Eulalia turned to meet the smiling gaze of Nicander. “You and me both.”
It wasn’t possible but he looked the most handsome she had ever seen him. The long blonde hair neatly combed and tied back into a ponytail. A black shoestring tie around the collar of his light blue shirt draped his broad shoulders. The leather belt cinched his trim waist, and the black trouser showed off his muscular thighs.
“May I walk with you, Eulalia? There’s so much to see.”
For a moment, all she could do was stare as she came to terms with feelings, she’d done everything within her power to suppress but no longer could. She loved Josiah and always would. But, standing before his best friend, being the recipient of his concern, and his care, it would be so easy to love Nicander, too.
Perhaps she already did.
But it wasn’t meant to be. He was the husband of another woman.
“Eulalia?” He queried softly.
From the lift of his eyebrow, she knew he still waited for her answer. Should she spend time with him, or should she protect her heart and distance herself from him? Or could she play pretend?
Tell him no, her mind whispered.
“Of course, Nicander.”
He gave her a slow, heart-stopping smile, his white teeth bright against the tanned darkness of his face. Holding out his arm, he gave her a slight bow. “Mrs. Pemberlay, shall you join me for the circus?”
Joining in his levity, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. The material of his shirt couldn’t hide the hard flex of his muscle as she touched him. “Why thank you, Mr. Montgomery.”
The next hour, Eulalia lived in a dream. She and Nicander were inseparable. They walked among the crowds for a time, watching the different performances. They laughed and pointed and watched with awe at the goings on around them. A sense of contentment pervaded her. It felt as natural for her to be here with Nicander as it had with Josiah. Different, of course, because the men were different. Had Josiah still been alive, he would have challenged the strong woman or participated in some of the games and contests being held.
Nicander didn’t seem to care about showing anyone up. He enjoyed the festivities with a boyish enthusiasm. And always, he kept by her side.
A bit later, they came to a table where some of the women were selling scoops of cold vanilla ice cream. The little banner in front of the table announced that all the proceeds of the ice cream would go toward the rebuilding efforts for Silverpines.
“Would you like a scoop or two?” Nicander asked.
“Or two,” Eulalia said back.
He grinned and paid for the ice cream. Just as they received their treat, Eulalia heard, “Mama! Uncle Nic!”
They both turned as the children skidded to a stop beside them. Eulalia shook her head. Winston had torn his trousers while Tabitha had smudges of dirt on her dress and face.
“What in the world were you doing?” she asked.
They both started talking excitedly and through the din, she made out mud pit, trees, and falling. “May we have some ice cream?”
Nicander shook his head. “You little monkeys.” He ruffled both of their heads and then bought them scoops of ice cream as well. Eulalia spotted a nearby tree and directed their group there.
Her daydreams went on as they all chattered among themselves. Tabitha and Winston scuffled with Nicander and their laughter rang out like blessings.
She knew how much the children missed their father but having Uncle Nic there must have the same sort of effect for them as it did for her.
Well, not the same sort of effect.
Several times, she caught Nicander’s eyes settling on her in a way which made her cheeks warm. It wasn’t one of passion or desire. That would have made her uncomfortable. Instead, it was a look of utter tenderness. As if he knew maybe they were both playing pretend.
Soon, Tabitha and Winston wandered off to enjoy more of the event She and Nicander sat alone under the tree. The crowds were still going strong although it had begun to thin some.
“This has been a perfect day,” Eulalia said on a sigh of contentment.
“You can say that again. One can forget all his problems.”
She nodded and then bent her knees to rest her arms on them. “Nicander, I want to thank you for everything. You’ve been a help to me and there’s no way I can repay you.”
“You don’t need to, Eulalia.”
She said nothing as she watched the people of Silverpines lose themselves in the activities of the day. Many of them, especially the women, had lost so much – homes, loved ones, and livelihood. It would have been easy to succumb to despair, to lose all hope.
But they hadn’t. The women had banded together to do what must be done. Eulalia recognized a profound truth. Many cities had been built on top of ruins.
Devastation was not the end but the start of a new beginning.
A sudden thought flared in her mind.
“Nicander!” she reached out automatically and gripped his arm.
“What is it, Eulalia?”
She faced him. “I know why he did it?”
“Who?”
“Josiah,” she replied, knowing the truth of her words as the answer became clear. “He did it for me.”
“What do you mean?”
She took his large calloused hand and clasped it within her own. “I know why he asked for you and I to marry each other if something should happen to him.”
Nicander’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Her vocal chords constricted but she swallowed and pressed on. “My father was killed in a tornado years ago. I don’t really remember him. My mother was so overcome by grief that she went into a deep and dark state of mind. She wouldn’t eat or sleep. After a while she started to waste away. No one could get her out of that state of depression. So, as my aunt told my sister and I, they, the family, sent her away to live with nuns.”
“Nuns?”
“That’s what they told us, at least. It wasn’t until I was much older that I found out they had put her in an asylum.”
Nicander jerked. “They did?”
“Yes.” Her lips thinned. “My aunt had lied to us. For what reason, I don’t know. I think she thought it would be better for us to think she was in the company of caring people in some convent than at the mercy of some sadistic doctor.
“When I asked to see her, when I was fifteen, my aunt told me that I couldn’t. That she had died three years prior.”
“I’m sorry, Eulalia.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” she assured him. “You would never do something like that. My family simply did not want the responsibility to care for a woman like that. My aunt barely tolerated our presence. There was no way she could tolerate my mother. They put her away, like some throw away piece of garbage.”
“I’m sorry, Eulalia.”
“I always wondered why my sister and I weren’t enough to keep her on this side of the void. At the time, I had no idea what she felt. Now I do. And for a while, I wanted to go to that dark place and never return. But like I said before, my children needed me. If I had lost my mind, who was going to keep theirs? “
She looked up from their clasped hands and into his intent eyes. “I’d told Josiah how abandoned I’d felt. I think he wanted to reassure me that no matter what happened to me, that I’d be taken care of. He wanted me to hold on to the truth that in the event something happened to me, I wasn’t abandoned—by the Lord. Or by him.”
Her hands tightened on his. “He knew that you’d take care of me,” she murmured.
Nicander said nothing but then he didn’t have to.
It happened—just like that. The somber mood transformed into something else entirely. Surrounded by the people all around them, their space under the tree became cocooned in isolation. Their gazes were fixed on each other, lost in an awareness both forbidden and necessary as breathing.
Nicander’s arm reached and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind he
r ear. The delicate touch of his finger against the sensitive ridge sent a tingle along her spine.
“Sweet, beautiful, Eulalia,” he whispered, his dark blue-gray eyes darkening like the setting sun around them. “If only. If only.”
Her lips trembled at the anguish which roughened his voice along with the intense gleam which threatened to sear her with curious heat.
Somehow, Eulalia tore herself away from the unspoken awareness between them. Somehow, she stood on shaky legs and pretended everything was normal when the children came racing their way. She smiled in all the right places as they told her of their varied adventures although most of it never made it through the thudding of her eardrums.
Nicander remained silent as they walked back to the center of town to the borrowed house, they now called home. Every now and then, he joined in the conversation if the children asked him a question, but she could feel his eyes upon her. Still feel the hum of understanding resonate like notes on a stringed instrument.
When they arrived, he should have left after seeing them safely home. But, instead, Eulalia allowed him to enter the house. She’d left a pot of stew cooking on the stove, and they enjoyed a late dinner, and then it was off for baths, prayers, and bed. Nicander helped with Winston’s bath while she took care of Tabitha. Between them, they settled the children down for bed.
Nicander stood next to her and listened to their prayers.
And still, the awareness of each other hummed between them. Words, unspoken and yet heard. Thoughts shared in an intangible way, as if their minds were connected on some higher plane. The charge of lightning arcing between them with invisible sparks.
“Thank you for letting me spend the afternoon with you and the children,” Nicander said as he stood by the front door.
“Thank you.”
A pulse beat at the divot of her throat. She didn’t want him to leave, but he had to. He must.
Nicander was not hers. She would not dishonor the Lord, and his wife, by involving herself in something that would be reprehensible.
And yet…
Nicander’s hand reached out and played with the ends of her hair that lay against her shoulder. His fingertip brushed against the skin of her collarbone, and she stifled the unexpected quiver.
His eyes narrowed. Had he seen?
“I have to go,” he said, but he remained where he was, standing before her.
“Good night, Nicander.” Her feet seemed to have been glued to the floor. She couldn’t move either. Just being in his presence invigorated her.
A small smile lifted the side of his mouth. “You know, you’re the only one who calls me by my full name in that schoolmarm-ish voice of yours.”
“Do I?” She grinned. “Well, I can’t go around calling you in the same way like everyone else does.”
“You can call me anything you want, Eulalia.” His voice deepened and the light mood was supplanted by the undercurrents they both tried so very hard to avoid. “I’ll answer.”
Against her will, her feet took a step forward. “This is wrong.”
His finger traced the curve of her cheeks. “Is it? There are things you don’t know, things I don’t want you to know, that make it difficult for me to determine if this, what I have come to feel for you is wrong.”
“Josiah—”
“Loved you more than life itself,” he finished for her. “You were the best thing that ever happened to him. I know he thanked the Lord every day for your presence in his life.”
He took a step closer. His warm masculine scent lifted to her nostrils. “And Guinevere?” She stared at his firm lips that seemed to be drawing closer to hers.
This is wrong. This is wrong.
“She is the wife of my heart. The woman I love.” His thumb pressed against her mouth. She felt the sensation clear down to her toes. They were so close to each other; she could see the bristles jutting out from his face.
“And me?”
“You’re the flame of my soul,” he whispered, his breath warm against her face.
“Nicander?” Eulalia lifted herself on tiptoe. “Please just—”
“What the devil do you both think you’re doing?”
Eustacia’s voice broke them apart like a bucket of ice-cold water. Eulalia turned to face her sister who stood in front of the door, her face pale with shock and her eyes hard with fury.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I told you to stay away from my sister,” Eustacia gritted out, her hand clenched and vibrating by her side. “Not only do you refuse, I find you about to compromise her and bring shame to you.”
“Lulu, don’t,” Eulalia intervened before he could say anything. She brushed the chestnut brown hair from her forehead. “This is already confusing enough as it is.”
“Confusing?” Her sister made a harsh gruff sound. Whether of humor or disdain Nic wasn’t able to ascertain. “What’s confusing about you…getting friendly with a married man, Lolly?”
Shame stamped every inch of Eulalia’s face. Nic breathed noisily through his nose. He would not let anyone let this wonderful woman, who had lost her husband and still managed to survive be made to feel like a heel. “Stop it, Eustacia. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A startled look on her face made his eyebrow arch. Maybe she did. Maybe she knew more about it than anyone else in this room.
But that look of surprised was quickly supplanted by one of fury. She would now make good on her threat. The lowering of her chin was the single sign that she was going to betray his secret.
Nic braced himself.
“Is she still in the asylum?” Eustacia asked in a deliberate voice.
Eulalia jerked as if an invisible hand had struck her. Maybe it had—the hand of his own betrayal of a woman he cared very much for.
“Asylum?” Eulalia lifted her blue eyes to his. Gone was the heavy dew-like sheen of desire which had lured him to her like a moth to flame. Instead, wild-eyed shock.
“Yes,” he replied resignedly.
“Who is in an asylum, Nicander? Who—”
Her voice cut off with the suddenness of a pair of scissors clipping it away. She shook her head in disbelief. “Guinevere? Your wife?”
Nic nodded. “Yes. She’s in an asylum in Wickwell Springs.”
Eustacia made a purring sound. At least that’s what it sounded like to his ears. A cat purring with wicked amusement at the trap it set for the mouse.
“Why is she in an asylum?” Eulalia’s voice shook. Nic could guess how devastated she must be to hear this. Hadn’t she told him how her own mother had been sent to the institutions, housed by nuns who were too holy to intervene against the doctors and nurses who abused their patients?
She’d trusted him with that story, sure that he was worthy of that faith.
How he hated that Eustacia had brought him to this: a shattered statue at Eulalia’s feet. It seemed incredible that he realized why he hadn’t felt guilty about their kiss before now. Because, deep down inside, he’d known that if she found out about Guinevere, he’d lose everything.
“Why is she in an asylum, Nicander?” Eulalia asked again, her voice hard and unfamiliar. “Is she mad?”
How was he supposed to answer that when he wasn’t even sure?
“Yes and no,” he said reluctantly.
“Don’t you dare say that to me!” Eulalia seethed, her bright blue eyes like ice chips. “Tabitha and Winston may be swayed by that sort of pussyfooting around but I am not.”
“Do you think this is easy for me?” Nic queried, feeling a curious warmth begin to rise. “You think I like to admit that my wife is locked away from the rest of society?”
“Is she mad?” Her voice had become colder.
“Not in the way you think.”
“Is there any other way to think of madness? A stark, raving lunatic running about wreaking havoc?”
“No, Eulalia.” He stood up and loomed over her. His own ineptitude to care for Guinevere forced the words out of
his mouth in a clipped tone. “She’s not a stark, raving lunatic. She’s not foaming at the mouth or throwing herself into fires. Her madness is one she controls.”
“I don’t understand.” Her brow furrowed.
“Of course, you don’t.” He sliced the air with his hand in frustration. “How could anyone unless you watched the woman that you gave your heart to fall into a pit of madness?”
“I demand an explanation, Nicander.” Eulalia blew out a breath. “You know how my mother was treated by her family after my father died. How could a man like you, a man who I know can be gentle and kind, take such a drastic step that you had to lock your wife into one of those horrible places?” She shivered. “How could you abandon her?”
“Abandon her?” Nic bristled at the implications. He wasn’t a man who had ever taken his responsibilities to his duties lightly. How could she suggest such a thing? “Why do you think I left last month? I went to see her. Dr. Wu Li sent me a note stating that she was growing worse.”
“Worse?”
“Yes, I had to put her in the asylum for her own good. “
“I don’t believe you. You’re not some sort of…of…Mr. Rochester, suffering with the insanity of a wife locked in an attic for her own well-being.”
A vein throbbed along his temple. The gall to compare his life to some fictional romantic character from some book. Did she wish to make light of his dilemma? “Perhaps she’s not locked in an attic, wasting away. But she is mad nonetheless, and she is able to control it although it is not her fault.”
“You’re talking in riddles,” Eustacia added.
Nic had forgotten about her presence. She had already ruined the little bit of happiness he’d received being a part of Eulalia’s life. He couldn’t take another moment of her cold condescending manner. “You leave, Eustacia,” he ordered. “Haven’t you done enough damage.”
“I want to hear this,” she insisted, a gleeful sort of delight in her eye.
“No.” He jerked his finger toward the door. “You don’t get to demand anything. I’ll explain myself to her but never to you.”
Then, he played the trump he’d been holding onto.
Wanted- Fire Chief Page 6
