“Good mornin’, darlin girl.”
“Good morning, Grandad.” She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “What is that you are holding?” she asked as she casually walked over to the cupboard. She began removing the items she needed to make breakfast.
“Belonged to yar grandmother,” he said thoughtfully. She had figured as much. “Found it in one of me saddlebags on top o’ the mountain.”
She turned at his revelation, hearing the poignancy in his words. His hands were shaking slightly. She could tell he was fighting to hold back his emotions. With a voice stronger than he appeared, he continued speaking.
“Yar grandmother was ever the romantic, even ’til the day she died.” He breathed in deeply for a moment. “Whenever the fellas and me went out on a drive or a trip somewhere, she’d tuck one of these here hankies, doused with that flowery scent she liked so much, in me pocket when she kissed me good-bye. ‘For luck,’ she’d say, and then she would wink at me and add, ‘and to be remindin’ ye who yar heart belongs to.’ I must have left it in me pack on the last drive.” He lifted the cloth to his face and breathed in deep. “Still smells of me dear one.” She could see that his eyes were moist.
Georgiana went over and sat next to him, taking the hand that wasn’t holding her grandmother’s handkerchief in hers. He squeezed it gently in appreciation.
“I miss her too, Grandad,” was all she managed to say as her own eyes filled and threatened to lose their burden.
They sat for another few moments in silence before he stood up and released her hand. He carefully folded up the hankie and put it in his shirt pocket.
“Awk, enough of this here. Best be gettin’ back to work. Do ye need me to be doin’ anything fer ye this mornin’?”
“Would you mind too terribly seeing if Jimmy, or one of the other men, would be willing to drive me into town today after breakfast? I’m in need of a few things from the mercantile and I have some letters to post.”
“Aye, Jimmy will be all too glad to be takin’ ye into town again. I’ll go make his day a grand one by givin’ him the news.” He smiled as he leaned down and kissed her on the top of the head. “Well then, I suppose I’ll be seein’ ye shortly for breakfast.” He took his hand and patted his stomach. “Ye are too good of a cook fer me own good. If I don’t stop eatin’ so much, I’m goin’ to have ta be sendin’ ye into town to be buyin’ me some new britches.” He chuckled softly for a moment and added, “Course, even if yer fattenin’ me up, I wouldn’t have ye anywhere else but here.”
“I love you, Grandad.” She reached over this time and laid her hand on his arm. He laid his own hand over hers. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
“Aye, ’tis good to hear it, and I love ye as well, me girl . . . more than ye will ever know.” He smiled as he turned to leave.
Georgiana stayed sitting for a minute, watching him out the window as he walked toward the barn, his head hung low. Finding her grandmother’s handkerchief, as he’d done, surely must have been a shock. They had loved each other dearly. She had known it was so, even as a young child. The way her grandmother’s eyes would light up every time he’d enter the room and the way he had to always be near her, holding her hand or touching her in some small way. It was almost as if there was some unseen magnetic force always pulling them toward each other. She had felt something akin to the same whenever Ridge was around lately.
Startled at her admission, Georgiana stood up quickly and started the task of making breakfast. Since the men had returned from the mountain, their appetites seemed to have doubled, if that was even possible. If she wanted to get to town before too long, she needed to spend less time thinking about a certain person and more time getting things done.
After arriving in town, Georgiana was pleasantly surprised, not to mention relieved, when upon entering the mercantile she found Mr. Whitaker tending the store instead of his overly nosy wife. She hadn’t yet seen him since she’d returned, not even at church where his wife tried to corner and bombard her with questions each Sunday. Thankfully, her grandfather most often came to her rescue.
Mr. Whitaker looked nearly the same as he had five years ago, except for the speckling of gray at his temples and a slightly rounder midsection. She smiled genuinely at him. She had always liked Mr. Whitaker, ever since he’d talked her father into letting six-year-old Georgiana have one of the new pups he was giving away. In his honor, she had named the pup Benny, since Mr. Whitaker’s given name was Benjamin.
“Good morning, Mr. Whitaker. It’s a pleasure finally seeing you again.” She quickly looked around to see if he was the only one she needed to greet.
“If it isn’t little Miss Georgie, all grown up!” he laughed enjoyably.
“Where have you been hiding out these last few weeks?” she inquired.
“Well, do you remember my brother who used to run the livery stables?”
Georgiana nodded, faintly remembering the man.
“About three years back he moved to Nebraska, where his wife’s family hails from. Their youngest daughter, Eliza, finally found herself a beau. She was always a good girl, mind you, just not the best looker.”
Georgiana had to fight to suppress a grin. She did remember Eliza. She’d been a year older than Ridge and for the longest time had made him the object of her affections. She could still remember the look on Ridge’s face every time he saw her headed his way.
“When John wrote and told me the boy had proposed,”
Mr. Whitaker continued, “I told the missus we ought to go to the weddin’. It was high time we paid him a visit anyway.” He paused to straighten the candy jars lining the counter. “The missus was sore pressed to have to close up shop for two weeks being it’s a good time of year for the store and all, so she told me I should go alone.” He grinned somewhat guiltily. “I wasn’t going to argue with that.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Got me some good huntin’ and fishin’ in while I was there.” With a wink, he stood back up. “There’s a surprise comin’ for the missus in a few weeks, maybe less if I’m lucky. Shot me a twelve pointer and had the tanner stuff it. I was thinkin’ it would look good right there.” He pointed to the wall above the counter. “I’m gonna give it to the missus for her birthday.” A mischievous look alighted his eyes as he added, “In front of a few witnesses, that is. She can’t make me get rid of it that way. It would not only be rude, but unchristian-like if she did. She’s got her reputation, ya know.” He smiled gingerly. “She’ll probably be mad at me for years, but boy, will it be worth it!”
Georgiana almost laughed out loud picturing the look on Mrs. Whitaker’s face when her husband hung a stuffed deer head above the counter.
Mr. Whitaker’s face turned all business. “Now, enough about me. What is it you’re needin’ today?”
Georgiana handed him her list, and he started gathering her things. When he was finished, he carried them out to the wagon, which Jimmy had left in front of the mercantile.
“Thank you, Mr. Whitaker,” she said graciously.
“It was my pleasure, Miss Georgie,” he answered heartily. But before he went back into the store, he leaned in close and whispered, “Now, I trust my secret is safe with you. Don’t want the missus’s surprise ruined or anythin’.”
“Why of course, Mr. Whitaker,” she promised, trying to look serious. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining what is sure to be the best gift at your wife’s birthday celebration.”
Mr. Whitaker grinned proudly, then, giving her a wink, headed back into the store.
Georgiana looked about to see if she could spot Jimmy. When he’d dropped her off at the post office this time, he said he needed to pick up a few things at the feed store and was then off to visit his sister. There were several items and bags of feed stacked in the back of the wagon, so she assumed he was still at his sister’s house.
Well, she thought, I’ll just wander about town a while until he returns.
Looking up t
he boardwalk, Georgiana decided maybe she would pay a visit to Mrs. Perkins’s dress shop, but when she walked up to the store, she could see from outside the window that Mrs. Perkins had customers she was waiting on. She would have to pay the woman a visit another time.
Not too much farther up the street was the saloon. Even during the day, the loud, obnoxious vaudeville music drifted into the road.
Disdainfully, Georgiana turned and walked the other way, when something down the street caught her eye. Unconsciously, her step hastened until only moments later she stood a few feet from it. It was still as grand and as glorious as ever. Standing at the edge of the wide, low hanging branches, she looked around furtively to see if anyone was watching. When she saw no one, she quickly ducked underneath.
A flood of memories assaulted her at once, and she walked hesitantly toward the trunk of the ancient tree. Reverently she placed her hands up against it and with her fingers began tracing the names that had been carved into weathered bark over the years. Some of the names were familiar, others were older that she did not recognize, and still some she could tell had been written in recent years. One inscription in particular caught her eye and tore at her heart. It read Mitch and Samantha . . . Forever. She crouched down and ran her fingers over the inscription lingeringly, her heart pained for her friend’s loss.
Just as she was about to stand up, another inscription farther down caught her eye. She moved closer to read it. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw what it said. The letters were all capitals and carved deeply into the bark: RIDGE LOVES GEORGIE. A faint line of a heart shape encircled the words. When did Ridge carve this? she thought, running her now trembling fingers along the deep grooves. A tumultuous wave of raw emotion rose up within her and ebbed its way to the surface. For a moment she was a young girl again, experiencing all the thrill and excitement of her first crush, and in the next moment she felt beaten down and hopeless.
All of a sudden, the sound of leaves crunching on the ground behind her caused Georgiana to jump up and almost lose her balance. Grabbing the trunk with both hands to keep from falling, she quickly turned and leaned against it to further steady herself. As she finally looked up, there he stood.
“Ridge!” her voice registered her shock at seeing him standing there. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer right away, just stared at her. He seemed to be deep in thought. She fidgeted nervously.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he finally answered, his eyes still boring into hers.
Realizing he would have seen her examining his inscription, she instantly became self-conscious and looked away from him. Oh, why had she walked over to the tree in the first place? Because she had somehow felt drawn to it, she admitted to herself. The last time she’d stood under this tree she was happy, truly happy. With the exception of having lost her father, she had felt grounded. She knew where she belonged. She felt loved. Her home, her family, her friends . . . everything had been almost perfect. She’d missed it all so much.
A feeling of déjà vu washed over her as she looked at Ridge standing there—the same wavy brown hair and big honey-colored eyes. She was taken back to that day, her nervousness . . . her excitement. She feared if she stared up at him much longer, with him looking at her the way he was, she just might walk over to him and steal another kiss. This time though, she wouldn’t be able to run away. She imagined she would lose herself in his arms and confess her growing feelings.
Just then, Ridge took a few steps forward and stopped directly in front of her, his eyes never leaving her face. At once, she knew he meant to kiss her, and her eyes were drawn to his lips. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest.
Is this what I want? she thought. What of Dawson?
When Ridge reached over and took her hand in his, her body warmed as a surge of excitement ran through her senses, straight to her very core. But just as quickly, her brain began flinging out questions as it fought for control of her emotions. Her senses became confused as her mind continued to battle with her heart.
“Ridge . . . please . . . I . . .” Georgiana knew she needed to get away now, fast. She couldn’t think with him being so near. Stepping to the side, she tore her hand from his and started to move past him. She hadn’t gone far when he turned and grabbed her arm this time.
“Georgie, wait . . .”
Her mind willed her legs to keep walking, but her heart willed them to stay. The inner turmoil gave cause for moisture to well up in her eyes. In the end, her heart won out, and she turned to face him.
“Ridge, I . . . I just can’t . . . It wouldn’t be right,” she finally managed to say.
“How could it be wrong?” he asked gently.
She shook her head, not wanting to reveal her thoughts. She definitely didn’t want to bring up Dawson. They quietly stared at one another again. She was very conscious of the fact that his hand still held her by the arm. Neither of them moved as he waited for her to reply.
“I just think,” she began, not knowing whether she could explain fully the way she felt, “that the past should remain the past. There was a time when I thought . . . I mean . . . even though sometimes I still think that . . .” She was having a difficult time. To add to that difficulty, her heart kept trying to compel her forward into his arms, but thankfully her mind kept her feet planted firmly where she stood. Finally, she just blurted out, “I’ve decided I’d like to be your friend, Ridge . . . but only your friend. Do you think that’s possible?”
Georgiana couldn’t decipher the look that came to his face, but he didn’t hesitate to question her.
“Is that really what you want?”
She nodded her head, and he immediately released her. At once, Georgiana wrapped both arms around her own body because her hands were trembling as her heart shouted its disapproval. She didn’t want to give herself away as to how hard it was to say what she’d said, when what she really wanted to do was beg him to love her. She had to put some distance between them.
“Look, Ridge, I really need to get back to the wagon. Jimmy’s probably wondering where I’ve gone.”
As she turned to leave again, he unexpectedly grabbed hold of her once more, this time with both hands.
“Stay . . . please,” he asked, his voice tinged with pleading.
She struggled to free herself. He was making this harder for her. She didn’t want to break down in front of him. In frustration, she felt her temper rising.
“No, Ridge . . . I really must go,” she said harshly, but he continued to hold her arms.
“Stay?” he asked again as she struggled to free herself.
At the almost desperate sound of his voice, Georgiana stopped struggling and turned back toward to him. When she looked up, his eyes were soft, warm, and her heart lurched forward. For some reason, her body’s reaction only fueled her anger. He was too handsome, too tempting. It wasn’t fair play!
Her eyes fell to his lips, and she felt herself weakening.
Quickly she tore her eyes away from his face, and they chanced to glance at the carving on the tree. If only her family had never moved away . . . if only. A flash of anger surged through her as she remembered lonely nights and tear-stained pillows.
“Ridge, release me!” she insisted.
Instead of listening to her, he drew her close to his chest, resting his cheek against hers.
“I’m sorry, Georgie, but I can’t,” he countered.
His breath was tickling her hair, and the sensation that ran down her body made her knees feel weak. She couldn’t resist him much longer. Oh, why was he doing this to her?
Georgiana brought her hands up to his chest as best she could and tried to force him away, but instead he wrapped his arms around her body and held her even closer. She was fighting against something she wanted entirely too much. She was sure to be undone at any moment.
When she felt his lips brush tenderly against the skin of her neck, she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips. He pul
led back momentarily to look into her eyes. Slowly his head began to descend to hers, and finally she found her voice, though it sounded weak and breathy.
“No, Ridge, you mustn’t. Please . . . I can’t explain, but . . . you must let me go,” she begged, her voice breaking with emotion.
He released her then, suddenly, and stepped back, her emotion having triggered something deeper inside him than his desire.
He looked torn, and she was instantly sorry. If only she wasn’t so confused! Georgiana shook her head and looked at the ground. Things had happened the way they did, and it had caused them to grow apart. She would never stop caring for him—loving him even—but that didn’t mean they were meant to be together. Maybe he would always own a small piece of her heart. Maybe she just needed to understand that and accept it so she could be with Dawson. She sighed deeply.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled as she turned, ducked, and stepped out from under the cover of the oak’s branches. Looking around, she was glad the street seemed to be deserted, at least from where she stood. She glanced once more back at the tree, sighed again, and began walking toward the mercantile. From what she could see ahead, Jimmy still wasn’t waiting for her. Where could he be? she thought impatiently.
Georgiana was almost to the mercantile when she felt someone grab her wrist and swing her to face the direction from which she had just come.
“Ridge!” she exclaimed, pulling her wrist out of his grasp.
He reached forward again, took her by the hand, and quickly led her halfway down the alleyway that ran between the store and the warehouse next to it.
Despite everything she had just said, her heart sang as he pushed her against the wood planks of the store and took her face in both of his hands. His lips at once found hers and began weaving a spell in the form of a passionate, driven kiss. She felt her defenses crumbling, her desire for him growing stronger as each second passed, when suddenly a sense of guilt seized her. She was being selfish, ignoring her duty to her esteemed companion back in New York, who’d been patiently and faithfully waiting for her to accept his proposal. She must end Ridge’s kiss before she became lost in her desire and there was no turning back. Besides, how dare he take such liberties when only moments ago, she’d emphatically told him she only wanted to be his friend. There was too much at stake, too many hearts at risk to allow this! He should have listened. Now, having been kissed by him, her heart would suffer even more. Her temper ignited immediately. Using all the strength she could muster, she managed to push herself out of his arms and smack him soundly across the face.
The Kissing Tree Page 10
