Paper Hearts

by Maureen Child

  "Emma," he said, his voice hoarse, "we shouldn't be doin' that." His broad chest heaved with his efforts to calm himself.

  Emma pulled back enough so that she could see his face. It was true. Regret was in his eyes. She pushed away from him and staggered to her feet. How in the hell had she allowed this to happen? She'd done it again. Made a fool of herself over J.T. Phillips.

  And it hadn't taken him long to decide that it was all a mistake, either. She stared at him blankly for a long moment, then abruptly turned and began to run down the hill toward home. Safety.

  ###

  Nightfall and J.T. still hadn't found any peace. Alone in his house, he carried a cup of coffee into the front parlor. He crossed the small room to the bay window and pulled the maroon draperies back. In the lamplight, his own reflection stared back at him from the shining glass. He looked like hell.

  J.T. grumbled under his breath, bent over, and blew out the light beside him. If there was one thing he didn't need, it was to look at himself. He took a long gulp of the hot coffee and swore when he burned his mouth. Irritated, he banged the cup down and sloshed liquid over the polished surface of the table.

  How could he have been so damned stupid! All afternoon and into the night, he'd asked himself the same question and received the same answer. He just didn't know.

  After all the years of patience, after putting up with Emma's notions the last few weeks, after everything, he'd shot it all to hell anyway. But Lordy, didn't she understand what she put him through every time he was near her? No, she didn't. How could she? She wouldn't stand still long enough for him to tell her.

  And when he'd followed after her, racing to her house, she'd bolted the door on him. Even then, though, he'd almost been pleased. At least he recognized the temper. Damn it, he'd been hoping to see more signs of it. He'd been so sure that if she would just let go, let her temper and hardheadedness take full rein, she would come back to herself and stop actin' the grand lady.

  'Course, he hadn't counted on this afternoon.

  J.T. walked slowly over to the bookshelves on the far wall. His hand reached out for the Phillips family Bible. He carried the big, heavy book to the nearest chair and sat down.

  With the Bible on his lap, his fingers flipped through the thin, well-read pages until he came to the middle of the book. Then he stopped. A soft smile on his face, he lifted the battered, wrinkled red paper from its hiding place. In the last two years he'd read it often, as if to reassure himself that it was real. That the sentiment expressed on it was real.

  Gingerly he ran the tips of his fingers over the slightly torn lace and frowned thoughtfully at Emma's now faded handwriting. J.T. I love you. Emma.

  Carefully he set the valentine back down and gently closed the Bible over it. He stared blankly at the cold hearth in front of him and hoped fervently that Emma would forgive him for what he was going to do. But by heaven he had to prove to her that she belonged in Buckshot… and that they belonged together.

  Chapter Seven

  Emma walked a wide circle around Main Street. She wanted to go by the church to check over the last few details for the dance… but she didn't want to chance running into J.T. All she had to do was stay clear of the jailhouse and the dance floor, where most of the men were still working. With any luck she could finish her task with Mrs. Jeffries and be back home before anyone else even saw her.

  She just couldn't bear to face J.T. Not after the way she'd behaved on that hilltop. Why, it was as though she'd forgotten every lesson she'd learned in that academy. For heaven's sake, everybody knew that ladies didn't kiss men like that! Especially in broad daylight!

  But all the same, Emma knew she'd never forget it, either.

  "Hey, Emma!"

  She stopped and turned toward the high-pitched voice.

  Tommy Adams stood in the middle of a slapdash playing field, tossing a baseball in the air and catching it. Quickly her gaze moved over the rest of the town children of various ages, spread out in their game positions.

  Then she spotted J.T., hunkered down about five feet behind home plate. He grinned at her. Emma looked back at Tommy and tried to hide her disgruntlement. Wouldn't you know, she told herself, with all her sneaky maneuvers, she saw him anyway.

  "'What is it, Tommy?"

  The boy caught his baseball again and rubbed it between his hands. "Want to take a swing, Em?" He jerked his head at the children standing in line to bat. "None of that bunch can hit a durn thing!"

  Emma gave him a half smile and waved at her dainty yellow gown with the pale ivory lace. "Sorry, Tommy. But I'm a little too old to be playing baseball."

  Tommy snorted his disgust "J.T.'s older'n you… he's playin'."

  "So I see." She flicked a glance at the still-grinning man. "Maybe another time," she added, and started to walk.

  "What's the matter, Emma?" J.T. called out. "Scared?"

  She stopped and glared at him. "Of what?"

  He shrugged.

  "Aw, come on, Emma." Tommy's voice turned whiny. "You used to hit harder'n anybody around here. Let's see you do it again."

  "Forget it. Tommy," J.T. said loudly. "Ladies can’t hit worth a damn!"

  Emma's eyes narrowed. She knew a challenge when she heard one. And the way he said ladies. Like an insult. Her brain quickly totaled up the fors and againsts for taking up the challenge and she came to a fast decision. If J.T. thought to insult or belittle her by insinuating that a lady couldn't do anything, then it was her duty to prove him wrong.

  She gave J.T. a long, thoughtful look, then walked to the closest child and took the bat from her. "Sorry, Nancy," she said softly. "You can be up next, all right?"

  The little girl smiled and backed up. Emma stood at the plate, trying to find a comfortable stance. It wasn't easy in the blasted shoes she was wearing.

  Tommy reared back and threw his first pitch. She swung and missed.

  Billy Jenkins, stranded on second base, groaned.

  "Strike!" J.T. yelled, laughter in his voice. "Mighty poor showin', Emma."

  She frowned at him, tapped the plate with the bat, then lifted it high behind her head.

  The next pitch came and Emma's dainty heel turned under her.

  "Strike two!" J.T. chuckled softly and tossed the ball back to Tommy. Disgusted, Emma backed away from the plate and set the bat down.

  "Had enough?" J.T. asked.

  "Humph!" Emma snorted and bent down. Quickly she undid the laces of her pale yellow shoes and slipped them off. Her stocking-clad toes wiggled in the soft dirt as she walked back to the plate. Comfortable now, Emma set herself and waited.

  The pitch came, Emma swung and smacked that ball so hard it sounded like a gunshot. The child in left field took off at a dead run, his eyes on the high-flying ball. Emma dropped the bat, picked up her hem and headed for first base. She hardly heard the shouts filling the air. She'd forgotten everything except the sheer joy of playing the game. In front of her she saw Billy Jenkins running the bases with a broad smile on his face. Then she was rounding third base, her gown clutched in her hands, headed for home plate. She saw J.T. standing across the plate, looking toward the field. Emma knew the ball was on its way in and she also knew that she wanted to beat J.T.

  Five feet from the plate, Emma put her head down, leaped through the air, and landed on her stomach with a hard thump. Stretching out her hand, she managed to touch the corner of the plate before J.T. could touch her with the ball. The children screeched and hollered excitedly and began to jump up and down around the two adults.

  Emma looked up at a grinning J.T. She could feel the dirt sifting down the bosom of her gown. Her neatly coiffed hair now lay in long, straggly tendrils, and she knew she'd tom a sleeve at the shoulder. And she didn't care.

  As he helped her to her feet J.T. whispered, "Welcome home, Emma."

  ###

  "Must've been quite a game," Frank Taylor said softly when his daughter passed through the parlor.

  Emma smiled and shook
her head. "I don't know what came over me, acting like that."

  "Way I heard it" – Frank stood and closed the book he'd been reading – "the children are all fightin' now to see who gets you on their team permanent."

  She laughed and picked up her shawl. "Wouldn't the head mistress at the academy love to hear that!"

  Frank crossed the room and put his arms around his only child. "Emma, you know I only sent you to that place 'cause I promised your ma." She nodded and he went on. "But between you and me, I like you just fine the way you always been. Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' yourself, Em."

  She hugged him tightly for a moment then broke away. "I'm gonna take a little walk, Pa. I'll be back directly."

  "You go on ahead. I'm goin' up to bed." He stopped halfway up the stairs. "Emma?" he asked quietly. "Next time you tell me when you're gonna play. I'd surely like to see a hit like the one you got today."

  Emma chuckled, shook her head, and stepped outside.

  She stopped on the wide front porch, bent down, and took off her shoes. If she could play baseball just off Main Street, she could surely walk barefoot in the middle of February. Smiling, Emma remembered J.T.'s words that afternoon. He'd said, "Welcome home." And he was right. She'd finally come home. Oh, not just to the town. But to herself. To the person she'd always been.

  She stepped into the slightly damp grass and sighed. It felt good to let go and just be Emma again.

  Walking slowly, to enjoy the night air, she moved down the slope of the yard away from the house. Moonlight skittering from between the clouds dappled the familiar sights with patches of light and shadow. Crickets cut their song short as she passed, only to start up again moments later.

  In the distance she could see lamplight in the houses lining the main street of Buckshot and Emma knew she should turn and go back inside. But she needed time to think.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Her father must have gone to bed. He'd left one lamp burning downstairs and its meager light shone in the night from behind the lace curtains in the front parlor.

  Emma breathed deeply and exhaled on a rush. Even though she was tired, she wasn't quite ready to go inside. Instead she turned her back on the silent house and continued her walk to the ancient maple tree at the edge of the Taylor property. She dropped to the ground, leaned back against the craggy trunk, and stared out at the night. It was so good to be home.

  "Hello, Emma:' J.T. said quietly as he stepped out of the surrounding brush.

  She turned to look at him.

  "I've been waiting for you." He moved closer and sank to the ground beside her. When he leaned back against the tree trunk, his shoulder pressed against hers. She didn't move away.

  "How did you know I'd be out here?" she whispered.

  He smiled. "You always did favor a walk in the night."

  She said nothing and J.T. went on. "You were really something today, Emma."

  "You mean you're willing to admit that ladies can hit a baseball?" she asked on a soft laugh.

  J.T. reached for her hand. Running his thumb across her knuckles, he said, "If the lady is you, I reckon she can do just about anything."

  She stared up at him. Moonlight filtered through the old tree's branches, dappling his familiar face with moving shadows. Somehow she knew that he was the reason she hadn't been willing to go inside. Somewhere deep inside her, Emma'd been expecting J.T. to show up.

  Everything was finally clear to her. Emma was now ready to admit what her heart had been telling her all along. She still loved J.T. Phillips. Always would. Whether he loved her back or not, simply didn't matter.

  When his hand cupped her cheek, Emma leaned into it, moving her face across his flesh. She'd yearned for this for so many years, she wouldn't deny herself now.

  "Oh Emma…"

  She laid her fingertips across his mouth, then bent toward him and pressed her lips there instead. J.T.’s arms closed around her, pulling her tightly against him. Emma heard him groan softly and she echoed his call when one of his hands snaked around and caressed her breast. His long fingers teased her hardened nipple and Emma gasped with surprise at the depth of the feelings he created.

  As his mouth moved down the length of her neck and his tongue traced warm patterns on her skin, Emma arched herself against him, flattening her palms on his chest. Head back and eyes wide, she stared up through the tangle of branches overhead to the clear night sky. Her body seemed to come alive under his touch. She licked dry lips and sighed on a smile. Emma'd wished and hoped for this night for so long, she wanted to capture every sensation, so that years from now, she could reach into her heart, pull out the memory and relive it.

  She lifted her head and looked into J.T.'s eyes. Their gazes locked, Emma's fingers seemed to move of their own accord. Deftly, she undid the buttons of his shirt. As each one slid free, Emma watched a flash of restrained passion in J.T.' s eyes brighten and grow. When his shirt lay open, her hands smoothed over his flesh. Her breathing staggered, her heartbeat frantic, the warm strength of him filled her. Beneath her palms, J.T.'s heart pounded out a rhythm she knew matched her own.

  He dipped his head and brushed her lips with his. Emma gasped at the lightning-quick shiver that raced up her spine and she tried to pull him back when he drew away briefly.

  So shaken by the tingling sensations coursing through her body, Emma barely noticed when he slid her dress down her shoulders. But as J.T. pressed their naked chests together, Emma's breath stopped. Curls of desire spread through her body like a brush fire, threatening to consume her entirely. The coarse, dark hair covering his muscled chest brushed against her too sensitive nipples and Emma groaned softly at the exquisite torture of being close to him and yet not close enough.

  He moved to kiss her and Emma's mouth parted under his. As their tongues met and danced in silent promise, their hands and fingers moved frantically over each other's body.

  In seconds, their clothes were discarded in a pile beneath the old tree. The soft chill of the February night descended on them, though neither of them noticed. Emma looked up into J.T.'s eyes and saw his hesitation. She knew instinctively that he would stop now and leave her if that was what she wanted from him. A swell of love for him washed over her, closing her throat with the force of it. She reached up and tenderly cupped his cheek. He smiled at her touch and Emma whispered, "Be mine, J.T. If only for tonight, be mine."

  He placed a kiss on her palm and wordlessly moved to cover her body with his own. Gently, quietly, J.T. entered Emma's soul and they paused for a heartbeat as if to savor the joining. Then she pulled his face down toward hers for a kiss and lifted her hips slightly to urge him on with the dance.

  As J.T. moved inside her, his fingers slipped down between their bodies and caressed the core of her. Emma's head twisted from side to side, as she struggled to find what he was offering. Her fingers tight over his shoulders, she fought for breath as her body went higher and higher until she burst and floated back to the soft, damp grass. Seconds later, J.T. arched against her and she heard him call her name softly.

  Emma lay quietly beneath him, running her hands over his back as she tried to steady her breathing. J.T. raised up, twisted slightly and bent to her breast. Tenderly, he took her nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the sensitive bud. He smiled when her hand tightened in his hair and held him fast. After another moment though, he straightened, propped himself on one elbow and looked down into her face. Gently, he stroked the matted hair from her forehead, then ran his hand down the length of her nude body. Emma shivered.

  "Cold?"

  "No," she whispered through dry lips. "I've never been so warm."

  Reluctantly, he rolled to the side and pulled her into his arms. He could hardly believe what they'd just done. J.T. hadn't meant to seduce her. He'd meant only to talk to her. Make her listen to him. With her head pressed against his chest, he said softly, "I didn't mean for this to happen, Emma."

  "I know, J.T." The regrets she'd expected him to feel
had already started. But no matter his feelings, she would always cherish the memory of this night. Her fingers moved over his flat nipple and his flesh quivered under her touch. "I think it had to happen." She tilted her head back to look at him, determined to etch every moment of this time with him into her brain. And just as determined to keep him from feeling any guilt over what they'd done. What had happened between them wasn't really his fault. At least not his alone. She could have stopped him. If she'd wanted to. "I think we were owed at least one time of being together."

  "One time?" He stiffened.

  She nodded, sat up and reached for her clothes. It would be much easier to bear, she knew, if she left quickly. This moment of tenderness had changed nothing. She loved him, but one-sided love wasn't enough for her anymore.