Читать книгу Redemption - Carolyn Davidson - Страница 13

JASON LOOKED ABOUT as uncomfortable as a boy could get, Alicia thought. She sat in a straight chair next to the door of the barbershop and tried unsuccessfully to pin a pleasant smile on her face. Jason slunk down in the black leather chair a bit farther, to no avail. Joe Hamlet, the barber, merely tucked his hands beneath the boy’s armpits and boosted him higher.

It was an ordeal for both of them, Alicia decided. Jason, because he was the center of attention; herself, because the men who lined the wall on a row of chairs were offering her long looks of appraisal. She was unaccustomed to being the focus of male attention and found it disturbing. Not that the gentlemen who awaited their turn in the barber’s chair were rude, only curious. Somehow that fact did not ease her discomfort.

The barber, mindful of the boy’s wiggling, placed a firm hand atop the lad’s head to hold him still. If it turned out to be a halfway decent haircut, Alicia would be most surprised.

“I think an ice cream is in order,” she said to a very relieved young man as they exited the shop ten minutes later.

“I’m not goin’ back there again,” Jason said vehemently, totally ignoring her offer.

“I suspect I can do as well as Mr. Hamlet, myself,” Alicia said. “Shall I give it a try when it’s grown out enough to tackle?” She steered him into the doorway of the drugstore and approached the counter. “What flavor do you want, Jason?”

“Flavor?” He looked around, as if only just now aware of his surroundings. “Ice cream flavor?”

“How about chocolate?” she asked, and lifted a hand to Frank Gavey, the owner of the store.

They ate their ice cream slowly, savoring each lick, every bite of the sugared cone and finally the pointed end where the last drops had melted. The general store was behind them, their bottoms firmly parked on a bench just outside the establishment, and Alicia prepared herself for the next leg of this outing.

“Are you ready to pick out some clothing?” she asked Jason. She rose, leading the way to the double doors that opened into the store. Jason followed slowly, dragging his feet, as if the experience at the barbershop had made him leery.

Alicia waited inside the door for him, then placed her hand on his shoulder as they approached the long counter. A short, squat gentleman approached. Mr. Harris was a businessman. Perhaps he spotted Alicia’s determined look, or else he saw a likely prospect for a complete wardrobe when he looked at Jason. Either way, he made it his business to be cordial.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” Mr. Harris greeted them jovially. “How about some new shirts for the lad? Looks to me he’s been growing like a bad weed.”

“We’d like some trousers and then Jason will choose some other things,” she said crisply. “Is there somewhere he can try them on?”

“Naw. Just take them home, and if they don’t fit he can bring ’em back.”

“All right.” One way or another, she’d see to it that the boy was outfitted with a new wardrobe today.

“May we see what you have in his size?” she asked.

The counter soon was literally covered with clothing. Trousers, shirts, drawers and stockings were stacked in separate piles, and Jason obligingly held them up before himself, testing them for size. As the pile grew, his eyes kept pace, growing wider with each item chosen.

Alicia nodded her approval. “Now, how about some new shoes?” she asked.

“Mine are good enough,” the boy said quickly.

“That’s a lot of stuff for Pa to pay for, Miss Merriweather,” he said beneath his breath, for Alicia’s ears alone.

“He’ll want you to be outfitted properly,” she said firmly. “We’ll look at shoes next,” she told the storekeeper.

The man beamed. It was likely the best sale he’d had all week, Alicia thought. Well he might smile. Jacob McPherson’s credit was as good as gold. The shoes were selected and tried on, then the items they’d decided on were wrapped in brown paper in two separate bundles and tied with string.

“There you go, ma’am,” Mr. Harris said, pushing their purchases across the counter. “You’re gonna clean up fine, young man,” he announced to Jason.

“Ma’am?” Jason halted on the sidewalk and looked up at Alicia. “Don’t you ever ask me to do that again. That fella was…” He groped for a word and Alicia filled the gap nicely.

“I believe condescending is the word you’re searching for,” she told him. “And I agree with you entirely. The gentleman needs to learn how to deal with the younger members of the public a bit better. ‘Clean up fine,’ indeed!”

If ever a youth needed some bolstering, it was Jason. Alicia could barely keep her arm from encircling his narrow shoulders, in fact had a hard time resisting the urge to drop a quick kiss on the top of his freshly barbered hair.

“Let’s go and show your father the results of our morning,” she said briskly, leading the way, paper-wrapped bundle in one hand, her reticule swinging from the other. Jason followed, his package carried in front of him, like an offering. Several townsfolk nodded and eyed the two of them surreptitiously as they made their way home. Alicia breathed a sigh of relief when they turned the corner and walked along the line of picket fences that fronted the properties to the south of Main Street.

“Today was quite an ordeal for you, wasn’t it?” she asked, slowing her pace a bit.

“I didn’t have much fun, if that’s what you mean.” He kicked at a clod of dirt and frowned. “I won’t have to do that again for a long time, will I?”

She thought his words were hopeful, and could not resist a smile. “I know how you feel,” she said.

He looked up at her in surprise. “You do?”

“I dislike shopping for clothing myself,” she confided. “In my case, it’s because I’m not as small as most other women, and I feel uncomfortable choosing things that are the largest size the store has to offer.”

“Being small isn’t so great,” he told her, as if to boost her confidence.

“It is if you’re a woman,” she said, wondering how she’d gotten into this conversation with a child.

“I think you’re a nice lady,” he told her staunchly. “I don’t think you’re too big at all.”

They turned at the open gate and walked to the front steps. “When are we gonna fix this thing?” Jason asked as he stepped carefully on one side of the broken board.

“How about this afternoon?” She waited as he opened the door and then followed him inside the house.

“Pa?” Jason’s voice echoed in the empty hallway, where no carpet muffled the sound. “We’re back, Pa.”

The wheelchair rolled from the back of the house toward them. He eyed their purchases and then waved toward the parlor door. “Let’s go take a look,” he said.

They spread out the clothing over the couch and Jason waited silently as his father inspected each item. “Is it okay, Pa?” he asked hesitantly. “I told Miss Merriweather it was a lot of stuff to get, and I really didn’t need new shoes, but she said you wanted me to have it all.”

Jake looked at Alicia. She sat on a chair, watching as he picked up the shoes they’d chosen. “I think Miss Merriweather did exactly right,” he said finally. “I couldn’t have done better myself.” Then, as if the words he’d spoken registered with him anew, he looked away from her.

“I couldn’t have done as well,” he amended. “It would have been a day-long venture, just getting me to the store and back home. Thank you, ma’am, for helping Jason today.”

She felt the flush of color rise to her cheeks as he expressed his appreciation. It was the next best thing to a compliment, she decided, both his approval of her actions and his appreciation of her efforts. “I enjoyed it,” she said. “Well—” she smiled at Jason as if they shared a secret “—all but the haircut part. That was an experience I’m not willing to repeat.”

Jake frowned. “Did anyone give you a problem?” he asked harshly. “Did someone say something out of line?”

She shook her head. “No, I just felt uncomfortable in the barbershop with a whole row of men looking me over.”

His eyes narrowed and then he made his own once-over of her appearance. “I don’t see anything about you that would warrant undue interest,” he said, his mouth twisting into a seldom seen smile.

“Well, that certainly put me in my place, didn’t it!”

“You mistake my meaning,” he told her. “You look like a decent, well-dressed woman to me.”

She was silent. Decent and well-dressed. The epitome of womanhood. Somehow she would have preferred pretty, or elegant.

“I’ve hurt your feelings.” It was a statement of fact. Jake rolled his chair closer to where she sat. For the second time in their brief acquaintance, he touched her. He reached out his hand and his long fingers grasped hers. Again she felt the warmth he exuded, and this time knew the strength of his grip. Along with that sensation was a tension that seemed to travel from his hand to hers, a fact that surprised her, causing her to remove her palm from his grip. He looked up at her, eyes narrowed, unsmiling, and then glanced down at his own hand, clearing his throat.

She supposed he was strong, wheeling his chair around the house, lifting himself in and out of bed. She looked at him more fully. How did the man manage to tend to himself? It must be a major undertaking to get from his chair to his bed. She’d known him for almost two weeks—or at least been acquainted with him for that length of time, and was only now curious about the life he lived outside of the confines of that chair.

He reached for her hand again and held it firmly. She looked down at their joined fingers. “My feelings are not so easily hurt. I’m not so soft-skinned as all that.”

“Perhaps your feelings are not especially tender,” he told her. “But you are soft-skinned.” His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand, and she felt the contact as if he’d dropped hot butter there and then rubbed it in. Silky smooth, his thumb massaged her flesh, and the gentle pressure sent heat shooting up her arm.

The man was only being polite. And she was behaving like a foolish female given her first bit of attention by a member of the opposite gender. Sadly, she’d had few encounters with men, and none of them had led to more than smiles and murmurs, and one never-to-be-forgotten kiss behind the lilac bush next to her parents’ porch.

This time Jake was the one to break contact, dropping her hand as he backed his chair away and cleared his throat. “I repeat, Miss Merriweather. My thanks for your help.” He looked over at Jason and raised his voice a bit. “How about taking your new things upstairs to your room? I expect you to put them away neatly.”

As Jason gathered up his clothes and shoes and headed for the stairway, Jake turned back to Alicia. “The problem is that I have no idea how bad his room looks. I haven’t been upstairs since we moved into this house. I thought of closing it off, but Jason wanted the bedroom next to the big maple tree and I couldn’t refuse him.”

“Are there bedrooms down here?” she asked, then recognized the foolishness of her query. There must be at least one, if Jake had a bed available to him.

“I sleep in the library,” he told her. “The folks who lived here before called it their study, but I’ve filled it with books. If Jason slept downstairs, he’d have to use the dining room, and that would give him no privacy.”

Alicia rose, smoothing down her skirts. “I think I’d better take my leave, Mr. McPherson.”

“Alicia.” He spoke her name softly and she turned toward him abruptly. “I think we might use our given names, don’t you? I mean no disrespect, but Miss Merriweather is a pretty formal title for a woman who has made herself so important to my son.” He smiled, and the effect was startling. The frown lines on his forehead disappeared and a small dimple appeared in his cheek, matching the one Jason owned.

“I think that would be permitted,” she said. “Shall I call you Jake, or Jacob?”

“Better either one of those choices than the things you’ve been tempted to call me over the past couple of weeks,” he said quietly. He watched her closely. “I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

She stood stock-still, her gaze caught by the look of embarrassment he wore. “If I can do something to help, I’ll be happy to accommodate,” she replied.

“Do you think you could trim my hair?” he asked. “I know it’s an imposition, and I have no right to expect such a thing from a lady, but I want Jason to—” He halted in the midst of his explanation and spread his hands wide. “I’m not much of an example for the boy. I’ve let myself become a recluse. I look like a hermit, and Jason deserves better than that from his father.”

Alicia wanted to weep. It took all of her willpower to smile at Jake without allowing tears to well up. “I’d be happy to trim your hair…Jake. I watched Mr. Hamlet cut Jason’s and I really think I could do as well.”

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.” He rolled his chair to the parlor door. “I have a pair of scissors in my room if you wouldn’t mind doing it today.”

The kitchen seemed to be the place best suited for the task, and Alicia found herself pinning a large towel around Jake’s neck ten minutes later. She’d pushed the kitchen table against one wall, freeing up a large area in which to work. Jason sat wide-eyed on a chair and held the scissors. Jake’s shaving mug and straight razor sat on the sink, in preparation for trimming his sideburns, and Alicia held a comb at the ready.

“Shall I wash it first?” she asked, for some reason breathless as she considered the deed she was about to embark upon.

“If you like,” Jake said. “I washed it two days ago, though.”

“It should be fine then,” she said. Gathering her courage, she stepped closer to his chair and ran the comb hesitantly through the length of dark hair. Extending over his collar, it was raggedly trimmed. Obviously Jake had done it himself; the back looked as if it had been sawed at with a dull knife.

Beneath her fingers his hair was soft, silken to the touch, and she inhaled, aware that her breathing was a bit uneven. He glanced up at her, his eyes questioning, as if he sensed her apprehension. “All right?” he asked, then his mouth twitched and his eyes darkened as if he knew the extent of her unease, and was amused by her dithering.

Alicia only nodded and went to the sink for a cup of water. Dampening the comb, she drew it through his hair and then made her first cut. Uneven bits of hair fell to the kitchen floor and she blinked. Once she’d made the initial cut, she was committed.

Moving in a half circle, she trimmed and evened out the length of his hair, dampening as she went. And then she was faced with the front, where it hung over his forehead. “How do you want this part cut?” she asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he told her. “However it looks best to you.”

She leaned from the side and gauged the first snip, only to have her wrist caught in his grip. “Step around in front of me,” he told her. “I promise not to bite, Alicia.”

Too close…she was too close to him. Too near the masculine scent of him, that musky blend she’d come to associate with this man, and the aroma of shaving soap that emanated from his skin. He’d shaved today, a fact she’d noted upon arrival. For her benefit? She smiled at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, barely moving his lips as though he might disturb her concentration.

“Nothing. I was thinking of something else,” she said hastily. Then she moved even nearer, her legs touching the front of his chair, the pressure of his right knee against her thigh. It was an intimate touch, his body heat radiating through her dress and petticoat. Beneath her fingertips, his face assumed a solemn look as she lifted the hair from his forehead and cut it in soft layers. The trembling she could not control threatened to botch her task before it was well under way.

He closed his eyes and she blew softly at the small clippings that fell on his cheeks. His nose wrinkled at that and she laughed, a soft sound that stilled his nose from wiggling and appeared to halt his breathing. Then his eyes opened—dark orbs that seemed to see beneath her skin, to the woman she kept concealed. She tensed, a shiver of anticipation traveling the length of her spine.

“You have lovely eyes,” he said quietly. “I thought your hair was brown, but it isn’t, is it? It’s the color of chestnuts, sort of a ruddy hue.”

She paused, holding the scissors upright. “Chestnuts?”

Again he smiled, and she stepped away from him, her fingers still tingling from the moments spent buried in his silken hair. He smiled at her, one corner of his mouth twitching. And yet, more than amusement lit his gaze as he searched her face and posed an idle query.

“Haven’t you ever picked up horse chestnuts in the late summer and shucked them?”

She hesitated, not entirely trusting her voice to be steady. “No, I can’t say I have,” she replied, feeling she’d succeeded, her breathing steadier now that she was no longer held a willing captive by his warmth.

“I’ve done that, Miss Merriweather,” Jason said eagerly, perching on the edge of his chair. “We play stuff with them. Kinda shoot them like marbles.”

“I didn’t do much playing when I was a child, Jason. You’re a fortunate young man to have a father who allows you to play as a young boy should.”

“All the boys play,” Jason said, his brow furrowing as if he did not follow her line of thought.

“And so they should,” she murmured, once more moving closer, the better to finish the task she’d begun. She lifted a lock of hair, drawing it to its full length, then trimmed the edges and allowed it to fall into place. The bits and pieces of shorn hair fell to Jake’s shoulder and she reached automatically to brush them away.

“There,” she announced briskly. “That should do it. I think you look fine, Mr. McPherson.”

The word he murmured beneath his breath made her smile and she repeated it after him.

“Jake.”

THE HAMMER HIT THE BOARD and the nail went in true. “Bravo!” Alicia said, and offered Jason another nail. “We’ll be hiring you out as a handyman before you know it,” she told him.

“I suspect we can find enough for him to do right here for a few days,” Jake said from his place on the porch. He’d rolled out the door, stopping the chair a foot from the edge. Alicia had given the railing a dubious look, wondering if it was as sturdy as it should be, and felt a sense of relief when Jake moved no closer.

“I told Miss Merriweather I could do a lot of fixin’ stuff around here.” The boy was filled with his own importance this afternoon, and Alicia rejoiced in it. His eyes glowed, his cheeks were pink, and he smiled and joked without ceasing, it seemed.

“Maybe Miss Merriweather would let you call her Miss Alicia instead?” Jake suggested, aiming a questioning look in her direction as he spoke. “I think as long as you remember her proper name while you’re at school, maybe she wouldn’t mind if you break the rules just a bit after hours.”

Jason’s eyes widened as he considered the idea, then he looked at Alicia, his face earnest as he made his plea. “I’d like that if you don’t think it would be disrespectful, ma’am.”

She felt a churning in her breast and bent her attention fully on the boy. A wave of yearning almost swamped her, spilling over into two tears that made paths down her cheeks. “I think that would be fine,” she said, her words clear and concise, her voice barely trembling. This boy had stolen a part of her heart.

Jake cleared his throat and issued a request. “Jason, do you think you could go out in the kitchen and get two glasses of that lemonade Miss Alicia made for us? My throat is drier than the Sahara Desert.”

The boy grinned. “You’re makin’ jokes again, Pa.” He placed the hammer on the step and sent a warning glance at Alicia. “Just leave it there, Miss Alicia, and I’ll finish up the job when I get back.”

The door closed behind him and Jake bent forward in his chair. “Can I say something to you, Alicia?”

She could only nod, acutely aware of her already teary state. She would not subject the two of them to such a display of sentiment.

“I’ve been thinking about something all day,” Jake said. “I’d like you to be considering it, too.”

She looked at him, frowning at the sober expression he wore. Only a moment ago he’d been smiling. Now he viewed her with a look akin to trepidation. “If you refuse, I’ll understand,” he said. “But at least think about it, will you?”

She was confused. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about,” she said finally.

“I’d like you to consider marriage, Alicia. To me.” He sat upright again and his expression seemed remote, as if he were lost in a memory to which she would not be allowed access. “You said you did not plan on marriage, but I think you’d be a fine mother to my son. I’d ask nothing more of you than that you take him under your wing, be a mother to him and tend to his needs. On top of all that, I feel responsible for the damage done to your reputation over the past weeks.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her words were slow, even though her mind was racing, repeating the phrases he’d used. “I don’t hold you responsible for whatever gossip has been making the rounds, Jake. As to marriage, I’ll admit that I hadn’t thought of such a thing.”

“I’ll see to it you never want for anything,” he told her, pressing on with determination. “I don’t have a lot of money, but we’re comfortable. I have an income from the ranch I own with my brother. He gives me one quarter of the profits, which is fair, since he does one hundred percent of the work. This house is free and clear and is well built.”

She was swamped with myriad emotions. The unexpectedness of his offer—for it could hardly be called a proposal—was more than her mind could absorb. “I…I suppose I’ll have to think about it,” she said.

He nodded and his eyes clouded, as if she’d denied him already. “I understand that I’m no prize,” he said quietly. “I’m hard to get along with, moody and temperamental. I’ve never been known as a nice man, Alicia. I’d probably be demanding, maybe even expect more from you than you’d be willing to give.”

She managed a smile. “I’m sure you must have a few redeeming qualities. I can think of at least one, offhand. You love your son, Jake. That you would consider taking on an old maid for Jason’s benefit says a lot for you as a father.”

“I haven’t looked at you that way,” he said. “I know you told me you’re on the shelf, that you aren’t the sort of woman to marry. But I find that I disagree with you.” He raised his hand to halt her as she began to answer him. “Wait just a second, Alicia. Let me say this. I see you as a woman with a heart full of love for my son. I can ask no more of a wife. You have a beauty of your own.” His eyes warmed as they met hers.

She shook her head. “Don’t think you have to flatter me. I look in the mirror every morning. I know what I look like.” She placed her hands on her hips and then hugged her waist. “I’m broad in the beam, my mama used to tell me. I have too much bosom—it makes me top-heavy.” A flush touched her cheeks as she spoke. “I’m plain as dishwater, Jake. I don’t consider myself a good-looking woman and that’s all right. I’m a fine teacher, and that’s what I’ve always wanted to be. I don’t know if I could be a proper mother to Jason. That’s something I’ll have to think about.”

“I won’t push you for an answer. But there is one thing you need to consider. The damage to your reputation—” He broke off suddenly, turning to the door as Jason crossed the threshold with two glasses of lemonade held before him. The boy’s tongue was caught between his teeth and a frown furrowed his brow.

“Let me take one of those,” Alicia said, reaching for a glass. She tilted her head back and drank deeply. “I was so thirsty,” she said brightly, thinking of Jake’s unspoken warning, a warning she knew was valid. “Thank you for waiting on us, Jason,” she said, flustered by Jake’s offer. She looked down at the hammer the boy had left on the step. “You’ll notice I didn’t touch your tools while you were gone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, carefully placing the other glass in his father’s hand. He stepped carefully to the ground and lifted the hammer. Alicia handed him another nail and he placed it just so, then drove it home. His smile flashed and she returned it, nodding her approval.

Jake was watching her. She felt his gaze like a ray of sunshine, his eyes offering approval, his smile almost a duplicate of Jason’s.

Jake McPherson was smiling at her, and he’d offered his approval. Indeed, for the second time today his mouth was curved in an unmistakable grin. Glory be!