She didn’t know how to answer.
“It’s soon, but I’d like to work toward that end. I’d like to touch you and have you touch me, so we can get accustomed to one another. That’s what going to bed with you means. Now do you want me to join you or don’t you? The choice is yours.” His words were gruff and stiff, as if the decision didn’t affect him in any way.
“I…liked it when you touched me before. Come to bed, Travis, and we’ll work out the details there.”
By tacit agreement they didn’t turn on the lights, preferring to undress in the dark. Travis was under the sheets first, and when Mary slipped onto the mattress, he scooted close, wrapped his arm around her, and held her against him.
It comforted her to realize he was as nervous as she was.
“I want to kiss you again,” he told her in a husky whisper, “but if I do anything to frighten you, let me know, all right?”
She nodded.
Travis threaded his fingers through her hair and dragged her lips to his. She parted her mouth to him, eager to accept his tongue and experience again the powerful surge of pleasure. Warm sensations glided effortlessly though her blood, and she sighed, wanting more and not knowing how to ask for it.
Travis stroked her breasts, lingering over each quivering nipple until it throbbed, leaving her wanting and needy. His hand moved lower, under the elastic waistband to her flat stomach. For several moments he caressed her abdomen in soft, circular movements.
Not knowing what to expect next, Mary tensed. Travis paid no heed to her hesitation but continued his movements.
“No more,” she said.
“Okay,” Travis whispered, rolling away from her. He was on his back, his breathing labored. “Did I hurt you?” he asked after a moment.
Mary took time composing her reply. “No, but it felt strange, and I…I don’t know—different. I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?”
“I think I understand. The problem is that you’ve got romance confused with sex.”
“I do?”
“You think sex is all moonlight and roses, but you’re wrong. It’s urgent and sweaty, and from what I understand it isn’t any picnic for a woman the first time. If you’re looking to wrap it up in a fancy satin bow, it’ll never happen.”
Mary’s cheeks burned, they were so bright. “Are you angry with me?”
“No.”
“But you’re so far on your side of the bed. I like it when you hold me.”
“That’s the problem. I like it too much. You tempt me, Mary, and I don’t want to do anything that’s going to frighten you.”
“I tempt you,” she repeated softly on the last dregs of a yawn. “Oh, Travis, that’s the most lovely thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“We overslept?” Groggily Mary sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She looked warm and pink, and acting on impulse, Travis gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Her ready, eager response sent his blood racing. Mary’s fingers tunneled in his hair, holding him against her, and she sighed heavily when he reluctantly eased away from her.
“I have to go.”
“I know,” she whispered. “The kids will be late for school.”
Still, he couldn’t force himself to leave her. “I enjoyed holding and kissing you last night.”
She lowered her gaze and blushed. “I enjoyed it, too.”
Travis kissed her again, and she wound her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his.
A knock sounded at their door and they were interrupted by Scotty, who walked into the room. Travis was conscious that he was only half-dressed and kissing Mary.
“That’s real good, Uncle Travis,” the boy said with a wide grin. “Real good.”
“Hurry and get dressed,” Mary instructed. “We forgot to set the alarm.”
“Okay.” Scotty closed the door and scampered away.
“I have to go,” Travis said with heavy reluctance. He would have liked nothing better than to send the children off to school and spend the day with his wife. Unfortunately he couldn’t.
“Have a good day,” she said as he pulled away from her.
“You too.”
Travis reached for his socks and boots. He couldn’t help but have one hell of a day, especially when he was looking so forward to the coming night.
Mary’s morning was hectic. The boys were out the door just seconds before the school bus arrived. The kitchen was in complete disarray. Scotty had spilled a box of cold cereal, and some had fallen onto the floor. Wanting to help, Beth Ann had scattered the corn crispies in every direction so Mary heard crunching noises each time someone took a step. Within minutes a sawdust of sticky cereal blanketed the spotless linoleum.
Jim tore apart the living room looking for his homework assignment, tossing cushions and pillows into the air like a bulldozer attacking the furniture.
The minute they were out the door, Mary collapsed on the kitchen chair. Her head was spinning. She hadn’t even taken time for a cup of coffee.
Beth Ann climbed on the chair across from Mary, cupped her chin in her palms, and sighed expressively. “Those boys need to get their act together.”
Mary laughed. The boys weren’t to blame. If Travis hadn’t forgotten to set the alarm…Her mind drifted back to the events of the night before, and she felt warm and content.
Once she’d downed a cup of coffee, tidied the kitchen, and got the washing machine going, Mary felt as though she’d put in an eight-hour day.
At ten Clara Morgan stopped in for a visit. She was dressed in her thick wool coat and a pillbox hat and carried a black purse and small wicker basket lined with a red-and-white-checkered napkin.
“I hope you don’t mind my arriving unannounced like this,” the older woman said primly, setting a basket of homemade jams on the table. “But it seemed best that we make the arrangements for the wedding shower as soon as possible. The ladies at the Grange are anxious to meet you. But first, you must tell me how you ever convinced Travis Thompson to attended church services with you.”
Mary smiled to herself as she poured the other woman a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. “It wasn’t the least bit of a problem,” she said. “He volunteered.”
“I swear, you’re exactly what that boy needs.” Clara added a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee and stirred it briskly.
Beth Ann came into the kitchen and smiled. “Hi, guess what? You don’t need to bring us dinners anymore. Mary cooks better than Uncle Travis.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” A smile quivered at the edges of the older woman’s mouth, and her gaze met Mary’s briefly.
Mary studied the woman. With her gray hair tucked neatly into a bun at the base of her neck, her modest dress, and sensible shoes, it was like seeing a picture of herself thirty years in the future. Without Travis. Without the children.
“Travis is a former student of mine,” Clara went on to say. “He was a real hellion as a boy, but I saw through him then, the same way I do now. He insulted the others, you know.”
“Uncle Travis was rude to some of the church ladies,” Beth Ann explained in a loud whisper.
Clara sipped her coffee. “He was rude to me, too, but I wouldn’t put up with any nonsense from him and he knew it.”
Now it was Mary’s turn to smile. She liked Clara, perhaps because she saw so much of herself in the older woman. Travis appreciated Clara, too, but he wasn’t comfortable showing it.
“I won’t keep you from your duties,” Clara said. Her cup made a clinking sound as she set it back in the saucer. “I know how busy you must be. Would next Tuesday be agreeable with you? One of the ladies from the Grange will be contacting you soon. We want to officially welcome you to Grandview.” She frowned as though displeased about something. “You’re going to be very good for Travis. I can see that already. At least that boy had a decent head on his shoulders when it came to choosing a mate. I was worried when the children first told me he had written away for a wife.”
>
“Our marriage was a bit unusual.” Which was an understatement.
“Scotty offered to show me your letters, but I felt that would be an invasion of privacy.” She reached for her white cotton gloves. “Beth Ann assured me you could sing, Scotty was more concerned about your cooking, and Jim”—she hesitated—“Jim, well, he didn’t say anything one way or another.”
That sounded like her oldest, Mary mused. Her oldest…Jim wasn’t her son, yet she felt as though the bonds were as thick as blood. She was fiercely attached to each of the children, but more so to Jim. Mainly because he was hurting so terribly.
“I’d like it if we could be friends,” Mary said as Clara stood and reached for her purse, which she tucked protectively under her arm.
Clara looked both pleased and surprised. “I’d like that very much.”
The words began to blur in front of her eyes, and Tilly squeezed the bridge of her nose. This was the first time in her life that she even remembered coming purposely into a library, let alone checking out any books. She’d never been much of a reader, even when she was young. Boys had always been more important than her studies. It had hurt her, too. A man had gotten in the way of her graduating from high school. He’d been an error in judgment in what proved to be a long line of errors as far as men were concerned. Tilly didn’t dare hope Logan would be any different. For now she interested him, but she could think of no logical reason for their affair to last more than a month or two. Yet her heart refused to believe Logan was like all the rest.
Just walking into the library proved once more how unlearned she was. It took her ten minutes or more to realize the fiction books were categorized by alphabet. The nonfiction ones were more difficult to understand. One thing was certain, she wasn’t going to ask the librarian and make an even bigger fool of herself.
Logan was the reason she was visiting the library. He’d made several comments in passing about certain classic works of literature. Tilly knew next to nothing about tragic heros, mythology, and the like. He’d mentioned how much he enjoyed books. The last novel Tilly could remember reading all the way through had been written by Sidney Sheldon. One of the girls at work had raved about it, and Tilly read it. Her friend was right, the plot was great, but it had taken her a month to finish the book.
Logan read a lot, and sometimes he told her the plots. If she was ever going to make something of herself, she would need a little culture. So she struggled with a collection of short stories published in The New Yorker between 1927 and the mid-1970s. Half the time she didn’t even know what she was reading, but this was supposed to be good literature.
“Hello. You’re Tilly, aren’t you?”
Tilly looked up from the book to see Mary Thompson, Travis’s bride. “Oh, hi,” she said, welcoming the intrusion. Mary picked up one of the volumes Tilly was researching and studied the spine. She arched her brows, apparently impressed. “So you enjoy opera.”
“Not really. I might, but I don’t know very much about it. Sit down,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her. Her brain was swimming with all the things she was learning. She never realized a person could overdose on knowledge.
“Actually I was just leaving,” Mary said, smiling.
Tilly reached for the pile of books and gathered them in her arms. “So was I. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” Being new in town, Mary probably hadn’t made many friends. Tilly remembered what it was like for her that first month when she’d barely known anyone. At least she’d found a job at Martha’s, which had helped, but Mary spent the majority of her time holed up on a ranch twenty miles outside of town.
“I’d love a cup of coffee.”
Together they traipsed across the street to Martha’s.
“You’d think I’d be sick of this place,” Tilly said as she slid into the booth closest to the kitchen. “But Martha serves the best coffee in town.” She raised two fingers to Sally, who worked the day shift, and her co-worker promptly delivered two mugs.
“So, how’s married life treating you?”
Mary’s gaze lowered to her coffee. “Very well.”
“Have you met many folks about town yet?”
“A few. Tilly, listen, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions for me. I know this is unusual, but I’d like to talk to someone other than Travis and the children about this.”
Frankly Tilly was curious and a bit flattered that Mary would seek her out. “Fire away. I’ll tell you what I know.”
“It has to do with Travis’s brother and his wife. What do you know about the accident?”
Tilly released a labored breath. “Now that was really sad. It happened nearly five months ago now. It was early morning, and from what I understand they’d gone into town to dance. The Logger has a live band come in once a month. Lee and Janice really enjoyed dancing. From what I heard they left the tavern sometime after midnight.”
“Had Lee been drinking?”
“Maybe a beer or two earlier in the evening, but I heard he was stone sober when he left. Janice, too.”
“Does anyone know what happened?”
“No. There’s been plenty of speculation, of course. The first word we heard was that Lee had taken the corner too fast and lost control of the car. That made sense to everyone but Travis. He was the one who insisted Lee was too good a driver to let that happen. I heard Travis was at the accident scene for hours, trying to come up with some answers. He was the one who insisted Sheriff Tucker classify the accident as vehicular homicide. When the facts were made public, there wasn’t any doubt Lee was driven off the road.”
“But who would do such a thing?”
“A drunk. As best they can picture it, Lee was coming around the corner and met another vehicle that’d crossed the center line. From the tire marks, it looks as if they both tried to swerve out of the way. Lee’s car went over the ledge. The markings on the car showed they had some contact. It probably dented his fender. There couldn’t have been much damage to the other car since the driver took off. Whoever it was apparently didn’t even bother to stop.”
Tilly paused. She remembered the accident clearly because Logan had come to her apartment early the next morning staggering drunk.
He’d wanted to make love and she’d refused, and they’d had their first and only fight. She’d never known him to drink before or since.
The muscles in her stomach tightened. Dear, sweet Jesus, could Logan be the one responsible? The mere suggestion set her heart into a panic. Logan could never do anything like that, she reasoned, trying to calm herself. She’d couldn’t love him as much as she did and believe he’d drive away from an accident scene.
“The children came to live with Travis right away, then?”
It took a moment for the question to filter past Tilly’s confusion. The accident happened the night Logan had gotten drunk, she was sure of it. Why hadn’t she made the connection before? She should have realized, should have put two and two together.
“Travis drove over and got them himself,” she murmured. “Apparently someone from the sheriffs department had already been there, so the kids knew what had happened. Those poor kids, imagine losing both their mother and their father at the same time.”
Mary nodded.
“A lot of folks in town didn’t think Travis was the right person to be raising those youngsters. From what I heard, Travis was something of a hellion when he was growing up and hasn’t been able to shake the image. You have to admire the way he stepped in and took full responsibility. He didn’t need to do that. He feels as strongly about his brother’s children as he does about finding whoever’s responsible for the accident.”
“It hasn’t been easy on him, either.”
“I bet it hasn’t.” Tilly was quickly tallying the changes in Logan since the night of the accident. She’d known something was troubling him and had been for weeks. He never spoke to her about it. He’d admitted to being a recovering alcoholic. Oh, God, it could have
been Logan.
Tilly felt she was going to vomit. She broke out in a cold sweat and couldn’t seem to get enough air in her lungs.
“Tilly?” Mary’s soft voice was filled with concern.
“I’m…not feeling very well all of a sudden.” Her body ached, but not nearly as much as her heart. For once, just one lousy once, couldn’t she fall for a decent man? Was that too much to ask? She’d thought he was respectable, decent, gentle.
She should have known, should have figured it out much sooner. If Logan was so wonderful, what was he doing hanging around someone like her?
Tilly felt numb inside. Dead. Dead to the man she wanted so desperately to love. But mostly her dreams had died.
“Tilly, are you all right? You’re looking terribly pale.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, and it was probably the biggest lie she’d ever told.
Mary hurriedly unloaded the groceries from the back of the pickup and got dinner started. She’d stayed in town far longer than she intended. Although Tilly had gotten ill, Mary had enjoyed their time together. She wanted to learn what she could about Lee and Janice without asking Travis or the children. Mrs. Morgan would have been a good choice, but she didn’t want Beth Ann overhearing the details of her parents’ accident.
Mary liked Tilly. The waitress was a little rough around the edges, but her heart was as big as her ready smile.
Mary was busy peeling potatoes when the school bus arrived. Jim, Scotty, and Beth Ann raced toward the house like bear cubs. Hearing the sound of their laughter, Mary stood in the doorway smiling as the three tore down the driveway, their feet stomping the ground in their hurry to reach home.
Since Jim was the oldest, he reached the porch first. Panting, he paused and pressed his hands against his knees while he caught his breath.
Scotty wasn’t all that far behind Jim, and Beth Ann followed, looking disgusted with her two older brothers. She swung her backpack from her shoulder as though to suggest that if she hadn’t been carrying the extra weight, she might have won the footrace.
Morning Comes Softly Page 14
