My Darling Melissa

by Linda Lael Miller

  Melissa sat in silence, knowing there was more, waiting for Katherine to go on.

  Her mother turned to face her, her indigo eyes bright with tears. “Harlan is a good man, and I adore him, and I know I can be happy in California. But once I say my vows, Melissa, I’ll have to let go of far more than my grandbabies and my work in the suffrage movement. I’ll have to let go of your father, and I still have feelings for him. Strong feelings.”

  With that Katherine covered her face with her hands and sobbed softly, and Melissa hurried over to her, longing to comfort. Just as she would have put her arms around her mother Harlan entered the room, his expression full of quiet love.

  “This is it, then?” he asked. “It is the memory of Daniel that has been standing between us all this time?”

  Katherine sniffled and raised her chin. Melissa would have made a hasty exit, but her mother held onto her arm as if for dear life. “I helped Daniel Corbin build an empire,” Katherine said. “I bore him four strong children. And even though I love you, Harlan, I can’t put Daniel out of my mind and heart as though he never existed. He was a part of me.”

  Harlan’s eyes held such gentle understanding that Melissa was moved almost to tears. He approached Katherine and took her hands in his, and only then did she release her daughter.

  “I would never ask you to forget the father of your children,” Melissa heard Harlan say as she hurried toward the doorway. “Oh, Katie, why didn’t you tell me that you were thinking such a thing?”

  Melissa had never heard anyone call her mother “Katie,” not even her papa. She was smiling as she crossed the entry hall and then the dining room. She hurried along the walkway that led to the small hospital and clinic that Banner and Adam ran together.

  Adam and his wife were both out making rounds. While Melissa was disappointed at not seeing them, she had long since resigned herself to their hectic schedules. She found a cloak and set out for Keith and Tess’s house, which was nearly a mile away.

  When she arrived Tess was on her hands and knees spading out a flower bed. She leapt to her feet with a cry of delight and threw her arms around Melissa. When a hearty hug had been exchanged Tess led her sister-in-law toward the house. “Tell me everything! Is it true that you ran away with a man who has a private railroad car?”

  Melissa laughed. “Not exactly,” she answered, feeling warm and achy at the thought of that man, now sleeping soundly in her bed.

  As she and Tess walked toward the large but otherwise modest frame house Keith had built for his family Melissa turned her mind to her brothers. All of them were wealthy, but they had more to distinguish them from other men than money. Adam was a doctor, and although his was essentially a country practice, he was known and respected throughout the medical profession. Jeff had been a virtual legend as a sea captain, and now he was a shipbuilder employing dozens of people. Keith was a Methodist minister, and though his accomplishments weren’t as visible as those of his brothers, he was in many ways the most successful of all.

  He came out of the house to greet Melissa, whirling her around exactly as Jeff had done, then giving her a sound kiss on the forehead. There was a special bond between Keith and Melissa because they were the youngest of the four, and they had often been in league against Adam and Jeff.

  Once again Melissa told her story of being hauled away in the railroad car. This time she embellished the tale with an account of Quinn’s being menaced on the stairs by Maggie and her shotgun.

  Keith laughed at the picture his sister painted, and Tess commiserated. “Poor Quinn! He must be wondering what kind of family he’s married into.”

  “By now,” Keith said dryly, “there can be no question.”

  Tess gave Keith a look and turned back to Melissa. “How long will you be staying? I’m dying to meet this husband of yours!”

  Melissa sighed. “I doubt we’ll be staying long. Quinn has his hotel, among other interests, and of course, there’s my newspaper.”

  Keith, sitting astraddle of a kitchen chair with his arms draped across the back, watched her with gentle amusement in his eyes. “What newspaper is that?” he wanted to know.

  “I mean to publish one,” Melissa said forcefully. “And don’t try to discourage me, Keith Corbin, because I’m going to succeed at it.”

  “What do you know about publishing a newspaper?” Keith persisted. There was no disapproval in his voice, only curiosity and a certain brotherly concern.

  Tess patted Melissa’s hand. “She can learn,” she said.

  Keith sighed. “Right,” he replied.

  After that the conversation turned to other matters. An hour had passed when Melissa set out for the railroad station. She knew that Quinn kept spare clothes in the car, and that when he awakened he would want them.

  She was very careful to ascertain that no engine was about to hook up to the car and pull it away before she went inside. When she rounded the familiar partition Melissa was greeted by a scream so startling that she let out a shriek of her own.

  Gillian Aires sat bolt upright in the huge bed, her blond hair rumpled, her violet eyes wide. She held the chinchilla spread to her chin and demanded, “What are you doing here?”

  Melissa folded her arms across her chest. “I might ask you the same thing,” she said.

  Quinn’s former mistress—at least, Melissa hoped she was a former mistress—yawned delicately, taking her time. “Quinn sent the car to fetch me,” she finally said, in dulcet tones that made Melissa want to box her ears. She gestured toward a stack of fancy dress boxes. “I’ve been shopping in Seattle, you see. I want to look my very best on Saturday night when the hotel opens.”

  A hard lump formed in Melissa’s throat, and she had to swallow it before she could speak. Even then all she managed was a rather lame “Oh.” Trembling a little, not knowing how to deal with the situation, she went to the wardrobe and took out the fresh clothes Quinn would need.

  “What are you going to wear to the party?” Gillian asked, settling back onto the pillows in a way that said she was used to sleeping in that particular place and saw no reason to change.

  Melissa was in no mood to make conversation with a woman lounging in her husband’s bed. “I don’t know,” she said, thinking of the lavender gown she’d bought at Kruger’s Mercantile. All of a sudden it seemed drab and spinsterish, that dress.

  She turned, holding Quinn’s shirt and trousers and jacket over one arm, and made herself smile. “I’ll be leaving now. I-I’m truly sorry that I startled you.” She took a few more items from the bureau and was about to depart when Gillian stopped her.

  “Wait,” she said. “Please.”

  Melissa stood still on the other side of the partition, her heart beating hard against the base of her throat. She thought she knew what Gillian was going to say, and she closed her eyes against the knowledge.

  “I lost a great deal when you stole Quinn from me,” Gillian said. “Why did you do it?”

  Melissa turned and saw that Gillian had put on a wrapper and stepped from behind the partition. Melissa couldn’t explain to the woman what she’d done because she didn’t entirely understand it herself, but there was one thing she was very certain of indeed. “I love Quinn.”

  Gillian tilted her beautiful head to one side. “Enough to fight for him?”

  Melissa spoke without hesitation or doubt. “Absolutely.”

  Eyes so blue that they were nearly purple slid over Melissa’s corduroy skirt and braided hair. A dismissive expression crossed Gillian’s face, one that discounted her rival as an unsophisticated country cousin. “You’ll pardon me if I’m not terribly worried,” she reflected idly. “There have been many, many women in Quinn’s life, and he’s always gotten bored and sent them packing.”

  Keeping her composure required every ounce of self-control Melissa had. She sighed. “Has he married any of them?” she inquired. “Besides me, that is?”

  Gillian’s aplomb faltered, but only for the briefest moment. “No,�
�� she admitted presently, in a cheerful voice, “but if he felt that marrying you would get him what he wanted, he’d do it.”

  Melissa knew that Quinn had wanted an alliance with her family—he’d admitted that much—and he’d certainly never said that he loved her. For all that, she knew he cared; he’d revealed that by the tenderness of his lovemaking and by riding all night to find her. “I have to go,” she said, feeling stronger. “My husband is waiting for me.”

  With that she left.

  Quinn was sitting up in bed when she arrived at the house, drinking coffee and scowling at the morning newspaper. “Where have you been?” he asked.

  Melissa flung the clothes she’d brought him in his face. “You sent that car here to fetch Gillian!” she accused, pacing, her arms folded, her cheeks hot. She’d been stewing all the way home from the railroad yard.

  “Yes,” Quinn admitted, setting aside his coffee and laying his clothes out of harm’s way. He didn’t sound one bit repentant, she thought. The rake!

  “I’m sure she appreciates the courtesy,” Melissa said.

  An insolent grin spread across Quinn’s face, and he rubbed his beard-stubbled chin with one hand. “You’re jealous,” he observed.

  Melissa stomped one foot. “I’m merely concerned with the—the proprieties. You’re a married man, and you have no business letting other women ride in your railroad car and sleep in your bed!”

  Quinn struggled for a circumspect expression and failed roundly. “You’re overlooking an important point, Calico: I’m not sharing the bed or the car with ‘other women.’”

  With a little sigh Melissa sank into a chintz-covered chair a good distance from Quinn. “I can tolerate swearing and cigar smoking and even poker playing,” she said seriously, “but I will not look the other way when it comes to philandering.”

  He chuckled, raising one hand like an Indian making a pact. “Fair enough,” he said.

  “You still haven’t explained why your railroad car is at Gillian’s beck and call,” Melissa pointed out.

  Quinn sighed. “Gillian is my partner.” He paused and took a steadying sip of his coffee. “Now, if she weren’t a woman, it wouldn’t bother you that she and I are in business together, nor would you care if I sent the car for her when she needed it.”

  “But she is a woman,” Melissa reminded him, sounding a little desperate.

  Quinn arched one eyebrow. “And therefore I shouldn’t extend the same courtesies to her that I would to Mitch, for example, or one of your brothers?”

  Melissa shot out of her chair. “Damn you, Quinn Rafferty, you’re deliberately confusing the issue!”

  “No,” Quinn responded, with infuriating calmness, “you are. It isn’t your place to dictate whom I do business with, Melissa. I’m faithful to you, and that’s damned well all you need to know.”

  Fury simmered in Melissa’s veins. “Coming from a man who just rode all night to make sure that I hadn’t run away with someone else, those are remarkable words!”

  Quinn glared at her as he tossed back the covers and got out of bed, gloriously naked. “That was different,” he had the audacity to say. “You’re a woman, and women need protecting.”

  Melissa gave a little cry of frustration.

  Someone, probably Maggie, had brought Quinn a robe, and he put it on and went down the hall to the bathroom. The next time Melissa saw her husband he was bathed, dressed, and freshly shaven.

  “I want to meet your brothers,” he announced. “Where do we start?”

  Melissa sighed. “With Jeff, I suppose,” she said, and when Quinn offered his arm she took it, even though she longed to rebel.

  The walk to Jeff and Fancy’s house was relatively short, and when they arrived they were greeted by a tremendous clatter. They stood frozen at the gate, amazed, when Jeff thrust a narrow bed through the gaping front door and then kicked it down the porch steps.

  “What the—?” Quinn muttered.

  “They’re having marital problems,” Melissa confided in a whisper.

  “By God, Frances,” Jeff bellowed, “you’re my wife, and you’ll share my bed, do you understand me? I’ll be damned if I’m going to sleep on some puny army cot with you lying six feet away on one just like it!”

  Just as he was finishing this diatribe Jeff spotted Melissa and her new husband and strode toward them, looking as though he’d like to do to Quinn what he’d just done to the bed.

  “This is him?” he demanded, stopping just short of the fence.

  Before Melissa could say anything at all Fancy came bursting out of the house in a storm of angry tears. It was clear that she hadn’t noticed the visitors, for she shouted, “You can sleep right here on the front lawn for all I care, Jeff Corbin, but you’re not sleeping with me!”

  Quinn chuckled at this, an indulgence that won him a sweltering look from Jeff.

  “Maybe we should come back another time,” his sister’s husband said moderately. One corner of his mouth was twitching almost imperceptibly, and Melissa knew he wanted to laugh.

  By then Fancy had noticed the company and was looking embarrassed. Still, she smiled and offered her hand as she approached. “Hello,” she said with warm dignity, obviously pretending that her husband had not just thrown a bed into the front yard.

  Melissa was quick to make introductions, during which Jeff never took his eyes from Quinn. He was regarding him as an archangel might regard a demon.

  Quinn, for his part, seemed unruffled. He was affable, even to the point of pretending not to see the twin bed that lay broken and mangled at the base of the porch steps. After a very strained interview of about an hour’s duration the newlyweds took their leave.

  Melissa was worried, and she said as much to Quinn, who surprised her by squeezing her hand and saying, “Don’t fret, Calico—if there’s one thing greater than the fury those two are feeling toward each other right now, it’s the passion. They’ll be okay.”

  She let her forehead rest against his shoulder for a moment, loving him for the attempt to reassure her and hoping to high heaven that he was right. She was embarrassed to realize that there were tears in her eyes; her emotions had been close to the surface lately. “I think I need to go home,” she confessed in a small voice.

  Quinn stopped and turned to face her, there on that wooden sidewalk, his hand cupped under her chin. “To that big house back there on the hill?” he asked gravely.

  Melissa shook her head. “To Port Riley. If coming back here has taught me one thing, Quinn, it’s that home is wherever you are.”

  He kissed her then and there, with nary a thought for the opinions of passersby or matrons who might be peering out their windows. He had just drawn back and was searching her face with those audacious brown eyes of his, about to say something, when a buggy drew to a stop on the road beside them.

  “There you are!” chimed a familiar female voice.

  Melissa and Quinn both turned, a bit woodenly, to see Banner smiling down at them from her perch on the seat of the rig. Cinnamon curls framed her face, and her green eyes were dancing with mischievous suppositions. “Kissing on the street. For shame!”

  Melissa laughed and introduced her husband to Adam’s wife, adding, “You remember my mentioning that Banner is a doctor. I believe you said she probably had a face ugly enough to stop a grizzly bear’s heart.”

  Quinn gave Melissa a nudge in the ribs but tipped his hat to Banner. “I’ll be the first to admit to a grievous wrong,” he said suavely.

  Banner smiled and applied herself to the subject at hand. “Katherine has called a meeting, and I’m out trying to round up the family.” She paused and drew a deep breath. “Did you know that Jeff and Fancy have a bed in their front yard? I’m not sure I’m up to asking why.” Quickly she lifted the reins. “I’ll see you at home in a little while,” she said, and then she was gone.

  Melissa had intended to introduce Quinn to Keith and Tess, but the task had become unnecessary now because of the meeting, so they
turned around and set out for the main house.

  Luncheon was being served when they arrived, and they joined Katherine and Harlan, Adam, Fancy, and a very subdued Jeff in the dining room. The children were eating in the kitchen.

  Presently Banner and Tess arrived, but Keith didn’t show up until the meal was nearly over. He greeted Quinn with a grin and a handshake and took his place at the table beside Tess, favoring her with a quick kiss before turning his attention to his mother.

  Katherine stood up, cleared her throat, and said, “Harlan has asked me to be his wife, and I’ve accepted.”

  There was a deep silence, then Melissa, Fancy, Tess, and Banner all burst out with simultaneous congratulations. Several minutes had passed before any of them realized that Katherine’s sons weren’t showing the same kind of enthusiasm, even though none of them seemed surprised.

  Adam looked pensive, as though he might be thinking about a medical problem instead of the subject at hand, but Melissa knew better. Keith, perhaps the most tractable of Katherine’s sons, was gazing off into space, while Jeff, it appeared, would explode shortly.

  He broke the uncomfortable silence. “What do we know about this man?” he demanded, glaring at Harlan. Fancy laid a restraining hand on her husband’s arm, but Jeff shook it away.

  Harlan did not flinch, and his gaze was steady as he regarded Katherine’s middle son. “I love your mother more than my life,” the rancher told Jeff evenly, “and that knowledge will have to suffice for now.”

  Melissa saw respect in Quinn’s eyes as he looked at Harlan, and Keith and Adam were clearly beginning to assimilate the news, but Jeff’s attitude was still coldly relentless.

  For a long time no one spoke, and then Banner jumped determinedly into the conversational breach and said, “Two weddings in two weeks! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “I happen to think so,” Fancy said, ignoring her husband as she spoke. A blush of conviction climbed her cheeks; she was prepared to stand her ground and defend the institution of marriage despite her own problems with Jeff.