by Linda Ford
For all her sisters. Juliana, Megan and Nicole had married honorable, loving, God-fearing men. Even Jess had found someone special and believed her beau would soon propose.
Her thoughts turned to Tom, and her smile faded. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a week. True to his word, he hadn’t visited again. His absence left her aching. Not seeing him, all the while knowing he was but a couple of miles away, was torture. Her nights had been dominated with dreams of him…repentant and sad, pleading for her help. She’d woken each morning with a heavy heart.
Have I done the right thing, Lord? Protecting myself at Clara’s expense?
She’d heard from Jessica that Tom had taken her advice and enlisted Mrs. Drummond.
Nicole squinted in the overly bright sunshine. “Who’s that little girl in front of the barbershop? I don’t recognize her.”
Easing forward, Jane searched the length of the boardwalk, seeking out the last business on this side of Main Street. She recognized the pink dress immediately.
“Clara,” she breathed.
“Tom’s niece?”
What was she doing alone, peering into the shop’s window?
“You haven’t met her?”
“They haven’t been to church. I thought at least they’d come into the mercantile.”
“You didn’t see the state of his farm.” Jane stood, reticule swinging from her wrist. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you.”
Ignoring the curious passersby, she walked briskly to Clara’s side, Nicole following in her wake.
“Good morning, Clara.” Crouching to her level, Jane smiled to hide her concern.
She turned from the window. “Miss Jane.”
Spotting Nicole, her petite mouth formed an O. Jane hid a grin. With her raven hair, porcelain skin and unusual eye color, her sister was very beautiful. Her talents as a seamstress meant she was always dressed stylishly.
Once introductions had been taken care of, she said, “Where is your uncle?”
“In there.” The child pointed to the boards beneath her feet. “I’m to wait here and not move.”
“I see.” She straightened. Through the warped glass, she spotted Tom’s unmistakable profile. His back was to the window as he conversed with the barbershop’s new owner. Had he given Mrs. Drummond the morning off while he completed his errands?
“Want to see my hurt knee?”
Clara was pulling up the fabric of her too-small dress. Nicole’s soft, “Oh, my,” was followed by Jane’s sharp exhale. Her entire knee was swollen and an ugly purple color.
“Oh, sweetie—” she squeezed her shoulder “—what happened?”
“I fell outta the tree.”
Dismay skittered through her. A glance at Nicole revealed similar emotions. “Mrs. Drummond allowed you to climb trees?”
“She was sleeping.” Clara’s nose scrunched. “She likes to take lots of naps.”
Jane’s eyes squeezed shut. Guilt flushed through her system.
Nicole poked her ribs. “He’s coming.”
Opening her eyes, she saw the door swinging open.
“Nic, would you do me a favor? Watch her while I speak to him?”
“Sure.” Holding out her hand, Nicole aimed a dazzling smile at her. “Miss Clara, how would you like to come to the store with me and pick out a piece of candy?”
She hesitated, weighing the allure of sweets against the prospect of going with someone unfamiliar.
“It’s okay,” Jane told her. “Your uncle and I will be there in a few minutes to get you.”
Gingerly placing her hand in Nicole’s, she allowed herself to be guided away. Nicole kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way to the mercantile entrance.
“Where are they going?” Tom’s low voice addressed her from behind.
Spinning, she grabbed his hand and tugged him around the corner. “Walk with me.”
“Jane, what—”
“I wish to speak to you. Away from prying eyes.” Fingers interlocking with his, she pointed to the river rumbling behind the businesses. Massive willows, maples and oaks dotted this side of the bank. On the opposite side, the forested mountain rose up sharply.
Tom allowed her to pull him along, his long strides matched to hers. They reached the lone bench and, releasing him, she swept out an arm to indicate he should sit. He didn’t. Instead, he propped his hands on his lean hips and stared her down.
“What’s this about?”
Mirroring his stance, she tried not to notice the way his rich brown hair slid over his forehead and curled about his collar. Tried not to stare at the play of his chest muscles beneath his cream-hued shirt. “When did Clara’s accident happen?”
Understanding dawned, and his arms fell to his sides. “Saturday afternoon.”
“You dismissed Mrs. Drummond, I hope.”
“The whole thing really shook her up. She quit before I had a chance to.”
Jane massaged her temples in an attempt to slow the blossoming headache. “I can’t believe this. I thought… She’s such a dear lady. Adores children. I had no idea she’d neglect Clara.”
This was her fault. Tom had hired Mrs. Drummond on Jane’s recommendation.
What if Clara had broken an arm or leg? Or worse? Her imagination kicked in, and she pictured the little girl balancing on a high limb—
“Hey.” Tom tipped her chin up with his thumb and forefinger. The tenderness in his gaze was almost too much to bear. “I don’t blame you.”
“But—”
“You weren’t there. You couldn’t have known something like this would happen.”
His thumb was grazing her chin, the tip sweeping the outer edge of her bottom lip, making it very difficult to think.
“I should’ve been there. And I will be. I’ll be her caretaker for as long you need to find the right person.”
The motion stopped. He released her chin. “I don’t want you agreeing because of a guilty conscience. Neither you nor Clara would benefit.”
“I want what’s best for her. I want her to be safe and properly cared for.” At his obvious indecision, she voiced the thoughts that had been plaguing her this past week. “I’m sorry for what I said before.”
He stilled, intently examining her face. “What are you referring to, exactly?”
“I know how devastated you were following Megan’s decision to marry Lucian. I understand how impossible it would’ve seemed for you to remain here and stand by while she pledged her life to someone else.” An image of Tom standing in the church with a faceless bride flashed in her mind, and she cringed. No wonder he’d left. “I haven’t been as understanding as I should’ve been. I know you didn’t intend to hurt me or anyone else. You did what you had to do, and I—I can’t fault you for that.”
Stepping close, his pant legs brushing her skirts, he very carefully cupped her cheek. A rogue sigh slipped through her lips. The rasp of his callused palm against her skin wrought a heady feeling inside. If only this didn’t feel like a platonic caress.
“My sweet Janie girl,” he murmured. “The memories of your laughter, your sweet smile, the way things were always easy and fun between us, kept me going this past year. You represented peace and calm at a time when my life was falling apart. I need your friendship.”
Friendship. Not love. Not devotion.
If he guessed how badly she yearned for more, he’d be revolted.
“Friendship,” she croaked. “Always. You have it.”
Encircling his thick wrist with her fingers, she allowed herself scant precious seconds to revel in the contact before tugging his arm down.
When she began spending days at his farm, she’d have to deter these types of gestures. Maintain a reasonable distance. Natural affection had existed between them from the start. He was comfortable expressing that with her, unaware of the devastating effects.
Scooting back, she smoothed her hair and wished for a fan or light breeze to cool her skin. “I’ll be at your cabin first thing tomorrow mo
rning. I’ll have to speak to Jessica. She may wish to divide our work whenever possible.”
His gaze had followed the slide of her fingers over her hair and was now brighter than usual. Indefinable emotion crossed his features before he twisted away to observe the glide of brown-feathered ducks across a smooth section of water.
“I’m fine with whatever you decide.” Clearing his throat, he turned back. “You’re welcome to use my supplies. I’ve come today to stock my kitchen.”
“Thanks, Tom. I’ll bring my own, but there may be instances when I forget something and have to borrow something of yours. And don’t worry, I’ll clean up after myself.”
A slow grin tilted his lips. “As long as you let me sample your creations, I don’t mind a mess.”
*
Orange streaks of dawn were stretching across the lightening sky when Jane arrived on his doorstep the next morning. The sight of her filled him with confidence that everything would work out. Clara would be safe and happy. He could tend his responsibilities without worrying about her.
Still in the process of dressing, he opened the door in his stocking feet.
She stared at his snug undershirt and flushed to the roots of her hair. “I brought breakfast.” She indicated the basket looped over her arm. “I have more things in my wagon.”
Flicking a glance behind her at the now-cleared yard, his fingers went to the buttons on his outer shirt and nimbly started fastening from the bottom up. “I’ll bring everything in and then see to your horses.” He waved her in. “I don’t expect you to provide breakfast for us, you know.”
“I came early today because I forgot to ask what time Clara usually wakes.” She placed her burden on the table, looking at everything except him. “Is she still sleeping?”
Choosing the nearest chair, he sat and tugged on his boots. “She’s in the bedroom. The plan was for her to sleep in here.” He jerked a thumb at the bed tucked against the opposite wall and separated from the room by a quilt divider. “I couldn’t convince her she’d be safe by herself, so I fixed her a pallet on the floor in my room.”
“She’s still adjusting to the change. Give her time.” She tucked a pin deeper in her upswept tresses. “Jessica decided to work from home. We’ll be splitting the orders. It’s easier for her.”
“Like I said, I’m fine with whatever the pair of you work out.”
Fiddling needlessly with the handle, slender body drawn tight as a bow, she reminded him of a skittish deer, ready to bound away if he made a sudden move. Considering their history, it struck him as strange that she’d be uncomfortable in his home. Wasn’t as if they hadn’t spent time alone together.
He frowned. Had she perceived his thoughts yesterday down by the river? He was quickly learning there was no such thing as a casual touch where Jane was concerned. Not anymore. Being that close to her, exploring her petal-soft skin, had him entertaining wild ideas about her and him. Ideas that had absolutely nothing to do with friendship.
He had to get a handle on this. Especially now that she would be spending her days here.
“Did you forget your razor in Kansas?”
Dropping his booted foot to the floor with a thud, he laughed outright. Scraped a hand over his unshaven cheeks. “What? You don’t like the scruffy look?”
“It suits you.” She shrugged, cheeks pinking again. “I was just wondering… Never mind.”
Spinning away, she went to the wall-mounted shelves above the dry sink and chose three plates.
Tom stood. “Wondering what?”
She set the plates on the tabletop and started to peel away the cloth covering on her basket. He covered her hand to stop the movement, quickly removing it when she stiffened.
“You can’t start something and not finish it,” he cajoled with a smile. “Tell me.”
He could see that she wished she’d kept quiet, and his curiosity was piqued.
“You were gone a long time. Jessica mentioned you might have someone special there. I wondered if you did and if she’s the reason for your new look.”
Surprised by the question, he hastened to lay down the facts. “The truth of the matter is, there wasn’t much socializing going on. The ranch isn’t close to town. We attended church, of course, and a handful of socials, but that’s about it. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind in the beginning. And then Jenny took sick…”
He shook his head to dislodge the memories. He’d never felt so helpless. He could do nothing to stop his sister-in-law’s worsening health. Nothing to prevent his brother’s slow unraveling. “The answer to your question is no. There’s no one special in my life.”
Busy doling out boiled eggs, sausage slices and biscuits, she spoke without looking at him. “I told Jessica that Megan was the love of your life and that you were ruined for anyone else.”
He jerked his head back.
The love of his life? He’d thought so at the time, hadn’t he? “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Slowly, she lifted her face, dark eyes full of questions. “You wouldn’t?”
“Seeing Charles and Jenny together made me realize something. If Megan had chosen me, she would’ve been settling for something less than real, abiding love. Sure, she loved me as a friend, but that’s not what I want. I want someone who’s as crazy about me as I am about her.”
“Oh. I—I see.”
She bent her head. Once again, she’d scraped her hair into a schoolmarm bun. He was starting to think of their first encounter as a dream. With her lustrous red mane flowing free, she’d been gloriously unreserved. He found himself thinking of possible ways to shake that reserve.
“Am I making any sense?” he said.
It wasn’t often he spoke of such private matters, but he could tell Jane anything and not worry she’d laugh or criticize. She used to feel the same about him. His absence had driven a wedge between them. A chasm he didn’t know how to cross.
“Yes.” She took her time arranging the settings. “Perfect sense.”
A sleepy, tousled Clara entered the room then, putting an end to the conversation. Just as well. He sensed Jane’s discomfort and figured she’d appreciate a break from him.
As he prepared to head to the barn and milk Belle, he remembered she once hadn’t found his presence upsetting. These unexpected, and unwelcome, developments troubled him. He’d known his return wouldn’t be without challenges…he just hadn’t counted on Jane O’Malley being one of them.
Chapter Eight
Jane breathed easier once Tom left for the barn. His disheveled state when he’d first answered the door—his hair falling in his eyes, the stubble on his cheeks and chin making the contours of his mouth more noticeable, undershirt outlining the lean musculature of his torso—had jolted her with the energy of a lightning bolt.
Being in his home, in the early morning stillness and without Clara as a buffer, had imbued their interaction with a false sense of intimacy. Far too easy for her to envision living here. Sharing breakfast with him every morning.
Stay strong. Stay practical. He’s just a companion. A pal. One who needs my help.
“Let’s get you dressed, sweetheart. Then we can eat.”
Blearily rubbing her eyes, Clara padded into the cabin’s only bedroom. Jane hesitated to enter. This was Tom’s private domain. It couldn’t be helped, however.
Inside the generous-size room, she discovered he hadn’t had the opportunity to put his stamp on the space. His mother’s trinkets, photographs and jewelry box cluttered the plain wooden dresser. The tall wardrobe still held his mother’s dresses and shawls. Certainly the feminine bed quilt, dominated by whimsical rose, green and cream flowers, was Edith Leighton’s creation. Three massive trunks lining the interior wall contained his and Clara’s clothing and other sundries.
“Which one of these holds your things?” Her fingers skimmed the metal bands on the nearest trunk.
Clara pointed to the last one. Jane hefted the heavy lid open, the distinct scent of cedar wafting
upward, and took stock of the contents. There wasn’t much to choose from, as most of the dresses were faded and clearly too small for the child. Thankfully Tom had enlisted Nicole’s services. After their chat yesterday, he’d returned to the mercantile and chosen enough fabric for five everyday dresses, a pair of nice ones for church and several nightgowns.
“How about this one?”
They agreed on a solid navy blue. Jane assisted her into it, careful of her bruised knee, then directed her to sit on the bed while she brushed her curls. Clara bit her lip when the brush caught on a snarl.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be more gentle, all right?”
Carefully untangling the soft strands, she wondered how long Tom had had the sole care of his niece, seeing to every need, soothing hurts, both emotional and physical. Her admiration for him increased tenfold. Never one to shirk responsibility, he’d cared for her as if she were his own daughter.
She’d just finished tying the matching ribbon in Clara’s hair when the main door opened and closed and his heavy tread crossed to the kitchen. “Your uncle’s brought in the milk. Are you hungry?”
“What are we having?” She slid off the bed, cautious green eyes fixed on Jane.
“Biscuits, sausage and eggs.”
“I’m very hungry.”
Unable to hide her amusement, Jane was still smiling as they emerged. Tom lifted the milk pail onto the counter and, with a quick glance at his niece, answered her smile with a wide one of his own. Gratitude shone in his bright gaze.
Breakfast was a relaxed affair. There was one tense moment when he blessed the meal and expected them all to join hands. His grip had been gentle, palm dry and warm against hers, and Jane hadn’t heard a single word of his prayer.
Before he returned to his chores, he showed her the pinto beans he’d left to soak overnight. “We can have these for lunch, if you don’t mind fixing them. There are onions and enough meal for a skillet of corn bread. I believe your aunt supplied several jars of sauerkraut, as well.”
“Of course I don’t mind. Feeding us all is part of my job.”
His mouth kicked up in a lopsided smile, and he ran his hand down the length of her arm. “What would I do without you?”
