by Jenny Lykins
"This here baby doll, she be saying, 'C'mon, Miss Katie. Let's have us a tea party. I'm awantin' some more of them pecan tarts we done had for supper.'" Mamie's waggle-walking of the doll and falsetto voice won a grin from Marin and Hunter, but Katie seemed to not even hear her.
Memories washed over Marin as she watched Katie's chin drop disconsolately to her chest - memories of the confused, deserted little girl she'd been when her father died. It’d taken years before her child's mind accepted that the body in the flag-draped box had been her father.
And her mother's grief had been as bad as her father's death. Not only had it been hard to see her mother in such pain, but with her grandparents on the other end of the country there had been no one but a younger brother to lift a little girl's spirits or encourage the carefree life she should have been living.
Marin resolved this would not happen to Katie. She snapped into action.
"Hunter, take care of Katie while Mamie helps me out of these clothes."
He looked at her as if she'd told him to cut off his hand.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me." She went over and helped heave Mamie to her feet.
"Miss Alexander, this is not my place! I know nothing of -"
She spun on her heel and glowered at him. She was in no mood to patronize a whining male.
"Do it!"
She left no time for further argument. She was out of the room and halfway up the stairs before the echo of her words died.
Men! she thought. God, they could be irritating! They think they rule the world! They have to drive fast cars and talk loud and shoot big guns and fly fighter jets and wage war, but drop one little child into their hands and they turn into sniveling idiots! God save her from big, strong men!
She punctuated each unspoken thought with a stomp up the steps. Mamie rushed to keep up, keeping a wary eye on her speechless employer as she went.
In no time at all Marin was back downstairs, Mamie still at her heels. When she entered the parlor Hunter rose from his futile attempt to entertain Katie. The pulsing vein in his temple belied his calm tone of voice.
"Mamie, stay with the child. Miss Alexander, I will see you in the library."
She should have been worried. She should have feared for her job. But, strangely, she felt no emotion at all except an itching to get this argument over with.
He swung around on her before the door finished closing. Veins bulged in his vividly red face.
"How dare you order me to take care of my child in my own house?"
She stared at his righteous-looking face and thought she had everything under control. Until he boomed, "Well?"
Something snapped.
"How dare you have to be told to take care of your child? The one grieving for her dead mother, with no family to help her through this except a cold, emotionless man who happened to get his kicks one night with her mother?
"Do you know what it's like to lose a parent when you're five years old? Well, I do! You know they're gone, but you don't understand death. All you understand is they left you and you keep hoping they'll come back, but everybody says they won't come back. And you wonder what you did so bad that God would take them away from you! Then the grandparents die, one right after the other. And when they're all dead and you think you're numb, your seventeen year old brother dies of a drug overdose. Was it suicide or an accident? What does it matter? Dead is dead. And when you're twenty-two years old and a senior in college, you get a call to come home and identify your mother's body because some drunk plowed into her on her way home from Christmas shopping and put her out of her misery. Do you know how that feels?"
By this time she was almost screaming. But she wasn't through.
"And then you men, you arrogant, self-centered men, have to go off and play G.I. Joe in the Middle East and the one man I love more than life itself takes his plane out and plows it into some Middle Eastern desert! And the government won't even acknowledge it because it was a Top Secret mission!"
Her balled fists slammed into his chest and shoulders over and over again. The tears finally came, and when they did it was like a dam bursting.
"And you have to be told to comfort your five year old daughter? Damn you! How dare you even wait to be told?"
She beat at Hunter's chest with her fists until he grabbed her wrists in an iron grip. The pain welled up from the deepest part of her being, and to her horror, she cried like she had never cried before. When his grip loosened and his arms pulled her in to cradle her to his chest, her uncontrollable sobs wrenched her very soul.
The anger drained from Hunter just seconds after Marin turned on him. Even though part of what she said made no sense, by the time she lit into him with her fists he was feeling about as tall as a snake's belly. He was tempted to let her pound away on him - he deserved it. But if ever a woman needed to be comforted and hugged, it was this one.
He wasn't prepared though, for the jolting ache that wracked his body when she willingly fell against his chest. The warm palm of one hand opened against his torso while her other clenched against her mouth to stifle the sobs. His arms pulled her in and closed around her with a will of their own. Unaccustomed as he was to comforting, or being comforted, he awkwardly patted her back and mumbled, "There, there."
This seemed to be having no positive effect. If anything, she cried all the harder.
Helpless, he stopped thinking and let his instincts take over. With one hand he coaxed her even closer. With the other he tipped her face to his and wiped the trail of tears from one cheek with his thumb. With bowed head, he whispered words of consolation in her ear.
The sobs lessened. When Marin turned her face to his, the velvet touch of her cheek against his stopped his breath. When he remembered to breathe, her perfume invaded his senses and set his pulse pounding. He nuzzled her ear, and she turned to him fully, her sobs turning into whimpers, the whimpers into kisses, until her mouth was on his and she kissed him so deeply it staggered him. She clutched him fiercely as he returned the kiss. Clutched him as though she would die if she loosened her embrace. Both his hands came up to hover at the sides of her head. Finally he allowed himself to gently cradle her face in his palms while the sensation of his tongue meeting hers sent dizzying waves reeling through his body.
The next instant she jerked free of his hold and slapped him so hard he saw stars. The cheek that only moments ago reveled in the feel of her skin now burned with the imprint of her hand.
"Don't ever touch me again!" she hissed, her voice so vehement he half expected her to try to hit him again. As she glared at him through narrowed eyes, the old walls fell back into place around his heart.
"That should not be a difficult request with which to comply. After all, it was not my tongue running rampant."
Her eyes grew wide, and she sucked in her breath.
"Oh! I turned to you for comfort, and what did you do? You took advantage of me in a weak moment, while your daughter is in there aching for her mother!" She stabbed at his chest with a painfully pointed finger. "Well, you cold-hearted S.O.B., that won't happen again because I quit!"
She spun around, and in her haste stumbled over the train of her gown.
"Marin, wait!"
She grabbed up handfuls of train and flung it behind her with a vengeance.
"WHAT?" She speared him with a glare that would have turned a lesser man to stone.
Why did he not want this exasperating woman to leave? By all rights he should have sent her packing when she manufactured that ridiculous story about traveling in time. But in spite of all good reasoning, he didn't want her to go. Hated the thought of her leaving. Not yet. Besides, she was partially right. He had enjoyed the kiss immensely while his little daughter grieved in the other room.
"You speak of my being cold-hearted. How do you think Katie will feel when yet another woman disappears from her life?"
Marin stared at Hunter, as if giving the matter credence. She paced a few steps, wringing
her hands, her lined forehead revealing portentous concentration. After several seconds she raised beseeching eyes to his.
"Then you must answer me one question, Hunter." Her repentant voice changed in timbre with her next words. "Should I pack my waders for this guilt trip, or is the manure as deep as it's going to get in here?"
She yanked up a fistful of her skirts and stomped toward the door. "Anyone, especially a kid, who's only known me for three days, would not even realize I was gone!"
"I would."
She froze in mid-step and slowly looked over her shoulder at him, her skirts still bunched in her hands.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said I would...like to apologize for this unfortunate scene. I should not have chastised you. You were only thinking of my daughter's welfare. Please accept my apologies."
Doubt was evident in her eyes. He expected her to give forth with another speech he would only half understand and then leave. Instead, she turned and faced him. After a moment she released a long sigh.
"Maybe I over-reacted, too." She swiped at still damp cheeks with her fingers. "I guess I had more garbage to deal with than I realized." Well, he was right about the speech part. She gave him a sheepish grin when she glanced at his still stinging cheek. "I'm sorry for hitting you. My brother used to tell me I had a mean right hook."
Frustration rose in him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Her letters had not spoken of a brother. Indeed, she had proclaimed to be an only child. Nor had she made sense about the deaths of her parents. Unless, of course, she was sticking to her incredible story about being someone else.
"Miss Alexander," he began, "I feel we really must address this issue of your - "
A decisive knock on the library door echoed in the room. Ambrose stoically opened the door. Mamie's worried countenance peeped over the shoulder of the butler. She looked as if she expected to see mangled bodies on the other side of the door.
"Supper on the table, suh," Ambrose announced. "Emmaletta done held it so long, she threatenin' to go work for the Hilliards."
Hunter stifled the curse he would dearly loved to have uttered. Emmaletta had been using that threat since the war was over. But now was not the time to press Marin on her fabrication. He promised himself he would get to the bottom of this "life" of hers. And soon.
*******
Marin was out of ideas to cheer Katie up. Hopscotch, hide and seek, and now a pony ride were all met with polite participation, but absolutely no enthusiasm. Since supper she had exhausted everything she had ever known about entertaining children. All to no avail. She rested her forearms on the stall door and watched Andre rub down Katie's pony. She was at a loss to pull the little girl out of her depression.
Thank heavens Hunter's mother wasn't around to contend with and depress the entire household. When Lucille had commandeered the servants to carry a mountain of luggage to the largest carriage Hunter owned and announced she would be visiting friends in Natchez, Marin considered sending her regular reports of new and various illnesses descending upon the household. Glumly watching Andre while she sorted through her mental file of contagious diseases, she became aware of a sound she'd never heard before. The sound of Katie giggling. She spun to see what miracle had generated this mirth and found herself enchanted as well. A litter of three nearly grown kittens frolicked with each other in the next stall. They cavorted as three separate entities, then converged as one rolling, multi-legged ball of fur. A solid black kitten with enormous feet separated itself from the group, then laid in wait for the other two to stop their tumbling. Crouched like the king of the jungle stalking its prey, the precocious furball pounced on its siblings, batting one into a corner and rolling several feet with the other.eir antics brought peals of laughter from Katie. Marin, struck with inspiration, stooped to try and coax one of the kittens to them.
The rough-housing stopped at Marin's quiet "kittykittykitty," but none ventured toward her. Finally, after she picked up a feathery piece of hay and wiggled it enticingly, the black kitten crouched and began stalking this latest adversary.
It crouched, slinking noiselessly toward the wiggling straw, then ruined the threatening effect by rising on its hind legs and swatting at the air.
One huge paw snared the hay. When the half-grown cat attempted to flick away the offending vegetation, it fell backward and wheeled across the stable floor in a series of somersaults.
Katie's laughter was music to Marin's ears. How long had it taken Marin to giggle again after her father died? For the life of her she couldn't remember a single time she hadn't forced the laughter. Until Ryan came into her life, calling her "fireball" and teasing her unmercifully.
Fireball. So nicknamed for her fiery temper. But Ryan had said many times that she loved with more passion than she angered.
A furry missile catapulted into her shoulder and knocked her from her reverie right onto her derriere.
The other kittens lost some of their reticence and joined the party. Without quite knowing how it happened, Marin found herself on her back with three cats and a little girl on top of her.
The wad of fabric that was her bustle held her hips aloft and her back so askew she felt like a chiropractor's poster child. Once her hips slid from their perch and she flopped to her side, her four playful tormentors had a field day. She had a cat tangled in her hair and one pouncing on her chest, attacking the lace ruffle at her neck. Katie straddled her waist, screaming with delight at the third kitten, which she'd tucked under her frock. The white muslin midriff of the little drop-waist dress undulated with squirming, feline body parts while muffled, indignant meows broadcasted a warning.
It was time to garner a little control over the situation. A tender, four year old tummy was not the place to find out how sharp kittens' claws can be. Marin sat up and intercepted a second kitten on it's way to joining its sibling under Katie's dress.
"Katie, I'm afraid the kittens will scratch you if you hide them under your clothes. Let's just play with them on the ground, Ok?
"Yes, ma'am." Katie gurgled with merriment as an invisible hump wove its way under her dress until a pink nose peeked from beneath the hem. Two huge, green eyes appeared after a tentative sniff, then retreated back out of sight.
Seconds ticked by while the "hump" stayed absolutely motionless. Marin leaned forward and casually walked two fingers across the stable floor in front of Katie.
An enormous black paw darted from its cover to bat once at her fingers, then withdraw just as quickly. Moments later the other paw whipped with lightning speed in a toying arc. Delighted, Katie danced her fingers on the ground, too. The entire cat appeared this time, pouncing playfully for a moment on chubby fingers, then streaking away, circling the stall in a furry blur, chasing an invisible enemy.
A hesitant voice broke into their entertainment.
"Ohhhh, Lordie, Miz Marin."
Marin, still laughing over the kittens' antics, contorted her neck enough to look up and see Andre behind her. Wide eyes rimmed in white, he stood at the gate, shaking his head.
"I ain't had a chance to muck out that there stall yet, ma'am."
Marin didn't miss the irony of the fact that she had just that moment noticed a very identifiable aroma. She continued to smile up at Andre, but breathed with a little less gusto.
"Yeah, I'm beginning to think we may have picked the wrong place to play."
Andre's face was now a blank page. "Yessum. I's thinkin' yo is right." He hustled to help Marin to her feet - no small task with that blasted iron-maiden strapped around her waist refusing to bend.
The air was vibrant with the smell of freshly disturbed horse apples. She flicked the worst of the clinging hay from her gown, then turned to Katie.
Several ominous-looking stains covered both their skirts, the fumes rising from them almost visible. Marin chuckled to herself as she brushed golden twigs of hay from Katie's rump, then picked them from mussed, shiny brown curls the texture of cornsilk.
So like her father's, she thought. Her fingers sifted through a silken strand while she wondered if Hunter's felt as soft.
What was she doing? Speculating about Hunter's hair would not keep Katie's mind off Delia. She gave her skirts a last token shake, then burst into laughter when the black kitten scampered from beneath her hems.
"C'mon, Katiedid," she said as she backed out the stall, trying not to step on a cat, "let's go see if we can find a sweeter smelling - OH!"
Hunter's arms wrapped around her when she would have plowed right over him.
"I see you found some manure after all, Miss Alexander, Pity you forgot your waders."
The touch of humor in his voice ignited her damnable mischievous streak.
"Why, Hunter, don't you like my new scent?" She shimmied up and down slowly, thoroughly brushing the back of her malodorous gown against his pristine suit. "It's called L'Eau de Fertilizer."
Suddenly, a disturbing, permeating warmth dawned throughout her body, shocking her to the core. She leaned away from him just as his stance went rigid.
"I believe you have captured the essence well," he choked out, his face an unreadable mask.
Was her stench responsible for his breathing difficulties, or was he suffering the same disquieting symptoms as she? With only inches separating them, Marin wouldn't have been surprised if little horizontal lightning bolts appeared and traveled up the spacebetween them, like the weird, campy machines that brought Frankenstein's monster to life.
"Yes. Well." Damn her mischievous side! She should have known better than to even touch him after that kiss in the library had nearly curled her toes.
"Yes. Well," he echoed uncomfortably. "I was just on my way..." he looked around the stable "...to a business meeting. Andre, why is my horse not saddled?"
The stable boy poked his head out of the stall he'd been mucking.
