by Kit Morgan
“Quite a few folks getting off the train were probably strangers – or at least people who hadn’t been in town for a while, like myself.”
“This should be simple, but it’s not,” Jace groused. “Almost wish I had a pretty gal to distract me.”
“I told you, she’s not a distraction.”
Jace laughed.
Fletcher rolled his eyes. “All right, maybe a little.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Jace asked as he got his amusement under control.
“What can I do about it? Ignore her. Not completely – that would be rude – but enough to keep my mind on things. For her own protection, I can’t leave her completely alone …”
“She won’t be completely alone, especially not if she’s staying at your grandparents’ house. She is still there, isn’t she?”
Fletcher nodded. “For now. I just have this nagging feeling that something bad is going to happen if I don’t keep an eye on her.”
“Then why don’t you stick close to her and leave the investigating to me? You were the one that brought up the possibility of the murderer coming for Miss Baxter if he felt threatened.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Fletcher said with a grimace. “You and I both know that’s a possibility.”
“You’re quite right,” Jace walked around the desk, opened the top drawer and pulled out a deputy’s badge. “So why don’t I have you just handle that? As my deputy.”
“What?”
“This way you can protect Miss Baxter officially. And once word gets around town that a deputy’s been assigned to her, the murderer is less likely to make a move, don’t you agree?”
Fletcher opened and closed his mouth a few times, but words escaped him. On the one hand, his inner detective wanted to solve this mystery and keep Sophie safe. But if he was working on investigating, he had to stay focused, which meant not being around Sophie. He had to choose – play detective, or protect her.
Though now, it looked like Jace was making the choice for him, which irked him. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m not sure of anything at this point, other than whoever murdered Jasper Munson was very clever. They set Miss Baxter up as a distraction, that much we know. But it didn’t work.”
“Which means they’re probably still here in Independence,” Fletcher added.
“Which, in turn, means they’re after something. The question remains, what?”
Fletcher ran a hand over his face again. He wanted to protect Sophie something awful - perhaps more than he should. But he wanted to help Jace as well.
“It’s late,” Jace said. “Why don’t you go home, sleep on it?”
“Home,” Fletcher echoed. “You know, my father spoke with me this evening after supper. He and my mother are thinking of moving into the big house with my grandparents. They want me to take over their house.”
“So you’re staying?” Jace asked.
Fletcher shook his head. “I don’t know. If I did, what would I do?”
“You’re a lawyer. Open your own office.”
“So is my father. Independence needs two lawyers like a hole in the head.”
“Yeah, I see your point.” He watched Fletcher a moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, you could always get married.”
“Married? With no means of supporting a wife?”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea. Elections are coming up this year, and your grandpa is getting a little long in the tooth. If he’s willing to step aside, why not run for mayor? You’re qualified, and you’d be keeping City Hall in the family.”
“What? Are you out of your mind – run for mayor? Why, that’s the …” Fletcher suddenly sobered. “… huh. It’s a thought.”
“Or have your daddy run for mayor and you take over his practice. Sounds perfectly logical to me.”
Fletcher gaped at him. Why hadn’t any of the men in his family thought of that? Probably because there wasn’t a need to before. His return and Miss Baxter’s predicament tipped the scales. “Sophie …” he whispered to himself. He stood, plucked his hat off the table and headed for the door.
“A simple thank you would be nice,” Jace called after him.
The door closed behind Fletcher as he stepped onto the boardwalk. “Thank you!” he yelled back.
“You’re welcome!” came the muffled reply from the other side of the door.
The following morning, after a quick trip to the sheriff’s office, he told Sophie of Jace’s offer. “You want to do what?” she asked, not sure she’d heard him right as they entered the parlor and sat.
“Spend the entire day with you.”
“But … I thought you didn’t need my help,” she said, confused.
“Sheriff Diamond and I agreed this was the best course of action,” Fletcher explained, polishing the star now pinned to his lapel. “I’ll protect you, while he does his best to solve this mess.”
Great, she thought. Just when she’d talked herself into leaving town. Now he’d be dogging her every step. Worse, if she was this attracted to him now, what was it going to be like after spending a few more days with him? She fanned herself at the thought.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, yes … I’ll be fine.” She got up from the sofa, went to a sideboard and poured herself a glass of water. She drained it, set it down and put a hand to her chest.
Fletcher was at her side in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
She looked up into those wonderful gray eyes. How could she tell him? No, Fletcher, I am definitely not all right, because you’re quickly becoming the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. They’d barely spent any time together – how could she fall in love with him so quickly? Or fall in love with this town, for that matter?
She smiled tentatively. “Don’t worry about me, Fletcher. I’m all right.” But the husky sound of her voice indicated to her that she was more than all right. Good grief, she’d better get a grip on herself and fast.
He gazed into her eyes and drifted closer to her – or was she moving toward him? “Are you sure?” he asked, that gentle tone of his wrapping around her and drawing her in.
She nodded numbly, unable to speak. For Heaven’s sake, why couldn’t she talk?
He took a step closer. Another and they would be touching. He had her pinned between his body and the sideboard. “I can have Betsy bring you something to eat.”
Sophie shook her head, her eyes locked on his. “Fletcher …” At least she’d found her voice, sort of.
Fletcher swallowed hard as his eyes roamed her face. “Sophie,” came out a tender whisper.
It was her undoing – and his. Later, she wasn’t sure who’d made the last move. Maybe they’d fallen toward each other at the same time. Who cared? All she knew was that his lips were searing hers as his arms wrapped around her waist and her hands locked behind his neck. His body was lean and hard, and any doubts she might’ve had about Fletcher being able to protect her quickly vanquished.
When they finally broke the kiss, her eyes darted to the sideboard and her empty glass. She could use some water now, but was too weak to pull away and reach for the pitcher. Not that she really wanted to …
“Sorry … so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” Fletcher said, his breathing heavy.
Or was that hers? “Why not?” she gasped without thinking.
Fletcher groaned. “Consarnit …” His lips descended on hers again. This kiss was different, more demanding, hungry. To her horrified surprise, she returned it with matched intensity. What was happening to her? Why was she acting so … so …?
“Sophie …,” he moaned against her mouth.
“Fletcher …”
“Fletcher!”
Fletcher and Sophie jumped apart as Grandpa Vander entered the parlor from the foyer, seemingly oblivious to their ardor, a sheaf of papers in his hands. “I’m telling you, your idea is the most splendid thing I’ve ever heard!”
Still panting, Fletc
her and Sophie both reached for the water pitcher at the same time. Fletcher got there first, and he poured a glass of water and handed it to her. She smiled back in gratitude and a little fear.
His grandfather kept talking. “Mayor Fletcher Vander!” he said, sweeping a hand through the air. “‘Son of his grandfather’ – just like old President Harrison!”
“Mayor?” Sophie squeaked.
“Credit where it’s due,” Fletcher replied, pouring a glass of water for himself. “It was Sheriff Diamond’s idea.” He took a few good gulps.
“And a wonderful idea it is!” his grandfather stated. “You know, I never thought the day would come when I’d say this, but I’m tired of being mayor of this town. I think I’ve been tired for a long time.”
“You could’ve retired whenever you wanted,” Fletcher said.
“I tried, several times, but no one else wanted to run. We both know your father didn’t.”
Fletcher reached over and gave Sophie’s free hand a squeeze, making her want to melt into a puddle. “It’s true,” he said before taking another sip. “My father just wants to practice law.”
“And what about you?” Sophie asked.
“I hadn’t given it a thought until Jace said something last night. I do need a job.”
“Well, better think about it now,” Grandpa Vander bellowed. “Because I’m nominating you!”
“But Grandpa … no matter how much we like the idea, I don’t really know much about being mayor. All I’ve done is watch you do it.”
“Same as anyone else who’d run, boy! Besides, there’s not much to it. Keep the accounting books – though your grandmother pretty much does that – make sure things are in order and give speeches now and then. This isn’t the big city – it’s not that hard.”
“But the people love you, not me. What if I can’t win them over?”
Grandpa Vander put an arm around him and winked at Sophie. “You forget, you’re a Vander. Once you’ve made the decision to run, they’ll see it, and they’ll want you to be their new mayor.”
“But what if someone runs against me?”
Grandpa Vander laughed like rolling thunder. “Nonsense – they’ve had the chance for decades! Face it, my boy, no one wants the job – mostly because they’ll have to get good at speechifying.”
Fletcher raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh. Sophie too pressed her lips together to stifle a chuckle. Betsy had informed her last night after Fletcher left that Mayor Vander was well-known for his elaborate and entertaining public pronouncements.
“I’m so excited, I’m going to run over to the church and tell your grandmother.” He started to leave, turned and smiled at Sophie. “May I escort you there, young lady? You’re helping with the decorations again today, aren’t you?”
Sophie’s eyes gravitated to Fletcher’s, and it was all she could do to turn back to the old man again. “Yes, I am.” She looked back at Fletcher, who seemed like he was going to kiss her again. “Are … you coming?”
He gave her hand another squeeze – she’d forgotten he was holding it. “I won’t leave your side, Sophie Baxter,” he rasped.
“Wonderful!” His grandfather boomed. “I’ll go get my hat.” He left the parlor, stopped in the foyer and turned to the young couple. “Perhaps I should take my time?”
“Grandpa!” Fletcher said, thoroughly scandalized.
“I’ll take that as a yes!” His grandfather headed for the stairs.
Fletcher watched his grandfather hobble up the stairs and slowly turned to face Sophie, who stared at him in shock. He closed his eyes as if to wipe that look away. What have I done? He thought to himself. Followed quickly by Fletcher, you idiot!
When he opened them, she’d turned her back to him. “Sophie, I’m sorry. I’ve acted … less than a gentleman.” He went to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
She shrugged it off and stepped away. “I think I had better leave,” she said breathlessly – because he’d kissed her senseless or because she was so upset she could hardly talk, he didn’t know.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Sophie, please let me explain myself …”
“There’s nothing to explain. You kissed me and I … I kissed you. It never should have happened. I don’t know what came over me …”
He was pretty sure he knew – it was the same thing that came over him! But what would they do about it?
“I’m sorry, Fletcher, but I need some air.” She headed for the foyer.
“Sophie, wait!” He chased after her, caught her arm and held her fast. “I apologize.”
“You already did.”
“And so did you. What I’m trying to say is … don’t let this upset you.”
She looked at him as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m not upset with you. It’s me I’m upset with. I’m no better than a …”
“Stop right there.” He pulled her closer. “I will not listen to you berate yourself over a kiss, do you understand me?” He didn’t know why her comment flustered him so, but it did.
She glanced at his hand on her arm. “Mr. Vander, would you kindly release me?”
The question stunned him for a moment – if it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have answered as bluntly as he did. “No.”
“W-w-what?”
Fletcher straightened, summoning his courage. “I propose we proceed with our day as planned. If you wish, we may forget about this little incident and put it behind us.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Just like that? And if I don’t wish?”
He nodded. “Then we won’t forget. But the choice is yours.”
She pulled back an inch and looked at him with confusion and … respect? “Forgetting may not be so simple,” she said sharply, but there was an undertone of amusement. “You just kissed me with enough passion to embarrass Shakespeare. You think I’ll just brush that aside?”
Fletcher opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it and quickly snapped it shut. Really, how could he answer that? It had been a passionate kiss, going deeper, farther than he thought he could ever go. And while it was happening, he’d imagined him going a lot farther than that. But where did they go with it right now – to quote Shakespeare, that was the question.
He took a risk. “Sophie, you’re a very attractive woman …”
“… so you just had to kiss me, is that it?”
Fletcher ran a hand over his face. Well, might as well keep rolling the dice. “Yes, if you must know. I am attracted to you, I gave in to that attraction, and I kissed you. And if I’m not mistaken, you kissed me as well. Is that truly so bad?”
She stared at him as if he’d just slapped her face. “So, Mr. Vander,” she said shakily, “does this mean you’re going to kiss me whenever the mood strikes you?”
Fletcher groaned. He’d never understood women, never was very adept around them – and he’d never been so attracted to one before. He’d certainly never kissed one like that before, ever. How was he supposed to know what he’d do – or even how to keep from hanging himself with his words?
But she was waiting on those words, so he had to say something. “Sophie … how about I let you decide if or when any future kisses happen. Is that acceptable?”
She looked nervous as a cat on a rocking chair, but her voice was firm. “Quite acceptable, Mr. Va … ahem … Fletcher.” With a jerk she pulled her arm from him and marched out the door.
“Fletcher!” His grandfather boomed from the staircase.
Fletcher turned toward the voice, then quickly to the front door just as it closed. “Sophie?”
Grandpa Vander reached the foot of the stairs and joined him. “Let her go, lad. She’ll walk it off.”
“Possibly by walking straight to the train station and leaving town.”
“And how will she accomplish that without money? Have you given her some?”
“No, I haven’t. But I hate her going away angry like that.”
“You have to be patient with women – just lik
e they have to be with us. Give her time to think about it.”
“Think about what?”
His grandfather smiled. “Why, whether or not she’s falling in love with you, of course.”
Chapter 11
Sophie hurried down the front walk, through the gate and into the street. She looked left and right, but was still so overwhelmed she couldn’t decide which way to go. She decided to stick with the familiar and turned left, toward Main Street. From there she could get to the church.
Maybe she could borrow some money from Bernice Johnson, just enough to get to … where, Salem? Or maybe Brownsville … no, it was small like Independence. She’d be harder to find in a bigger town, and there was more work to be found. Yes, she should go to Salem or maybe even Portland. She could pay Bernice back over time …
Oh, what was she thinking? “It was just a kiss, Sophie,” she told herself aloud. But it wasn’t. She’d been kissed before, once, but it was nothing like what Fletcher had done, or what she’d done to him. She felt branded, claimed. Chained. As if they now belonged to each other and no one else. She’d faked a diffident neutrality with him afterward, but in truth it scared her.
Before she knew it, she found herself in front of the bookshop. Well, books had always brought her solace. She went inside, ringing a tiny bell over the door. The Professor greeted her with a warm smile. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Baxter. How are you this fine day?”
His bright countenance drew a smile from her. “Not very well, I’m afraid.” No sense lying.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can help with?”
“I’m afraid not, Professor. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”
“Of course not – everyone in town does.” He studied her a moment from behind the counter. “Hmmm, you look like a Tennyson sort of gal. You like Tennyson?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Have you read all his works?”
Sophie sighed as she tried to think, her brain still muddled by Fletcher’s kiss. “Most of them. I was very sad when he passed a few years ago.”
