“And Jessie Tucker?” she asked. “And Lonnie?”
“Jessie and Lonnie are growin’ faster’n their mas can keep ’em in clothes. You wouldn’t hardly know ’em now. And Esther’s baby, Lincoln, the one you helped birth, is walkin’ and startin’ to talk and he runs the whole household of all them women. The twins still look just alike, all four of ’em.”
“You never thought so. You could always tell them apart.”
He smiled at her, silent a moment and she looked away. It was as if the air between them was charged with thin, brilliant bolts of lightning. At least it felt that way to Linnet.
“And how is your wife?” she asked quietly, hoping to douse the lightning.
“Wife?” he asked incredulously. “What would I be doin’ with a wife? I made it this far without gettin’ a ball and chain, so I figure I can make it the rest of the way.”
She was stunned. “But your child…What of the baby?”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He leaned back against a tree trunk and pulled his knife from its sheath and began to carve on a pine knot.
Linnet sat down heavily on a rotten tree that had fallen across the forest floor. “But what about Corinne?” she continued.
He looked up at her briefly. “Last woman I’d marry would be Corinne. I don’t take Cord’s leavin’s.” He gave her a swift, angry look before returning to the pine knot. “Corinne got married all right and had herself a young’un right after the weddin’, but that was all Jonathan Tucker’s doin’. What made you think I was gonna marry Corinne?”
She braced herself and answered truthfully. “She told me she was going to have your child.”
After a quick, hard look, Devon laughed, the cords in his powerful neck standing out. “Corinne always was a liar. Ever’body knew that. It wasn’t me she wanted but my store. She tried ever’thin’ to get me to—” He stopped and looked at Linnet until her face warmed with embarrassment. “Well, let’s just say it wasn’t possible that she could be carryin’ my baby.”
Linnet only blinked at him and wondered if he wasn’t the liar.
He seemed to read her thoughts and looked away. “I ain’t sayin’ I didn’t fool around with her some, but then a lot of men did. I wouldn’t wanta be in Jonathan’s shoes. But who knows, maybe he’ll straighten her out.”
“Yes, maybe,” Linnet said. She was digesting this information. If only it weren’t too late! But even if Corinne lied, it was Devon who left her alone after he’d made love to her in the forest.
“Now tell me about you. We been talkin’ too much about me.”
“No, we haven’t. You haven’t said a word about you.” She took a deep breath. “You look tired and you’ve lost weight.”
He gazed at her steadily. “I been eatin’ Gaylon’s cookin’—or my own, which is worse. It’s a wonder I have any skin left.”
She suddenly wanted him to go away, to kick him, bite him, kiss him, touch him—No! she must not think that way. She must be as calm as he. “I baked bread yesterday. Would you like to eat some of it?”
He grinned and she felt her heart pound again. “I would love to eat some of your cookin’.” He rose and stood before her but she wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t, not when he was so close.
She moved away from him, and they walked together to the edge of the woods. The first thing Linnet saw was Nettie holding Miranda by the hand. Linnet was astonished and then appalled at herself. She had completely forgotten her daughter. She had no time for explanations, but threw an, “Excuse me,” over her shoulder, lifted her skirts and ran to Nettie.
She was out of breath and gasping when she grabbed Nettie’s arm. “If you’re my friend, if I’ve ever done anything for you, please do this for me now. Do not tell him Miranda is my daughter.”
Nettie looked over Linnet’s shoulder to see exactly who “him” was. She saw a tall, slim, handsome man, with dark hair and…Miranda’s eyes. It didn’t take much intelligence to know who he was.
Devon came to stand beside the two women.
“Nettie, this is Devon Macalister. Everyone calls him Mac.”
Devon lifted one eyebrow at Linnet. So, she didn’t want other people to call him Devon. It was still her personal name for him.
“And this is Nettie Waters.”
Devon inclined his head slightly to the woman.
Nettie bent and lifted Miranda high. “And this is Miranda.” Nettie was very aware of Linnet’s sharp intake of breath, but ignored her as she thrust the baby into Devon’s arms. “Would you like to hold her?”
Devon was surprised. He liked children, but always managed to stay away from the little ones. They seemed to instantly become wet or very noisy. He looked with detached interest at the child in his arms. “Pretty little girl,” he said as he handed her back to Nettie. “Nice eyes.” He didn’t know why she seemed to think that was such a funny remark.
Linnet began talking rapidly, after giving Nettie a fierce look. “I used to know Devon when I lived in Sweetbriar.”
“I didn’t know you lived in Sweetbriar. I thought you came here from Boston.”
“I did, I…” Linnet felt confused. Seeing Devon holding Miranda made her lose what little composure she had. “I’m going to cook some supper for Devon now. I’ll see you later.”
Devon sat at the pine table in the little cabin. It was bigger than the one she had in Sweetbriar but basically the same, except for a high porch in front. “You still haven’t told me about your life here. You’re the schoolteacher?” he asked with his mouth full.
How could he sit there so calmly? How could he hold his daughter and not know who she was? Nice eyes indeed! They were identical to his, the vain, infuriating man! “It’s all right here. The people are different from those in Sweetbriar.”
“I met a man, Butch Gather, down at the store—” He stopped and went to the fireplace to look at the carvings.
“You kept them?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, I kept them.” She could feel her anger rising. What right did he have to come back into her life? She had adjusted to a world without him. There were whole hours when she didn’t even think of him, so what right did he have to come back? “Why are you here?” she demanded.
He sat down again at the table and resumed eating.
“I asked you why you are here and I want an answer!”
He put the chunk of bread down calmly. “I was passin’ through and when I heard an old friend was here I thought I’d stop and say hello.”
“Old friend,” she said, quietly, deadly. “You can sit there just like it was the same, just as if we were in Sweetbriar and I was giving you a reading lesson?” Her voice began to rise, becoming shriller. “You can talk to me calmly after all that has gone on between us? After that night we—?” She felt tears forming. “Well, I can’t!” she shouted. “I left Sweetbriar because I never wanted to see you again, and I still don’t. I want you to leave, to go away from here and never come back. Do you understand me?” She was shouting as loudly as she possibly could, and tears blocked her vision. She ran out the open cabin door and into the woods.
Devon sat quietly at the table, watching her run. She still runs just as slow and clumsy as ever, he thought, then turned back to the food and grinned. It seemed to him that it was the first time in two years he really felt like eating. Too often he had pushed his food away and reached for a jug of whiskey. Right now he had no desire for drink.
So, she did remember him! Spreading the bread with an inch-thick layer of fresh butter, he bit it, then studied the marks his teeth had made in the creamy substance. She thought he’d forgotten that night they spent together. That one night with her had ruined all women for him for the last two years. He’d been to bed with other women but not one of them had made love to him in return, not one of them had—
He smiled and ate another bite of the bread. If she still remembered him so clearly, maybe they could have a little fun before he went back to Sweetbriar and
returned her to the Squire. Lord! What kind of man would allow people to call him “the” Squire? Oh well, it didn’t matter to him as long as he got what he wanted.
Chapter Fourteen
“I THINK IT’S DISGRACEFUL THE WAY SHE BRINGS him here in front of us good Christian folk. Anybody with half an eye can see who he is. Why, that child is the spittin’ image of him,” Jule said.
“An’ her takin’ up with him again, just where she left off before. Butch says he didn’t come back to his room till the wee hours of the mornin’.” Ova stabbed at the quilt, taking stitches much too large.
“What I want to know,” Jule said, “is what we’re gonna do about all this. Spring Lick is a good God-fearin’ community, and I don’t like what’s goin’ on under our very noses. And her the schoolteacher, too. What’s she gonna be teachin’ our children?”
“That’s right,” Ova answered. “A teacher should set an example, and if that’s an example of what she believes is right—well, you know what I mean.”
“I certainly do!” Jule began to sew faster, her voice rising. “I always knew she warn’t no good, always moonin’ up at the Squire.”
“The Squire!” Ova stilled her needle. “We’ve forgotten about the Squire.”
“Now there’s an innocent lamb that needs protectin’.”
“He shore does, and I think someone ought to tell him just what is goin’ on under his very nose.”
Jule and Ova looked at one another.
“It’s our duty,” Jule said.
“As Christian women,” Ova said, and the two women put their sewing things away and went outside, walking briskly toward the Squire’s large log house.
“Mornin’, ladies. It sure is a fine day to be out, isn’t it?”
Ova looked at her feet, suddenly embarrassed, but Jule had no such emotion.
“Squire, I’m afraid we’ve come on some unpleasant business.”
The Squire’s face became serious. “No one is hurt, are they?”
Ova sighed. “That’s just like you to think of someone else’s hurt first. No, I’m afraid the only one to be hurt is you, and we felt it was our duty—”
“Our Christian duty,” Jule interspersed.
“Yes,” Ova continued, “our bounden duty to tell you what’s goin’ on in your own town, own household, so’s to speak, somethin’ you’d be much too kind to ever see.”
“Won’t you sit down, ladies, and let me hear what you have to say?” He indicated the chairs on the porch, and when they were seated, he said, “Now what can I do for you?”
“It’s about that schoolteacher.”
“Linnet?” he asked.
“Yes, Linnet Tyler. At least that’s what she calls herself.”
Jule continued talking. “We were willin’ to overlook a lot of things, such as that baby havin’ no father, at least not in the eyes of the Lord, but when she brings the child’s father to our town and expects us to—”
“What!” The Squire stood, astonished.
“That’s what we said,” Ova added. “She brung the baby’s father here. He’s stayin’ at my Butch’s store now.”
The Squire leaned against a porch post for support. “Ladies, I want you to start from the beginning and tell me about this, every detail.”
Linnet swept the floor of the little schoolhouse. She regretted her actions of the night before, but there was nothing she could do to repair the damage. If she’d only been calm in his presence, then maybe he would have gone away. At least he had been gone when she returned to her cabin, but all night she had felt him near her, as if he still sat at the table and watched her.
“Mornin’, Teach.” Devon stood in the open doorway, reclining against the jamb.
“Good day,” she said as calmly as possible. “What can I do for you this morning?”
He smiled lazily. “Just thought I’d come by and see where you spend so much time.” He roughly thumbed through the big book on her desk. “What’s this?”
“It’s a dictionary. If you don’t know the meaning of a word, you can look in there and find it.”
“That don’t make sense. Why would anybody use a word they don’t know the meanin’ of?”
She gave him a look of disgust. “What if someone said something to you in Shawnee, and you knew what every word meant except one? Wouldn’t you like to have a book where you could look and find the meaning?”
“No,” he answered seriously. “Then I’d have to carry a book like this around. I’d rather ask a Shawnee.”
“But sometimes—,” She stopped when she saw the Squire enter the school.
“Linnet, I’ve just been told we have a visitor to Spring Lick, a friend of yours.”
Linnet stood, a man on each side of her. “Yes. This is Devon Macalister from Sweetbriar, Kentucky.”
“Well, Devon.” The Squire held out his hand.
“Mac!” both Linnet and Devon said in unison.
Devon’s eyes twinkled and Linnet hurried to explain. “He’s called Mac by everyone.”
“Oh,” the Squire said, seeing more than he wanted to see. “Linnet, may I see you outside for a moment?”
“Of course.” She didn’t look at Devon because she knew what he was thinking. His jealousy had torn them apart once, and she had no reason to believe he’d changed.
“Is he the father of your child?” the Squire demanded when they were barely outside the door.
Linnet blinked once in astonishment. “It didn’t take them long.”
“Did you spend last night with him?”
“You mean did I accept him when I’ve turned down the generous offers of every other man in this town? Excuse me, I have work to do.”
The Squire caught her arm. “I brought you here. I paid for you to come here and you owe me—”
“I owe you nothing! I’ve paid your price since what little reputation I had you’ve ruined by letting everyone believe you do spend your evenings with me.” She pointedly looked down at his hand on her arm. “It would hurt you in the eyes of the men if I let it be known I chose a shopkeeper over our next governor, wouldn’t it?” She jerked away from him and briskly walked back to the schoolhouse.
“A lovers’ quarrel?” Devon asked from his place by the door.
“Yes!” she hissed at him. “The Squire is just one of a long string of men I have here. Now would you please get out of my life?”
“You plannin’ to marry the Squire?”
She didn’t bother to answer him but went to her desk.
“I hear he’s pretty rich. He can buy you lots of pretty things.”
She glared at him steadily. “How wonderful since my whole life revolves around silk dresses and maids. Did you know that the house I grew up in was so large you could put every house in Sweetbriar in the dining room? Include the kitchens and you could add most of the gardens of Sweetbriar. As a child I never had to lift a finger to do any work. My father had twelve people hired just to care for me. I had two personal maids, a governess, a cook, two foot men, a driver, a—”
“You had your say. So now you’re gonna marry the Squire and get some of it back.”
“Certainly,” she said, eyes wide.
He studied her silently.
“You must excuse me. I have work to do. I must work for a while longer until someone provides me with the life I’ve always been accustomed to.”
Silently, Devon left the schoolhouse, walked through the town and into the forest.
He sat down heavily on a stump, his head in his hands. Why’d she say all those things when they weren’t true? Lord, but the woman was driving him mad. He’d worked it all out, how he’d rid himself of her when he saw her again, but it was worse now, much worse.
“Mac?”
He looked up to see a woman standing near him. It took him a moment to realize she was Linnet’s friend Nettie.
“Could I talk to you a moment? Miranda, don’t go too far.”
Devon watched the toddler, his mind blea
k.
“I know it’s none of my business, and I’ve been told so several times, but I think you ought to know what’s goin’ on in Spring Lick.”
“I didn’t know anythin’ was goin’ on,” he said.
“I know. But you see, you’re causing a great deal of commotion here.”
“Me? But I don’t even know anybody.”
Nettie smiled at him. She could see why Linnet had fallen for him. “It’s pretty obvious that you and Linnet have known one another rather well.”
He lifted an eyebrow and she laughed. “Miranda, come here to Aunt Nettie. I’d like to show you somethin’.”
The baby walked clumsily to Nettie’s open arms. “You said she was a pretty little girl. Does she remind you of anyone?”
Devon looked from the child to the woman as if she were insane.
“How about her eyes? Ever seen them before? Jule and Ova recognized them right off.”
“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.” Devon was deciding he didn’t like the woman. “And who are Jule and Ova?”
“They’re the town gossips. Gossip and, unfortunately, rather hurtful gossip is their life’s work. If it hadn’t been for them, no one would have cared who was the father of Linnet’s daughter, and she wouldn’t have been such an outcast here with all the men after her.”
“Father! Linnet’s daughter!” he exploded. “She didn’t tell me—”
“No, she didn’t.” Nettie cut him off. “In fact, she’s taken a great deal of trouble to hide her daughter from you. I would suggest you take a real close look at Miranda and then see if you remember seein’ those blue eyes before, maybe in a mirror.”
Devon stared at the child, seeing Linnet’s chin, so often stuck in the air, and his own eyes. “Lots of people have blue eyes, maybe—”
Nettie stood and dumped Miranda into her father’s lap. “You are a stupid man, Devon Macalister. Stay here and get to know your daughter.” Nettie left them alone.
Devon was too stunned to even think. Miranda pulled on the buttons on his shirt, then lost interest, turned and scrambled from his lap. Devon watched her. His daughter! Could it be true that Miranda was his daughter?
Sweetbriar Page 12
