“But—”
“But nothing,” he said with disgust. “My wife and kids were happy with things just as they were. Laura tried to be excited about the move, but I knew she was hurting. She put on a smile, because she was that kind of woman, but it hurt like hell to leave her mother and sisters.”
Lowering the pipe, he cupped the bowl in his palm and stared into the flames crackling in the hearth.
“We got as far as Raton,” he said quietly. “It’s odd what you remember. The hotel was four stories tall with a bright red roof. It stood out like a palace, and I remember thinking that Laura deserved a night in a soft bed. I remember thinking—all sorts of things.” His voice cracked.
“Oh, Ethan,” she whispered.
“I got them settled in the rooms and went out to get a newspaper. It felt good to walk after being cramped on the train, and so I took my time finding a store. I was buying licorice for the boys when the fire wagon raced by. I remember it as plain as day. I stood there like a fool and breathed a prayer for those in harm’s way, not once thinking of my own family.”
But how could he possibly have known? Jayne wanted to fight that demon of guilt, but he had to finish his story.
He tugged on the frayed neckline of his shirt, as if the room had heated by twenty degrees. “I was just about to leave when that mirror shaped like a heart caught my eye. Laura would have loved it. She liked doodads, and I wanted to do something nice to make up for everything she’d lost. I walked all the way to the back of the store and waited a solid minute while the clerk counted out a lousy nine cents in change, one penny at a time.
“As soon as I walked out the door, I smelled smoke and then someone shouted, ‘It’s the hotel.’ I ran like hell, but it was too late. By the time I got there, flames were shooting out the windows. I screamed Laura’s name and called for the kids. I looked at every single face in the crowd, not knowing a soul until I found the desk clerk. He told me the stairs had caught first, and no one on the fourth floor had made it out.
“That’s right where we were. The boys had never seen an elevator, and so I’d asked—” He wiped at the moisture glistening on his cheeks. “I’d asked for the fourth floor just so they could ride it.”
Tears welled in Jayne’s eyes. She longed to touch him, but it was too soon. His grief was like an infection that had been lanced but still needed to drain.
He sucked in a lungful of air, then blew it out hard and fast. “I stood there praying that somehow they’d made it down the back stairs, but I knew otherwise. The fire marshal found their bodies pretty easily. He said the smoke got to them, but I didn’t believe him. I still don’t. I’d tell the same lie if it would spare a man that kind of pain.”
She could imagine Ethan standing in front of the ruins, lost and grieving in a town full of strangers. Tears welled as she spoke. “Where did you go that night?”
“An old preacher took me to his house. He made up a bed, heated a bowl of soup I couldn’t eat, and then he started reading from the Bible. I didn’t hear a word until he got to ‘a time to give birth, a time to die.’ That’s when it all turned real. I cried like a baby all night long, and the next day I buried my family. The day after that I saw an ad for a ranch near Midas and bought it sight unseen.”
Lowering the pipe, he looked into her eyes. “You know the story of King Midas, don’t you? He wanted more than he had, and he got his wish. Everything he touched turned to gold, including the people he loved.”
Ethan held up his left hand so that firelight glinted off his wedding ring. “I know how he felt, because this gold band is all I have left of Laura and the kids.”
Desperate for cool air, Jayne rose from the chair, set the memory box on the seat and uncovered the nearest window. In the moonlight she saw knee-high pampas grass rippling in silvery waves. The blades scraped together in a haunting whisper. The landscape was endless and consuming, a fitting place for a man who wanted to die but couldn’t. She knew his grief in her own soul, but she didn’t believe in self-pity, and his guilt was a lie she couldn’t abide.
She took a breath of fresh air, then faced him. “You didn’t set the fire, Ethan. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He glared as if she’d just spit on his wife’s grave. “It’s not up to you to decide that.”
“But it’s true. You need to look at the facts.”
Jayne walked across the room, planted her feet in front of him and got down to business. “You loved your wife very much, and that’s more than some women ever have. Laura would have been happy there.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do, and I know something else.” She took a breath to steady her pounding heart. “Guilt is a choice, and so is self-pity.”
“A choice!” He shot to his feet. “Let me tell you about choices. I would have died with them in a heartbeat. I’d walk a thousand miles to see them for just five minutes. I’d put a bullet in my head right now if I thought it would bring them back. Where are the choices in that?”
Pivoting, he grabbed a revolver from the shelf and popped open the cylinder.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispered.
Glowering, he emptied the bullets into his left hand and slapped them down on top of the box of pictures. “I know what it’s like to make choices, Jayne. You can choose to live or you can choose to die. And that’s about it.”
Stark fear filled her with courage. “You’re wrong, Ethan. You can live well or you can die like a coward. You might be walking on this earth, but you aren’t living. It’s an insult to your wife. Laura would have wanted you to be happy, and you owe it to your children to be the man they knew.”
Huffing, he snapped the empty cylinder shut. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve lost everything in the past year. My mother, my business, my husband—first to death and then to his lies. I have plenty of reasons to feel sorry for myself, but I’m not going to do it.”
“It’s different. You have the baby.”
The truth sucked the air right out of her lungs. He was right. She had a reason to fight for every breath, and he had nothing, not anymore.
Every instinct told her that this man needed to be touched, now and often. Stepping in front of him, she cupped her fingers against his whiskered jaw. His eyes burned into hers. Then slowly, he covered her hand with his, dipped his head and pressed his full lips against her palm.
She grazed the tender skin below his eye with her thumb, smoothing away the last of his tears.
With a terrible sweetness, he whispered, “God help me, I want to kiss you.”
When she gave a tiny nod and raised her chin, he drew her into his arms so that his breath echoed in her ear. He feathered his lips over her temple, then down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. She felt the tripping beat of his heart in that kiss, and when he covered her mouth with his, she tasted vanilla smoke.
She’d expected the kiss to be tentative, tinged with memories of Laura and a lifelong love, hesitant like a man finding his way across the thin ice of a frozen lake. But Ethan had no such reluctance. He spread her lips with his and kissed her with the confidence of an experienced man. The exploration was thorough, unending, and like nothing she’d ever known.
Shocked by the need low in her belly, she pulled her lips away from his, but he didn’t release her from his arms. Instead he cradled her head against his chest, pulling her close so that their hips were pressed together like the matching halves of an apple.
At the realization that he was fully aroused, her blood heated and rushed to her cheeks. She needed cool air. She needed to be sensible. She had to ignore the fact that she, too, was aching with desire. Easing her grip on his broad shoulders, she looked into his eyes.
“I won’t—I can’t.” Her voice sounded like a hammer pinging against a nail in hard wood.
With the suddenness of lightning, Ethan jerked his arms away from her, stepped back and stared as if she
were a stranger. Without a word he pivoted and hurried out the door, slamming it behind him. She heard a bump as he leaned against the wood, probably to pull on his boots. Heavy footsteps followed, echoing through the night.
In the dim light of the dying fire, she twisted the ends of her shawl into a knot. Tomorrow they would have to deal with this moment, but not tonight. Ethan needed to lick his wounds in private, and she had to stop shaking long enough to remember that he’d really been kissing his wife.
Never mind the ache in her breasts and the smoky taste of him on her lips. One kiss would have to be enough.
Chapter Six
T he rhythm of her breath hung in the air like a newly spun thread. A comforting whisper, now as familiar as the silence of the past two years, it filled Ethan’s dreams as he curled on his side in the bedroll by the hearth. With dawn pressing against the window covers, he was coming awake in the gloom, emerging from a vivid dream of last night’s kiss.
When their tongues had touched, she had made a little squeak deep in her throat, then she’d clutched his shoulders and hung on for dear life. Ethan had only kissed a handful of girls before settling down with Laura, but he knew innocence when he tasted it. Married or not, Jayne wasn’t accustomed to kissing for the sake of being close.
Unless he missed his guess, he’d given her something to think about. The thought made him feel ten feet tall—for about two seconds. Then his gut clenched with guilt and he wanted to be sick. He’d betrayed his wife last night, or at least her memory.
He didn’t need anyone to tell him why. More than once, lust had driven him to kiss Laura awake just to make love to her. Katie had been conceived in such a union. Trying to conjure up that humid August night, he chewed on his bottom lip, imagining Laura’s small mouth. But it was Jayne’s kiss that he tasted.
His groin sprang to life and he winced at the need. Old Faithful hadn’t been this hard for two years, maybe even longer. Maybe not since he was sixteen when Laura had let him touch her breasts behind his father’s barn.
Staring blindly at the ceiling, Ethan heaved a sigh. So what? He’d woken up horny this morning. It was just part of nature. He didn’t have to act on that desire. Nor did he have to lie here like an old dog, thinking about Jayne’s breasts pressing against his chest.
To block the memory he started counting down from a hundred, but when he got to ninety-three, he remembered nuzzling her ear. It was small and ticklish, and she’d bent her neck and arched into him, pressing herself tight. Ethan stifled a groan and tried naming the books of the Bible to cure what ailed him, but he didn’t get past Genesis. His mind took a turn through the Garden of Eden, where Eve had blond hair and wasn’t wearing fig leaves.
Annoyed with himself, he tossed aside the blankets, yanked on his clothes and strode into the yard for a breath of air that didn’t smell like honeysuckle. Glancing eastward, he paused at the sight of sunlight spreading across the sky like melting butter. It made him think of other mornings when he’d buried his face to escape the light, but it had never worked. Dawn was inevitable. Some forces of nature couldn’t be stopped.
But others could, particularly the one making his trousers two sizes too small. He needed a bath for more reasons than one, so he hiked over a hill to a creek filled with spring runoff, stripped off his clothes and splashed chilly water all over himself. With Old Faithful back in its proper place, Ethan thought about his wife. He could almost hear her singsong voice, the one she used when she lectured the boys about mucking out the stable behind their house.
Since when is being unhappy an excuse for being lazy? The chores won’t do themselves, you know.
Ethan’s throat swelled at the memory. At the same time a ray of sunshine hit his shoulder, as if Laura were looking down from heaven. Now, Ethan—
For just a moment he felt like a henpecked husband again. And as usual, his wife was right about what needed to be done. He’d neglected himself, and the ranch, too.
After scrubbing his skin with willow leaves, he climbed out of the creek, dressed and headed for the barn to survey the mess he’d left. As soon as he stepped through the door, he saw the holes he had punched with his fists. The splintery walls had hooks for tools, but they were all empty because he’d taken to tossing things in a pile just inside the door.
Across the yard, the cabin door groaned on its rusty hinges. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture Laura walking to the well, but the sense of her had left him. Peering through the gloom to the sunlit yard, he saw Jayne lift a bucket to the pump. He recognized the blue calico dress and white apron from the trunk, and she had brushed her hair until it shone. A blue ribbon held the strands in a long braid, but a tendril had already escaped and was curling behind her ear.
At the thought of seeing her hair loose around her shoulders, Ethan felt his belly tighten. He hated himself for that yearning. He wanted her to leave, but he’d hate himself even more if LeFarge hurt her in any way. Last night had ended in a kiss, but it had started with a terrible threat. He’d rather die than see a woman suffer because of his weakness. That meant he had to convince Jayne to stay until he was sure she’d be safe.
Hidden in the shadows, he watched as the door slapped shut behind her and then started his chores. As he fed the two horses, the morning air came alive with the smell of frying sausage. His stomach rumbled with hunger and his mouth watered at the thought of biscuits and gravy.
He wouldn’t mind having a decent meal now and then. If he paid Jayne for chores, she’d have a reason to stay and she’d be nothing more than a housekeeper to him.
At the smell of fresh coffee, Ethan almost smiled. He’d been angry with God for two solid years, but this morning he felt a twinge of good humor. If the Almighty was going to torture him with the presence of a woman, at least he’d sent one who could cook.
Jayne wanted eggs for breakfast, but the rancher didn’t keep chickens. He didn’t even have a milk cow. It was no way for a man to live. She couldn’t stand the darkness, the layers of grease, the memories stacked on shelves and hidden in drawers. Especially the memory of his arms around her and the hunger in that kiss.
What was she going to do? She cared about him, and under the circumstances, that was just plain foolish.
You can’t depend on anyone but yourself, Jayne.
Louisa McKinney had given her daughter that lecture more times than Jayne could count, and Hank had driven the point home in spades. She had no intention of marrying again, but if she did lose her mind, she wanted to be first in her husband’s heart. Not second to lies as she had been with Hank, nor second to a memory as she would be with Ethan. Like it or not, those were the facts of her situation.
Never mind that his kiss had been a taste of heaven, possessive and patient, a memory she’d cherish for the rest of her life. He’d come alive in her arms. And for the first time she’d understood the power of a woman’s touch, the hunger in a man’s answering need.
Heaving a sigh, she put four biscuits on Ethan’s plate, covered them with gravy and added a hefty portion of the sausage he’d brought home last night. She had managed to cook breakfast without being sick, but she couldn’t eat the meat. A scrambled egg would have been nice. For the second time that morning, she wondered how Ethan liked his eggs. Probably fried with lots of pepper. His wife would have known for sure.
He walked through the door just as she set Laura’s frying pan down on the stove. “Good morning,” she said calmly. “Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
When he took off his hat, Jayne’s stomach plummeted to her knees. His damp hair was curling around his ears, and she could see that he’d scrubbed his neck until it was pink. His clothes still smelled musty, but she caught the scent of willow leaves on his skin.
When he almost smiled at her, she knew last night’s kiss had to be dealt with immediately. If he thought she was willing to step right into Laura’s shoes, or her place in his bed, he was sorely mistaken. She had to make it clear that the kiss had been a one
-time gift of comfort, nothing more.
As soon as she handed him a full plate and a mug of coffee, he seated himself at the table. She served herself a single biscuit, poured a cup of milk and sat across from him. “We need to talk,” she said.
Intent on his meal, he dragged a bite of sausage through the gravy. “About what?”
Jayne held in a sigh. Were all men this dense? Perhaps she’d read too much into last night. She decided to change her tactics. “I need to report everything I know about Hank to the authorities. When can you take me to Midas?”
“Today if you’d like, but what about LeFarge? We can’t trust Handley.”
He was right. Her stomach flopped like a dying fish. “I have enough money for a ticket to Raton. I’ll talk to the police chief and he can notify the district marshal. After that, I’ll look for a job.”
Ethan shook his head. “If LeFarge comes back, he’ll find you in two seconds flat. You need to hide.”
“I can’t. I need to support myself.”
Ethan sliced off another bite of biscuit, chewed thoughtfully and washed it down with coffee. “What would you say to working for me? I’ll pay you for housework. You can stay here until LeFarge is dead or in jail.”
It seemed like a good plan, but that kiss had to be considered. Her mother used to say, “You can’t un-ring the bell,” and Ethan had rung her bell so thoroughly that she quivered at the mere memory of his lips parting hers. He would be an easy man to love, which made staying almost as risky as leaving. Hank had broken her heart once, and she didn’t want it to happen again.
Squaring her shoulders, she said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.” She made her voice firm. “You kissed me last night.”
Ethan shifted his gaze from her face to the heart-shaped mirror on the wall. Drawing a breath so deep that it pulled at the buttons on his frayed shirt, he turned his head and looked straight into her eyes.
West of Heaven Page 7
