Beloved Counterfeit by Kathleen Y'Barbo Read Free Book Online

measure for the life that had been lost at her hands.
    Again the scene unfolded in her mind. The angry man she’d left waiting at the altar on their wedding day stood before her.
    A gun in the hand that more than once had bruised her body. Words from the mouth that more often bruised her soul.
    A shot. Andre Gayarre lay dead.
    Viola shrugged off the image and reached to grasp the blue gown, her only possession when she boarded Josiah Carter’s ship for freedom. Placing it back in the wardrobe, she swiped at the tears she hated and turned toward the door.
    Before Emilie could knock, Viola opened the door with a smile firmly in place. As pleasantries were exchanged, she invited her old friend in.
    “I’ve come bearing news.” Emilie grinned. “And a letter.”
    She glanced at the handwriting and found it vaguely familiar. “How did you get this?” Turning it over, Viola could find no evidence that the document had been mailed.
    “It was handed to me,” Emilie explained, “by a mutual friend who arrived on my doorstep some moments ago.”
    “Have you time for tea and conversation before I return to school for the afternoon?” Viola gestured toward the parlor, good manners trumping her curiosity at who might resort to this kind of silliness. Then an idea formed.
    Dan.
    Of course.
    Likely Micah Tate had talked some sense into the hopeless bachelor.

    * * *

    Micah let the courthouse door close behind him then took a deep breath of salt air. He felt ten years younger, his shoulders a measure lighter now that the weight they’d carried no longer rested upon them.
    The door opened, and Josiah stepped outside. “Want some company?”
    He looked back at his friend, weariness suddenly threatening. “Not if you’re going to ask me why I didn’t tell you this before now.”
    Josiah shrugged. “No.”
    “Well, good.” Micah set out walking, unsure as to his destination. The stretch of his legs and the pace of his stride served to quickly restore his mood. As he contemplated the conversation with Caleb Spencer, his thoughts turned to prayers.
    “This is where I leave you.”
    Micah jerked his attention toward the friend he’d forgotten walked beside him. “What? Oh yes, of course.”
    Somehow they’d arrived at the cottage Josiah shared with Isabelle and little Joey. The lad must have been watching, for he burst through the door calling for his papa, Isabelle on his heels. Micah thought of Caroline and the babe she surely chased around heaven, and for a moment, all Micah could do was stare.
    “Come back here, young man,” Isabelle called. When she caught sight of Josiah and Micah, she stopped and offered a grin. “So this is why he’s ignoring me. Go ahead,” she said to the boy, who’d now turned to regard his mama with an innocent stare. “Go to your papa.”
    “Your papa.” Another stab to his heart, and Micah turned away. With a wave, he left the happy couple and their son and resumed his walk toward the boardinghouse and the meal he hoped would still be available.
    “Hello there, Micah Tate.”
    Doc Hill. Not an unpleasant man, but certainly not anyone he’d be willing to pass the time of day with in this condition. Micah ducked his head and pressed forward, ignoring the call, unwilling to let go of the grief that seized him.
    Unfortunately, the doctor caught him at the corner while Micah waited for the funeral director’s horse and wagon to pass. Rather than offer his true opinion of the man’s company, Micah met his gaze and nodded, then followed the gesture with the required pleasantries.
    “Have a moment?” the doc asked as his gaze followed the wagon until it disappeared around the corner. “I could use some help. Some wisdom, actually.”
    Micah’s chuckle held no humor. “If it’s wisdom you seek, I’d head toward the church.”
    Daniel Hill seemed no less enthusiastic. “No, I doubt the reverend would understand. Now if you’d spare me just a few minutes, I’d be grateful.” He