“You don’t have to wait on me,” she said. “I’ll stay dry.”
“Just being a thoughtful husband,” he said.
Something in her chest fluttered. This pretending wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t real, and Katie Ellen preferred real life to any whimsy moonshines Josiah could spin.
But if it were real . . .
She splashed across the yard to the house, frowning once again at the broken window. She’d kept everything perfect thus far, but she couldn’t produce a pane of glass out of thin air. Pa and Ma would see her mistake the minute they drove up. But they couldn’t drive up, could they? Did she have to fix the bridge, too?
Once on the porch, she began her complicated routine of disrobing. Tedious to some, perhaps, but it kept her without a drop of precipitation on her. Josiah shook his head like a wet dog and sent water flying in all directions.
“You’ll have another puddle on your floor if I go inside.”
She’d noticed how his clothes were drenched again. “I suppose if this were your house, you’d have something dry to change into.”
He lifted his head, his wet eyelashes framing concerned eyes. “Katie Ellen, have you paid any mind to what we’re going to do tonight?”
Katie Ellen scanned the drenched field. Water ran down the hill toward the river in ever-widening rivulets. Silas wouldn’t be leaving. Not until morning, at least.
“He thinks you sleep in the barn.”
“I’m not leaving him in the house with you alone.”
Her face warmed. “I’ll send him to my parents’ room in the loft. You can wait until he’s up there, then sleep on the floor in front of the fire.”
His eyes narrowed. “You mean to tell me that your parents sleep in the loft while you have the room downstairs?” He shook his head in disbelief. “You are one spoiled gal, Katie Ellen.”
“I am not.” But the familiar itch of shame tinted her protest. She hung her coat on the hook she’d designated for herself. She wished she could go to bed at a healthy hour, but she always found just one more thing that needed doing. “I’m usually the last one to go to sleep and the first one up in the morning. Ma said they just got tired of hearing me banging around in the kitchen.”
Her voice had risen, as Silas was more than happy to point out. “That’s all the shut-eye you’re going to let me catch?” he called from inside.
How much of their conversation had he heard? The considerate look on Josiah’s face seemed out of place as he gazed at her. He was probably thinking again what a stick-in-the-mud she was. Well, she wanted him to think that so he couldn’t turn her world upside down again.
“Simmer down, Silas,” Josiah hollered back. “We have to fix this window you broke.”
Spared from having to confront the man herself, she let out her breath in a whoosh. Maybe there were a few things that Josiah could take care of for her.
He lifted the board to the window and held it against the log wall. “I think about here,” he said.
“You don’t want to measure?”
“I don’t need to measure. I’ll start here and work my way down.”
“But what if you get to the end and see there was a better way—”
“This is how I’m doing it.” He lowered the board, pulled the hammer out of his waistband, and offered it to her. “You want to do the honors?”
Low thunder rumbled over the mountains, but no gust of wind disturbed the rain falling straight out of the blanket of clouds overhead. Katie Ellen took the hammer. Josiah positioned the board over the window and spread his arms wide, holding it flat against both sides.
“Where are the nails?” she asked.
He smirked. “In my pocket.”
The thunder rolled again. He laughed. “Just joshing. I dropped them in the flowerpot so they wouldn’t roll away.”
If she didn’t need him to keep Silas in his place, Katie Ellen would’ve clobbered him on the head with the hammer. Instead she found a nail, brushed the soil off of it, and reached for the board.
But Josiah’s arms were in the way.
“How am I supposed to reach it?” she asked.
He lifted his elbow. “Duck under, I reckon.”
She lowered the hammer. The front door opened and Silas stepped outside. A yellow toenail peeked from the hole in his sock. “Lookee here,” he said. “The happy couple finally working together.”
And somehow he sounded genuinely happy about it. If she didn’t know better, she might think he and Josiah were in cahoots.
“Can you move your hand over?” she asked Josiah.
“I’ll try.” And he did try, but it wasn’t far enough. She took the hammer in her left hand to try a different angle but couldn’t bring herself to smash the nail being held in her right hand. This wasn’t going to work.
“Maybe the happy couple don’t work so well together, after all,” Silas pouted.
Katie Ellen stepped back. Driving a nail was child’s play compared to the skills she’d developed. She could do this. Squaring her shoulders, she bent at the knees and ever so carefully ducked beneath Josiah’s arm. Slowly she straightened, fearful of any accidental contact. He widened his span to give her more space. Even with all the rain, the air felt as combustible as a kerosene tin. She cleared her throat and tried to place the nail. Her hand brushed his. She jerked it away and shot a guilty look at Silas, who’d caught the whole exchange.
Josiah leaned forward until he brushed against her back. His words tickled her neck. “Let me hold the nail.” She couldn’t move. Gradually her eyes focused and she realized that although his palm was still holding the board in place, his fingers were opened. She slid the nail into his grasp. He closed his fingers around it. The hammer had never felt so heavy or her wrist so wobbly. With her face almost against his forearm, she took a practice swing, stopping just above his fingers. Without a guide, she’d hit him for sure. Biting the inside of her cheek, she laid her hand on his to steady her aim. Still damp, he felt warm to her touch. The rhythmic movement of his chest against her back was going to mess up her aim, and then he’d be sorry. Maybe if she could time it right.
“For crying aloud,” Silas said. “Can’t you swing a hammer?”
With a marksman’s focus Katie Ellen swung for the nail. Whack! She peeked through one eye. Josiah’s fingers were whole. The nail stood a half inch shorter than it had before. Another hit, and another. The air between them had warmed. A fine perspiration broke out on the back of her neck. Forgetting to keep a distance, she’d taken the nail herself, her fingers over his until it lay flush with the board.
“I can get the other side myself.” Josiah’s breath chilled against her damp neck.
She spun before remembering how close to him she was. Eye to eye, with his arm stretched just past her shoulder, she faced him full-on. His jaw was sharper, his lips fuller. Not since the kiss at the church raising had he been this close to her. No, one kiss and he hadn’t come near again. She handed him the hammer, then ducked out from under his arm.
“Silas can help you from here,” she said. “I’m going to set about supper.”
Josiah started to speak, but his voice came out a growl. He cleared his throat before scratching out, “Now that you’ve shown me how, I think I can do this myself.”
Josiah stoked the fire, then returned to his chair opposite of Katie Ellen. The flames splashed her face with orange, interrupted by an occasional flash of white from the lightning. Her eyes drooped. Her jaw stretched with a strongly contested yawn, but Silas had shown no signs of sleepiness yet. Nothing to do but stare into the fire and reminiscence.
Ever since that kiss, Josiah had been waiting impatiently for Katie Ellen to grow up, for him to grow up, so he could come back and court her proper. Finally he’d decided he’d waited long enough and began paying her particular attention again but was surprised to find that somewhere along the way she’d learned to detest the sight of him. Coming to check on her today had been just the next step in reacquainti
ng her to his druthers, but he hadn’t expected to be thrown into the fire like this.
“You’uns might as well hit the hay. I ain’t that sleepy.” This from Silas, whose coat looked worse dry than it did wet. Running his hand along the quilt, he located a corner, twisted it, and began cleaning his ear with it.
“There’s a bed in the loft for you,” Katie Ellen said.
“I can’t stay up there,” Silas said. “I sleepwalk, and that ain’t safe for nobody. Never knew I could punch a man so hard until that fella tried to wake me up. . . .”
Katie Ellen’s rocker halted. The weariness on her face wrung Josiah’s heart. He had to put an end to this night. Even if Silas wasn’t out to hurt them, she’d been through enough today.
He stood by her rocker and almost forgot what he was going to say when she turned those vulnerable eyes to him. Then, when he remembered his message, he could barely get the words out.
“Time for bed,” he said.
“What? Who’s going to stay with him?” Katie Ellen pointed at Silas.
“I don’t need watching over,” Silas said.
“But Mrs. Huckabee is spent.” How fun it was to call her that. “We must take care of her.”
Silas grunted. “Take care of your wife. No one’s stopping you.”
How far was he willing to go with this farce? But another look at Silas, and Josiah realized he’d go as far as he needed to. This wasn’t about teasing Katie Ellen, it was about taking care of her.
“Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her up. She tried to wrench out of his grasp but he clamped down hard. Didn’t she know he was keeping her safe? Evidently not, judging by the death grip she had on the rocker. What would he do if this really was his wife? Josiah’s lips curled into an ornery smile. Squatting suddenly, he wrapped an arm around her knees and flipped her over his shoulder.
“I said, time for bed.”
In her surprise she released the rocker, but she’d recovered enough to pound on his back.
“I don’t think she wants to go,” Silas observed.
“She does this every night,” Josiah replied. He grabbed the lamp and choked down a yelp at the pinch she gave him as he carried her into the bedroom. That would smart for a spell. He set the lamp on the washstand and closed the bedroom door behind him before releasing her.
“This is where I draw the line!” Her voice shook with fury.
The door had a lock on it. He tested it. “Where’s the key?”
If she’d been sleepy before, she was as alert as a spring bear now . . . and as cranky. “Why would I tell you?”
“Because if something were to happen to me, this door might be all that stands between you and that old buzzard out there.”
With a perfectly aimed puff of air, she blew a dark strand of hair out of her face. “As long as you aren’t staying in here.”
“I will if I have to.” He crossed his arms. “What you need to understand is that I’m more interested in you surviving this storm than I am your reputation. If my guess is right, Silas isn’t going to be gossiping about us at the next quilting bee.”
“And what if he does?”
“Then I reckon I’d have to go on and marry you, wouldn’t I?”
She looked away without comment. Josiah’s heart sank at her response. He’d hoped for outrage or a sassy remark. The lack of any opinion wasn’t natural for Katie Ellen. Turning away, he marched to the far side of the room to gaze out the window at the eternal rain. Thin moonlight poked through the clouds and sparkled on the rocks carefully lined out on the windowsill.
“Are these the geodes we found together?” He lifted the purple crystal to the window to catch the light.
The bed creaked as she leaned against the footboard. “They are.”
How excited they’d been digging through the pile of rocks that had washed down the bluff. Back then she wasn’t afraid to smile in his presence. He set the geode down and Katie Ellen rushed to his side. Reaching across him, she picked up the geode and moved it six inches to the left.
“It goes there. They’re each the same distance apart.”
For crying aloud. Someone needed to put this girl in her place. “What if they’re tired of the distance?” He picked up the two geodes in the center and scooted them together. “What if they’re lonely and want to be near each other?”
“That’s not where they go.” She separated them again.
“You’re telling me there’s only one correct place to put a rock on a windowsill?”
“No, if there are four rocks, then there are four correct places to put rocks on the windowsill.”
Josiah caught the rocks and pulled the two center ones against each other again. “I disagree. What looked perfect before isn’t working now.” Katie Ellen made a grab, but he caught her by the wrist. Holding her hand up between them, he pulled her a step closer. “Let it go, Katie Ellen. Can you just let it go?”
Her lips parted. Her lashes fluttered down.
“The key is on the mantle over the fireplace,” she said.
“I’ll keep it on me. Lock the door after I leave.” He released her. There was so much more he wanted to say, but she wasn’t ready to hear it.
With a sigh, he took the door handle, his hand swallowing the delicate porcelain knob. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, then stepped into the parlor.
Silas was laid out on the sofa, stocking feet to the fire, twisting the jagged edge of his mustache while staring into the flames. The lock clicked behind Josiah. He sighed. At least she was willing to do that much. Now to secure the key. Taking up the poker again, Josiah pretended to stoke the fire, all the while letting his hand skim the top of the mantle.
“Are you looking for this?” Suspended from Silas’s hand was an iron key. “I found it on the porch. Thought you might be missing it.”
Josiah snatched the key and shoved it into his pocket. “You aren’t a very good guest.”
Silas studied him for a moment before answering. “Then I’ll go.”
“Where are you going?”
“Outside. Clearly you aren’t getting any sleep as long as I’m inside, and I don’t mean to keep you away from your pretty little wife.” His smirk let Josiah know exactly what he thought of their relationship. “I might as well stretch my legs until I’m spent.”
With a mighty kick, Silas propelled himself into sitting position. He swayed a second as if the sudden movement was too much for his equilibrium, and then staggered to the door.
“See you in the morning,” he said. He donned his hat and closed the door behind him.
Well, that was something. How had Silas known he was looking for the key? Josiah looked at the bedroom door. She was safe. Throwing the rumpled quilt aside, he stretched out on the two-seater sofa, trying to squeeze the length of his body between the two narrow wooden arms. He’d be better off on the floor. Besides, Katie Ellen was partial to that sofa. What if he drooled—
A scream.
Josiah was at Katie Ellen’s door as soon as his feet hit the floor. He rammed the key into the keyhole. It glanced off, scraping his knuckle against the metal. He tried again, but it didn’t fit.
“Josiah!”
He twisted on the doorknob. Nothing. “It’s me, Katie Ellen! Let me in!” He banged on the door as shuffling came nearer. He leapt backward, ready to kick through the barrier, but it swung open and Katie Ellen rushed out.
She didn’t run into his arms, though. No, she ran behind him, then shoved him into the room.
“There!” She pointed. “That man looked in my window.”
Josiah’s arms tensed. He strode to the window and looked out over the hilltop. Silas was nowhere to be seen, but he could have easily stepped behind one of the many trees.
“He’s already broken one window,” Katie Ellen said. “What’s to keep him from breaking another?”
There was nothing outside the window, but on the windowsill stood four geodes, spaced precisely the same distance apart.
Swallowing his disappointment, he said, “I thought you weren’t afraid of him.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “That doesn’t mean I want him peeking in my windows.”
“Look what he had.” Josiah held the key before her eyes.
Her head tilted. She’d let her hair down. Her face shone white amidst the thick chestnut waves. She turned and her bare feet padded across the floor. “That’s not the room key. That’s the barn key. I left it in my coat outside.”
“Then the room key is still . . .”
She spun and ran out of the room. It took only a heartbeat for her to retrieve the key off the mantle and push it into Josiah’s hand. “You were right. Maybe he scares me just a bit.”
“You can’t be scared. I won’t allow it.”
Her hair cascaded down her shoulders. Shorter locks curled around her cheek and neck. Katie Ellen watched him, as if weighing him by the moonlight. Josiah didn’t waver. Was she giving him another chance? He hoped she’d give him several because she was fixing to get as irritated as a chicken laying a goose egg.
He ushered her back into the bedroom and closed and locked the door behind them.
“I thought I was clear—”
“You have a locked door on one side,” Josiah said, “but nothing’s between you and the glass window.” He walked to the side of the bed next to the wall and hopped up on the high feather tick. Leaning back against the headboard he stretched his legs out. “Nothing except me.”
“Where am I going to sleep?” she asked.
“Right here.” He patted the rumpled blankets next to him.
“I don’t think so.”
“Get under the covers and close your eyes. I’m going to sit here and mind my own business, don’t you worry.” He tried to imagine her expression, but with the lamp out, it was too dark to know for sure.
Her Dearly Unintended Page 4
