The Husband Quest

by Lori Handeland

  “I don’t know what I think, but something weird’s going on.”

  “There’s a short in the wiring. That’s all.”

  “Maybe.” He grabbed her hand. “Let’s find out.”

  Evan led the way into the house and up the stairs. It was even darker inside, and Jilly was thankful he grasped her tightly. Her night vision was slim to nonexistent. She’d have run into every wall and tripped on the steps.

  “For some reason the main switch is on the third floor.” Evan stopped in front of a door about midway down the hall there. “In the linen closet.”

  He opened it. A whole lot of blackness spilled out.

  “How are you going to fix the lights in the dark?”

  He released her hand and reached inside. Seconds later a bright beam spread across the floor.

  “Always keep a flashlight near the fuse box.”

  Running the golden ray up the wall, he positioned it on the switches. “Huh,” he grunted.

  “Huh what?”

  “The main switch is off.”

  “Which means?”

  He reached forward and click—all the lights came on.

  “There isn’t a short.”

  Something stirred Jilly’s hair, like a breeze, but there weren’t any windows. A wisp of air floated past her cheek, and she could have sworn she heard a whisper.

  She spun around, but nothing was there.

  EVAN ENDURED ANOTHER restless night. He’d had a hard time getting Jilly to bed. She might not believe in ghosts, but she was spooked by the lights. To tell the truth, so was he. They shouldn’t be going on and off like that. He hoped the place didn’t burn down around them.

  She’d finally settled in, with Henry on her pillow—as if the kitten would protect her. Then again, the cat would be a better defense against the unknown than Evan. He couldn’t even protect her from himself.

  What had gotten into him? Asking her to be his friend, then sticking his tongue down her throat? Why didn’t he just whisper, “Trust me,” then screw her blind?

  He was starting to sound like Dean.

  Hell, he should at least be honest with himself. He’d done a lot of things he wasn’t proud of, said a lot of things that weren’t true, just to get in a woman’s pants. One of the reasons he’d vowed not to do so anymore.

  The next woman he slept with would be “the one,” and she’d sleep with him because she knew that, too, not because he’d seduced her—or the other way around.

  Once Evan fell asleep, morning arrived too quickly. With no curtains on the windows the sun glared in his face before 6:00 a.m. Waking with the roosters, just like home.

  He dry-brushed his teeth, scraped his hair into a ponytail, then realized he had nothing to tie it back with. He needed to beg, borrow or steal a rubber band soon, or maybe get a haircut. He’d grown it long to annoy his father; now the unruly strands were just annoying him.

  Evan hurried downstairs and into the kitchen. He stopped at the sight of the Seitz brothers drinking coffee and eating eggs.

  “Sleepyhead’s up,” Barry announced.

  Larry squinted despite his thick glasses. Jerry didn’t lift his head, probably because he hadn’t heard a thing. Jilly, stirring the contents of a frying pan on the stove, glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

  “Morning. Hungry?”

  Seeing her there, cooking, her feet bare beneath a colorful, calf-length skirt, gave him domestic fantasies again. She was killing him.

  “Sure.” He sat at the table. “How long have you been up?”

  She turned, and he clenched his teeth to keep his mouth from hanging open. The white cotton T-shirt was at least a size too small and outlined her breasts and trim waist like a second skin.

  “An hour?” She glanced at Barry for confirmation. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “Join the club,” Evan muttered.

  “I came down for coffee and Barry, bless him, already had the pot perking.”

  “When did you guys get here?” Evan asked.

  “Not too much before five. I didn’t figure you for a layabout.”

  “Layabout? I’ve been getting up with the cows since I was six.”

  “Cows must get up mighty late in the north.”

  Evan let the matter drop. He wasn’t going to win.

  Henry jumped into Barry’s lap. The old man patted him on the head.

  “Thought that cat was bad luck,” Evan observed.

  “Naomi took the hex off.”

  Evan looked at Jilly and together they shrugged. He took a bite of scrambled eggs. They were really good.

  “Barry showed me how to make them,” Jilly said.

  “You didn’t know how?”

  “I’ve never had to cook a day in my life.”

  “What did you eat?”

  “Whatever the chef made, or what I could order off the menu.”

  Evan’s chef’s name had been Eleanor Luchetti. The only time they’d ever gone out to eat had been Mother’s Day.

  Jilly’s life was as foreign to Evan as his was foreign to her, but she was trying. From the flavor of the eggs, she was succeeding. He admired that.

  Because soft feelings for Jilly would only land him right back where he’d been last night—with a hard-on that wouldn’t stop—Evan put those thoughts out of his head and pushed away from the table.

  “Let’s get to it, boys. Plumbing is next.”

  The brothers stood. Barry tripped over Henry. Larry bumped into Jerry.

  “Watch where you’re going!”

  “You watch where you’re going!”

  The three started shoving each other like eight-year-olds. Evan grabbed them and pulled them apart. “Clean up the second floor,” he said to Larry, pushing him toward the door. Then he turned to Jerry. “You take the garden.”

  Jerry cupped his ear. “Eh?”

  “Garden,” Evan roared, and pointed outside.

  “Oh, sure.”

  “Barry, you’re with me.” Evan started out of the room.

  “What about me?” Jilly asked.

  Her hands were full of dirty dishes. She had toast crumbs stuck to her shirt. The kitten wound around her ankles, begging for scraps. Evan wanted to beg for some, too.

  Why did he keep imagining her right here, like this, with two of his children clinging to her skirt? These fantasies were almost as bad as the sexual ones, because they promised a lifetime instead of just one night.

  “We’ll be fine.” He turned away before he surrendered to the urge to brush the crumbs off her shirt, let his palms linger at her waist, lift his thumbs to the swell of her breasts and—

  “Why don’t you help Addie?” he blurted. “I’m sure she could use an extra hand.”

  “But we agreed—”

  “We agreed that you’d provide the money and I’d provide the labor.”

  “You’d be done faster with another set of hands.”

  “That was before I got six Seitz hands for free.”

  Something flew past the kitchen window and landed with a thud on the ground outside.

  “Hey! You almost hit me, you old fool.”

  “Sorry,” drifted from the second floor.

  “Don’t throw the garbage out the window,” Evan shouted, and rubbed his forehead. “What time is it?”

  Jilly laughed. “Maybe my two hands would be better than those six.”

  Probably. But he didn’t want to kiss the Seitz brothers—in every room of this house, down by the creek, out on the porch.

  “I’ll see you later,” he muttered, and nearly ran from the room.

  AS JILLY CLEANED UP the kitchen, the sun streamed through the windows and warmed the air with a drowsy heat. Henry chased dust motes through the rays. Jilly found herself humming as she washed the dishes. A strange contentment filled her, and she wasn’t sure why.

  When the place was in order, she glanced around and experienced a sense of pride. She’d made a meal, made a mess, then cleaned it up, something most w
omen did every day. Why did she feel as if she’d just climbed Mount Everest alone?

  Because she was an idiot. She’d cleaned the kitchen. Big whoop. Evan didn’t need her. He didn’t want her, either.

  Her watch read 7:00 a.m. What would she do all day?

  She glanced at Henry, but he’d fallen asleep in the center of the kitchen floor. Jilly smiled. He was so cute. Much cuter than the original.

  She bounced on her toes. Her feet were fine. Whatever Naomi had done had worked wonders. She could walk to Addie’s, so she did.

  Once again Lightning followed her, but this time he didn’t try and knock her over, but plodded along at her side like a lifelong companion.

  She eyed his back. “I don’t suppose you’d want to give me a lift to Addie’s?”

  He galloped away.

  “You’re right,” she called. “The walk will do me good.”

  The most Jilly had ever walked had been in a shopping mall. She had to admit a stroll through the pasture beneath the summer sun was more relaxing.

  She listened to the birds sing and the chipmunks chatter as she eyed the wildflowers and the tall, swaying grass. If she stopped and listened closely, Jilly could hear the water rushing over the stones in the creek. The sound reminded her of the ocean—the only thing she truly missed from California.

  “If I move to the other side of the inn and leave the window open, I could hear the water,” she murmured to herself.

  Maybe then she’d be able to sleep.

  Zorro and Peter waddled out to meet her. Peter’s tail only grossed Jilly out for an instant. Zorro latched on to her skirt and started to climb.

  “Lift him off and tap his paws so he knows he ain’t supposed to do that.”

  Addie stood in the door of the cabin holding a baby—of the human variety, Jilly hoped.

  “But be gentle,” Addie continued. “He’ll bite if you’re rough.”

  Jilly glanced at the raccoon, who had clambered to her waist while they spoke.

  “Hurry up,” Addie urged. “Afore he tears your clothes.”

  Gingerly, Jilly plucked Zorro from her person and tapped his fingers with her own. He chittered in disappointment, but when she set him on the ground, he merely followed in her wake, batting at the hem of her skirt.

  “Pretty soon you won’t even know he’s around,” Addie said.

  Somehow, Jilly doubted that, but she let the matter drop.

  “I came over to help.”

  “Figgered you would.”

  “Why?”

  “What else ye gonna do all day?”

  “I could help Evan with the inn.”

  “Pshaw. That’s men’s work.”

  Jilly had never been much of a feminist. How could she be? But she took issue with that. “I could do it.”

  “Of course you could. Women can do damn near anything a man can. Except lift really heavy things. But who’d want to if’n you don’t have to?”

  “I agree.”

  “The list of things a woman can do that a man can’t…” Addie tsked. “Mighty long.”

  Jilly smiled. “Like what?”

  Addie dumped the bundle in her arms into Jilly’s. “Like that.”

  Jilly bobbled the baby. “Hey, watch it.”

  “Rock her. Over there. I want that kid to stay asleep till her ma comes. Anna Mae can raise a hellish racket.”

  “Is she sick?”

  Jilly sat in the rocking chair next to the front door. Zorro started to play with her toes. Jilly was too interested in the baby to care. She shifted the blanket so she could see the child’s face. Why did every newborn resemble Winston Churchill?

  “Summer complaint. Used t’ treat it with tea made from wild artichokes. But it never did much good. I use chamomile now. Soothes the belly.”

  “What is summer complaint?”

  “Colic.”

  “They still have that?”

  Addie gave her an arch look. “You aren’t around babies much, are ye?”

  “Never.”

  “Where you been that you haven’t held a baby?”

  Where had she been? Paris. London. Milan. New York. San Francisco. Chicago. She was certain there were babies in those cities. Somewhere. But they usually didn’t turn up at Bloomingdales. If they did, Jilly hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Never mind.” Addie shooed Zorro off to play with Peter. “We’ll have a full day today. Might be summer, but folks still get sick. And they get hurt even more during Gemini.”

  “Gemini?” Jilly recalled the Wilder sisters mentioning something about Gemini before. “You mean the Zodiac sign?”

  Addie nodded. “’Round here we go by the zodiac sun signs for a whole lot. Plantin’, healin’, marryin’.”

  “Because…?”

  “Because that’s the way we’ve always done it. The sun signs came about fer a reason. Now, today yer gonna see a lot of sickness, some blood, too.”

  “I’ve never done any first aid,” Jilly said.

  “Me, neither. I’m a healer, plain and simple. My mother was a power doctor, and I use some of her spells.”

  “What’s a power doctor?”

  “Power comes from above. My ma could lay on the hands and take away a fever. Never worked for me. I mostly use the medicines.”

  Addie cracked her knuckles, then stared at her veined hands as if wishing they could impart healing as her mother’s had.

  “In the old days there were all sorts of healers. Chills and fever doctors, yarb doctors—for poultices and such—rubbin’ doctors, nature doctors. Nowadays, there’s those that had schoolin’ and those who learned the hard way. Folks in the hills trust me. Certain things I can fix. What I can’t, I send ’em to the town doctor fer. They wouldn’t go less’n I told ’em to, so I figger I’m doin’ a service, savin’ lives, too.”

  Addie’s voice and eyes were so earnest, Jilly found herself nodding in agreement.

  “You just rock the baby till I tell ye t’ stop. The movement helps her belly. The more she sleeps the better for us all.”

  Addie disappeared inside. Jilly sat on the porch and rocked. The sun beat down, warming her feet, making her drowsy.

  She drifted, dreaming of Evan’s kiss, his touch, the dark hair with the auburn streaks drifting all over her body. She imagined making eggs at dawn, drinking coffee in the kitchen as the sun blazed over the horizon. She wanted to work hard at something important and feel good about herself at the end of the day.

  Anna Mae shifted in her arms, turning toward Jilly’s breast and nuzzling in close with a soft sigh. Jilly tilted her head.

  Funny, the kid didn’t look like Winston Churchill anymore.

  CHAPTER TEN

  JILLY ROCKED THE baby until the infant woke up squalling. Addie’d been right. Anna Mae could raise the roof with her screams.

  “Here.” Addie appeared in the doorway. “I’ll take her.”

  “No.” Jilly stared at the beet-red baby face. The little girl was twisting and turning, writhing as if in pain. “I don’t mind. What should I do?”

  Addie studied Jilly, then motioned for her to stand, which she did. “Hold her against ye, tight like. Her belly to yer chest. Rub her back and sway.” She demonstrated.

  Jilly did as instructed. The baby kept crying, but she stopped squirming.

  “May take a while, but keep at it. If yer ears start ringin’ and yer eye starts twitchin’, I’ll take ’er.”

  The wailing didn’t bother Jilly. The child’s obvious discomfort did.

  She swayed with that baby for forty-five minutes before Anna Mae stopped crying and fell back asleep.

  “Should I put her down?” she asked Addie.

  “Lord, no. She’ll wake right back up. Her ma’ll be here directly.”

  When Anna Mae’s mother arrived, Jilly didn’t want to let the child go. She was so soft and cuddly, so warm and trusting. Her little mouth hung open, and her eyelashes created a spiderweb of shadows against her pale cheeks.

&n
bsp; “Thank ye.” The young woman slipped the baby out of Jilly’s arms, handing her a burlap sack in return.

  Jilly glanced inside and nearly dropped the sack. “What’s with the dead chicken?”

  “Payment.” She settled Anna Mae into her car seat. “For your time and trouble.”

  “I’d rather have cash,” Jilly muttered as the car drove away.

  “Not much of that in these parts.” Addie had come out of the cabin.

  “Why not?”

  “Just ain’t. Folks use their paper money at the store. What they can pay fer in trade, they do.”

  “Here’s your chicken.” Jilly held the bag out to Addie.

  The old woman turned away. “That’s yours.”

  “What am I going to do with it?”

  “Make dinner.”

  Jilly peered into the bag again. The thing inside looked like nothing she’d ever found on a plate.

  “Never mind,” Addie ordered. “We got customers.”

  Jilly looked up and saw an elderly couple approaching on foot.

  “Wife’s got the flux,” the man said. “And my bold hives ain’t so good, either.” He squinted at Jilly. “Who in blazes are you?”

  “My new helper.” Addie led the old woman to a chair. “Lives at the inn.”

  The man’s white eyebrows flew upward. “With Matthew?”

  Jilly opened her mouth to deny living with Matthew, but Addie answered, “Of course,” before she could say a word.

  “Get my medicine bag, Jilly. Directly inside the door.”

  Jilly decided not to bother arguing. Matthew lived at the inn, and no one around here was going to believe otherwise.

  She stepped into Addie’s cabin and was struck speechless. Herbs hung from the ceiling. Bottles filled with tonics in every color of the earth lined several shelves and the mantel. Books and notebooks overflowed several tables. The entire place was devoted to the healing arts. Even the stove held bubbling pots of brew.

  Jilly should feel uncomfortable, like Gretel blundering into the witch’s lair. Instead she felt as if she’d stumbled upon something wonderful.

  Until the alligator crawled out from under the bed. Jilly shrieked and ran outside.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “There’s an alligator in there.”

  Addie’s gaze slid past her. “He’s out here now.”