by Jillian Hart
Not this one. Libby sank into the offered chair. “You don’t understand, Maude. I owe Jacob more than I can pay him.”
He’d given her beautiful dreams—for as long as they lasted. She’d wasted all his time corresponding when he could have spent the time finding another woman who would be good enough for Emma. Not that Libby blamed him. Oh, no. She blamed herself for making promises she could not honor, for letting Jacob down.
Maude’s hand covered hers. “It’s a matter you must take up with him. He and I have an arrangement I like. And he’s good to my horse. Have a cookie, now. They’re fresh from the diner, too.”
Jacob secured the Baker’s palomino in his stall, trying not to remember.
“Jacob?” Her voice. Elizabeth’s.
He didn’t realize she wasn’t a dream until he turned. The wide front doors of the bam framed her slim shape, allowing glimpses of Main Street with its dusty boardwalk and painted shop fronts. The hot, early September wind breezed the green fabric of her plain calico dress.
She looked beautiful to him with wisps of honey blond hair whipping around her oval face.
She self-consciously dipped her chin. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“Not at all.” He stepped forward.
“I need to speak to you about my rent.” She tucked her lush bottom lip between her teeth, looking uncertain.
He grabbed hold of the worn-smooth handle of his favorite pitchfork. “Seems to me your rent is a matter you should talk about with Mrs. Baker.”
Her eyes searched his. “I know you are the one, and it has to stop. Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
He wished so much could be different between them. “I’m glad to help out, Elizabeth. You refused my money, if you remember.”
She remembered the heat of his mouth over hers, burning a blessed sensation straight through her belly. In the dim interior of the barn, she could see only Jacob’s shadow. She moved closer. Make him understand how important this is to her.
The comforting scent of wood smoke and new hay filled her nose. The same scent clung to Jacob’s clothes the few times she’d been close to him.
“I want to pay my own way, Jacob. I need to do it.”
Jacob moved toward her with a slow, hesitant gait, gripping his pitchfork. “Maybe I need to help you.”
“But you should be trying to find Emma a mother, not worrying over me.” Although she wanted him to.
“Somebody has to care about you. Have you given a thought to what you will do when that baby comes?”
He eased into the spill of sunshine through the wide stable door. He wore trousers and no shirt. Sweat glistened across the mesmerizing expanse of his muscled chest, touched by the sun.
She had never seen such a chest. She had never seen such a man. He isn’t yours to touch, Libby. Her face hot, she dipped her chin. “I’m getting along considerably well at the boardinghouse, and I’ve found a job.”
“Not as a seamstress,” he corrected, as if he knew all about her position serving men their meals.
“It was the only job I could find. Mr. Oleson offered to hire me as a dancing girl in his saloon, but I had to decline. Apart from my...condition I don’t know how to dance.”
Jacob’s rich chuckle vibrated across her skin. “I know a few dances. My mother taught me.”
“My aunt thought dancing was sinful.” Libby fingered the soft bundle she held. “I suppose the sort of dancing in Mr. Oleson’s parlor might be considered that.”
“The new minister in town thinks so. He’s started to picket some of those establishments.”
“Sometimes the women joining him spill over onto Leah’s front steps and keep away the hotel’s business. It makes her furious.” Libby’s smile faded. “Will you stop giving Maude free board for her horse?”
“No.” His eyes turned somber, pinching thoughtfully in the corners. “You need my help, Elizabeth.”
What kind of woman did he think she was?
“No, I don’t need you,” she said, chin lifted. “I’ve never depended on a man’s generosity, and I’m not about to do it now. I have always managed just fine on my own, no matter what you think of me.”
Face flaming, Libby turned, the bundle in her hands forgotten as she walked as fast as she could toward the street.
“Don’t leave. Please.” His voice echoed in the loft overhead. “Do you have a moment?”
Libby considered his words, then stopped. She couldn’t look back at him. “I was on my way to the hotel.”
“Let me buy you a glass of lemonade over at the diner so we can talk.”
Talk. Libby’s stomach flipped over. Looking at him made her want him. He wasn’t hers to have. “I—I start work soon.”
Jacob nodded, as if that suited him fine, and held up one finger indicating she should wait.
Wait? She should hightail it out of here and put as much distance between them as humanly possible. He didn’t want her, would never love her. But she wanted him to.
Jacob appeared from the back of the stable, now wearing a plain blue muslin shirt, open at the collar. It had been tucked hastily into his trousers and looked sadly wrinkled.
“Has Jane left?”
“What gave you that idea?” He smiled ruefully. “I never learned how to iron. Without Jane, I use the laundry in town, but by the time I get the clothes home, they look like this.”
“What does Emma say about it?”
“She says I ought to get myself a wife. That there’s a nice lady living in town I could ask.” His joke failed. The light left his eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s all right.” But it wasn’t. As they walked the half block together, she felt his gaze stray to her stomach.
He held open the door of the diner and smiled as if... Libby tried not to complete that thought. He was just being polite.
“We’ll have two glasses of lemonade,” Jacob informed the young woman who wandered into sight. “Let’s sit near the window,” he said to Libby.
Libby sat down while Jacob folded himself into a too small chair. The opened window gave her something to look at besides Jacob.
“I guess I really just wanted to know how you are doing. If you need anything.” Concern rumbled in his voice.
And brought tears to her eyes. She blinked hard. “How is Emma doing?”
“She misses Jane. I haven’t found anyone to replace her yet”
Would he find someone to replace me? Libby laid the cloth bundle she carried on the clean table. She waited as the young woman placed two ice-filled glasses between them. Fresh, sour-sweet lemonade scented the air.
“What do you have there?” he asked.
“Something for Emma. If you will let her have them.” Waiting for his rejection, she unwrapped the small bundle of clothes. Folds of happy calico and gingham peeked out from the soft flannel. Aprons. Bonnets. Dresses. Nightgowns. Shoes.
“Elizabeth, I don’t think—” He fisted his hands. “Emma will get her hopes up.”
“Then don’t tell her they are from me. Say you bought them. It’s important to me she has these for her doll.”
“Why?”
Libby rubbed the condensation from the glass. “I had planned to finish the clothes before I arrived, but time got the best of me. It isn’t Emma’s fault I didn’t sew them before I arrived.”
Jacob’s face twisted. “Emma will know they came from you.”
“I see.” All these pretty things. Libby folded the flannel back over the clothes. “The fabric was already cut and would only go to waste. I couldn’t bear that. I didn’t think it would make you angry.”
Jacob raised his gaze to hers. “I’m not angry.”
“Then you’ll give them to her?”
“Yes.” Jacob reached for the bundle. “Emma will be thrilled with these pretty things.”
Thank you. Libby’s throat tightened, and she did not say the words. It was enough to know she would make Emma happy.
“You have a talent.”
His gray gaze caught hers. Held.
Libby longed for his touch. Unable to look away, her heart hammered. “I’m just an ordinary seamstress.”
“Seems with this skill you could find work in town.”
“I just started doing piecework for Mr. Ellington. Mostly altering and mending and hemming. It isn’t much, but enough to fill my Sundays.”
“That’s good.” Jacob wrapped his able fingers around the thick, cold glass and drank deeply.
She sipped the ice-cold lemonade, too. “My time is up. I don’t want to keep Leah waiting. The hotel has been so busy lately.”
“Is she treating you right? Kitchen work can’t be easy.”
She could hear his thoughts. For a pregnant woman like you. Libby looked down. “Leah is a generous boss. I’m lucky to be working for her.”
A flicker built in her heart—the beginnings of hope. Maybe he would look past her pregnancy. Maybe he wanted to marry her for her—the woman with whom he’d exchanged hopes, stories and words from his heart.
Libby stood, fishing for coins in her skirt pocket. “Goodbye, Jacob.”
And it was goodbye.
“It’s my treat.” His firm voice stilled her hand, and he laid an array of small coins on the table.
He cared about her. And it hurt more than his hatred.
“Take care of yourself, Elizabeth.” He stood, his unreadable gaze trapping hers, causing a tingling warmth through every nerve in her body.
He was never going to kiss her again. Libby turned away, not looking back, fighting the weakness for him in her heart.
She’d never ached for a man’s touch. She’d never felt this way about anyone.
Chapter Six
“Miss Hodges! Miss Hodges!” The child’s voice rang like a merry bell above the din of the dusty streets.
Libby turned, her errand forgotten at the sight of Emma Stone, dressed in a white calico dress, trimmed with lace and velvet, racing down the boardwalk, braids flying.
She glanced around for Jacob and relaxed when she saw he was nowhere near. She wanted to see him; she didn’t want to see him.
Emma bounced to a noisy halt on the boardwalk, her brown braids slamming against her back. “I saw you and I just had to come over. I like your dress.”
“And I like yours.”
Emma’s grin flashed.
Libby smiled back. “Don’t tell me your pa is letting you run all over town by yourself.”
“No.” Emma laughed. “I ran away.”
“From your pa?” Confused, Libby glanced down the street. Shoppers traveled from one shop to another, men hauled freight through the busy town.
“I would never run away from Pa.” Emma’s dark bangs lifted in the cool mountain winds. “But I would leave school.”
“School?” She knew there wasn’t a schoolhouse in town; she’d heard a woman in the dry goods store complaining about it.
“Mrs. Holt is a lady who used to be a teacher.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Now she’s got kids and thinks she ought to teach ’em.”
“Oh.” Libby could well imagine Jacob, who seemed so educated, would want his girl to get schooling. “Then I suppose you’re taking lessons in Mrs. Holt’s home.”
“Yes.” Emma sighed, sounding greatly pained. “She makes us sit in her hot parlor that smells like mice because one got stuck in her wall and died.”
Libby’s laughter faded when she spied a fashionably plump blond woman glancing up and down the street. “Is that your teacher? She looks mad.”
“She’s always mad, so I don’t care.” Emma leaned closer. “I saw you through the window and I know I’m not supposed to see you ’cuz you aren’t gonna marry us, but I have to thank you for the new dresses.”
The doll clothes. A warm pleasure sliced through her. “I’m glad you liked them.”
Emma smiled wide enough to light up the sky. “I love them. Did you know Pa made Beth a cradle? Now she has a place to sleep during the day when I’m at school.” Emma wrinkled her nose.
“Emma! Emma Mary!” The angry-looking woman marched closer, barreling up the street like a teamster ready for a fight.
“Looks like I’m in trouble. Gotta go.” Emma’s eyes sparkled as she spun around, running hard. Her stiff braids flew with each pounding step.
“Don’t you dare run away from me like that!” Mrs. Holt’s voice carried above the sounds of the busy town.
“Sorry.” But the girl didn’t sound apologetic.
Libby clutched the package of eggs against her belly. Maybe, if she were lucky, she would have a daughter of her own.
Jacob bolted awake. He’d been dreaming of Elizabeth. Sitting up in bed in the darkness of his room, he could hear himself breathe.
You have to get the woman out of your mind.
It wasn’t easy.
Jacob threw off the covers and limped through the dark. The silent house echoed around him. He opened his bedroom door and waited by Emma’s closed one. Inside she slept soundly. But without a mother’s love.
He’d put off placing another advertisement. He didn’t want another woman. He wanted Elizabeth. Finding a friend in her through their letters and knowing the goodness shining in her eyes told him one thing. He could come to care for her.
Troubled, Jacob sat down at the table, the early autumn air cool at his feet.
He hadn’t dreamed of Elizabeth in a sexual way. Instead, he’d dreamed of her sitting at the diner, the gentle sunshine sloping through the window and brushing golden highlights in her carefully braided hair, her blue eyes luminous, her presence more captivating than a thousand rainbows.
Stop thinking of her. Jacob covered his face with his hands, then remembered kissing her, warm and sweet, her eyes flashing confusion...and desire.
He couldn’t love her. Anger knotted in his gut. No, it wasn’t anger, but fear. Fear because Elizabeth could sneak past the carefully erected defenses around his heart and leave him vulnerable.
A door whispered on its leather hinges.
“Pa?”
He lowered his hands, listening to Emma’s bare feet padding on the varnished floor. He twisted around in his chair to face her.
In the faintest silver moonlight, he saw her grab the back of his chair, her white muslin gown glowing like a ghost.
“What is it, Emma?”
“I can’t sleep.” She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, and he knew she’d been crying.
“Did you have another bad dream?”
“Uh-huh.”
Jacob felt helpless against the weight of his daughter’s nightmares. He tugged out the nearest chair. “Come sit down with me.”
“I miss Jane.” Emma padded over to the chair. “I saw Miss Hodges in town today.”
He heard the want in her voice. “Yes, Mrs. Holt told me you ran out on your lessons.”
Emma’s chin dipped. “I didn’t want to be rude. I had to thank Miss Hodges for Beth’s dresses.”
“I don’t want you running off like that again, do you hear?” Jacob waited for Emma’s solemn nod. She was a pretty little thing, dear to his heart, despite his fears of loving her.
“Mrs. Holt was angry I talked with Miss Hodges.” Emma tugged off her cap and tossed it on the table. “She said I shouldn’t talk to a woman like that.”
“A woman like what?” he demanded.
Emma bowed her head. “A woman who works in a hotel. Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It’s honest work. There’s no shame in that”
What kind of woman was Elizabeth? The same woman he’d corresponded with, sharing stories of his life in Cedar Rock, of working at the livery and trying to raise Emma. The same woman who’d stepped off the stage, so breathtaking he couldn’t force himself to speak to her.
There was no denying it. Afraid or not, he dreamed of her tonight because he ached to hold her again, to taste the heat of her mouth.
“Pa?”
“What?” He turned toward his daughter.
“If I had a
mother, I wouldn’t have no more nightmares.”
He saw through her like glass. “Don’t try matchmaking, missy. Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”
Emma’s chair scraped as she hopped to the floor. She tucked her small, trusting hand within his.
It wasn’t easy being alone. For either him or Emma. Not easy at all.
Jacob tucked his daughter into bed, his heart wooden, his movements stiff. As he handed Emma her rag doll, he thought of Elizabeth. Of the care she’d put into making such a gift.
What a wonderful mother she would have been to Emma. Isn’t that what mattered? Certainly not his fears, not his heart. It was the living again that frightened him. Afraid to step forward, to change his life, Jacob sat a long while in the dark.
“Those men are standing out there like a herd of mindless cattle.” Leah released the curtain at the hotel’s kitchen window.
“It’s becoming a nightly event.” Libby offered her employer a weary shrug.
“That’s what happens when a pretty single woman lands in this town. Every lonely loser thinks he can find a woman to cook for him.”
Libby smiled. “I’d hate to put you out of business, Leah.”
“One skinny woman isn’t about to do that. Are you sure you don’t want another helping? This pot roast is mighty good.”
“That’s because I baked it,” Libby teased, then stood from the small table, intending to rinse her plate.
Deciding to stay in Cedar Rock was the best decision she’d made yet. Why, it was only fortune she’d landed a job here at Leah’s hotel. The free meals were a great bonus, and Leah’s friendship was a blessing. Leah was the only person in town, aside from Jacob, who knew of her condition.
“Do you suppose any of the men out there would make good husbands?”
Libby scrubbed her plate in the basin of soapy water. “I’m not looking for a husband.”
Leah snatched the wet plate out of Libby’s hands. “Your shift is over. No more washing dishes. A woman in your position might be able to find a tolerable husband. There’s Matthew Cain, sitting on the bench across the street. He owns the feed store, you know. He does well for himself, and he looks like a good sort.”
