Free More Than Words by Judith Miller Page B

care.”
    He lifted the books from his case and stacked them on the counter. “And I won’t mention that they’re in your possession, Miss Kohler.”
    Apprehension nudged my conscience. The two of us now shared a secret. One that could get me in trouble.
    “If you’d like to put the books in a place of safekeeping, I’ll watch after the store for you.”
    He pushed the books several inches closer. Close enough that I cast aside my misgivings and scooped the stack of books into my arms before I changed my mind. Once inside the parlor, I slowed my pace and tiptoed across the striped carpet. Oma was asleep in her rocker. If she should awaken, I could use her mental condition to explain away any comments she might make to others, but I hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. Her soft snores continued while I entered my room and carefully tucked the books beneath several quilts in the trunk at the foot of my bed. A giant sigh escaped my lips when I returned to the parlor. Only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath.
    After assuring myself Oma remained sound asleep, I returned to the store. Mr. Finley was standing exactly where I’d left him. But it was immediately obvious he’d not been in that spot the entire time, for he was now reading my journal. He glanced up but made no effort to hide what he’d been doing. “You’re in luck. No customers,” he said, tapping the pages he’d been reading. “You have talent, Miss Kohler. I’m impressed.”
    I grabbed the journal from his hands and slapped it shut. My anger seethed like a boiling teakettle. “Do you frequently help yourself to things that do not belong to you, Mr. Finley?”
    “When I think there’s good reason.”
    His calm demeanor annoyed me even more. “And what good reason do you have for sneaking behind the work counter to remove and read a personal journal that has not been offered to you?”
    “I thought you’d be an excellent poet, but your prose is every bit as good. Especially when you feel great passion about an issue.” He tipped his head to one side, and his lips curved in an easy grin.
    In that very instant I was certain he’d read some of the entries I’d made over the past few weeks. My cheeks burned hot, and I wanted to run from the room, yet his words of praise held me in place. I detested my desire to hear more of what he thought about my writing, but I couldn’t deny the truth: I cared what Mr. Finley thought about my talent.
    He took a step closer. “I’d be honored if you’d permit me the opportunity to read all of your writings, Miss Kohler. Though I’m no authority on poetry, I am convinced you possess great talent.”
    Great talent . The words caused a tidal wave of excitement to wash over me. He’d read portions of my journal without asking permission, and I still maintained a modicum of anger for his bold conduct, yet his words of praise pleased me, and I was elated to hear him say I possessed a gift for writing.
    I shook my head. “I couldn’t ever—”
    “Don’t speak in haste. At least consider my offer. You have time to decide before I depart.”
    His final words surprised me. “But I thought you came here with the thought of making your home in Iowa.”
    “Yes, yes, of course. But if I make that decision, I’ll need to return to Chicago to advise my employer. And to gather the rest of my belongings.”
    “Of course. How silly of me. I wasn’t thinking.” After making such a ridiculous statement, I longed for some place to hide, but Mr. Finley didn’t permit me time to linger over my inane comment.
    “Is it true that all of my worldly possessions must be turned over to the society if I decide to move here?”
    “If the elders agree to accept you and you make your vow to become a member, your personal belongings remain yours, but you would agree to give your money and any holdings to the society.” He appeared somewhat put off by my explanation. “But all of your needs would be met, and you would