“She is that,” Wood agreed.
Gabby sighed enviously. “I could never do what’s she’s doing. That’s why my brother left her the farm and not me. He knew that she’d manage it the way it should be done.”
“Yet he wanted it done his way,” Wood noted.
Gabby nodded. “So that’s the situation, Wood. Either Hannah marries, or she never collects the money needed to save the farm.” Gabby folded her hands in front of her on the table and looked at him as if he were their last hope.
It was an unsettling thought. Pretending to be Alfred Dumler, mail-order groom, when he thought it was simply a whim of an old lady was one thing. But now that Wood knew the marriage involved saving the livelihood of three people, his pretense took on a new dimension.
“Knowing this about the will doesn’t change anything, does it?” She looked at him anxiously.
“You want to know if I’m still willing to marry Hannah?”
She nodded eagerly, anticipating his answer.
Wood felt a stab of guilt. Gabby truly was a sweet little old lady who didn’t deserve to be the victim of his deception. He was pretending to be a man who had come to the farm of his own free will to answer an ad for a mail-order groom.
“I can’t promise you anything, Gabby,” he said honestly. “But you have my word I’ll do whatever I can to help Hannah hang on to the farm.”
After he had uttered the words, he knew how hollow they actually were. What could he do? Marry Hannah? Even if she agreed, which was unlikely, how could he possibly wed a woman from another century?
Chapter Ten
Every day Jeremy took the same route home from the school bus. And everyday he saw fewer rows of corn.
That’s why on this particular day his steps were a bit slower as he walked past the tall rows of corn. The end was near. The golden stalks, many of which towered over him, would soon be gone, which is why he sat down and unzipped his school bag.
He pulled out a granola bar. He would much rather have had a candy bar, but his mom said they were empty calories. He unwrapped the snack bar and tossed the paper in the direction of his open school bag. It missed and he had to crawl on his knees and retrieve the errant wrapper.
As he did, he saw another piece of paper. Something white. Curious, he snatched it from between the corn stalks. It was an envelope—a letter—but most of the writing had been smudged by rain.
One thing that wasn’t smudged was the return address label. It must have been plastic coated. Jeremy read the name. Alfred Dumler. Had Wood mailed this letter a long time ago and it had never arrived?
He thought for a moment, then remembered the day Wood had arrived. Gabby had dropped the mail. Could this be a piece that had been in that bunch?
Jeremy’s brows drew together. He studied the smudged postmark. It said September something...
Maybe he should open it. It wasn’t like anyone would know. And besides, it was probably all run together just like the address.
He ripped open the envelope and extracted the single piece of paper. It said:
Dear Hannah,
I’ve had a change in plans. I won’t be able to come on the 10th of September, but I still plan to visit. Would October work for you? Please write and let me know.
It was signed Alfred Dumler.
“YOU DON’T LOOK so hot,” Gabby remarked when Hannah came in for dinner one evening.
“I don’t feel so hot, either,” Hannah admitted, dragging her feet across the floor to the sink where she filled a glass with water.
“I hope it’s not that flu bug going around. Mabel said both of her grandkids had it—ran a fever for three days, couldn’t even get out of bed.”
“Mom, you can’t be sick. Tomorrow’s my birthday,” Jeremy reminded her.
“I’ll be fine by tomorrow,” Hannah assured him. “I just need to take some aspirin and lie down for a bit.”
Only she wasn’t fine the following day. No amount of determination was going to get her aching muscles and joints to move from the bed. When Gabby took her temperature, the thermometer read a hundred and two.
“Yup, it’s the flu,” she diagnosed soberly.
“It can’t be. I have too much to do.”
Gabby added another blanket to her bed. “It’ll still be there when you get up.”
“But it’s Jeremy’s birthday. We’re supposed to camp out.” She shuddered as chills racked her body. “Maybe if I sleep this morning I’ll feel better by dinner.”
Only Hannah didn’t even wake up for dinner. Except for a couple of brief visits to the bathroom, she didn’t get out of bed until after nine o’clock that night. Still weak, she slipped her feet into a pair of moccasins and padded down the stairs.
The house was quiet. Jeremy’s birthday cake sat on the kitchen table, iced and decorated, but uncut. Hannah found Gabby sitting in her den, reading an Agatha Christie novel.
“Why didn’t someone wake me?”
“We figured you needed your rest. How are you feeling?”
Hannah sank down onto the love seat. “Still woozy.” She dropped her head into her hands. “My head aches. My throat’s sore, too.”
“Are you hungry?”
She nodded. “Where’s Jeremy?”
“Wood took him camping,” Gabby replied.
That brought Hannah’s head up with a jerk. “You let them go?”
“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t have?”
Hannah looked at her aunt’s innocent face and didn’t even bother trying to explain. “I don’t want Wood taking Jeremy camping.”
“Why not? Just the other day you told me you thought he was good with Jeremy.”
Hannah groaned. “That doesn’t mean I...” She trailed off in a groan.
Gabby put her book aside and got up to fuss over Hannah, who had kicked off her moccasins and brought her legs up onto the love seat in a half-lying, half-sitting position. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. You’re not well at all.”
“I’m tired of being in bed,” Hannah moaned.
“Maybe, but you need your rest.” Gabby patted her hand. “Let me get you a couple of those pain relief tablets—you know, the ones that help you sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” Hannah protested, but Gabby paid no attention.
She disappeared only to return with two tablets and a glass of water. “Here. Take these.”
Hannah did as she was told, hating the way her body had betrayed her. She had no time to be sick. Especially not now.
“I wanted to take Jeremy camping on his birthday. We were supposed to ride over to the creek and pitch his tent, roast hot dogs and marshmallows, tell ghost stories....” Then she did something rare. She cried.
Gabby reached for a box of tissues and comforted her. “There now, there’s no need to feel bad. It’s not like Jeremy’s birthday was ruined. We’re going to have the cake tomorrow when you’re feeling better.” -
“But it’s a tradition and it’s been broken.” With a supreme effort, Hannah pushed herself to her feet. “I’ve got to go find them.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” Gabby scolded. “What you need is to get back to bed.”
Hannah paid no attention to her aunt’s advice, wandering into the kitchen with her aunt trailing behind her. At the door she pulled her jacket on over her nightgown and slid her feet into her boots.
“Hannah, you’re not being rational. You can’t go out when you’re sick,” Gabby argued.
“I have to make sure Jeremy’s all right.” She shoved her hair up beneath her cap, then grabbed her keys from their usual peg on the wall.
“But you shouldn’t be driving. Those pills will make you sleepy,” Gabby fretted.
Hannah didn’t say another word, but headed for the garage where she climbed into the pickup. She had to rest her head against the steering wheel before she could muster up the energy to start the truck.
As she drove down the dark country road, she thought she truly hated Wood. He had
pushed his way into their lives, intruding where he wasn’t wanted, making himself useful, making himself needed.
Well, she didn’t need him. She needed no man, and she was going to make damn sure that her son didn’t need him, either. She knew exactly where to look—it was the spot she and Jeremy had camped out on his past five birthdays. Near the creek, behind a thicket of elderberry bushes. They had made their own firepit, lining stones in a circle so they could roast hot dogs and marshmallows.
Sure enough. Smoke billowed from the glowing embers of a fire. Hannah killed the engine and walked the rest of the way on foot. A light shone in the small domed tent with two heads in silhouette.
When she peeked inside, she found Jeremy and Wood stretched out on their stomachs, a checkerboard between them.
“Mom! What are you doing here?”
Hannah stumbled inside. “Happy birthday.”
“Mom, you look awful!”
From the way Wood stared at her, Hannah knew she must look pretty bad. He looked his usual handsome self. In fact, in the light of the lantern, he was so dam good looking she could have—
Suddenly she realized that she hadn’t even brushed her teeth all day or combed her hair. And she was in her nightgown. She wanted to turn around and leave, but she felt awful. And dizzy. And tired.
“Mom, why are you here?” Jeremy repeated.
“I want to camp out with you.”
“But you’re sick.”
“Not really. I’m tough.” It was the last thing she said before crumbling at their feet.
“It’s a good thing the tent is big enough for three, huh?” Jeremy said to Wood as he zippered a groggy Hannah into his sleeping bag.
“I think maybe we should take her back to the house,” Wood said to Jeremy.
“No, I’m camping out with Jeremy. It’s his birthday,” she protested wearily.
Wood placed his palm over her forehead. “She’s feverish,” he said to Jeremy. To Hannah he said, “Jeremy and I are going to take you home. If I know Gabby, she’s walking the floor worrying about you.”
“I just saw Gabby. She gave me some tablets,” Hannah murmured sleepily, nestling against Wood’s shoulder.
“I think she’s tired,” Jeremy said in a low voice. “Maybe we should just let her steep here with us. I can open up my sleeping bag and we can share.”
His offer tugged at something inside Wood’s chest. “I’m not sure this is the best place for your mom. The ground’s going to be damp by morning,” Wood told him, even though the thought of Hannah spending the night in his arms was an attractive one.
“Then we’d better take her home,” Jeremy agreed.
Wood could see that Hannah was going to fight him on the matter.
“No, I don’t want to go home. I can stay here.” She struggled briefly in an attempt to convince them she felt all right.
They weren’t convinced.
“Hannah, be sensible,” Wood spoke to her as if she were a child. “You and Jeremy can camp out another night.”
“Does that mean I have to go home, too?” Jeremy asked Wood in a whisper.
More than anything Wood wanted to stay at the house and make sure Hannah was going to be okay. But he didn’t want to disappoint Jeremy, either.
“Let’s get your mother home first and then we’ll talk about it, okay?”
Hannah stirred briefly when Wood carried her to the pickup. Swaddled in his sleeping bag, she rode between Jeremy and Wood, her head falling against Wood’s shoulder.
“You drive a stick pretty well,” Hannah murmured as Wood maneuvered the truck down the dirt roads.
“I had a good teacher,” he answered, liking the feel of her body leaning against his.
As soon as they arrived back at the home place, Wood carried her into the house, up the stairs and deposited her in her own bed, while Gabby fluttered behind him, mumbling her concern.
“Do you think she needs a doctor?” Wood asked as Gabby removed her jacket and tucked her back into bed.
Hannah’s eyes fluttered open. “I don’t need a doctor. I told you, I’m fine.” She tried to sit up, but collapsed against the pillow.
In an aside to Wood, Gabby said, “She’s always bullheaded when she’s sick. Thank goodness she doesn’t get sick often.”
“I want to get up,” Hannah protested, although not a single limb moved. “I’m hungry.”
“I warmed up some chicken soup for her. I’ll get it,” Gabby said, and started toward the door.
Wood stopped her. “You stay here. I’ll go.”
“It’s on the stove. And you’d better bring her some more juice. Oh, there are some soda crackers in the cupboard next to the refrigerator, and she’ll need a napkin,” Gabby gave him instructions.
“Would you all stop acting like I’m some kind of invalid?” Hannah complained. When she would have swung her legs over the bed Wood sat down beside her.
“You are going stay in bed and do exactly as you are told. Got it?”
“Are you forgetting who’s boss here?” Hannah challenged, although it was a pretty weak one.
“You’re not my boss tonight. You’re a woman who’s too stubborn to admit she needs help.”
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to get you the soup and you’re going to eat it. Understand?”
“Yes.”
Her submission caught him off guard. As she fell back against the pillow, her blond curls no longer springy, her face pale, Wood thought he had never seen her look more beautiful.
“I’ll be right back,” he announced to the three of them, then went downstairs to get Hannah’s soup.
As he gathered the things for her tray, Wood realized how comfortable he felt in the Davis kitchen. In a short time he had become a part of their family, and surprisingly, it was not the uncomfortable place he thought it would be. Unfortunately it was not a place he could consider as permanent. Even if he wanted to stay, time threatened to take him away.
When Wood returned to Hannah’s room, only Jeremy was there. “Where’s Gabby?” he asked as he set the tray down on the nightstand beside the bed.
“She said she was tired and she was going to bed,” Jeremy replied.
“I don’t need Gabby to feed me,” Hannah announced irritably.
“Not when you have me,” Wood told her.
“You’re not going to feed me, Wood Dumler.”
“And who’s going to stop me? You?” He chuckled. “You can’t even fluff up your own pillow. How are you going to battle someone my size?”
“Jeremy?” Hannah turned to her son for help.
“I’ll be right back, Mom. I have to go to the bathroom,” he said, then disappeared out the door.
“You better sit up,” Wood said patiently, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her forward so he could prop her pillows behind her.
When her covers slipped downward, Hannah tugged them back up. “You shouldn’t be in here at all. I’m in my nightgown and it’s sheer.”
Wood grinned. “I know. You came out to the tent and climbed into my sleeping bag, remember?”
She blushed. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I like taking care of you, Hannah,” he told her, then reached for the bowl of soup.
She had no response to that statement.
“Now open up and let’s get this food inside you.”
To his surprise, Hannah did exactly as she was told. Although she didn’t finish all of the soup, she did eat her soda crackers and drink her juice.
“Feel better?” Wood asked as she slid back down in the bed.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Think you’ll be all right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. That means Jeremy and I can leave.” He didn’t miss the apprehension that flashed in her eyes. “You can trust me to take good care of him, Hannah.”
She didn’t say a word, and he wondered if she did trust him or if she simply didn
’t have the strength to argue with him. As Wood turned out the light, he dropped a kiss on her forehead.
As he left the room, her small, sickly voice called out, “Hey! I’m still your boss.”
Wood grinned to himself.
WHEN WOOD AND JEREMY got back to the campsite, they played more checkers, roasted something Jeremy called hot dogs over the open fire and told spooky stories. All the while Wood’s thoughts were never far from Hannah.
“We’ve done a pretty good job keeping the secret, haven’t we?” Jeremy asked Wood as they lay in the tent, the only light coming from a gas lantern. It had been a while since they had spoken on the subject of the mail-order groom, and although Wood had hoped that Jeremy had disregarded the idea, it was obvious he hadn’t.
“I’d say you’re a man who can be trusted to keep information to himself,” Wood answered.
“I’m not a blabbermouth like some of the kids at school.”
There was a small moment of silence, then he added, “I haven’t even told anyone you’re not Alfred Dumler.”
Wood’s heart skipped a beat. Momentarily stunned, he could only look at Jeremy.
“It’s okay. I like you, anyway.”
“What makes you think I’m not Alfred?”
He reached into his backpack and pulled out a ragged-looking envelope. “Because I found this.” He handed it to Wood, who read its contents.
“How long have you had this?” he asked when he had finished.
“Since Wednesday.”
“Three days, yet you didn’t say anything to me?”
“I couldn’t. Mom was always around.”
Wood nodded in understanding. “My real name is Wood Harris,” he said quietly.
“So how come you’re pretending to be this Alfred guy?” There was no censure in his question, just curiosity.
Wood didn’t know what to say to the boy. He exhaled a heavy sigh, then said, “It’s a long story and a complicated one. Believe me, Jeremy, I have a good reason for using another man’s name.”
“You don’t owe some people a bunch of money, do you?”
Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) Page 16
