by Tia Dani
"See. I thought so."
"Except, my father," Libby amended. "He's always been supportive."
"Your father is a rare man who sees things the way they're supposed to be." Sarah sighed. "I admire him."
"My father's unique, all right." Libby laughed. "Lately, he's been a little too all-knowing and sees things clearer than I do. It's almost as if he knows what I'm thinking before I have a chance to think it."
Sarah chuckled. "Maybe he’s a mind reader. I read an interesting book about people who could read minds."
"Dad? A mind reader?" Libby chewed on her lower lip. After crossing through time, Libby wasn't going to rule anything out as impossible.
"There's Luke's farm."
Libby's gaze followed the direction of Sarah's point, and she gasped in amazement. Jenny's grandfather was born there. She was seeing the Domé homestead in its formative years. "This is Luke's place?"
"Yes, isn't it lovely?" Sarah stared at it wistfully.
"I..." What could she say without everyone thinking she'd gone crazy?
As they drew closer, Libby studied the sprawling farm. The layout was almost the same as she remembered it in 1966. Only difference were the house, updated in 1963, and the newly-built barn refurbished in 1954. But what caught her attention the most was the beautiful garden missing on the left side of the house. Jenny's mother said her Great-Great-Grandmother Domé designed it in 1868.
An ache began to grow in Libby's stomach. The idea of Jenny's great-great-grandmother didn't sit right. She must have been Matthew's wife. Libby rubbed her stomach. No reason for her to feel upset. After all, she didn't even like the man. So, why should she care who he married...or marries...or is going to marry?
"There's Claude."
Sarah's husband walked out of the barn. He stopped and shaded his eyes with his hand, watching them approach. Libby glanced at Sarah when she pulled up slightly on the reins. Clearly she wasn't in hurry to get to the farm. All the sparkle and animation once in the woman's face died. In its place was the mouse Libby had first met.
"Sarah, don't let him do this to you."
Her friend's eyes turned haunted. "I have to, he's my husband."
"Husband, yes. Lord and Master, no. Didn't you learn anything at the rally you attended in Chicago?"
Sarah shook her head, and Libby placed a hand on her arm.
"What about the declaration? We're talking about us? You and me? About rights."
"It's different. You're not married. I am. I belong to him."
"No, you don't. You belong to yourself."
Sarah continued to shake her head.
"Oh, for crying out loud. This is ridiculous." Libby sniffed and glared at the waiting man. Katherine and the others had already arrived, and she was talking to Claude. Desperate to make Sarah understand, Libby tried one more time. "Sarah, please, listen to me. Marriage doesn't allow a man to own you. You are your own person. You need to stand up for yourself and tell him."
"I can't." Sarah's voice took on a note of hysteria. "I tried once. He laughed and beat me senseless." She looked down at her swollen stomach. "I was carrying a baby then, too. I lost it a week later."
"Oh, darn, don't cry." Libby choked back her tears and laid an arm around Sarah's hunched shoulders. "I'm sorry. I am such an idiot. I'm forever putting my foot in my mouth."
Sarah glanced sideways in puzzlement. After a short quiet pause, a hint of laughter followed. "Interesting, does it taste sweet or sour?"
Confused by Sarah's quick change of behavior and her question, Libby blurted, "Does what taste sweet or sour? I'm afraid you've lost me. I don't...oh...now I get it. Foot in my mouth." She wagged a finger at the woman sitting next to her. "You're good, Sarah. You got me."
Sarah's smile wilted. She said softly, "I hope you don't mind I made a joke, but I just can't face Claude while upset. I might accidently say something to make him angry. I won't take any chances with this baby." Her voice strengthened with purpose. "I won't."
Libby drummed her fingers on her knees in frustration. Sarah was better off by not dealing with her husband for the baby's sake. But something needed to be done. Getz's could try a Saint's soul with his attitude. Libby sighed then straightened her shoulders. She wasn't a saint; just like she wasn't an angel.
She needed a plan.
Libby sighed again and slapped her hands on her knees. "Speaking of jokes, have you heard the one about the chicken who crossed the road?"
Chapter Fourteen
"You crazy woman." Claude Getz descended upon Libby and Sarah like a vengeful wraith. His anger was clear to everyone, but sitting beside Sarah, Libby was the only one who saw the small gleam of greed flicker through his eyes as he studied the buggy. Then seeming to get control of himself, he yanked the reins from his wife's hands. "Whatcha doing driving this rig? What if you'd a turned it over or somethin'? I ain't got no money to replace it." His voice hissed and he started wrapping the reins around his fist. "How many time do I hafta—"
"Mr. Getz." Katherine interrupted his tirade. She walked toward them with Sarah's basket on her arm. "There wasn't enough room for all of us in one wagon. I insisted Sarah drive this one, since Libby doesn't know how. If there had been an accident, I would have claimed responsibility."
"`Course, Miz Strammon, I ain't one to tell a proper lady like you her business."
His patronizing tone grated on Libby's nerves. Little white lines around Katherine's tight lips proved she was running out of patience, too.
Oblivious to the women's chilly manner, Getz continued to fawn. "This here rig should be in the hands of someone who knows what they're doin'." He ran an admiring hand over the front wheel and said in a rush, "I'll drive it back."
"No, thank you, Mr. Getz," Katherine replied as quickly. You have your own horse and wagon to worry about."
"Sarah can take care of them."
"Sarah most certainly will not." Libby bounded out the buggy, almost tripping over her long skirts when her feet touched the ground. "What's wrong with you? Sarah's going to have a baby any day now. The last thing she needs is to be driving a bench board wagon for hours at a time."
Getz puffed up like a bandy toad. "It ain't gonna kill her. Lotsa women do it."
"Not when they're nine months pregnant."
"How come you know so much?"
He was so close to her, she caught the sour smell of stale beer, or something like it. Mixed with his foul body odor, the combination made her gag.
"Miss Strammon! Katherine! You made it."
Luke Abrams' arrival stopped Libby from responding to Getz. Sniffing indignantly, she gave The Creep a pointed frown then spun on her heel. "Hello, Mr. Abrams, yes, we..."
Whatever else she planned to say whirled from her thoughts. Matthew leaned against the back edge of the buggy, arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. He wore the customary pale blue shirt which made his eyes glisten darkly. His black vest matched the black trousers which snugly hugged every muscled inch of those familiar, long legs. However, it was the vee at the top of his shirt which held Libby captivated. The first two undone buttons allowed the shirt to spread open. She admired the curve of his trapezium muscles as they blended with his scapula, enhancing his immense shoulders. Libby resisted an urge to sigh. Lord, he was one magnificent male specimen. Medically speaking, of course.
Too bad his personality lacked the same magnificence. Though his expression remained inscrutable, Matthew didn't appear pleased with what was taking place between her and Getz. She felt his displeasure hit her in waves of telekinetic energy. Obviously, he blamed her for the argument.
She sent Matthew a defiant glare and jutted out her chin as if to say. Buzz off.
Luke Abrams stood beside Matthew, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth. His welcoming smile contrasted sharply with Matthew's lack of expression. "Mr. Abrams," she said softly, opting to concentrate on Luke rather than Matthew. "Your farm is lovely. I can't wait to see inside your house."
; "Wonderful..." Luke grinned at Matthew before finishing. "Let's go see it." He nodded to Sarah who remained motionless in the buggy, only her gaze darted between Getz and Luke. The folds of her skirt twisted between her fingers, and her knuckles appeared almost white.
Luke watched her. The intensity of his grin faded and changed into a hard smile. Curiosity pulled at Libby. She'd seen vibes between two people before but never this intense.
"Mrs. Getz," Luke approached the side of the carriage and offered his hand. His voice took on a soft undertone. "You'd do me great honor seeing it with us."
As Sarah reached out to the proffered hand, Claude Getz stepped up to the buggy and attempted to weasel his way between them. "Here now. Sarah and me gotta talk private-like. She can see your big, fancy house later." Ignoring Libby's gasp, he focused his attention on his wife. "Get yourself down from there, Woman."
"Your wife can see it now, Getz."
Matthew's frosty counter order startled everyone. Libby frowned at the goose bumps running up and down her arms, again. But, when she heard Getz's snarl, she forgot the strange reoccurring bumps. Her gaze fell first on Luke. He stood, with a fist curled around the rag he carried as if he planned to gag Getz for good. Sarah's face went lily pale, and she positioned a hand on Luke's shoulder. Libby could have sworn the movement was done not to accept his help down, but to hold Luke back from going after Getz.
Matthew's interruption pulled Getz from the byplay between Luke and his wife. Obviously whenever Getz drank he turned mean and it didn't matter who upset him.
"Listen, Domé, ain't nobody tells me how to handle my woman." He unwrapped the reins from around his fist and slapped them threateningly against his left hand. "Not even no high-and-mighty big shot like you."
Matthew slowly unfolded his arms and straightened away from the buggy. His features never changed, but Libby sensed his rising anger. Squelching the urge to duck under the carriage and hide, Libby swallowed hard. Today she wasn't on the receiving end of his cold, deliberate stare. Claude Getz had the honor. He deserved it.
"Nobody's telling you anything, Getz," Matthew said quietly. "But, if you intend to finish preparing your brew before the guests arrive, you'd best forget your private talk."
Getz lost a bit of his belligerence. For several seconds, he stood motionless. Finally, he nodded sharply and tossed the buggy reins back to his wife.
Caught by surprise, Sarah fumbled for the reins. She managed to catch only one of the thin strips of leather. The other dropped to the ground.
A silent message passed between Matthew and Luke then Matthew turned and followed Claude to the barn.
Of the three women, Katherine recovered first. She gave Sarah a look of pity then went to join James and Theo at the corral fence. The two were watching several horses cavort playfully with one another.
Luke reached down and picked up the trailing rein. When he straightened, the anger in his features had softened. "Hand me the other rein, Mrs. Getz, so you can get down."
Sarah held out the smooth leather and Luke took it. Libby noticed Sarah's hand shook when it touched Luke's. The smile on Luke's face stiffened, yet he acted as if he'd not noticed. Once she stood between Libby, he vaulted into the buggy.
"I'll see to the buggy. Please go on up to the house?"
He clucked his tongue and pulled on one rein. The horse responded immediately, by turning to the right.
Once Luke was out of ear-shot, Libby released a weak laugh and squeezed Sarah's arm. "We're some pair, you and I. Here we were talking about being strong and independent. And we fall to pieces the minute some man starts talking."
Sarah gave a start of surprise and glanced at Libby with dismay. "I...You? I don't know what you mean? Luke only—"
Libby frowned. "Who said anything about Luke?"
Sarah flushed. "You mean my husband. I think you were marvelous standing up to Claude the way you did."
Libby groaned. "I'm not talking about your husband, either. I'm talking about Matthew. He's so unpredictable half the time I can't think straight. Did you see how he acted a minute ago?"
"Matthew? Oh...oh." Some of Sarah's normal color returned. Delight flashed in her eyes. She leaned forward and whispered, "I thought there might be something between the two of you."
"Don't be ridiculous. If I was interested in a man, I'd know it. Besides, I was talking about how he confuses me."
"What's this about being interested in a man?"
Luke Abrams rejoined them. "It wouldn't, by any chance, be me you're interested in?" He walked up beside Libby. The devil-may-care attitude clearly back in place.
Libby responded to his demeanor by giving him a warm smile. She did like Luke, especially his light-hearted manner. "It's possible, Mr. Abrams. She draped an arm around his. "Entirely possible."
"All I needed to know. Luke, remember? Mr. Abrams sounds too formal."
"Fine. I insist you call me Libby."
He patted her hand resting on his arm. "You ladies ready for the tour?"
Libby nodded and glanced around. Only the three of them were left in the yard. "Where's Katherine?"
"Already inside. She'll meet us in the kitchen." Luke offered his other arm to Sarah and said politely, "Mrs Getz?"
"Mr. Abrams? I..." Sarah's voice was steady, but Luke seemed to understand her uncertainty about going to the house.
"Don't worry about your husband, Mrs. Getz. Matthew's got him busy working in the shed behind the barn."
A blush spread over Sarah's face. "Mr...Mr. Abrams I'd love to see your house. But if Claude wanted to speak to me—"
"Mrs. Getz." Luke's voice turned serious. "Don't worry about your husband. If he says anything, I'll take care of it."
Libby wanted to shout for joy. Finally, someone willing to get involved. Something told her Luke would never allow Getz to beat his wife in his presence. "Her name's Sarah, Luke. Don't you think we should all be on a first name basis?"
A warm glow filled Luke's hazel eyes. "I do. Mrs. Getz," he said softly. "It would be an honor if you allow me to call you by your first name."
"I...I..."
"Do it, Sarah." Libby had to physically contain herself not to shake some sense into her friend.
"All right." Sarah's agreement came softly, but they both heard it.
Luke chuckled. "I believe that may be the first time I ever held my breath in anticipation over a lady's answer." He grinned at them, motioning toward the house. "You know, it isn't often I have two beautiful women solely to myself. I am so overcome with delight I'm practically speechless. Why I—"
"Speechless, my foot." Libby interrupted. She grinned first at Sarah then back at Luke. "Luke Abrams, something tells me you've never been speechless one day of your life."
He looked affronted. "I have."
"When?"
"When, I was born. I was told I was a perfect angel. Never cried or spoke till I was a year old, and then I sang hymns and played the harp."
* * *
Matthew stepped from the shadows of the barn into the sunlight. He watched Luke escort the two women into the house. Every bit of him wanted to follow. The idea of Luke showing off his house to Libby gnawed at his gut. He knew Luke would show the master bedroom to Libby. The man's bedroom could be considered sinful, it was so luxurious. Matthew knew it because he'd built the huge bed and other furniture himself. Luke always planned on sharing his bed with a special woman, and it was possible he'd set his sights on Libby.
An image of Libby sharing the big bed with Luke put grit between his grinding teeth. Why should it bother him?
"Go with them."
Joseph joined him. He glanced to the house and back again at Matthew. "I'd say you're not worth anything here."
"Haven't we had this conversation before?"
Joseph chuckled. "On the barn roof? It does sound the same, but I'd say you're a lot worse now."
"Find a well and jump in, Joseph."
Joseph laughed. "Not today. Maybe tomorrow, after I
wake up with a hangover from Getz's new concoction." He stood quietly for several seconds then asked, "You gonna let Luke crowd you out?"
"Luke can have Libby. I don't want her."
"The hell you don't. It's written all over your face."
"Because you think you see something in my face doesn't mean it's there."
Joseph walked around and studied him closely. "It's there all right. Admit it, you want her."
Matthew's temper exploded. "Fine, dammit! I want her. Are you happy? But, not for a wife. Do you understand? Not for a wife."
Joseph's mouth sagged. "Whhhat? You serious? Of course, you want her for a wife. How else would you want her?"
Cynical laughter escaped from Matthew. "Come on, Joe, you of all people should know what I want women for?"
"Libby?" Joseph squeaked. "She's not that kind." Joseph straightened and glared at Matthew. "You've been a friend all my life, Matt. But, today, I'm not so sure I want to be one. Libby's a lady and needs to be treated with respect."
Matthew cringed. Joseph's disgust was well-deserved. But, if he changed his mind, his faithfulness to Elizabeth would disappear into thin air. "This is the way it is."
"No it isn't." Joseph waved his hand angrily. "There's one thing I can do. I can make sure you don't ever touch Libby."
"Where are you going?"
"To find Luke. Gonna tell him to start courtin' her."
Matthew reacted without thinking. He grabbed Joseph's arm and spun him around. "No!"
"No...no...no? God Almighty. When did you turn into a selfish bastard? What's come over you?"
"Nothing. If I make love to Libby it will happen because she wants it. I won't be using her."
"The hell you won't," Joseph shouted. "What do you call makin' love to a good woman without offerin' marriage? I call it makin' the woman a whore."
