Where The Heart Is

by Sheridon Smythe

  Gill Montgomery? Mrs. Boone and Gill Montgomery—Elliot's grandfather?

  She was shocked. She held the letter, torn between guilt and curiosity. It would be wrong to read the letters, but she desperately wanted to understand the woman who had raised her with such cold indifference. The same woman who had disappeared in the night without hesitation, leaving four helpless orphans behind.

  Curiosity and need won. Her troubles momentarily forgotten, she became engrossed in the letters Nelda Boone had apparently written but never gained the courage to mail.

  A half hour later, Natalie sat in stunned silence, staring at the far wall. Incredible. The letters had revealed far more than she had wanted to know about Nelda Boone, Gill Montgomery and ... Elliot.

  Nelda Boone was Elliot's natural mother.

  She rubbed an ache between her eyes as she tried to absorb this horrendous news. Elliot had spoke of his mother with unmistakable reverence, she recalled. But whenever Nelda Boone was mentioned, he'd adopted a derisive tone flavored with outright contempt.

  No, he didn't know, she concluded. She also doubted he knew about the brief affair between the unwed Nelda Boone and his grandfather. It seemed Nelda had been Gill's housekeeper, and when Gill returned from the war to find his beloved wife dead and buried, he'd turned to Nelda for comfort.

  Elliot had been very young at the time, fathered by a nameless soldier passing through. Nelda had managed to keep her young son a secret from the rest of the town. And she must have been grieving as well, Natalie thought. But her grief hadn't lasted long. She had fallen in love with Gill, but Gill had loved his wife dearly and couldn't return Nelda's love.

  Gill had converted Ivy House into an orphanage and had placed Nelda in charge. In return, she had given him the child she hadn't wanted.

  Elliot.

  Natalie swallowed hard. Elliot would be not only furious and hurt because Gill had lied to him, he would be disgusted to learn Nelda Boone was his mother. She fingered the edge of one of the letter, remembering how soft his voice became when he spoke of the great love between his grandparents. How would he feel to learn his grandfather had turned so quickly to another woman?

  Her heart ached just thinking about how he would react, how he would feel. He would be devastated, then furious. After that would come the pain. She winced. She loved him, and because she loved him his pain was her own—even when he didn't know it.

  She eyed the flickering candle and drummed her fingers on the desk. Now she knew why Nelda Boone had locked herself in her room for days when someone left a baby on the doorstep.

  Guilt.

  Oh, she might have regretted giving her son away, and she might have grieved over the loss, but not enough, Natalie thought, squashing her rising sympathy, to fetch him back and raise him despite the whispers and disapproval.

  Nelda Boone had been weak, just like her own mother.

  And now she knew why Nelda Boone had fled after finding out about Gill's death; she'd known Elliot would come to Ivy House. She had known and couldn't face him, or didn't want to.

  She drew the candle closer, her lips firming with determination. Elliot need never know about the letters; they would only tear him apart and make him question his own identity, destroy the deep respect he held for his grandfather. Cherished memories would become lies...

  One by one, she held the letters over the candle flame.

  Finding out about her father had been a comfort; in Elliot's case finding out about his mother would only wound.

  She watched the paper flare and burn without regret, her thoughts returning to the previous housemother.

  Nelda Boone had spent her entire life clinging to the past, allowing it to embitter the present. Natalie was determined not to follow in the housemother's footsteps. She might love Elliot with all her heart, but she would find a way to live with it without making those around her suffer.

  She would.

  * * * *

  This time, Elliot knew which boards would creak. He made it to Natalie's room without a whisper of sound, a dark, silent shadow. Now, with his eyes having ample time to adjust to the dark on his way upstairs, he stood by her bed watching her sleep. There wasn't any moon, but a strange, ethereal light seemed to surround her.

  Her chest rose and fell, then hitched fitfully. With a tiny moan, she flung her head back and forth on the pillow. He swallowed, watching her, wanting her. What did she dream of? he wondered a little jealously.

  "Elliot...” she whispered.

  Desire slammed into him. He edged closer to the bed. Reaching out, he ran his finger along the underside of her arm, along the curve of her breast. She arched into him, plunging her breast into his palm.

  He groaned and closed his hand around her softness.

  Her eyes flew open. He froze. He'd just wanted to watch her, make sure she was all right—he hadn't meant to awaken her.

  He shouldn't have touched her.

  To his utter surprise and pleasure, she smiled at him, her eyelids drooping seductively. When she lifted her arms to him, he didn't hesitate.

  It was heaven. She was warm, and her scent wrapped around him like a loving hand. She tugged on his head and brought their mouths together in a heated rush, kissing him with wild abandon, twining her hot tongue with his.

  He trembled, holding back, holding himself away from her, letting only his mouth plunder and enjoy. But she yanked him closer, wrapping her long silken legs around him and pulling him tight against her heat.

  "Natalie, I love you,” he breathed, straining for control, realizing it was useless. And why did he hesitate? She was showing him that she wanted him...

  "Love?” Her breathless, scornful laugh froze the hot blood in his veins. “What do I need with love when I have Ivy House? Ivy House is all I wanted, Elliot, and now that I have it—"

  "What?"

  The sound of his own harsh voice startled him awake.

  He trembled, lying sprawled against the mattress in his hotel room.

  Not with Natalie. Not at Ivy House.

  It had all been a dream, he realized, shivering as the sweat cooled against his skin. He shook his head, blinking to clear the fog of sleep that lingered ... pulled at him.

  No, he didn't want to go back to sleep, not if there was any chance he'd have that same dream again. Not that it was all bad, but the end didn't justify the beginning. With a muttered curse, he rose from the bed and added wood to the glowing coals. Fire began to lick greedily at the dry wood, caught, and flamed to life.

  He sat in the chair before the fire, fear gnawing at his insides despite his own self-assurances. There would be no more sleep tonight, he knew.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  It was a monster of a tree. By far the ugliest, most misshapen—"Lovely, just lovely, boys. You did a wonderful job.” Natalie shuddered inwardly as she moved slowly around the tree, her lips pursed contemplatively.

  Hideous. The tree was too big, too tall, and so unruly she didn't think there was the slightest possibility of making it presentable.

  As always, they would keep it.

  "Jo, get the tinsel. Cole, you and Brett bring that basket of pine cones from the attic—the painted ones. There's also a box of ornaments Brett made last year. Bring those too."

  "What can I do?” Lori demanded, looking small and lost beside the monstrous tree.

  Natalie chuckled. “Finish those beautiful garlands you were working on. I can't wait to see them on the tree.” She took a deep breath and inhaled the sharp odor of pine, and the nutmeg Jo had put in the eggnog. Christmas smells. Happy sounds. Smiling faces.

  Their last holiday at Ivy House.

  She stiffened her spine. She would think nothing but happy thoughts. It was Christmas Eve, and she was going to make this a Christmas they would never forget.

  The children seemed to have caught her determination, too. They were all happy and glowing, as if they had forgotten their lives would be forever changed
after this holiday.

  A rush of cold wind signaled an arrival. Natalie peered around the doorway to the parlor, smiling at Marla and Hickory. They looked like Eskimos, bundled against the cold. Marla had grown big with child, but she still moved with more grace than she had a right too.

  "Is it still snowing?” she queried, waving them into the parlor. She took their hats and coats, answering her own question as she shook the fine white powder from the garments before hanging them. “I see that it is."

  "Lots and lots!” Hickory shouted. “Papa and Mr. ‘Gomery are bringin'—"

  Natalie looked up, catching Marla in the act of clamping Hickory's mouth shut. She lifted a brow. “Keeping secrets?"

  "It's a surprise, not a secret.” Glaring at Hickory, she reminded him, “Remember, we're not supposed to tell?"

  His face fell. “Oh. I remember. Okay, I won't tell Natty that Papa and Mr.—"

  Marla let out a frustrated breath and clamped her hand over his mouth again. She shot Natalie a rueful smile. “I told Noah he couldn't keep a secret. He didn't believe me."

  Hickory clawed the hand away, his expression indignant. “I can too! See?” He folded his arms and pursed his lips tightly.

  They laughed.

  Taking his hand, Natalie led him to the tree and gave him a handful of silver tinsel. “Throw this at the tree,” she instructed.

  His eyes rounded. “Really? I can throw it?"

  She nodded, watching him for a moment before linking her arm with Marla's. “Let's go sample Jo's eggnog. It smells delicious."

  "You don't have to twist my arm,” Marla groaned. “I don't turn anything away these days—if it can be eaten."

  "Jo made these tiny little pastry puffs—"

  "Stop!” Marla laughed helplessly. “I'm thinking about telling Noah we're having twins so he won't scold me for getting so fat!"

  Natalie stopped dead. “You—you're not having twins, are you Marla?"

  "No, I don't think so.” She shrugged. “We won't know until it's time, will we? By the way, I love the tree."

  She sounded so sincere, Natalie burst out laughing. “Liar."

  "No, no! I do. I hate perfect trees. Noah, on the other hand, won't stop looking until he finds the most perfect tree in the forest."

  "What's that? Did I hear my name?"

  Both women turned at the sound of Noah's jolly voice. The men had come in silently behind them, catching their conversation.

  Natalie's gaze shot to Elliot's as if an invisible wire were stretched between them. Her heart slowed to a fierce, heavy pounding. He looked handsome and fit, smelling of snow and cold and pine. Snow sprinkled the shoulders of his dark coat and pooled on top of his hat. She fancied she saw glimmers of snowflakes caught in his lashes, as well.

  "Elliot."

  "Natalie."

  "Oh, for Heaven's sake, you two act as if you've only just met!” Marla grabbed her husband's arm and headed in the direction of the kitchen. “We'll get the eggnog—you'd better see what Hickory's doing to your tree, Natalie."

  Natalie started to move, but Elliot's low command stopped her.

  "Be still."

  Her heart tripped. She froze, their gazes still locked. He came to her and gently cupped her face in his hands. They were cool, yet oh-so-exciting.

  "You're standing beneath the mistletoe,” he murmured just before his mouth took hers in a slow, intimate exploration.

  She melted against him, sighing into his mouth. She had missed this, missed him. Oh, he'd been around plenty, but he hadn't spoken to her unless he was forced to, and hadn't looked at her for more than a fleeting second. It was as if he agreed with her that it was all a mistake.

  Now he kissed her as if they were alone, his mouth roaming over her lips, her jaw, and finally her throat.

  "Are you going to bite Natty, Mr. ‘Gomery?"

  Her giggle was spontaneous. He smiled into her laughing eyes before answering Hickory.

  "I might. I'll bet she tastes good."

  "Elliot!” She blushed and moved around him, her knees weak and trembling. As she passed him, he bent close to her ear.

  "In fact, I know you do,” he whispered on a husky note.

  "Hm.” Natalie shivered, and at the same time ordered caution. What game was he playing? After weeks of cool looks and monosyllable conversations, why was he suddenly looking at her as if she were a particularly tasty treat?

  "Eggnog anyone? You were right, Natalie. Jo's eggnog is the best!"

  Marla. She closed her eyes in agony, humiliation flaming her cheeks. Of course. Marla had begged him to be nice to her, to make her feel wanted. And he, being the gentleman that he was, had agreed. What other explanation for his sudden transformation could there be?

  Hoping Hickory couldn't sense her inner turmoil, she bent to stuff more tinsel into his eager little hand. Her voice was a little hoarse as she said, “You're doing a great job, Hickory.” She pushed him in the direction of the unfortunate-looking tree where Cole, Brett, Jo and Lori had all gathered around to hang decorations.

  "That is the ugliest tree I've ever seen,” Elliot whispered in her ear, handing her a cup of spiced eggnog as he spoke.

  She stiffened, then forced herself to relax. She would not let anyone ruin her last holiday at Ivy House. Not even Elliot, who had the power to squeeze the last drop of blood from her heart. Nevertheless, she didn't do a very decent job of keeping the chill from her voice. “The children always pick the ugliest tree—probably because they realize no one else will want it. Amazing, isn't it? What our hearts will lead us to do out of pity."

  His silence told her he'd picked up on her double entendre and decided to ignore it. “Didn't you like the kiss?"

  She sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. She wouldn't let him rile her—not tonight of all nights. Tonight was for the children. Shrugging, she took a sip of eggnog. “If I said no, would you believe me?” It was so unbelievable she nearly laughed herself. She fully expected that he would.

  "Liar."

  Or call her a liar. Just as she formed her retort, Jo called out to Elliot, saving her. She breathed an inward sigh of relief. She didn't think she had the strength to fight with him tonight.

  "Mr. Montgomery! Will you put the angel on? Cole's still not tall enough."

  Cole leveled a frown at Jo. “I am, but I thought Mr. Montgomery would like to do the honors."

  Jo snorted, Brett brayed like a donkey, and Lori giggled. Hickory stood looking from one to the other wearing a perplexed expression.

  Elliot quickly took the angel and stepped forward before a fight broke out. Despite her anger and humiliation, Natalie was glad. She stepped back, watching him with tears burning the back of her eyes.

  He was tall, but the tree was taller.

  Cole shot Jo a smug look before offering to help. “I'll pull the tree forward. That should do it.” Overly eager, he grabbed a branch and pulled. The tree tilted, then began to fall in Elliot's direction. Elliot, in the act of stretching his arm skyward, had balanced himself against the tree.

  He couldn't move fast enough.

  The tree fell on top of him, knocking him to the floor.

  Natalie gasped, adding her hands to the rest as they attempted to lift the tree from him. She could hear Marla laughing helplessly behind her. What if he were hurt? What if one of the branches had pierced his chest—or eye?

  Her imagination made her frantic. She pulled at the tree, heaving and grunting along with the children while Marla and now Noah laughed uproariously. Finally, they managed to set the tree upright. Natalie dove to her knees beside Elliot, brushing aside tinsel and decorations until she uncovered his face.

  He was laughing.

  "Oh! You—” She smacked his shoulder, her face burning with embarrassment. He'd seen how concerned she was, and now he probably thought—"Oh, you!” she repeated, getting to her feet and resisting the urge to kick him.

  Still laughing, he lumbered to his feet. A silver strand of tinsel hung fr
om his hair; there was a pine cone in his pocket. When his laughter finally died away, he looked at Noah. “Is it time?"

  Noah checked his pocket watch, grinned and nodded. “Close enough. Let's go."

  "Where are we going, Papa? Are we going to ride—” Hickory's eyes looked like round saucers above Noah's beefy hand. Prudently, Noah kept his hand over Hickory's mouth.

  "Everyone get bundled up,” Elliot ordered.

  Natalie, who wasn't in the mood to be ordered especially by Elliot, folded her arms and turned away. He caught her before she reached the kitchen.

  "Just where do you think you're going?"

  "Away from you.” She felt like a petulant child, but couldn't seem to stop. She'd had enough humiliation for one day at his expense.

  "You were worried about me.” It wasn't a question, but a statement. He grabbed her chin and turned her face around.

  She obstinately kept her gaze lowered.

  "Look at me.” When she didn't comply, he tilted her chin until she had no choice. “I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't realize that you thought I was hurt."

  She opened her mouth to hotly deny his assumption, then snapped it closed. What was the use? He'd know she lied.

  "Will you come with us, please?"

  "Lori,” she began.

  "Lori is coming with us. We'll bundle her up tight."

  "Then I guess I don't have a choice, do I?” Jerking free, she went to get her cloak. She dashed the tears from her eyes before she joined the others gathered at the door, studiously avoiding his searching gaze. He was making it very difficult to keep her vow to remain cheerful for the children's sake. Each moment in his company jammed the arrow deeper into her heart.

  It reminded her of how lonely it would be when he left.

  "Ready?"

  Everyone nodded at Noah, eyes glowing with anticipation as he threw open the door and ushered them outside.

  They stopped as one on the porch. Rico stomped and snorted puffs of steam in greeting. He was attached to a long sled that would easily accommodate them all.