Turner's Rainbow 2 - The Rainbow Promise

by Lisa Gregory

  As she went down the aisle, she saw James and his mother sitting a few rows back from the front. They turned to glance at her as she passed, but she didn't pause or look at them. She wouldn't put Anthea Banks in the position of being forced to speak to her in public.

  But when the service was over and Julia followed the crowd out the wide front doors, she found herself right behind James and Mrs. Banks as they stood in line to shake hands with the minister. Julia quickly started to skirt the knot of people waiting, but Anthea turned and saw her. Anthea smiled.

  "Why, it's Mrs. Dobson. Hello, my dear."

  "Good morning.I mean, good afternoon." James turned at his mother's words and looked at her, too. "Dr. Banks."

  It was strange to address him so formally, remembering how he had kissed her the other afternoon. Her cheeks went hot as she thought about it, and she saw in his eyes that he was thinking of the same thing.

  "Mrs. Dobson." James watched the color rise in Julia's face, tinting her cheeks pink. He thought she looked like a spun sugar confection, all white and gold and pink. She was so beautiful that he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her right there. He wondered how he was going to get through the days working with her now, with the knowledge of that kiss between them. Desire had been burning in his gut ever since that day.

  "These must be your children," Mrs. Banks went on in a friendly way, smiling down at Vance and Bonnie.

  "Yes. This is my son, Vance, and my daughter, Bonnie. Children, say hello to Mrs. Banks." They chorused a polite greeting, and Julia was relieved they had responded properly.

  Anthea glanced at her son. There was something in his face when he looked at Julia; it had been there the other time she'd seen them together, as well. She was intrigued. "I haven't seen much of you since we met. I'm afraid my son makes you work too hard."

  "Oh, no." Julia rose quickly to James's defense. "It's more that it takes me a long time to understand things."

  "Nonsense," James protested. "Julia has a sharp mind. She catches on quickly."

  Anthea smiled. Their quick defense of each other raised her curiosity even further. "Well, whatever the reason, I do hope that we will have time in the future to chat."

  "Of course, if you'd like." It amazed Julia that this woman would want to talk to her—unless she had heard rumors and wanted to make sure Julia knew her place in James's life. Her stomach froze at the thought.

  "Why don't you come have dinner with us now?" Anthea suggested brightly.

  Julia's insides grew even colder. "Oh, no, really. That would be an imposition."

  "Not at all. Lurleen always has an enormous dinner sitting on the stove for us on Sunday. You must come."

  Julia glanced at James. It would be awful to sit there with him under Mrs. Banks's eye, unable to get that kiss out of her mind yet having to act like any worker with her employer. "Well, I..."

  James said nothing to help her.

  Julia looked down at her children. "I can't leave Bonnie and Vance."

  "Of course, I include Bonnie and Vance in the invitation, loo. It will be nice to have children in the house. It's been so long. My son has been exceptionally stubborn about marrying and giving mc the pleasure of grandchildren."

  Anthea watched with interest as Julia blushed a fiery red and kept her face turned determinedly away from James. Anthea was certain that she was on to something important here. She glanced at her son. He was looking only at Julia, and there was a strange, drawn expression in his face that was akin to pain.

  "Thank you. We'd be glad to come to dinner," Julia didn't know what else to say. She couldn't be rude to Mrs. Banks, no matter how awful it would be to eat with them.

  "Good, then, that's settled." Anthea turned back to the line of people greeting the minister, and when her rum came, she pulled Julia forward and introduced her to the minister. Afterward, they walked together to the buggy, and James drove them back to his house.

  Julia could see her children's eyes widen when they pulled up to the large house, with its round tower on one end and ornate wooden gingerbread carving. But their awe was nothing compared to what they felt when they walked inside. Bonnie and Vance stood in the marble-tiled entryway with its grand mahogany staircase winding up to the second floor, and simply stared around them, their mouths little O's.

  "It's beautiful," Bonnie breathed.

  Anthea smiled. "Why, thank you, dear. My father built it just before he died. Before that Dr. Banks—the late Dr. Banks, that is—and I lived in the house where you live now."

  "Really?" Julia turned to her, surprised. "I didn't know that."

  "Oh yes. I have a special fondness for that little house. It's where James was born, you see."

  Julia wondered if Anthea resented James's turning a house which had such special meaning over to a stranger like herself.

  "We lived there several years. How old were you when we moved here, James?"

  "Six or seven, I think."

  "Then you must remember the other house well." Did it have special meaning to James, also? But if so, why had he given it to her—and rent free? Julia had assumed it was just a small house from which James received such negligible rent that it was little loss to let her have it without charge. But now that she thought about it, Julia realized that it couldn't have been just any old rent house. It was too neat and well cared for.

  "Oh yes, I remember it," James replied. "Fondly. When we moved into this place, I was scared to breathe, it was so big and formal."

  "As I recall, you weren't in awe of it too long," Mrs. Banks put in tartly. "You made a hole in the back wall with your slingshot."

  James's smile was rueful. "Yes, I seem to recall that."

  "And do you recall the marks on the parlor furniture legs from your wagon?"

  "All right, all right. Are you going to reveal all my misdeeds to Mrs. Dobson?"

  Anthea smiled. "I'm sure I don't know all of them."

  She led them into the formal dining room. The table was set for only two people, but at each place there was a multitude of china dishes, silver eating utensils, and crystal goblets. The table was laid with an ecru lace tablecloth, and linen napkins edged in lace lay beside each plate. In the center of the table stood an ornate silver bowl filled with fruit. More china and crystal sparkled in the large glass-fronted cabinet. A heavy silver coffee service sat upon the sideboard, along with a large crystal vase full of fragrant summer flowers.

  It was lovely and far richer than anything Julia had ever seen. She wondered what you ate with all those forks and spoons and what you put in the various dishes, and she knew she would look like a bumpkin trying to figure it out. What if the children broke a glass or spilled something on the delicate lace tablecloth? She wanted to run for home.

  Neither James nor his mother seemed aware of the awful splendor of the room. Anthea went to the china cabinet and began to pull out more plates. Julia hurried to help her set the extra places. It was hard to imagine Mrs. Banks, with her regal carriage and elegant silk dress, doing any domestic task. But when the table was set, Anthea went into the kitchen, donned a full apron, and began to dish up food from the pots on the stove.

  "Except on very special occasions, Lurleen has Sundays off," Anthea explained to Julia. "Fortunately, though, she leaves us a wonderful meal."

  "Won't you let me do that for you, ma'am?"

  "Heavens, no." Anthea's eyes sparkled with humor. "I have even on occasion been known to cook a meal."

  "Of course."

  Anthea handed Julia a large bowl of green beans, and Julia went to put it on the dining table. Anthea watched Julia as she left the room, and she frowned a little. There was an anxious look in Julia's eyes that Anthea didn't understand. It was almost as if she were scared. Anthea could understand a little nervousness; the house—even she herself—could be a trifle imposing. But surely that didn't explain the tumult of emotions that she sensed in Julia Dobson.

  Julia and Anthea carried the rest of the serving dishes into t
he dining room, and they sat down to dinner. Bonnie and Vance stared in dismay at the lineup of eating utensils before them. Julia wished she could help them, but she knew no more than they what everything was for. She had thought Sarah's Sunday dinner table was elegant, but it paled next to this one. What could you do with so many spoons? She'd never seen potatoes sliced up and mixed with white sauce and cheese.

  Dinner was a miserable experience. Julia watched Mrs. Banks closely to see which utensil to use, then tried to silently relay the message to her children. She watched Bonnie and Vance like a hawk to make sure they didn't make a mess. She avoided looking at James altogether. Julia was sure that if she met his eyes, Mrs. Banks would see everything in her face—the past, what she had felt for James, the kiss they had shared the other afternoon, her confusion about her present feelings.

  Conversation limped along, with Anthea supplying most of what little there was. Julia replied to the questions Anthea put to her, sure that she sounded like a dolt. She could think of nothing to say on her own. James watched Julia, but, like her, hardly spoke unless spoken to. Julia was aware of his gaze, and it made her even more nervous.

  James could see how nervous Julia was. He would have liked to lay his hand over hers and assure her that everything was all right. But of course he couldn't. He tried not to look at Julia too much, knowing it would arouse his mother's interest, but it was difficult not to look at her She was so pretty in that blue cotton dress that turned her eyes the color of the sky. He looked at her mouth and thought about kissing it. He remembered how soft and warm and eager it felt beneath his lips. He recalled their kisses years ago—and the one just days past. All of them were unbearably sweet.

  He wanted to grab Julia and start kissing her and never stop. His palm itched to curve around her breast. Her breasts were heavier now. Her nipples, too, would look different after having borne and suckled children. He thought of how she must have looked nursing her children, and desire thrummed in him. There would be other changes in her body; he yearned to know each and every one of them. He wanted to have her in his bed, to explore and touch and taste at his leisure. Just the thought of it made him ache.

  Julia was relieved when the meal was over. She offered to help with the dishes, but Anthea refused politely, saying that Lurleen would take care of them later. Julia was afraid she had showed her ignorance of social etiquette by even asking. She tried to say her good-byes and leave, but Anthea insisted on showing her the flower garden in back.

  James didn't come with them, and Julia felt more at ease. At least she knew something about flowers and growing things, even if she had never had the money to buy all the fancy flowers Mrs. Banks grew. The two women strolled through the garden, and Julia exclaimed with delight over the varieties of roses. When they had finished their tour of the garden, Julia left as quickly and gracefully as she could. She murmured a polite good-bye and thank you to Mrs. Banks and to James, forcing herself to look into his face as she did so. But as soon as she looked at him, she glanced away and, taking the children by the hand, she hurried out the front door.

  Anthea and James stood at the door, watching them walk away. "She seems to be a nice girl." Anthea commented, her eyes on her son rather than Julia.

  "Yes."

  "I like her."

  "Yes. I like her, too." Anthea waited for him to continue, but James said nothing else, only turned away and closed the door. "I think I'll go in back and smoke a cigar."

  Anthea watched him leave. The dinner had made her more curious than ever about Julia and her son. Julia had been hardly able to look at James, and James had been hardly able to do anything but look at Julia. Anthea was sure that her son was interested in Julia. But then why had there been that touch of bleakness in his voice when he said he liked her? Why had the young woman avoided him so? Puzzled, Anthea sat down in the back parlor and took up her needlepoint, contemplating when and how she would find out what was going on.

  James strolled through the garden, smoking his cigar, hardly noticing the beauty around him. He was restless and bored. He had been this way ever since he kissed Julia two days before. He had been unable to think of anything but that kiss. He kept remembering the past and imagining what it would be like to make love to Julia now. It would be nothing short of foolhardy to become involved with her again, he told himself. Only an idiot would set himself up for a second heartbreak with the same woman. She didn't love him; she had played him for a fool before. Yet he couldn't stop the rush of desire whenever he thought about her or looked at her. It was crazy. Crazy. But he still wanted her.

  Chapter 16

  It seemed to Dovie as though everywhere she turned during the next few weeks, Micah was there. He was at the June Teenth picnic, the celebration held on June nineteenth each year to commemorate the day blacks in Texas learned of the Emancipation Proclamation. He almost forced Dovie to dance with him and then sat down beside her just as if he had the right to. Her mother, of course, was no help; she just smiled and talked to him. Later, when the party grew rowdy, he walked Dovie and Lurleen home. Lurleen went straight to bed. Micah lingered at the door with Dovie and kissed her. Once again, she had been somehow unable to free herself from his arms.

  She just stood there and let him kiss her and kiss her until she was melting in his hands. Only the sound of the back door closing at the big house brought her to her senses and sent her fleeing back into their little house.

  He was at her church the next two Sundays, and one Saturday afternoon she found him sitting on her aunt's porch, telling stories to her cousins' children. He charmed everyone in her family. Her mother and aunts were impressed with his looks, his quiet strength, and his slow, devastating smile. Her cousins, nieces, and nephews were entranced by his stories of the West and life on a ranch.

  When Dovie commented rather tartly that he had certainly entertained the children with his wild stories, he smiled and asked, "You like them, too?"

  Dovie tried to look her most severe. "I have no liking for the Wild West, thank you."

  He grinned in that irritating way of his. "Oh, I bet you got more wildness in you than you ever guessed."

  She didn't know what to do with a man like that.

  It wasn't as if she hadn't been around other men. She had. And some of them had been charming, far smoother than Micah Harrison. But there was something about him— the way he stood, the way he walked, the way he looked at her—that pulled at her He was tough; he was experienced. But there was no cruelty in him and no braggadocio. He had seen things she never would, known things she could only imagine. He intrigued her, much as she tried to pretend that he didn't. He spoke to something inside her that she hadn't even known was there before. Dovie was afraid that he might be right—that there really was a wildness in her that she had always suppressed. Even worse, she was afraid that he might be able to release it.

  Dovie wanted to avoid him. She didn't want to see him again. But every weekend found her taking particular care with her clothes and hair, and she walked to church on Sundays with a jumping excitement in her stomach that wasn't engendered by the thought of Reverend Bascomb's sermon. She had to admit that however much she might not want to see Micah, she wanted to see him ten times more.

  ❧

  Cal settled in at the farm. He did his chores, usually well and without protest, and he was no longer as sullen or defiant. Though only Emily could make him smile and sometimes even laugh, he listened to Luke and Sarah without the defensive hunching of his shoulders and the blank look to his face.

  He was finally beginning to believe that his life had changed. Luke and Sarah hadn't given up on him and sent him back to his grandfather. Luke hadn't beat him, no matter how surly or bad he had been, and Sarah was consistently patient and kind. Luke taught him things in such a way that Cal didn't feel stupid or wrong not knowing them in the first place. He gave Cal chores, but he didn't wear him out with work. For the first time Cal could remember, he had plenty of time to play and explore the farm.
>
  Luke talked to him in a different way from the way his grandfather ever had. No sermons or parables came out of his mouth. He just plain talked, as if Cal were a regular person. He told Cal about his life. At first Cal couldn't believe that it was true; Luke couldn't have been a "bad boy" too. But then he realized that it was true—and that all the things Luke said about how he'd changed must be true, as well.

  Cal found himself thinking about what Luke said at night before he went to sleep. Hope crept through him like the tendrils of a climbing plant, and it scared him. He didn't want to believe. He didn't want to hope. He didn't want to love it here. Yet he couldn't stop.

  He was still wary of Micah. The man was too big and too dark. He couldn't forget the things his grandfather had told him about men like Micah. But Micah had a way with the horses, and that drew Cal to him. Despite his unease, he slipped into the barn when Micah was grooming the horses to watch his skillful hands and hear his low, soothing voice.

  One day Micah turned and caught sight of Cal watching him. Micah looked at him. Cal's chest tightened, and he thought about running. Then Micah said, "You like horses?"

  Cal nodded.

  "They fine animals. Nothin' like them." He paused. "You ever ride one?"

  Cal shook his head.

  "Now, that's a shame. I done rode horses all my life. Best feelin' in the world, sittin' up on a good horse." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "You like to learn?"

  "To ride?" Cal came forward a step.

  "Sure. I teach you."

  The boy hesitated. Desire won out over his fear. "Yeah. I'd like that. Will you? Please?"

  Micah's smile was so swift and faint that later Cal wondered if he'd even seen it. "Yeah. I jus' do that."

  After that, Cal spent part of almost every evening with Micah, learning how to ride. His fear of Micah soon turned to liking and awe at his riding skills, until he couldn't remember why he had been scared of the man before.