by Jodi Thomas
“I’m so sleepy.” Her words brushed against his throat. “I feel like I could sleep for days and days.”
Wolf rolled slightly toward her. “It’s only the powder the doctor gave you. You’ll be fine tomorrow.” He held his free arm in midair, trying to figure out where to put his hand. Finally, he lowered it to her waist.
“I love you, you know,” she whispered. “I think I always have.”
Wolf could hear his heart cracking. Somehow he’d stepped into her dreams. He was seeing her private thoughts. Her dream was of him…had always been of him. And he’d tumbled into the middle of it.
Tenderly, Wolf lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was so light it could have been a prayer. “I love you, Molly,” he mumbled against her lips. He’d thought the words a hundred times in his mind, but he never dared say them aloud. Suddenly, he longed to drop the charade and say them with the accent of his birth. The way his father had said them to his mother. The way his sister whispered them to her husband when she thought no one listened. A low, Southern way that warms the blood, stirs the heart, and echoes of forever.
He felt her body relax beside him and knew she slipped into a deep sleep. He’d accomplished his goal, he’d given her peace.
For a long while, he held her, listening to her breathe, feeling her warm beside him. Then, finally, the hours caught up with him and he slept also. A deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in his life. For all he’d ever dreamed of was in his arms.
Molly drifted between reality and fantasy. All the fears of the night before were held at bay as she felt Benjamin at her side. He was more real than she’d ever dreamed before. She could smell the shaving cream he used and feel the warmth of his chest slowly rising and falling beneath her cheek.
“Benjamin,” she whispered as she spread her hand across his chest. The soft cotton welcomed her touch.
He jerked slightly and caught her fingers in his grasp. “Are you all right?” he asked, sounding sleepy and almost boyish.
“I’m fine.” Pulling her hand from his, she fanned her fingers once more over his broad chest. “I just wanted to feel you.”
She felt the chuckle more than heard it.
“Of course, feel away,” he whispered against her ear.
As her hand moved over him, he remained still. She liked the strong line of his jaw and the surprising softness of his bottom lip. She might have been very proper in her life, but in her dreams she grew bold. Her fingers slid over his clothes, loving the contrast of the cotton of his shirt and the wool of his trousers. When she brushed below the belt, she heard his sudden intake of air.
“Molly.” He sounded out of breath and guarded. “Do you really think…?”
“Would you stop me?” she challenged, opening her eyes to stare at him for the first time. He was in the shadows of early morning, but there was no mistaking her Benjamin. She loved the way his hair curled as it had in the wind of the train station all those years ago. And the power in his jaw that promised stubbornness and strength. “Would you stop me?” she repeated.
“No,” he finally replied, as formally as though at attention even as he lay beside her.
Settling against him, she breathed deeply of the smell of him. In all her dreams, she never remembered the aroma. Soap, shaving cream, starch, all lay above a deep-baked smell that could only be his. A hint of horses, and wind, and sun, and adventure.
Her hand slipped boldly along his trousers to the inside of his thigh. The powerful muscles in his leg tightened.
“Do you mind?” she asked.
He swallowed. “No.”
“I can do whatever I want. After all, it’s my dream.” Molly felt terribly wicked. He seemed so real tonight, she wanted to sink into the senses and not think, but only feel.
Her hand moved up to the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, she began unfastening each as she listened to the rhythm of his pounding heart in her ear and felt his warm breath against her face.
As she slipped her fingers beneath the cotton of his shirt, his hand tightened at her waist, pulling her gown into his fist. She’d seen men take stitches with less reaction.
“Do you wish me to stop, Benjamin?”
“No.” He seemed barely able to get the word out.
“Then relax.” She raised her face and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Relax, I said.” She kissed him again. His lips had never felt so soft, or tasted so sweet.
In fact, until tonight, they’d never tasted at all. Even the memory of how they’d felt faded over time. But not tonight.
Tonight they were as real as Wolf’s lips had been when he’d kissed her farewell a few days ago. Only Wolf’s kiss had been to show the town that they were married. Nothing more, she told herself, nothing more. She would never allow it to be, for Benjamin was in her heart. There was no room for another.
Molly let her lips brush his as her hand moved over the hair and muscle above his heart. His chest hair was soft in contrast to the muscles. She pulled away and began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, suddenly in a hurry to drink her fill of the pleasure she’d discovered.
He didn’t move to stop her, but she wasn’t sure if he was breathing.
About the time his hand relaxed once more at her waist, she pulled the shirt fully open.
Molly raised her head and stared at him. His eyes were closed. She wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep or was simply trying to endure extreme torture.
Smiling, she lowered her mouth to his chest. He was so delicious tonight. She had to taste him.
She felt his fist tighten once more at her side, but he didn’t say a word as her tongue brushed his skin.
While she let her hand drift along the soft sprinkling of hair to his waist, she felt his sudden intake of breath and laughed. In all her dreams, he’d never reacted so to her touch, and now the feel of him so aware of her every move thrilled and excited her.
Returning to his mouth, she kissed him deeply. At first, he let her kiss him, exploring at her leisure. Slowly, the kiss shifted, and he took control. The kiss came in waves, first tender, then demanding and more fully than she’d ever known a kiss could be. He filled her very soul with a passion she’d never before experienced.
His hand spread out at her waist and moved in gentle strokes until his fingers brushed against the underside of her breasts and circled low across her abdomen.
She breathed with his kiss as if she had no breath of her own. She relaxed to his touch, welcoming all he wanted to give her. Never in all the years had she dreamed like this. The taste of him was deep in her mouth, the feel of his hand forever branded across her body.
She wanted to touch him more, but all she could do was drift on the sea of pleasure. Finally, when her senses overflowed with sensations, his hand stilled across her abdomen and his kisses softened. She settled against his shoulder, feeling a warmth she’d never known burning deep inside her. Her fingers lazily fanned his chest for one last touch. She listened to the beat of his heart and fell deeper into sleep, knowing she’d return to the dream and he’d be waiting as always.
The last thought that drifted through her mind, too airy to take root, was that he’d whispered, “I love you” against her ear in a low Southern tone.
FIFTEEN
VOICES BUZZED AROUND MOLLY LIKE FLIES. BOTHERING. Awakening her from a dream where she longed to stay.
“Can you hear me?” someone kept asking.
“Doctor,” another voice whined. “Can’t we wait? Do we have to tell her now? Doesn’t she need to be stronger?”
Molly pulled herself through the fog of her brain and smiled. The night’s sleep and dreams left her refreshed, reborn.
She noticed Granny Gravy and the young doctor named Frank Washburn standing by the window. He picked up medicines for the School for the Blind at her store and also treated Ephraim.
“Good morning.” Molly sat up in bed, feeling the ache in her shoulder with every movement. The pain couldn’t erase the grin that lingered on her lips.
Washburn was at her side. “How are you this morning, Mrs. Hayward?”
“I’m sore but much better.” Her father used to say that she took trouble hard, like her mother, but bounced back ready to fight like him.
“Careful.” The doctor gave her his undivided attention. “Don’t move too fast.” He acted as if she were about to take her first steps.
Molly slipped from the bed and stood slowly. “I’m fine. All I needed was a good night’s sleep. How’s Callie Ann? Is she up yet?”
Granny snorted. “That child’s been up for hours asking about you.” She seemed in a hurry as she fretted with the curtains, yet didn’t leave.
Washburn lifted the packet of powders he’d left by the bed. “How much of this did you take last night?”
“None. Except what you gave me,” Molly answered. “I slept the clock around.” She wanted to add “in the arms of Benjamin” but knew they would think her mad.
Smiling, Granny added, “My husband used to say there ain’t nothing better than a woman who wakes up grinning. He said she’s worth her weight in gold.”
Molly didn’t want to explain how her dreams had helped more than any medicine. She could still feel the heat of the drugstore fire along her arms. Her shoulder and wrist throbbed with a dull pain, but through the night, Benjamin had held her. Somehow that made everything all right.
She almost laughed aloud. Wouldn’t the world be surprised to know that she had a lover as invisible as Callie Ann’s uncle? Only last night, he’d been so real to her that she could almost hear the echo of his heartbeat in her ear and taste his kiss lingering on her lips.
The doctor tilted his head as he watched her. “Are you sure you’re better, Mrs. Hayward? You had quite a shock.”
The smile faded from Molly’s mouth as she heard him say her name. He’d called her that earlier. Hayward! How could she have forgotten she was married? Had she betrayed Benjamin by marrying, even in name only? Or had she shamed Wolf Hayward with her secret life and love, who came to her only in her dreams?
She wasn’t sure from what direction guilt flew in, but it perched heavy atop her heart. She felt its weight, hollow and bitter. Somehow, she’d dishonored one man, but which?
Molly rubbed her forehead. The terror of the fire hadn’t destroyed her sanity. She was doing that simply by dreaming. “Perhaps I’d better sit down.”
Granny moved out of the way. Molly melted into the only chair in the room. The table wobbled when she rested her arm on a lace cover that had been washed and bleached so many times the material appeared feathered.
Looking around the room, Molly saw beneath the first layer of warm comfort. The place she’d seen as finely decorated aged before her eyes. The drapes were heavy with dust. The design in the rug had almost disappeared with wear. Wood, from headboard to dresser, was weathered and cracked in age.
“That’s it, ma’am.” Granny patted her hand. “You rest easy for a spell. The soul takes time, just like the body, to recover from losses like you had. I’ll have old Noah bring you up a cup of tea. You missed breakfast, but lunch will be ready in a few shakes.”
The old woman reached to touch Molly’s shoulder in comfort but pulled back. “Don’t you worry none, child.” She glanced at the doctor. “A body can face anything once the stomach is full.” She looked back at Molly. “I’d be willing to bet three meals a day of my grits and gravy will put some meat on those bones. You’ll be filling out my nightgown in no time.”
As Granny hurried off, the doctor checked Molly’s arms and removed the bandages.
Red puffy flesh, no worse than a sunburn, Molly thought. The doctor pampered her, but she wasn’t sure why.
“I need to ask you this, Mrs. Hayward. Is there any chance that you could be with child?”
Molly wanted to laugh. Surely dream lovers couldn’t accomplish that feat. “No,” she answered, wanting to be honest with Kim. “Wolf and I have never…will never…well, not yet, anyway.” She felt she had to be honest about her condition, but she didn’t want to give away the agreement of their marriage. “Wolf left within hours after our wedding.”
“I think I understand.” The doctor was a poor liar. “You rushed into a marriage, don’t rush into…” He couldn’t find the words. “…Into what you’re not ready for. I know a great many marriages that are strong with the husband and wife in separate bedrooms.”
She’d heard of them, also. Marriages where no love was involved. Marriages where children were not wanted. Marriages where one of the partners had a lover.
Blinking, she realized, that would be her. I’m the one with a lover.
Washburn reddened when she didn’t comment. “If you like, we can talk about how it could be between the two of you. Understanding can sometimes take the fear away from a new bride.”
She almost giggled. She’d bet all she had, which at the moment was one slightly burned gown, that the doctor had never given this talk before. “No. I understand about that. I went to the backroom classes at medical school.”
Now it was the doctor’s turn to be embarrassed. The backroom classes were those group meetings held at the bars after the lectures. Diseases and ailments never discussed in lecture halls were described over a mug of beer. Theories on how to prevent pregnancy that ran from old bayou methods to new scientific research from Germany were discussed. Diseases that ran, rampant across the country, but were never mentioned in parlors, were talked about. A classmate of Molly’s had laughingly called what they debated over beer as the “ailments of the heart.” But as far as Molly could figure, not one round of talking had anything to do with the heart.
Washburn changed the subject. “Did you finish medical school, Mrs. Hayward?”
“Yes, but most of my intern work was in pharmacy.”
“Have you ever considered practicing medicine?”
Molly shook her head. She’d seen enough of the “practice” during the war. “I enjoy helping people with my mixtures.” She leaned back in the chair. “I’d just ordered a wagonload of supplies the morning before the fire. Now I’ll have no place to put them.”
Washburn closed his bag. “If you’d consider it, I think the school could loan you a room to work in, in exchange for a reduced fee on what we need.”
Molly grinned. Everything was going to work out. “I’ll consider it and thanks for the offer.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, I guess if you have no questions, I’ll be leaving. I’ll check on you again this afternoon.”
“Thank you. But it won’t be necessary for you to return.” Molly saw no point in his making another call. Yesterday she’d had a shock. She’d been hurt and frightened. Her lungs were full of smoke, her spirit near broken. But today she felt her strength returning. She knew how to treat the burns and bruises. She could take care of herself. “I know you’re busy. I’ll be fine.”
Nodding his agreement, Washburn added, “I’ll speak to your husband.”
“That won’t be necessary either, I assure you.” Molly wanted to fire more angry words back at Washburn, but knew he was only saying what most doctors said. Once a woman married, her medical care, or sometimes the lack of it, was dependent on her husband’s decisions. In most states, a doctor couldn’t even treat a woman without her husband’s consent.
A moment ago Washburn had treated her like a colleague and now she was back to being a woman.
A tapping on the door saved the doctor from having to reply. Callie Ann rushed in. She ran to Molly but halted just out of reach.
“I was going to hug you,” she said and pouted, “but I don’t want to hurt you.”
Molly laughed. “A hug could never hurt.” She opened her arms to the child. Over Callie Ann’s head, Molly watched the doctor slip from the room.
After hugging her, Callie Ann pushed back Molly’s hair and kissed her on both cheeks. “I missed you. Granny Gravy said you had to sleep. I didn’t have anyone to play with but Uncle Orson.”
“I’m sorr
y.” Molly took the child’s face in her hands and kissed her cheeks in return. “Promise to stay with me a while today.”
Callie Ann giggled. “We can’t go anywhere. We don’t have any clothes. But we got boxes and boxes downstairs that Mr. Wolf had delivered.”
“You’re right.” Molly looked down at her gown, as if she’d just noticed it. “We’ll have to stay here.” She hoped she could find something to wear before Wolf returned. She didn’t want to face him in only a nightgown.
Foolish, she thought. Why shouldn’t her husband see her in a nightgown? Most of the town had last night. They’d surrounded her in a mob once the fire was under control, asking questions all at once. Charlie Filmore had shielded her as best he could until the rangers showed up.
Callie Ann suddenly danced around the room while Noah brought in a tray of tea with cookies on it that could only have come from Wolf’s favorite cafe. As they ate, more boxes arrived—dresses for them both to try on, shoes, underthings, even a doll for Callie Ann and a new leather-bound journal for her. All from Wolf. His thoughtfulness overwhelmed her.
Molly was amazed at how closely Wolf guessed her size, but decided it had been blind luck. He obviously hadn’t really looked at her, or he’d have known she only wore black. She’d started when her father died and never stopped when the year of mourning ended. The white blouses were fine, but the skirts of wine red and hunter green were colors she’d never choose.
But she had to wear something. She couldn’t very well go shopping in the nightgown she now wore. So she picked three of the simplest outfits along with underthings.
Callie Ann, on the other hand, liked everything she tried on, as if she were playing dress-up. She even tried Molly’s rejected clothes and asked if she could have a shawl with golden fringe. Molly knew Wolf was probably spending most of his savings on the clothes. She should keep only what were necessities, yet she couldn’t tell the child no.
As soon as she could, she’d get to the bank and wire Philadelphia for money to repay Wolf. She knew what he had in savings and guessed he’d spent very little on himself over the years. She couldn’t allow him to drain his account for her.
