“Well?” Ida demanded.
Eliza took a deep breath. “Mrs. Hart, I don’t see the point in answering your questions.”
Ida dropped her own sewing into her lap. She glared at Eliza over her spectacles. “I can’t imagine what my son sees in you.”
That was it. The last straw of the evening. Eliza stood. She calmly laid her sewing back in the basket and turned to Ida. “I do believe I will be going to bed now. Excuse me.”
As she left the room, Eliza heard Ida mutter, “It’s simply rude to leave one’s guest sitting up.”
Eliza walked to the kitchen and poured herself a cold cup of tea. She carried it to her room and closed the door. Again she asked herself how Jackson could be that bitter woman’s son. During the short time she’d known him, he’d not been rude or mean-spirited.
In the short time she’d been there, Ida had run off everyone who’d come to visit. Even Eve had quit coming around. Eliza walked to the window and looked out at the night sky. Eve and Lucas seemed to be trying to make their marriage work. It had taken Lucas almost three full nights and days of talking to convince Eve that he’d changed. He’d confessed he’d never been married before, that he’d been drunk and stupid. He’d been afraid Eve was beginning to hate him because of the drinking and made up the excuse of having another wife to give her a real reason to leave him.
Then Ida Hart had shown up on her doorstep. Her first complaint was that no one had arrived to pick her up in Durango when she’d stepped off the train. The second complaint was that she’d had to learn from a total stranger, Mrs. Hattie, that her son had moved to Cottonwood Springs, New Mexico. The third big complaint came when she’d learned upon arrival that he was married and planning to adopt a six-year-old boy. After that, she lost count of all her mother-in-law’s complaints.
Even Peter avoided the older woman. He either stayed in his room or the barn playing with his kitten, Mrs. Whiskers. She smiled as she thought about the little spitfire. It had drawn blood with its sharp claws on more than one occasion. She looked down at her newly acquired scratch.
“Eliza! I need another blanket,” Ida called from her room.
From where she stood, Eliza called back, “Look in the chest at the foot of your bed.”
Eliza stared out into the night and prayed for patience.
“You could have come and got it for me,” the woman complained. The sound of the trunk lid slamming down filled the silent house.
The tea tasted bitter and Eliza sat the cup on her side table. Next she pulled her dress off and slipped into a soft cotton nightgown. The fabric felt cool on her skin and she sighed.
Her head still ached. Eliza decided that if she let her hair down, her head would feel better. She worked the pins out and ran her fingers through the silky strands. Then she moved back to the window.
A man’s shadow slid across the yard and under a tree. Eliza watched as the dark form inched toward the house. Her heart began to pound and unwanted thoughts of last year when Maxwell Evans had broken into her house through one of the bedroom windows, grasped her by the throat and cut off her air.
Just when she thought she’d scream, Jackson’s whispering voice called out to her, “Eliza.”
“Jackson?” she whispered back.
“Yes, let me in.” He stepped from the shadows and into the lantern’s light.
With trembling hands, Eliza unlocked the window and stood back as he crawled inside. His body had to double over as he worked his way through the opening. Once inside he pulled her close and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispered over her head.
Eliza enjoyed the feel of his arms about her. She’d missed him more than she cared to confess. Easing back, she looked up into his handsome face. “What are you doing?”
“Sneaking in. Shhhh, I don’t want her to hear us.” Jackson’s blue eyes darted to the door.
So he knew his mother was in the house. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed.
“Eliza! What are you doing in there?” Ida demanded from the other side of the door. “Did I hear you talking to someone?”
She jumped at the sound of Ida’s sharp voice. Eliza stepped away from Jackson and started walking toward it.
Just as her hand touched the knob she heard Jackson whisper, “Don’t let her in.”
Eliza glanced over her shoulder and saw that he stood statue-still. His blue eyes resembled saucers. Was he afraid of his own mother?
Eliza’s voice sounded shaky as she answered, “I’m getting ready for bed, Mrs. Hart.” She held her breath, praying Ida would go to her own room and leave them alone.
Ida made a rude noise before informing her, “You sound sick.”
Eliza opened the door a crack. She peeked around the wood. “I’m fine. Please keep your voice down. I don’t want to wake Peter.”
Ida huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You scared me half to death and all you can think about is the boy?”
She’d not argue with the woman. “Yes. Good night, Mrs. Hart.” Eliza shut the door and then leaned on it for support.
Jackson stood with wide eyes. His breathing seemed very rapid. Was he having a heart attack? Did he fear his mother that much? She locked her bedroom door and hurried to his side.
* * *
Jackson sat down on the windowsill and ran a shaky hand through his hair. He’d almost allowed himself to forget about his mother. It seemed no matter where he went she eventually hunted him down. His gaze moved to Eliza.
She stood beside him, studying his face. What did she see? The fear of a child? Or a cowardly man? He took her hand in his and proceeded to throw one leg over the windowsill.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
Jackson continued and soon stood outside in the night air. He inhaled as much of it into his lungs as he could before answering. “We need to talk, away from here.” Holding out his hand, he waited for her to join him.
Eliza looked out the window at him. Her eyes searched his. “Wait just a second.” She pulled back into the room.
He heard fabric shifting and within a couple of minutes she was back at the window, looking out at him. She’d changed into a simple day dress and a pair of slippers. Her hair hung about her shoulders. Coffee-colored eyes met his, and she smiled.
Jackson helped her over the windowsill and thanked the Lord that it was low to the ground. As soon as she stood beside him, he took her hand in his and hurried away from the house. He didn’t know where they were going but knew they had to get far enough away that they could talk freely. Away from his mother’s sharp ears and even sharper tongue.
Her hand felt soft, warm and small inside his. “Where are we going?” she asked again.
Jackson stopped and looked around. They were a good distance from the house now and standing under a large cottonwood tree. “I guess we can stop here,” he answered, still keeping his voice low.
She continued to hold on to his hand. Eliza looked up at him; questions filled her dark brown eyes. He’d missed her so much over the past few days and now that he was home, his mother would complicate things even further.
He broke the silence. “When did my mother arrive?”
“Three days ago.”
Jackson heard the tired sigh in her words. “I’m sorry. I know she can be a little overbearing.” That was the understatement of the year.
Eliza nodded. “Yes, and she is a little put out with you.”
It was his turn to sigh. “I’m sure she is.”
They stood listening to the night sounds for several minutes. Crickets chirped and insects buzzed about them. A half-moon hung in the sky, giving them just enough light to see each other clearly.
“How is Peter?”
She smiled. “Good. He has been going to the din
er every day and helping Mrs. Velarde. I’m not sure how helpful he’s been, but she’s paying him in cookies, which seems to give him added energy every night. Oh, and before I forget, he’s named the kitten Mrs. Whiskers.”
“I’m sure my mother loves that,” Jackson groaned.
He was surprised to hear Eliza giggle. “I’m not sure your mother loves anything.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth Eliza gasped and covered her mouth. Speaking through her fingers she added, “I’m sorry, Jackson, that was a most unChristian thing to say about your mother.”
Jackson grinned. “Maybe so, but it’s the truth.” The woman didn’t even love him. He led Eliza to the base of the tree and then sat down. She followed him down, still holding fast to his hand.
Once he was seated with his back to the trunk of the tree, Eliza leaned into his side and laid her head on his shoulder. “I still shouldn’t have said it,” she said.
He enjoyed her closeness. The scent of vanilla drifted up to him. “What are we going to do?” He rested his head on the top of her soft hair.
“I don’t know. I’d cleaned up the spare room for you to use when you got home but then Mrs. Hart arrived and now she’s staying in there.”
So she’d given him the spare room? He’d hoped that after that kiss they’d be sharing her room. But he should have known better. After all, theirs was a marriage of convenience. Jackson sighed again. “We’ll think of something. I might have to sleep on the floor for a while in your room.”
Eliza nodded. She looked up at him. “I also talked to Mr. Bickel at the bank. He’s going to give us a loan. You need to go in tomorrow and sign some papers. Oh, and Mr. Woosey, Peter’s teacher, says he is doing really well in school.” Eliza’s chatter told him she felt uncomfortable.
“Mr. Woosey? I thought we were going to wait until the fall to start Peter in school.” He breathed in her soft vanilla scent, enjoying the feel of her pressed against his side.
Eliza nodded. She first rested her hand on his chest and then her head. “We did, but Mrs. Hart thought he should be in school now. I confess, most of the time I give her her own way. It’s easier.”
Jackson had to agree it was easier, but maybe now was the time to stand up to his mother. He was a grown man with a wife and son. Tomorrow morning he was going to move his mother’s things into the room off of the smithy. That would give Eliza back the house, he could have the spare room and his mother would be out of the way.
Most of the time.
He could only imagine what kind of fit she was going to throw.
“What happened in Glendale?” Eliza asked, tilting her head and looking up at him.
Her soft lips were close enough to kiss. She moistened them with the tip of her tongue. Memories of other kisses flooded his mind and for just a moment he thought about claiming them once more.
But then he felt her shiver and she ducked her head again. Jackson moved his arm to encircle her shoulders and share his warmth. Disappointment filled him at the missed kiss. “We rounded them all up and no one was hurt. The sheriff knows his business. He had us working like a well-oiled machine, and those bandits didn’t know what hit them.”
“I’m glad.” She snuggled closer still. “I feel bad for Mr. Hamilton.”
Jackson shook his head. Would he ever get used to the way she changed subjects in midthought like a person changes shoes? “Why?”
“While you were gone Millie ran away. She left a note saying not to follow her. It said she is a married woman now and would write again once she was settled.”
“How did she get married without them knowing it?” Jackson asked, confused at the way women seemed to approach marriage nowadays.
Eliza yawned. “Proxy. At least that’s what she wrote. Mrs. Hamilton has been a bundle of nerves all week.”
Jackson didn’t know what to say about that, so he held his tongue. He’d add the Hamiltons to his morning prayer list.
He moved his back to sit more comfortably with her cradled against his side. A warm breeze drifted through the new leaves in the tree above their heads, creating a sort of lullaby. An owl hooted in the distance.
Jackson allowed himself to enjoy the peace of the evening. His gaze moved to the house. The light from Eliza’s room shone through the window. He noticed another window’s light flickered out and realized his mother must have blown out her lantern.
Eliza nuzzled her face into his chest. Sleep had claimed her. She whispered something in her sleep.
He stroked her hair and wondered if his mother would destroy the bond that was beginning to form between them. Jackson couldn’t deny that he was falling in love with Eliza and hoped that maybe she was with him, too.
But one word from his mother and their newfound love would shatter like a mirror hitting a hardwood floor.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eliza woke the next morning in her own bed. She stretched and yawned like she did every morning upon waking, but something was different. The scent of leather and earth teased her nostrils. Then she remembered Jackson was home.
She lifted her head and looked into Jackson’s dark blue eyes.
Heat filled her cheeks as she recalled how he’d carried her back to the house and laid her gently on the bed. She’d thought she was dreaming and begged him to stay.
“Good morning,” he whispered. He sat in the chair beside her bed. He, too, stretched and yawned.
Eliza heard the huskiness in her voice as she whispered back, “Good morning.”
Jackson sat up straighter and ran his hands through his rumpled hair. Keeping his voice low he asked, “Eliza, who is Maxwell?”
She sat up and scooted against the headboard. Her hands went into her lap. Eliza realized she must have been talking in her sleep. “A bad memory.”
He nodded. “From childhood?”
She tried to iron out the wrinkles in her dress with her hand. Eliza couldn’t meet his gaze. What had she said that would prompt his interest? “No. Last year he was after Rebecca. While we were visiting at my house, Maxwell broke in.”
Jackson stood and sat down on the edge of the bed. He took her hand in his larger, stronger one. “Did he hurt you?”
“It’s not important.” Eliza tried to pull her hand away. She wasn’t sure she wanted to share the horrible memories.
He nodded. “I see. Too painful to share.” Jackson released her hand. A hurt expression filled his eyes and she felt immediately bad.
Eliza sighed. “He slapped me around a bit.”
Jackson nodded. “I can see why you still fear him.”
She shook her head. “I don’t fear Maxwell, Jackson.”
He cocked his head to the side and studied her. “Then why do you dream about that night?”
“I don’t know. He paid for his crimes by hanging. Maxwell can’t hurt me or anyone else ever again.” Her hand trembled. Why did she still dream of him? Eliza had no answer.
Jackson captured her hand in his once more. He rubbed his thumb in a circle in her palm. Tingling sensations traveled up her arm and into her hair. “You fear someone breaking in, and each time you dream it is Maxwell’s face that comes through the window.”
Eliza watched his thumb. She tried to focus on what he said and realized he was right. She’d thought those fears were gone but if she was talking in her sleep, they must still be there tormenting her. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve been hurt before, too, and fear is one of the reasons that until now I’ve stayed on the move.”
Anger boiled at the thought of someone hurting Jackson. “Who are you running from?” she asked, turning her hand over in his.
“Myself, my mother, everyone.”
“Eliza! Who’s in there with you?” Ida demanded from the other side of the room. “If my son knew what ki
nd of woman he married, you’d be out on the streets before I could utter—”
Jackson crossed the room and jerked open the door cutting off her words. “Mother,” he growled.
She planted her hands on her hips and looked at him with reproach. “When did you sneak in?”
“We’ll be out in a few moments, Mother.” He shut the door in her face.
They heard her stomp her foot. “I’m getting dressed and when I come back you better be ready to answer some questions, young man.”
Eliza wondered if Ida woke up each morning and took hateful pills. She scooted off the bed and moved to her armoire, opened it up and pulled out a peach-colored dress. What had he meant by “everyone”? She felt as if Ida had ruined the moment.
“I better go change and get back here as quick as possible.” Jackson walked over to her and lifted her face to meet his. “Please, if she says something about me that you don’t understand, let me be the one to explain it to you.”
She nodded. “I will.”
It didn’t take a genius to know that Jackson and his mother had deep problems. What she couldn’t understand was what made Ida so bitter and Jackson so fearful.
Jackson leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. He looked deeply into her eyes. Then he rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “I’d better go.” He slipped out the window and ran across to his room.
Eliza touched her lips with trembling fingers. They tingled where his had been moments before. She glanced at the side of the bed and saw where he’d made a pallet. Eliza picked up his bedding and pillow. Without thinking, she pressed her face into his pillow and inhaled his scent.
Her emotions were high. It seemed over the past few weeks things had spiraled and she’d been caught in the downward spin. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here but the one thing she was sure of was that Jackson had melted a part of her heart that she’d thought would be frozen forever.
Groom by Arrangement Page 18
