by Linda Ford
“Then what’s bothering you?” Unable to stop himself, he traced his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. “I miss your smile, Jane. Your laugh. I can’t promise I can fix the problem, but I can offer advice.”
She started to speak, thought better of it, he supposed, because she leaned out of reach and hurriedly locked the lost journal in her satchel with her latest one.
“This problem can’t be fixed, so there’s no point talking about it.”
She charged down the hill, and he had no choice but to follow.
*
What kind of problem didn’t have a solution?
Tom worried the issue the entire way.
Jane wasn’t talking. Lost in her own private world, she struck him as decidedly uninterested in having him join her.
Was it financial in nature? Few families in the area were wealthy, but he’d thought her family was doing fine, especially now that Lucian and Quinn had joined the fold. Neither man would let a need go unfulfilled. Perhaps he should approach Josh about it.
Not paying attention to his exact route, he discovered too late that he’d led them back to the spot where he’d found her writing. The only way across this deeper part of the stream was the log bridge.
Jane registered that fact about the same time as he did. Pensive, she pivoted in the opposite direction.
He caught her elbow and gently spun her around. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not in the mood for an out-of-the-way detour. Cross the bridge with me. It’s not dangerously high, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Indecision played across her expressive features. “I might fall. Twist my ankle. Break a leg. The possibilities are endless…” He could practically see what her imagination was conjuring up. “No, it’s too risky.”
“Or you might cross without a single mishap.” He stopped her escape with both hands on her shoulders. “Sometimes risks are worth taking, Jane.”
Her nostrils flared. And there, in the deep, swirling green of her eyes, he spotted a flicker of the spirited friend he missed.
Lips pursed, she averted her face to study this quiet, out-of-the-way section of the O’Malleys’ property. He waited, knowing not to push her. Either she’d agree or she wouldn’t.
In shadow, the stream had a brown-green hue, and in light patches, he could see straight through to the bottom where thousands of tiny pebbles littered the streambed. Minnows darted every direction. Close to where they stood, a black-and-red salamander scurried beneath a mossy rock.
“It is a very short span to the other side,” she conceded.
“Less than ten steps, I’d guess. A whole lot quicker than the other route.”
Touching the satchel resting against her hip, she frowned. “I’m not sure I can balance with this.”
“Easy. I’ll take it across and come back for you.”
She stared at his outstretched hand as if it was the rattlesnake they’d encountered earlier.
“I’m not going to undo the clasp, much less try and read your journals. I have a feeling you’d find a way to get over there and punish me if I did.”
A ghost of a smile graced her mouth. “You’re right. I would.”
He returned her smile. When she’d relinquished her precious belongings to him, he quickly traversed the natural bridge and left it on the opposite bank. He rejoined her.
“Want me to go first and you hold on to me?”
“I’ll go first. That way you’ll see if I start to fall.” Raising her skirts to reveal a snowy-white petticoat, she climbed onto the medium-size log without his assistance. Graceful, spine stiff, shoulders set.
“Take it slow, okay? I’ll be close.”
Her arms held out at her sides for balance, Jane carefully placed one foot in front of the other. “This isn’t so bad.” Her voice was higher than normal.
“You’re doing great.”
Approximately five feet below them, pond skater insects rippled across the water’s surface. This section of the stream came to about midthigh, and it was free of large rocks. Gaze returning to Jane, he noticed the slight tremor in her arms and wondered if he was right in pushing her to do this.
They were halfway to solid ground when her foot slipped. “Oh!” Before he could react, she teetered wildly to the left. “Tom!”
He snagged a bit of material between her shoulder blades, but it wasn’t enough to halt her downward motion. She landed sideways in the water. He jumped in after her.
Jane came up spluttering, sections of sodden hair hanging in her face.
Tom steadied her, bracing himself for a stinging rebuke. Or a glare that could freeze his eyelashes.
What he didn’t expect was a face full of water. Laughter burst out of her, an exuberant, carefree sound that enveloped him, tickling his ears. With a half growl, half laugh, he retaliated, and an intense water fight ensued. They scooped and splashed. Circled each other like warring animals, each trying to gain the advantage.
“Stop!” she panted minutes later, one hand pressed against her midsection and the other extended to ward him off. “I can’t catch my breath.”
He was suffering a similar condition. Water dripped from his wet hair, slid under his collar and along his spine. He was soaked clean through. His body hummed with energy and, in this moment, he felt more alive, happier than he had in years.
This was the girl he remembered. The one he’d missed.
The fitted bodice and scalloped skirts of Jane’s dress bore evidence of their antics. Her hair hung in thick, wet ropes about her shoulders. Moisture sprinkled her forehead and cheekbones. Her plump lips were parted, sucking in air, and her eyes sparkled with vitality.
She was magnificent.
“Welcome back, old friend.”
Without thinking, he reached for her upper arms and pulled her close, intending to kiss her cheek. Only his aim was wrong. He landed squarely on her mouth.
She stilled. He froze. His heart slammed against his chest cavity. Blood roared through his ears. Conscious thought went up in smoke…and just that fast, he was kissing Jane O’Malley.
It was a hesitant, tender exploration. Jane blossomed under his attention, meeting his advance with surprising willingness, fingers twisting in his sodden shirt. His hands slid up and into her hair to cradle her head.
Jane was sweet wonder and delightful discovery in one package. She yielded to him, soft and giving, not questioning his sanity or hers.
Until her palms went flat against his chest and shoved. Unprepared, he stumbled back.
“Jane?”
Stricken, she lifted trembling fingers to her lips. “I wish you hadn’t done that.” Her voice was an anguished whisper.
Jerkily gathering up her puffy skirts, she made for the bank.
“Wait!” He sloshed through the water. “I’m sorry!”
Are you? an irritating voice inside his head demanded. Are you really?
“It wasn’t planned,” he called after her, cringing at the way that sounded. “It didn’t mean anything.”
Up on the level ground, she whirled on him, bristling with anger. “That’s right, Tom. It didn’t mean anything to you. So why do it at all?”
Stunned, regret making him ill, he let her go.
He didn’t notice Jessica until she emerged from the tree line. “Jess.” Slogging up the slight incline, he shoved the hair out of his eyes and tried to gauge her mood. She could be a firecracker at times. But she struck him as more resigned than outraged. “I suppose you witnessed what happened.”
“I saw enough.”
“You know that I’d never intentionally upset your sister.”
“Intentional or not, you have. She doesn’t deserve anymore heartache on account of you.” A sad sort of laugh escaped. “The thing is, Tom, you just don’t understand O’Malley women. You messed up with Megan. And now you’re doing it again with Jane.”
Spinning on her heel, she left him there to stew over her parting words.
Chapter Twelve
“Jane, talk to me.” Taking hold of her hand, she pulled her around, visibly worried. “I saw what happened. I know you’re hurting.”
“I don’t wish to discuss it.” Scanning the woods, she was relieved to find them empty.
“It might help to sort through your feelings. For what it’s worth…” She trailed off, uncharacteristically reticent.
Jane studied her sister’s face. To other people, the idea of having an exact copy of oneself walking around was eerie. Strange. Her twin was part of her, however. They shared a unique bond only other twins could understand.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Say it.”
Hands folded behind her back, Jess scraped the toe of her boot across the forest floor. “He looked to be as affected as you.”
Jane shook her head, squashing the little leap of satisfaction her words elicited. “He said it didn’t mean anything.”
Jess didn’t blink. “I don’t believe him.”
Closing her eyes tight, hands fisting at her sides, she fought to tamp down the emotions raging like a rain-swollen, out-of-control river inside. That kiss… His embrace…
She’d been too shocked to respond at first. Then her buried feelings for him had burst forth, sweeping away reason and caution. Being held in his strong arms, his firm lips pressed to hers, had fulfilled every wistful daydream she’d dared to entertain. Exceeded, actually. No daydream could ever match the delightful reality of his touch.
It didn’t mean anything.
Pain licked at her like relentless, searing-hot flames, Tom’s expression taunting her. Shock, as if he couldn’t quite fathom that he’d kissed her. And worse, regret. He must’ve been so disappointed.
Another thought struck her. Was he comparing her to her sister? Megan had told her he’d kissed her once, right after proposing marriage. A brief one, because Megan hadn’t responded, her heart full of love for Lucian.
Nauseous, she swept a hand down the front of her dress. “I have to change out of these wet clothes.”
Jane wasn’t surprised when Jessica fell into step beside her. They didn’t speak for long moments. Sidestepping a tree stump, she glanced at Jess’s profile. “Have you allowed Lee to kiss you?”
Her bark of laughter startled a pair of doves.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m surprised you have to ask. Does he strike you as the shy type?”
“Not at all,” Jane said drily. “So…how do you know if he…” Hot color rushed to her cheeks, and she couldn’t finish. Too embarrassing to voice aloud.
Bending to avoid getting swatted in the face by a branch, Jess arched a brow. “Believe me, Tom wasn’t disappointed. A herd of elephants could’ve stomped through that stream, and he wouldn’t have noticed.”
What did it matter, anyway? He didn’t plan on doing it again. And she had to make sure he stood by that. She was barely hanging on as it was.
Through the thinning trees, the main cabin came into view. Lee’s wagon was still parked in front of their uncle’s barn. Tom’s, too.
Jessica put out a hand. “I’m not sure it’s wise for you to continue working for him. It’s not healthy. How are you ever going to be open to another man’s love if you’re spending most of your time with Tom?”
“I can’t abandon Clara. Besides, he’s searching for a replacement.”
“Is he?” She cocked her head to one side, considering. “Has he mentioned possible candidates? Has he brought anyone over to introduce them to Clara?”
“No.”
“The truth is, he’s comfortable having you around. He’s not going to be in a hurry to lose you.”
Bracing her hand against a tree, she hung her head, the impossibility of it all weighing heavily on her shoulders. “Perhaps the best solution is to give him a time limit. I’ve been thinking recently that a visit to Aunt Althea would do me good.”
Their mother’s sister lived in the nearby town of Maryville. A childless widow, she sent frequent letters requesting her nieces’ presence. It had been at least a year since they’d seen her.
Jessica sighed. “While a change of scenery would be beneficial, I worry that once there, you might decide to stay for good.”
Keeping up this pretense with Tom was draining the joy and peace from her soul. While the prospect of permanent escape held appeal, she could never leave her family and friends and start over in a different town.
“Gatlinburg is my home. All I need is enough time to get my thoughts sorted out.”
Far away from Tom Leighton.
*
Instead of lying in bed and shutting out the world as she longed to do, Jane climbed Tom’s porch steps Monday morning and prayed she could pull off another believable performance.
But when the door creaked open, it wasn’t Tom who’d answered her summons. Still in her nightgown, dark hair mussed, Clara bounced from foot to foot on the worn rug.
“Morning, Miss Jane.”
Masking her confusion, she stepped quickly inside and shut the door. “Is your uncle in the barn?”
Up until today, Tom had always greeted her in the mornings. Was he avoiding her because of the kiss?
“He’s in bed.”
Anxiety instantly flared. Glancing at the closed bedroom door, she put her belongings on the table. “Is he sick?”
“His head hurts.”
Flopping into one of the chairs, Clara picked up a half-eaten biscuit. Strawberry jam was slathered across the golden crust. A glass of milk had been poured.
“Did you help yourself to breakfast?”
“Uncle Tom doesn’t like for me to be in the kitchen alone.” Her dubious look would’ve been comical if not for Jane’s mounting concern.
“I’m going to look in on him while you finish eating, okay?”
“’Kay.”
Slowly pushing open the door, Jane hesitated on the threshold of the dark room. When her eyes adjusted, she saw his prone form beneath the flower-emblazoned quilt.
She shouldn’t disturb him. But he might need something to drink or medicine or her gentle touch in his hair.
“Tom?”
Her advance into his private space was tentative, halting.
His head shifted on the pillow. “Hey.” Weariness wove through his voice. “Sorry I couldn’t greet you.”
She took up residence at his bedside, staring down at his taut features. “What’s wrong?”
“Another headache.” He tried to smile and failed. “Tried to push through it. Had to lie down before the dizziness overtook me.”
Before she could stop herself, Jane placed her palm against his forehead. “No fever. That’s good.”
“I’m not ill,” he murmured. “It’ll pass soon enough, and I can get back to work.”
Gingerly threading his dark hair off his face, she wished she could erase his discomfort. Tom didn’t like to be idle. Considering the volume of chores awaiting him, it was no wonder he was displeased with this setback.
His lids drifted shut. “Is Clara still eating?”
“She is. You could’ve asked her to wait until I arrived. She wouldn’t have minded.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, little girls with empty stomachs aren’t exactly a pleasure to be around.”
Jane folded her hands at her waist when she would’ve liked to continue stroking his hair.
Tom opened his eyes, and they gleamed up at her. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
Deliberately mistaking his meaning, she strove for a flippant air. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He frowned. “We can’t ignore what happened, Jane.”
“We can talk about it later.” Picking up the empty glass on his bedside table, she said, “I’ll go and get you some more water. Is there any medicine you’d like for me to bring you? An herbal infusion to help the headache?”
“Not r
ight now.” He sighed, turning onto his side to face her, one hand slipping under his cheek. “I’m going to try and sleep it off.”
“Call if you need anything.”
His gaze was fixed on her face. “Thank you, Jane. It means a lot that you’re here.”
She reluctantly left him. Lingering at the table, Clara had her glass tilted up and was trying to get every last drop of milk. Jane noticed the brimming milk pail on the counter, the basket of eggs beside it. He’d done chores despite not feeling well. Pushed himself to the edge of his endurance. Seen to Clara’s needs before his own.
Her heart melted. The admiration she had for him swelled to immeasurable proportions. This man she loved was special. One of a kind.
The kiss had been an aberration. His goal had been to get her to have fun. To forget her troubles. To recapture the adventures they used to share. He hadn’t meant to upset her. He’d been as shocked as she.
His request for his favorite dessert replayed in her mind.
She could bake him a cake. It wouldn’t make his physical discomfort go away, but it would lift his spirits. Clara would be thrilled to be included.
Riffling through his drawers and cabinets, she located all the ingredients except for currants. Since leaving him to go to the mercantile was out of the question, she decided to double the amount of raisins.
She and Clara worked together all morning. Jane checked in on Tom every half hour, relieved to find him sleeping soundly. Clara was building a fort from a set of wooden blocks they’d unearthed, and Jane was stirring the chicken soup she’d put together for lunch when he emerged.
She looked up and there he stood, scruffy, sleep tousled and far too hug-worthy.
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better.” His smile warmed her through and through. Padding closer in his stocking feet, he sniffed the pot’s contents. “Mmm. Smells good. I didn’t eat breakfast, so I’m starving.”
Deliberately not breathing in the wonderful, woodsy scent that clung to his clothes, she retrieved a stack of bowls. Turning back, she saw that he’d noticed the rectangular cake in the middle of the table. His brows lifted. “What’s that? Something for the café?”
Clara piped up from her spot on the center rug. “It’s for you, Uncle Tom! Miss Jane and I baked it.”
