And then it was quiet. Adam was focusing all his attention on his task while Tessa stroked the boy’s dirt-streaked hair. And what he saw in her eyes…what was written all over her face made his jaw drop open.
It couldn’t be. It just wasn’t possible.
But it was unmistakable.
It was love shining in her expressive, green eyes. In a matter of days, Adam had captured her heart. And while it had never surprised him that he’d immediately been overwhelmed with affection for the boy, it amazed him that a complete stranger could be captivated so quickly. Adam wasn’t her child, but it hadn’t mattered.
And though grateful for her instant affection for Adam—the boy deserved more love than even a father could give—Caleb was also jealous. What would it be like to have Tessa looking at him like that? Patricia had never looked at him with love in her eyes, and he’d never looked back at her that way either. The two of them had been a good match, and he’d been eager to please his family. Since then, he’d learned better than to ever hope for, or offer, dangerous things like trust and love.
“Father, you’re home!” Adam hopped up onto his little legs after spying him there and scurried across the yard. “Would you like to help?” he asked excitedly. “Miss Tessa knows all about gardening. She could teach you, just like she’s teaching me.”
“I believe that sounds like a wonderful idea. Lead the way.” Adam grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the small garden.
“Miss Tessa, can you show my father how to plant seeds, too?” Adam bounced excitedly, still holding onto Caleb’s hand with both of his.
“I’m sure he would enjoy that, Adam, but perhaps we should let your father rest. He’s only just arrived home.”
She was trying to give him a way out, though whether for his benefit or hers, he didn’t know. Nevertheless, Adam looked too excited to disappoint him, so Caleb got down on his knees and let Tessa guide him through the steps of digging a hole, tossing in some seeds and filling the hole back up with dirt.
She explained each step to him—for Adam’s benefit, no doubt—but laughter lit up her eyes the whole time. She must have found the lesson in gardening just as humorous as he did. Of course, luck would have it that he was so busy paying attention to the tone of her voice and the way she moved her delicate—and dirt-covered—hands that he lost track of where he’d been digging and dug up a handful of seeds that had only recently been planted.
“You can’t dig them up that quickly, Father,” Adam explained seriously. “Miss Tessa says that these things take time and we have to be patient.”
“An important lesson, for sure,” he agreed with his son, merriment alight in his own tone.
Tessa covered her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle a laugh but when she pulled it away, she’d become the most adorable woman he’d ever seen, with dirt streaks across her cheeks and a dab on her nose. He’d never think of playing in the dirt as an unworthy pastime for a woman ever again.
“I think we’re just about finished, Darling. Why don’t you go wash up for dinner.”
Adam nodded, not the least bit perturbed that this particular fun was over for the moment. “I think you need to wash up, too, Miss Tessa.” Adam reached out and swiped his small fingers across her cheeks, not doing much more than smudging the streaks there.
Adam then jumped up and rushed toward the house, leaving Caleb kneeling in the garden less than a yard from Tessa.
“I’m sorry,” she spoke after a moment of silence. “I hadn’t thought you would be home so early or else I’d have had Adam cleaned up and dinner would be ready.”
“It’s no trouble. It was nice to see him enjoying himself.”
She rose to her feet and swiped at her face just as Adam had a moment prior, but the results were the same: more smudging. He stifled a laugh as he stood up, but he wasn’t entirely successful and she glared at him in mock disapproval.
“Now, Mr. Knight, where are your manners?”
“My lady, you are covered in mud and you inquire about my manners,” he spoke as his lips quivered in a poor attempt to conceal his humor.
She laughed, abandoning her efforts. “Yes, well, I suppose I’ve just spent too much time getting covered in all sorts of—” her mouth snapped closed and all humor fled her expression.
What was that?
“I think I should wash up and see to dinner. I’ll see you inside,” she finished quickly and then hurried past him and around to the door to the house.
She just spent too long getting covered in all sorts of what? What on earth would a librarian have spent so much time getting herself covered in? And why had her demeanor changed rapidly, mid-sentence? Tessa was certainly a conundrum; one he had increasing interest in unravelling.
Darn it! He’d done it again. He’d allowed himself to get carried away in her smiles and her laughter and…her. He should have no interest in unravelling Tessa—none whatsoever.
She seemed to have recovered herself by the time he joined them inside and a bright smile lit her face once more as she talked to Adam. It remained there all through dinner, though she kept her attention on Adam the entire time.
“Will you help me with my prayers, Miss Tessa?”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” he cut in before Tessa could respond, just as he had each night since the first.
“Yes, Father,” the boy replied, not even attempting to hide his disappointment.
Adam was truly taken with Tessa, and Caleb would have been inclined to give into his son’s wishes to make him happy, but he’d seen the tears in her eyes that night after she’d sung her sweet lullaby. Something had upset her deeply, and though he shouldn’t care, he couldn’t deny he didn’t want to see her upset like that again.
Tessa was quiet beside him, although he could see the question in her eyes, wondering if she’d done something to displease him. He felt compelled to offer some sort of explanation, but he held his tongue. He didn’t owe her an explanation, did he? This was his home, Adam was his son, and if he wanted to be the one to tuck him in at night, that was his right. At least, that’s what he told himself as he pushed away from the table, nodded succinctly and left the room.
Adam was still sulking when he joined him in his room, but he recovered quickly as they knelt at the side of his bed. And by the time he tucked him in beneath his blanket, he was smiling sleepily, reaching his arms out for a hug.
“I like Miss Tessa very much, Father. Don’t you?” he asked innocently.
“Yes, I do.” Far too much, he thought.
He left the room a moment later, closing the door quietly behind him. She was right there, coming down the hallway to his…her bedroom. She came to a stop a few feet in front of him, fidgeting awkwardly as if she was trying to find something to say. Against his better judgment, his feet moved by their own volition, closing the distance between them, but just as he was about to lean in, an image flashed through his mind. Stone walls. Nothing but stark, stone walls—it was his brain’s way of tipping the scale.
He turned abruptly and retreated to his son’s room—his current bedroom—cursing the pile of blankets that served as his makeshift bed. If he was going to make this a permanent arrangement, he’d have to see about finding a more comfortable bed.
He laid down, not bothering to get undressed for bed, but sleep would not come. An hour passed, and then another, and he continued to lay there, wondering how on earth he’d thought his plan could have been anything but a disaster. Of course, at the time, he’d had no idea she would be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen; that she’d be the kind of person who could come to love his son in a matter of days; that she was a woman he was beginning to think deserved a husband who could devote himself entirely to her happiness.
And that brought him to another question. Tessa could have had any man of her choosing, he was certain of it, so why had she been looking for a husband in matrimonial advertisements? She was hiding something—he was equally certain of that. What kind
of secret could possibly have reduced her marriage options in New England to none?
Every fathomable reason flitted through his mind. She could be a murderess fleeing the law, an escaped convict or a woman who conned men out of their fortunes. But none of them fit. There was no look of a criminal or of violence in her eyes, and she couldn’t possibly know he wasn’t the poor miner he’d claimed to be. The possibilities continued to roll about his mind as his eyes finally grew heavy.
He had just begun to drift into the realm that existed between awake and asleep when a scream ripped through the air. He was on his feet in a flash and gave one quick look to make sure Adam was alright before he dashed out of the room. In the hall, he knew right away where the scream came from and he didn’t hesitate when he reached the bedroom door, throwing it open and darting inside. Hellish visions flashed through his mind as he sought to peer through the darkness. He imagined her near-lifeless form, drenched in blood like so many of the bodies he’d seen littering battlefields.
“Tessa!” he yelled in panic, but her scream continued to fill the room and pierce his ears. His eyes had adjusted to the dark by the time he reached the bed, and he couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips as he saw her there, thrashing wildly but unharmed. She was asleep, her heart-wrenching scream a byproduct of a nightmare, though he couldn’t imagine what evil thing tormented her in her sleep.
He perched himself on the edge of the bed and shook her gently. Within seconds, she came awake, sitting upright in a flash.
“Tessa, it’s alright. It was just a bad dream,” he whispered soothingly.
She nodded, but he could see the tears cascading down her cheeks. Without thinking, he pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms and rubbing her back soothingly. She buried her head against his shoulder as quiet sobs racked her body.
Though she was taller than most women, she seemed so small in his arms; delicate, almost fragile. It wasn’t an impression he’d gotten from her before, which meant she kept this part of her well-hidden. She’d seemed immensely strong to him, maybe not in the same physical way a man was strong, but in other ways, as if it would be nearly impossible for the world to bend her to its will. This part of her, though, could be easily crushed, and suddenly the thought of anyone ever attempting to harm any part of Tessa made his blood boil.
The fierce protectiveness that coursed through his veins was unwelcome. He didn’t want to feel this way, and he leaned away from her, hoping that putting distance between them might help to remove the unwelcome feeling. But it only served to make it grow stronger, as if the only way to placate it was to keep her close, to keep her where he knew she would be safe.
His movement must have jarred her back to reality because she pulled away, her teeth beginning to tug on her bottom lip as they often did when she was nervous or uncomfortable. Strange, that he was already beginning to recognize such small details about her. Strange…and terrifying.
“I’m quite alright now,” she spoke, her voice little more than a whisper and not the least bit convincing.
“Are you sure, Tessa?” He should be making a hasty retreat, but instead he lingered, wanting to see that she was actually alright.
“Yes, quite. My apologies, Caleb, for disturbing your sleep.”
“No apology necessary,” he whispered as he reached out to caress her damp cheek. He stopped himself though, a mere inch away from her tear-soaked face.
“If you have need of me, you know where to find me,” he told her gruffly and hurried out of the room.
He laid back down in his makeshift bed and then proceeded to toss and turn the entire night as Tessa made an appearance in every thought, dream and nightmare that filled his mind.
Chapter 7
A day passed, and then another, and then several more. No more nightmares plagued her sleep, and Mary was grateful for that—even if it meant she’d slept less in the past week than she usually would in a single night or two. She would stay awake as long as she could, and then sleep fitfully, waking every hour or so. At least it kept the nightmares at bay. In truth, the memory of Caleb’s arms around her had threatened her composure far more than anything in her dreams.
For the first time, she’d felt far removed from the gruesome memories that haunted her mind. Even the memory that haunted her sleep most often couldn’t hurt her in Caleb’s arms. The memory of a man, a man she’d cared for over two days and two nights, at his bedside almost constantly. He’d been delirious with pain when he startled her, wrapping his good arm around her with a knife in his hand, holding it against her, threatening to hurt her if she let the doctor take his arm.
“I’ll take both yer arms if ya don’t let her go,” another soldier had threatened from behind him, thrashing him over the head with a rifle musket seconds later. His hand and the knife fell away and he collapsed sideways on the bed.
The doctor still took his arm, but it was for naught—he died a week later from infection. The worst part, though, the part that haunted her most often, was the other soldier, the one who had saved her life. He’d valiantly come to her rescue, but there had been nothing she could do to save him. He’d wasted away from a serious infection as well, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the man who saved her died in the same manner as the man who’d threatened to take her life.
But in Caleb’s arms, she’d felt a small sliver of peace, as if something in his embrace was telling her it was alright to move on. She would never tell him that. Caleb wanted no part in an actual marriage and she wouldn’t make herself so vulnerable to a man who didn’t want her. It stung to know she would never know the kind of love she’d witnessed between her mother and father, but nor would she ever know the heavy hand of John Wendell.
And what Caleb had provided her with would be enough—Adam. The little boy had stolen her heart so quickly that she hadn’t even realized he had it at first. Though he was not her son, she loved him as if he was. Could she complain that her life was not what she’d hoped it would be when it was so much better than she’d not so long ago feared?
So, with that in mind, she smiled at Caleb. They’d just finished dinner and Adam was chatting about his activities that day. Caleb was there each morning for breakfast and dinner now. Their early morning conversations had become comfortable—an enjoyment she looked forward to each day—but later in the day, his demeanor could change so fast it would make her head spin. Even so, once he left each morning, she couldn’t help but secretly watch the clock, waiting for the time he’d return. And at the moment, he seemed to be in good spirits. But as Adam’s bedtime neared, the room grew quiet.
“Why don’t Miss Tessa and I both help you with your prayers this evening, Adam?” Caleb suggested.
She feared her head had been elsewhere and she’d missed a question from Adam, but the boy seemed more than content with his father’s reply. Still, ever since that first night she’d tucked Adam into bed, Caleb had taken over the task, insisting she relax while he spent the last few minutes of the day with his son. She hadn’t persisted, afraid she might be overstepping some invisible boundary, but it was Caleb who made the suggestion she join them tonight.
Adam stood excitedly and grabbed her hand, pulling her up and across the room with him while Caleb followed behind them. Once the boy had changed his clothes and washed up for bed, the three of them knelt beside his bed and waited while Adam gave thanks for everything in his life from his father and Tessa to the seeds which he hoped would soon begin to force their way through the ground in their garden. He was such a happy boy.
“Will you sing again, Miss Tessa?” he asked when he was settled in bed.
She nodded reluctantly and forced a smile. Caleb was still right there standing next to her, and it didn’t look like he had any intention of leaving any time soon. Awkwardly, she positioned herself on the edge of Adam’s bed and let the song flow from her lips. Caleb’s nearness made her self-conscious, but that was good. It helped to staunch the flow of images that flooded h
er mind as she sang. Still, her eyes teared up. She couldn’t help it, but she kept them in check, refusing to let them fall until she was finished.
“It’s the song that makes you so upset. Why?” he whispered as they left the room and Caleb closed the door quietly behind them.
“It was the song my mother used to sing to me. When she died—”
“Died? Didn’t you say in your letters that you have a happy family?” Caleb asked with sudden suspicion in his eyes.
She hadn’t even thought to guard her answers, and it felt like it had been a lifetime since she’d written all those lies. “Yes, we are,” she tried to cover quickly. “Those of us remaining. Unfortunately, my parents died when I was young. My aunt, my…uncle,” she hesitated, forcing the last word, “They took me in and they are good people. They were always kind to me,” she lied.
The suspicion never left his eyes but he nodded. She was at her bedroom door then—so quickly she’d come to see it as her bedroom—and he paused. He didn’t speak, he didn’t move. His eyes met hers for a brief moment, but then traveled lower, settling on her lips. He wanted to kiss her; she knew it, though she had no idea how she could be so certain. But any doubt faded quickly as he leaned in and his lips grazed across hers, once, twice, before she felt the full weight of his lips against hers.
But he pulled away abruptly, and his eyes met hers. At first there was confusion in his gaze, but it disappeared quickly as the wall he so often erected between them came up. She sighed, knowing what came next.
“Good night, Caleb,” she whispered and hurried inside the bedroom, closing the door on the man who seemed determined to keep her shut out.
Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3) Page 32
