, but it proved harder than Mary made it look.

  “You know, if Ma would have married a rich man instead of Pa, maybe we’d both have rich men knocking on our doors, begging to get to know us about now.”

  “Mary! Don’t you ever talk about Ma and Pa like that.”

  Mary looked taken aback by her sister’s scolding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you cared so much. I heard the women talking about him at church the other day. They say he was a terrible man. Do you think that’s true?”

  “Of course, it wasn’t true. You remember Pa. He was a good man. He had some episodes, and that’s why he was taken away, but he never meant anything by it. He couldn’t help it. Remember, the doctor said he had a sickness. Above all, he loved us more than anything.”

  Mary nodded but didn’t look very convinced. She had only been nine years old when their father had been taken to the asylum. According to their mother, she hadn’t been the one to admit him—their grandfather and uncle had finally taken him to the hospital during one of his fits of rage.

  By the time Emilia’s mother found out, there was nothing she could do. They’d said he would have to stay for at least a year before they would consider letting him back out. And then, not six months later, they had sent a man to tell her that he had an unfortunate reaction to one of the treatments and had passed away.

  Her mother hadn’t been able to forgive her grandfather before he died, and only recently had she begun to speak to Emilia’s uncle again.

  “I remember tha
t he used to read us stories by the fireplace.”

  Emilia nodded. “He used to make up the funniest stories.”

  “Remember the one about the bear who wanted some sugar?” Mary giggled.

  “Yes, he was funny.”

  “Why did Uncle Greg have them take him away?”

  Emilia shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. Some people like to say that he didn’t get along with Pa, and he hated that he was with ma. He claimed that Pa was dangerous. I don’t know how true that is, but I do know that he wasn’t completely crazy. He just got mad sometimes and threw things and screamed.”

  “Emilia? Are we going to go crazy, too, when we get older?”

  Emilia reached over and gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t ever think that. I know lots of people think that craziness is hereditary, but I don’t believe for a moment that you or I will ever lose our minds. And if anyone does take us to the crazy house, I will be there to help you escape.” As Emilia spoke the last words, the wind hit her just right and she burst into a fit of coughing.

  It took several moments before she was able to catch her breath again. She clung to the back of a chair and tried to steady herself.

  Mary was staring at her with concern written all over her face. “Emilia, are you okay? Are you getting sick again?”

  Emilia shook her head. She had just gotten over a sickness—or so everyone thought. The truth was that Emilia hadn’t completely gotten over it. But she didn’t want her mother to know.

  Her mother would only worry and insist that she stay inside in bed. While she enjoyed being in the house the most, she still didn’t like being confined to bed, unable to do anything or get anything for herself.

  “Mary, you can’t tell Ma. It was nothing, just the wind.”

  Mary shook her head. “You can’t hide it if you’re not better yet. What if you get worse? And… well, you know that you always have a hard time getting over an illness.”

  “I’m fine, I promise. I am getting better. I know myself, Mary.”

  Emilia’s eyes were starting to ache a little again and her head was pounding but Mary didn’t need to know that.

  She had managed to hide her fits of coughing and her headaches from her mother for the past couple of days, convincing everyone that she was on the steady road to recovery from her most recent bout of sickness.

  She hated being sick all the time, but she had no control over it.

  Her mother said that she’d been sickly since she was a baby, and there had always been someone to remind her of it as long as she could remember.

  As the sisters stepped into the small townhouse that they shared with their mother, delicious smells hit them with a force.

  Emilia walked into the kitchen to find her mother stirring a pot of what looked like soup. There was something baking, as well.

  This was the one day that her mother prepared the meals while she and Mary went out to get the shopping done.

  Emilia loved coming home to her mother working in the kitchen. It reminded her of better days, when she had been young and had come home to her mother humming as she prepared dinner.

  Her father had always arrived a little later and would swing her around in circles while she giggled.

  A sad smile played on Emilia’s lips at the memory, and a familiar ache filled her chest. She missed her father every single day, and yet, she couldn’t really be honest about it with anyone.

  The only person she ever talked about him with was Mary. When she talked with her mother, she couldn’t say much. She knew that thinking of him and what had happened made her mother feel sad and overwhelmed with guilt.

  “Girls, I’m glad you’re back. Dinner is almost done.”

  Emilia hurried across the kitchen and gave her mother a quick hug. “I think we got everything.”

  “Okay, that’s enough.” Her mother pulled back with a flustered look. She had never really been one for lots of hugs or physical affection. And yet, Emilia knew that she did like them. “Mary, you cut some bread and Emilia, you get the cheese and the butter.”

  By the time the girls had fetched the requested items, there was a large pot of soup sitting on the table. Two golden-brown loaves of freshly-baked bread that their mother had just pulled from the oven were sitting on the cutting board next to the pot.

  Emilia rubbed her hands together and sat down. “I’m starved.”

  Her mother served up steaming bowls of soup and set them in front of Emilia and Mary.

  “Let’s pray.” She extended her hands and both girls took them.

  It was a tradition for them to all take turns praying for the food, since their father wasn’t there to do it like he had before he had been taken away.

  “Amen,” they all said together as Mary finished her prayer.

  Emilia looked around at her family—it was small, but it was everything she needed and more.

  ---*---

  “I’m going off to bed,” Mary announced, leaning in to give Emilia a kiss on the cheek. Emilia gave her sister a half hug, trying not to get her wet with her soapy hands. Their mother had said to not worry about the dishes, but Emilia hated to leave them undone overnight.

  She was one to always insist on having the kitchen cleaned up. Besides, she loved the feel of the soap, gliding through her fingers.

  Emilia watched as Mary kissed their mother and then disappeared down the hall. Emilia was feeling pretty tired, too. Once she rinsed the last dish, she turned to go.

  “Emilia, wait. I want to talk to you before you go to bed.” Her mother’s voice sounded worried.

  “What about?” Emilia dried her hands on the linen towel hanging nearby.

  “Come to the parlor. Let’s sit and talk for a few moments.”

  Emilia nodded and followed her mother, feeling that something was wrong. She wondered what Ma wanted to talk about.

  Chapter 2

  Emilia fidgeted nervously. Her mother had disappeared back into the kitchen for a cup of tea, and the longer she waited, the more anxious she felt.

  She could tell something was wrong. Her mother didn’t often ask to talk to her alone.

  “I know it’s late and you’re probably tired, but there’s something we really need to discuss.” Her mother’s voice startled Emilia as Ma came back into the parlor.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Why isn’t Mary here? Why can’t she hear what you are going to say?” Emilia asked with growing concern.

  “Nothing’s really wrong,” her mother answered, but she didn’t look convinced. Emilia was surer than ever that something really was wrong. Her mother paused for a moment, stirring her tea thoughtfully, and sighed. “It’s just that I know you’re not really getting better.”

  Emilia felt her breath sucked out of her. She wasn’t sure her mother could have possibly said anything worse.

  “What are you talking about? Of course, I’ve been getting better.”

  “No, you haven’t. I know you’re trying to hide it, but I’ve seen you coughing. I’ve seen the way you try to do it so I can’t see. But it’s dangerous, Emilia. I don’t want to make your life miserable. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

  Tears filled Emilia’s eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was more upset over what her mother was saying, or over the fact that she’d been found out.

  She had worked so hard to keep it a secret that she wasn’t better yet, but she had to admit it had been getting a lot harder lately. It was hard to keep the cough quiet, and once it started, the violence of it sometimes took her breath away.