by Lisa Gregory
James worked quickly and competently, slicing through the fat and muscle and tying off the arteries. "Damn. It's already gangrenous. That makes it more difficult." He carefully snipped off the tube of the appendix and removed it. He tied off the nub, and Julia saw his shoulders relax. He began to suture. Julia watched him, her queasiness forgotten in her awe at James's skill. He was so careful, so good, even operating under these primitive conditions.
With smooth stitches, he completed the operation and pulled the sheet up over Purdon's chest. He turned to Julia. His forehead was dotted with sweat from the heat of the sun and the tension of the makeshift operation. A grin broke across his face, making him look almost boyish. "We did it!" He laughed.
Julia began to laugh, too, giddy with the aftermath of tension and adrenaline. James picked her up and swung her around, and they giggled like children.
"This'll be one to tell our children," he said. He froze, suddenly aware of what he had said. He released Julia, and she slid slowly to the ground. James looked down at her.
Julia's dress was damp with sweat between her breasts. Her eyes shone a blue as bright as the sky. Her face was soft and dewy, her lips rosy, her cheeks pink with excitement. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breasts clearly outlined beneath the soft fabric.
James didn't stop to think. He simply bent his head and kissed her.
Chapter 13
James's kiss was soft, slow, searching. His lips moved over Julia's, rediscovering the taste and feel. Julia stretched upward, pressing her mouth against his, unable to stop herself. Her fingers curled into his shirt. It felt so good, so much the same, yet far better than her memories. Memories were too pale.
At Julia's response, desire slammed down through James like a fist. His mouth burrowed into hers, opening her lips, and his tongue slid inside. His tongue roamed her mouth, exploring the serrations of her teeth and the ridges along the roof of her mouth, twining around her slick, warm tongue. He wrapped his arras around her, squeezing her to him. Her soft breasts flattened against his chest, and he felt the points of her hardening nipples even through their clothes, God, she felt good!
Julia threw her arms around his neck, not considering how brazen he would think her. She thought only of the heat of his body against hers, hotter than the sun pouring down on her back, and the heady taste of his mouth. She'd almost forgotten how sweet, how wonderful it was to kiss him. She tightened her arms around James. Her tongue curled around his and slid away, returning in an erotic dance. He moaned, pressing her even more tightly into him. She could feel the full length of his body against hers.
His mouth left hers, and he kissed her all over her face. "Julia," he breathed. "Julie, oh, Julie."
Julia's hands dug into his hair. It was soft and thick between her fingers. His mouth moved over the ridge of her jaw and down onto the soft flesh of her neck. Julia arched her head back, exposing her throat to the pleasure of his lips. Her skin was alive with nerves, aware of every sensation— the hot kiss of the sun, the breathy touch of the breeze, the weight of her clothes, but most of all the velvet nibbling of James's lips.
His mouth traveled down her throat hungrily until it was stopped by the high starched collar of her shirtwaist. He froze. The prim, businesslike piece of clothing brought him back sharply from the timeless limbo in which there had been nothing but the taste of her mouth and the softness of her body in his arms. He recalled where they were and what they had just done. He remembered who they were and all that had happened between them.
His arms dropped away from her and he stepped back suddenly. Julia gazed up at him, shocked, her eyes wide and lambent with desire, her lips reddened and slightly open. Then she, too, remembered, and her face flamed with embarrassment. They had been standing outside in full view, kissing passionately. And with a patient lying right beside them! Julia turned away, her hand flying up to her cheeks as if she could cool them.
"Oh, my Lord!" she whispered. She wanted to run away, as fast and far as she could. What would James think of her now? That she wanted to start up again where they had left off years ago? That she was loose and sluttish? But of course he must think that; she had proven it to him years ago—and proven it again just now! All he had to do was kiss her, and her passion flamed into life. She had never felt this way with her husband, never responded to his kisses and caresses as she had a minute ago to James. She thought of how she had molded her body to his and flung her arms around his neck. She had been bold and brazen. He must think her cheap. Any man would take advantage of the favors a woman gave so freely.
"I'm sorry." James turned back to the operating table and began to clean his instruments. He was an idiot. A fool. What did he think he was doing? He couldn't fall in love with Julia; it would be asking for misery. You'd think he would have learned the first time around. She didn't love him. She hadn't loved him before; she had just played him along until she got what she wanted out of Dobson. It would be insanity to believe in her again.
Julia shook her head, unable to say anything, and walked quickly back to the house. She paused for a moment to collect her frazzled nerves before she opened the door. She smoothed back her hair and straightened her skirts. Then she took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and walked in. She found Mrs. Purdon and the children sitting huddled together on the sofa. Mrs Purdon's hands were folded in prayer, and her eyes were shut tight, her lips moving silently,
Julia was swept with relief. They hadn't been watching from the window. "Mrs. Purdon?"
The woman's head snapped up. Her eyes were wide and fearful.
"Dr. Banks is through with the operation."
"Is he—"
Julia smiled. "He's alive. But I'll let the doctor tell you how he's doing,"
Mrs. Purdon jumped up from the sofa and rushed past Julia out the door, the children following her Julia watched as she ran to James and talked to him. Mrs. Purdon clasped James's hand in hers and began to cry. She wiped her eyes with her apron and bent over her husband and cried again. Julia remembered her own reaction when her husband had died, and she felt anew the sting of remorse and guilt. She hadn't been able to work up that much emotion over Will's death. She wondered what it must be like to live with a man you loved, to be his wife and share a bed and house and children out of love, not necessity.
She turned away, swallowing back her unruly tears. She would never know what it was like. She was certain of that, for now she knew that she still loved James. That kiss out by the crude operating table had torn away all the years, all the pretenses she had built up, and exposed the truth. She loved James. She would always love him, she guessed; there didn't seem to be much hope of it dying now. But she could no more have him now than she could have years ago.
❧
Sarah rose from the breakfast table and began to pick up the dishes. She was looking forward to this morning. It was Saturday, and they were going into town. They hadn't gone in two weeks; there had been too much work to do, what with the regular farm work and the peaches coming ripe. Besides the picking, Sarah had been inundated with canning and preserving. They hadn't even gone to church last Sunday, trying to get the peaches in before a hailstorm hit. So it had been a long time since Sarah had had any female companionship, and she had missed it sorely. She had gotten used to Julia's being around, and it was hard not having a friend to talk to, especially considering that she and Luke hardly spoke anymore.
"Cal, Emily, help me clear the table so we can leave sooner."
Cal looked at her scornfully. "I ain't doin' that. That's woman's work."
Sarah sighed inwardly. She frankly didn't know what to do with Cal. He'd been with them for over a week now, and most of the time he had been surly and uncooperative. He had refused to do chores often, but it wasn't laziness, for he worked with a will at other times. It seemed to be sheer orneriness. He never smiled except at Emily, and his responses to anything Sarah or Luke said were short and often defiant. It was almost as if he wanted to antagonize them.
Cat's thin face brightened. If there was one thing he loved, it was the horses. He had taken over most of the chores of feeding and grooming them. This was the first time he had gotten to help hitch up the team, and he was eager to do it, even if it meant working with Micah, who still scared him. Cal grabbed several dishes and carried them into the kitchen. He came back for two more loads, then dashed out of the house and across the yard to the barn. Luke, carrying in the last platter and bowl, watched him from the window. He shook his head.
"Sometimes I don't know what to do with that boy."
"Nor me." Sarah began to scrape the plates and stack them in the sink. "He's so hard. I don't know how to handle him. He acts as if he doesn't like anybody or anything."
"He tries your patience," Luke agreed. "He keeps on wearing on my nerves until there are times when I think I'll explode."
"But why? I thought he was happy to be here. I thought he would like us. But he seems to get angrier and more distant every day."
"He's scared."
"Of what? Surely he knows that we won't hurt him, that we won't send him back to his grandfather."
"No, he doesn't know any of those things. All he knows is what he's had. What he's scared of is liking us—liking it here and wanting to stay."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Not to you." Luke smiled faintly. "But it does to me. I was just like him. I never let anybody do me any kindness. I remember I wouldn't let old Mr. Harper give me a stick of penny candy whenever I went in his store. I didn't want his pity."
"But he gave those sticks of candy to all the children."
"I know. But I couldn't take them. I was a lot easier with people hating me than with them being kind."
"Oh, Luke." Sarah turned to him, her eyes wide and warm with love and pity. The sight of her feelings for him turned Luke inside out, as it always did. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until they couldn't breathe anymore. Instead, he took a step back.
The look in her eyes died, and she turned back to the sink. "Then you think Cal won't ever like us?"
"Someday he'll let go, but I'm afraid it'll take a long time and a lot of effort. He won't be easy, Sarah."
Neither had Luke been, Sarah thought, but she had managed to crack his shell. She'd manage it with Cal, too. After all, Luke and Emily would be working with her to do it, three against Cat's obstinate one. "At least he likes Emily."
"How could he help it?" Luke paused. He wanted to apologize for moving away from her like that; he hated how the love in her eyes had vanished. But he couldn't apologize, any more than he had been able to talk to her about anything the past few weeks. His guilt and desire were a wall to anything normal between them, freezing his actions and inhibiting all conversation. "I better get out there and make sure all the chores are done before we go."
"All right. I'll be ready to go before long. All I have to do is wash these dishes." Luke walked out the door. Sarah concentrated on her task. "Emily! Come help Mama do the dishes."
Emily came bounding in from the stairway, where she had been playing, and hopped up on a chair to dry the dishes. This was her favorite job, for she and her mama always sang while they did the dishes. Emily loved to sing. She had sung her favorite songs to her new brother and was amazed that he didn't know them. All he knew were slow, heavy songs like some that they sang in church. But he didn't know "O, Come, Angel Band" or "Shall We Gather at the River," the church songs she particularly liked. Nor did he know "Oh, Susanna" or "Swanee" or "Green Grow the Lilacs" or her favorite, "After the Ball Is Over." Unfortunately, she could sing just a few of the words; only Mama knew them all. Cal shook his head when Emily tried to bring Mama in to sing them. But he hung around more often while they did the dishes.
By the time they finished the chore, the wagon was ready. The wagon bed was half full of bushel baskets of peaches that they would sell to the grocery store. Micah sat in front of them, his legs stretched across the width of the wagon. Emily clambered into the rear of the wagon with Micah, her favorite place to sit. But of course she did not sit, but stood up, holding on to the side of the wagon and bouncing with excitement. Cal, standing in the yard, looked at her in surprise.
"Cal! Cal!" Emily called. "Come here. Come sit wis me."
"You're going to town, too?" he asked, startled.
"Yes. Yes. To town." She bobbed her head in emphasis. "To Aunt Zenny. And stowuh. And park."
Cal looked over at Luke. He was helping Sarah into the wagon. The whole family was going into town, not just Luke. Grandpa never took him or Rachel. Luke turned around and saw the surprise, the questioning and hunger that Cal tried to hide. He realized that Cal hadn't understood that he would get to go, too, that even now he wasn't sure that he wouldn't be left behind alone.
"Come on, boy, get in the wagon," Luke told him. "Unless you aren't planning on coming."
Cal grinned, and his face suddenly glowed with a happiness and excitement he was unable to conceal. Luke's heart twisted within him. Poor little kid. At least Luke's father hadn't been a religious fanatic determined to squeeze out the sin in him—he'd only hated Luke for killing his wife.
Cal jumped into the wagon, and they started off. It wasn't a long trip into Willow Springs. Cal spent the entire time kneeling by the sideboard and staring out at the land they passed, gripped by excitement. He'd never been anywhere or seen anything new, and he was filled with anticipation.
It turned out to be more than he could have dreamed of. The road got wider and wider, and finally there was a house and then another house not a hundred yards past it. Before he knew it, there was house after house, sitting right next to each other, with only little strips of land in between. Some of them had green grass growing in front and rows of flowers. The houses gave way to big, long buildings with huge boards covered with writing hanging on them. In front of the buildings were wooden walkways, raised off the ground. There were wooden hitching posts and wrought-iron hitching posts. The buildings had big windows with things sitting in them that you could see. One had bars over its windows, and Micah told him that was the bank; but when Cal saw another one and said there was another bank, Micah told him no, that was the jail.
Strangest of all, there were people everywhere. They were walking up and down the wooden sidewalks and across the streets. They were riding horses and driving buggies and wagons and surries. He had never seen anything like it. There were more people even than he saw in church on Sundays, and he couldn't imagine what so many people were doing here all at one time.
They stopped before one building, and Cal helped Luke and Micah carry the bushels of peaches into the store while Sarah and Emily went inside and bought things. The store was full of food—sacks of flour, sugar, rice, and potatoes, big barrels with all kinds of things in them, even a barrel of brine filled with dill pickles. They carried out Sarah's purchases, and Micah left them. They rode on to what Sarah called the "post office." It was a brick building. Inside, the walls were lined with little boxes, each with a number and a dial on it. Sarah twisted the dial on one several times and opened the little door. She pulled out letters from it and two magazines with slick, colorful fronts.
Sarah often read aloud to them after supper out of magazines like that. They were fascinating stories that always left you wondering what was going to happen at the end. Cal had been amazed by the stories and loved hearing them, but he hadn't realized where they came from. "Do you buy those here?" he asked.
Sarah looked amused. "Oh, no, we buy these from a company in New York City, and they mail them to us. This is where all the mail comes and where you send your letters that are going to other towns."
"Other towns?"
"Yes."
He found it hard to imagine that these magazines sitting in Sarah's hands had come from another city. "Is it far? New York City?"
"A long way. Hundreds and hundreds of miles."
He couldn't conceive of that. He had never imagined what the world was like.
They left the post office and walked along the wooden sidewalk. Cal liked the hollow sound it made beneath his feet, and he tried to peer down between the cracks to see what lay beneath the walkway. People nodded to them and said hello. It seemed like Luke and Sarah knew everyone.
They went inside another store, far larger than the first one. It had big tables piled with goods in the middle of the store and long counters around the walls. Below the counters were cases with all kinds of articles in them, and there were things in the shelves behind the counters and hanging on the walls. There were shoes, denim overalls, ladies' bonnets, bolts of material, nails, tools, buckets, even post-hole diggers and hoes. Out in back, there were still more objects that were too big for the inside, like rolls of barbed wire and plows. Cal had never seen so many things jammed together in one place. It was exciting and awesome.
A man with black hair stood behind the counter at the front and punched keys on a big gold box that rang and had a drawer that zipped out, full of money. He greeted them, eyeing Cal curiously, and handed Cal and Emily each a stick of peppermint candy. "Who's this, Emily?" he asked, jovially. "You got another new cousin?"
"This is Luke's son, Cal," Sarah told the man, and he looked like he'd swallowed his tongue. Cal could see Sarah smiling as she turned away nonchalantly and went to shop.
Cal followed her. Here in town he didn't like the idea of getting far away from Luke or Sarah. Sarah looked at several materials, asking Cal his opinion of the colors and patterns. He didn't understand why, and when he asked, Sarah chuckled and said, "Why, they're for you, that's why."
