Dear Lovelorn Read online

  She returned to his side and set the ointment in his hand. As she raised her gaze to his face, she hesitantly peered into his eyes. He looked at her differently as if he actually cared that her eyes were still watery.

  “Annette? What’s wrong?”

  Not often did he call her by her first name, and it surprised her to hear him do so now. His expression was filled with empathy, and it tugged at her heart.

  “I… I…” She swallowed hard. “Nothing is wrong.”

  He arched an eyebrow and folded his arms. “This morning, I noticed your eyes were red and teary, and now, you look as if you’re ready to cry.”

  He noticed? That shocked her just as much as him saying her name. It surprised her that she didn’t want to bawl out her frustrations, but instead, elation flowed through her to think he’d actually noticed. “I’m sorry you had to see me that way. I wasn’t having a very good morning.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She held in her breath. Was he serious? He couldn’t be. Men never wanted to talk about a woman’s feelings – at least the men who had courted her. “No, but thank you.”

  He gave her a small smile. Oh, dear… Why had she never noticed his dreamy hazel eyes before?

  “Then I’d better be getting back to the newspaper.” He nodded. “It’s like your father always says—”

  “Newspapers can’t sell themselves,” she said along with him.

  He chuckled with her. “I suppose you would know that phrase better than I would.”

  “Well, I have been helping my father since I was a young girl.”

  He turned and slowly started back down the hallway, and she followed as if her feet had minds of their own. She hadn’t realized until now that they’d never had a conversation just the two of them. Father had always been with them, and the topics had always been politics and the newspaper.

  She touched his arm. “Peter, before you go, do you mind answering a question for me?”

  He stopped near the top of the staircase and turned toward her. “What do you need to know?”

  “Have you courted many women?”

  The question must have caught him off-guard because his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Thankfully, he regained composure quickly. “I’ve courted my share. Why do you ask?”

  “What do men in general think of love?”

  He blinked several times as if he didn’t understand the question. Then he slowly shook his head. “Love? Are you referring to love between a man and a woman?”

  “Yes. Are all men focused on how much a woman brings into the marriage rather than loving her for herself?”

  He stared at her, and she couldn’t quite figure out his expression, but she felt as if he pitied her. She would not tolerate that.

  “I have a few minutes before I need to be back at the office,” he said. “Let’s go down to the sitting room and discuss this further.”

  She walked with him down the stairs and to the sitting room. Her heartbeat thudded faster, and she twisted her hands against her middle. Would she like what he was going to tell her? Perhaps there was a secret code that only men knew about and didn’t share with women, which could explain why the men who courted her had been only after her father’s money.

  They sat on the couch together. After she was comfortable, it occurred to her that she should offer him some tea or coffee. After all, a good hostess would do that. Her dearly departed mother would have done that.

  “Can I assume,” he began with a sigh, “that this has something to do with Henry Peck?”

  She clutched her hands together and tried to keep them still on her lap. “Not just Henry, but Jonathan, Tobias, Leroy, and Gerald.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I had high hopes that you and Henry would have found love.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong. Henry found it – in my father’s bank, and from what I’d seen this morning, I think Henry also found it in Miss Stanhope’s arms.”

  His frown deepened and he touched her clasped hands. “I’m so sorry. No wonder you looked so distraught earlier.”

  “Which is why,” she cleared her throat before the emotion settled in, “I wonder what’s wrong with men… or is there something drastically wrong with me that nobody has told me about?”

  “Nothing is wrong with you, Annette. You have a kind heart. You also have a wealthy father who is pretty powerful in this town.”

  “What does that have to do with love?”

  “That means that men are going to look at you and see dollar signs, especially men who aren’t wealthy.” His thumb slowly moved back and forth across her hand in a light caress.

  “Are you saying I should find a rich man and hope that he can fall in love with me?”

  He chuckled. “No, because then you’d just be marrying him for his money, too.”

  She huffed. “Which brings us back around to the main problem. I swear I don’t understand any of this.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, men can’t figure out women, either.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, that doesn’t make me feel any better at all.”

  He squeezed her hands. “Don’t give up hope, though. You’ll find the perfect man for you, and then you’ll be grateful all those others didn’t ask for your hand in marriage.”

  “Sadly, that’s not in my future.” She sighed heavily. “I’ll embrace the life of spinsterhood. I’m tired of getting my heart broken.”

  Peter stood. “If you start spinsterhood this early, I fear you’re going to break many hearts.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Then it was those men’s fault for not treating me any better. I just cannot stand men who lie.”

  Smiling, he caressed her cheek. “That’s the way to think.”

  “Thanks, Peter. I’m very grateful you took the time to talk to me.”

  “Anytime.” He winked before turning and leaving the room.

  She wasn’t sure if their talk had helped her or not, but it made her more agitated. She jumped up and hurried back to her bedroom. She and the typewriter would become very close today, and yet, pouring out her emotions in her article probably wasn’t the best thing to do. After all, she needed to be professional.

  Annette sat at her desk and stared at the typewriter as she positioned the tips of her fingers over the keys. Breathing slowly, she cleared her mind, waiting for some inspiration. Unfortunately, the talk she had with Peter had left her upset. How could she stop thinking about that?

  Courtship: A love-hate relationship.

  From the beginning of time as we know it, men and women have courted in an effort to see if they were compatible enough for marriage. Yet, who is to say this is the correct method? Many countries have arranged marriages. Couples don’t have a choice but must wed the person their family has arranged for them. Remarkably enough, these types of couples know they have to work with each other in order to create a marriage where they can grow into love and acceptance.

  I know many women and men who fail at the current method of courtship. Some men are focused on finding the most beautiful woman or the wealthiest, while some women are searching for a man who will make the best provider or the best father. Both men and women are looking for things that can be unreasonable at times. Why can’t they accept the other for their true worth, instead of the disguise they wear when courting?

  Will there ever be a time when people can just be themselves? What must be done in order for people to be honest instead of concealing what’s truly in their heart?

  The Lovelorn

  Annette sat back and reread the short article, trying to see if it was obvious that the writer was a woman. Just as in her stories while writing the male character, she mentally stepped into his shoes. Men could get hurt from a wrong courtship, just like a woman. So, perhaps this article would work for her father. She also hoped it would generate some interest in the city, or at least, have people write to the paper and make suggestions.

  THREE
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  The newspaper had been out for two days now, and Annette couldn’t believe how much mail she’d received from readers – all addressed to Lovelorn. Her hands shook with excitement as she opened the first letter. From the large room at the newspaper office where most of the journalists sat, it was easy to hear some of their comments. Mainly, they were asking her father who this mysterious writer was. Thankfully, her father didn’t tell them. His answer was that he had another journalist in mind, and this was their test – to see what kind of talk would make its way through town about the Lovelorn.

  Trying not to grin and give away her secret identity to the others, she kept an expressionless face and read her first letter. Mr. Phelps from the bank, asked about the writer’s identity. He said that it had started an argument between him and his wife because their daughter was reaching the courting age. He wondered why the Lovelorn would write such an article.

  Shrugging, Annette set the letter aside and opened another one. She wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Selmer and Mrs. White had sent in letters, but what surprised her was that they were not complaints this time. Both women applauded Annette’s father for printing an article that was finally interesting.

  Annette rubbed her mouth, trying not to smile with satisfaction. Those two letters were enough praise, and she’d make sure her father knew about it. However, she was excited to see some of the other letters.

  Dear Lovelorn,

  Your article intrigues me. I assume you know this topic well enough, and so I’m hoping you can help me. I’m a man who doesn’t have time for courtship, but I’m eager to find a wife. What would you suggest I do? Should I let my parents arrange the marriage as what is done in other countries? I had hoped the woman of my dreams would find me and be the one who would pursue the courting, but since that hasn’t happened, I’m at a loss. Please help.

  Busy in St. Louis.

  Releasing a small gasp, Annette sat up straighter in her chair. This man was asking for her help? How very odd… and yet, very encouraging.

  She placed that letter in a separate pile and opened another letter.

  Dear Lovelorn,

  I was very pleased and surprised to read your article in the newspaper since I’ve not read anything like this in the St. Louis Gazette before. I’m twenty-two years old, and I’m shy. My parents have tried to find beaus for me, but I fear there are no men who enjoy having this particular quality in a wife. I don’t want to end up a spinster. What should I do?

  Shy Nellie.

  Annette let out a tiny laugh and quickly covered her hand over her mouth. Her hopes lifted a little more. People really wanted her to help them? If only they knew she was a rejection from the courtship farm, herself.

  She opened another letter.

  Dear Lovelorn,

  I’ve been a widower for several years, and I hesitate to find love again. I have a child, but I worry that if I try to remarry, my child might be unhappy. How can I find a woman who will be a good mother to my child and who will want to not only gain my love but my child’s as well?

  I’m lonely.

  She giggled and set that letter with the others that were similar. Eager to read the next one, she tore the letter as she opened it. Thankfully, she placed the torn pieces together and was able to read.

  Dear Lovelorn,

  Your identity has me curious, but I’m in hopes that you are a woman. You are very knowledgeable on this subject, and I feel you are the perfect woman for me. So, if you are a woman, I would like to meet you and see if we could have a future together. I would very much like to be with someone who thinks the same way as I do. Perhaps you have just started a different option in the “courtship world”, because I would like to get to know you through letters, just as you can get to know me.

  Yours Truly, Match Made in Heaven.

  Giddiness filled her, making her laugh aloud. She couldn’t hold back the elation soaring through her. She had never imagined this kind of response. Her father would certainly want her as one of his journalists now.

  She quickly left her office and moved throughout the building in search of her father. Three journalists were standing at a window, each holding a newspaper. As always, she was invisible to them. But now she was glad because they didn’t lower their voices as she passed. She slowed her steps to hear more.

  “Can you believe what Baldwin did?” Terrance said, shaking his head. “I know he fired Cooper, but I’m shocked that this article would replace what most readers are expecting.”

  “I don’t know.” Nicholas shrugged. “I rather like that it’s different. I’m sure it’ll bring in more subscribers.”

  “Do you think a woman wrote this?” Clark asked. The other two men snorted and shook their heads. “Really? You don’t know if it’s a woman? The writing has a feminine touch.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Terrance replied. “We all know how Baldwin feels about women in the workplace. He would never sink low enough to hire a woman journalist.”

  Picking up her pace, Annette moved past them, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling. Indeed, her father had this attitude, but she was grateful that she was able to convince him to change his mind on the matter.

  As she turned a corner, she ran into a man coming into the main room. He grasped her arms and stepped back. Peter’s wide eyes met hers before he chuckled.

  “Miss Baldwin, forgive me for not seeing you, but I’ve never seen you hurrying this fast in the building. Is there a fire?”

  “Of course not.” She laughed lightly. “I’m looking for my father. Have you seen him?”

  “He left an hour ago to ride into town. He had a meeting to attend.”

  “Oh.” She sighed dejectedly. “I suppose I should have remembered how many meetings he has.”

  “True. Your father is an extremely busy man.”

  “That, he is.” She started to turn, but he held onto her arm with one hand, stopping her.

  “Forgive me for not asking sooner, but I hope you’re feeling better than you did the other day when we talked.”

  She nodded. “Our talk helped me more than I realized. Thank you.”

  He released her and folded his arms. “So, are you keeping busy?”

  “Indeed, I am. You won’t believe how much mail came in today.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “There was more than usual?”

  “Twice as much.” She shook her head. “And there were a lot addressed to the Lovelorn. That’s why I went looking for Father. I need to know who this new journalist is so I can give him these letters.”

  After she’d said it, she mentally praised herself for thinking of such a good cover on the spur of the moment. Peter would not know she was the writer now.

  “I’m afraid that your father hasn’t told me who wrote that article, either.”

  She gasped, adding more to her pretend shock. “Are you kidding me? Father tells you everything. I’m surprised he hasn’t told you.”

  Peter shook his head. “But believe me, when your father returns, I plan on getting that information from him.”

  “Oh, good. When you do, let me know so I can give the new journalist his letters.”

  “I will.”

  As Peter walked away, she had to cover a hand over her mouth before her happiness spilled out. She was having too much fun at this. How long would she be able to keep up the secret without telling anyone?

  * * * *

  Peter Fletcher drummed his fingers on his desk as he stared out the window. Where was Malcolm? That man should have been back by now. Either that or Peter was just very impatient to talk to his friend. Peter was also impatient to discover the identity of the Lovelorn. He’d waited for Annette to leave her office before sneaking in and looking at the letters that had come. One of them was his.

  He tore away from the window and looked back at the papers scattered across his desk. He needed to be more organized. Unfortunately, that was a quality he’d never have. In his nearly thirty-six years, being organized wasn’t
something that was important to do.

  Glancing at this week’s newspaper, he couldn’t stop from reading the Lovelorn’s article again. He’d lost count of how many times he’d read it – and how many times his heart grew heavy. Who was the person who wrote it? But more importantly, how many times had he thought about all of his failed relationships?

  Peter wasn’t foolish enough to blame the women for not finding him interesting. After all, he had a one-track mind. For years, his life had been about following his dream and doing anything to become the best. His career came first, and sadly, women came second.

  Annette had asked him the other day about the women he’d courted over the years, and between that conversation and the newspaper article, all he could think of was how his life would have been different if he had given his heart to love and actually paid more attention to a woman than he had to his career. He was lonely and missed a woman’s companionship, but whenever he felt this way, he just delved into his job and kept himself busy. Feeling lonely wasn’t something he wanted to experience every day.

  Did he need the Lovelorn’s help? Probably not, but writing that letter had opened up the floodgates of loneliness. He wasn’t getting any younger, and he wanted a wife and a family before he became too old to enjoy them.

  The tone of excitement in Annette’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. She was in her father’s office, and although Peter couldn’t hear her exact words, she was cheerful about something and sharing it with Malcolm.

  Grinning, Peter rose from his chair and slowly moved toward his office door and opened it. He’d known Annette for six years, and in all that time, he’d never heard such happiness in her voice before. It disappointed him that men had not offered for her hand in marriage. Peter was certain that Annette would make a good wife and mother. The poor woman also needed a man’s pure love.

  He stopped near Malcolm’s door and peeked around the corner of the wall. The first thing he saw was Annette’s pretty face aglow. Her blue eyes sparkled like the stars as she excitedly told her father about all the letters that had come in the mail. Malcolm sat in his chair, watching his daughter with an expression Peter was used to seeing – like he wasn’t totally involved in the conversation. Peter wondered if Malcolm’s mind was wandering again since it had been doing that quite often lately.