Читать книгу The Bachelor's Homecoming - Karen Kirst - Страница 11

Chapter Two

This second, mountain-size shock robbed her limbs of strength. Jane sank onto the ground, skirts puffing around her like a giant, satiny cloud.

His face a mask of concern, Tom swung Clara down and quickly approached, crouching to her level. Open at the collar, showing the column of his throat, the gray-and-white-striped shirt hugged his broad, sturdy shoulders and defined chest. She recalled the leashed strength in his arms as he’d propped her up.

There was one question answered. Wherever he’d gone, he hadn’t been working in a barbershop. That kind of indoor profession didn’t add bulk to a man’s frame.

“I’ve never known you to swoon, Janie girl, but you look seconds away from it right about now. I’ve got a canteen in the wagon. Water’s not cold, but it might help. Want me to get it?”

“No, thank you.”

Behind him, Clara edged closer, eyes wide with wonder. Such a pretty, delicate child, with a round, inquisitive face and a pert nose.

“Clara, this is my friend Jane O’Malley.”

Friend. An innocent word that sounded hateful when he spoke it. Had he had the same reaction when Megan insisted on being nothing more than friends?

“Hello, Clara.” She dredged up a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Clara continued to stare first at Jane’s hair—no doubt a wild mess since she’d plucked all the pins out to rid herself of the flowers—and then at her apparel.

“You have the same eyes,” Jane told him quietly. “And hair.”

Shadows gathered in the green depths. “She’s my niece. I’m her legal guardian.”

Tom’s only sibling, a brother named Charles, was ten years older than him. He’d left town years ago and hadn’t returned.

“You were with Charles and his family all this time?”

He gave a short nod, lips tightening. “On his ranch in Kansas.”

She’d imagined him in all sorts of places and situations, none of them as ordinary as Kansas. Piloting a riverboat in Louisiana. Cutting hair in New York City. Sailing to Europe on a huge ship. Those pursuits would’ve kept him so busy he couldn’t be blamed for not thinking of her. But working on a ranch in the middle of nowhere?

The reality stung. He’d had ample opportunity to contact her—he’d simply chosen not to. She bit back the urge to ask about Clara’s parents, to ask anything more of him. Pride prevented her, as did consideration for the girl’s feelings.

Clara dared touch one of the seed pearls on Jane’s sleeve. “Are you a princess?”

“No, sweetheart.”

Tom’s perfectly formed, expressive mouth softened into a slight smile that held affection for the little girl. “She sure does look like one, though, doesn’t she?”

Then he turned that smile on Jane, and her foolish heart hummed a happy tune.

She flinched.

No. She couldn’t do this. Not again.

“Jane?” Confusion colored his tone.

Struggling to her feet, she shook out her skirts and tugged the tight bodice down, backing away as she did so. “I have to go.”

He stood to his full, impressive height, one hand outstretched. “Let me take you home.”

“No.” Her harsh tone elicited a frown from Clara. Tempering it, she continued her retreat. “I mean, no, thank you.”

“Jane—”

“I don’t need your help, Tom. I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way home.”

She hadn’t finished expelling him from her storybook dreams. If she allowed him to reclaim what progress she’d made, she’d never know true peace or contentment.

And for the second time that day, she fled.

Frustration pushed Tom to call after her. “I don’t remember you being this hardheaded.”

She paused long enough to glance over her shoulder. Her luminous eyes challenged him. “People change.”

Framed by the forest’s varying shades of green, her startling white wedding garb and flowing red mane carved an image on his brain he wouldn’t soon forget.

He, more than anyone, was acquainted with the truth of that statement. His brother had transformed into someone unrecognizable after Jenny’s death, and there’d been nothing Tom could do to stop it. As for Jane, the sweet, adoring girl who’d followed him around like a lamb after its mother had been replaced by a self-assured, stunning young woman.

With a dismissive shake of her head, Jane ventured deeper into the forest, hem flaring with each stride of her long legs.

He didn’t like the thought of her on her own out here, especially considering her current mental state, but he couldn’t very well tie her up and toss her in the wagon.

“I’m hungry, Uncle.”

Clara tucked her hand in his, the utter trust she’d placed in him a humbling thing. He was all she had now. That she depended on him for everything weighed heavily at times. Not because she was a burden, but because he’d come into this upside down. He’d never been married. Didn’t know what it was to be responsible for another human being, although he’d had plenty of practice these past months.

“Come on, then, my little bird. I’ve got a can of tinned peaches with your name on it.”

Her rosebud mouth parted. “Really? Clara Jean Leighton is right there on the label?”

Chuckling, he lightly tapped her nose. “Not exactly.”

When he had her settled with her snack in her spot between the crates, he climbed onto the hard seat and put the team in motion. Impatience kept his bone-deep exhaustion at bay. These final miles felt like the longest of the entire journey.

Pulling into the shaded, overgrown lane leading to his place, memories bombarded him, and he wished his ma were here to welcome him. To meet her only grandchild. She would’ve relished the role of grandmother.

“We’re here, Clara.” His throat grew thick, and he had to blink away the gathering moisture.

Gripping the side, she observed her surroundings with solemn curiosity.

Tom hadn’t expected his family farm to be in good condition—his ma had been gone a long time—but the disintegration of his former home gutted him. Set against the magnificent backdrop of the Smoky Mountains, his land used to be lush and vibrant, the yard around the one-story cabin kept neat and his ma’s roses flanking the narrow porch. Now vegetation consumed the buildings. The cabin’s shingled roof was barely visible beneath bands of ivy, the porch running the length of the building completely obscured. To the left and slightly behind it were the barn and toolshed, the smokehouse and corncrib looking like stacks of weathered wood amid a profusion of man-size weeds. The handful of apple and peach trees were in desperate need of pruning. The snake-rail fence separating the yard and fields beyond had completely fallen apart in some spots.

He was in for a massive job. Chest tight, he wondered how he’d manage to set things to rights before the first frost in six months’ time. Unearthing the vegetable garden and readying the ground for seed alone was going to take days of hard labor.

And what to do about his niece? She couldn’t very well accompany him to the fields every day.

Leaving her in the wagon, Tom used a hatchet to carve a path through the waist-high weeds and hack out an opening in the ivy. Stepping through onto the porch, he passed the single window with its dusty, cracked glass and had to shoulder the door open.

He stopped short on the threshold. If not for the layer of grime coating the cast-iron stove and the cobwebs in the corners, he’d have thought his ma had gone to the mercantile for the day’s necessities. His gaze landed on the gray knitted shawl she’d favored, draped over the rocking chair beside the fireplace, and he picked it up, catching a whiff of her floral scent beneath the overwhelming odor of dank air and dust.

The unreality of her death coalesced into a truth he could grasp. She wasn’t at the mercantile. She wasn’t in the henhouse gathering eggs with her gnarled, age-spotted hands. She wouldn’t be welcoming him home.

She wouldn’t learn that her firstborn had descended into debauchery to the point Tom hardly recognized him. And that her youngest was now charged with the care and raising of a vulnerable five-year-old child.

Oh, Charles. What have you done?

* * *

“You should try to eat something.”

Gripping the pot, Jane scrubbed harder at the stuck-on bits. “I’m not hungry.”

Jessica shared a worried look with their mother, Alice, who was bustling about the kitchen packing for her extended trip to Cades Cove, a day and a half’s ride from Gatlinburg. Their eldest sister, Juliana, lived there with her husband and two boys, and Mama had been counting down the days until she could see them again.

Abandoning a loaf of sourdough bread on the worktop, Alice came and put her arm around Jane. “I’ll postpone this trip if you need me to, honey. I can send a telegram to Juliana. She’ll understand.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

Her ma’s troubled look mirrored the one from yesterday when Jane had finally stumbled home, the same one from this morning when Jane had announced she wasn’t attending church services.

“I’m positive.”

Jessica carried her dinner plate over. “With the amount of desserts the café requires, we’ll be so busy she won’t have time to spare a single thought for that snake Roy.”

The café owner, Mrs. Greene, had been stricken with a lingering illness this past January. Unable to continue running the café without assistance, she’d approached the twins with a job offer. Getting paid for doing something they enjoyed and excelled at made sense. Their afternoon hours were used to bake and decorate pies, cakes and cookies, which they delivered before the supper rush. The additional income helped with all sorts of things, from extra fabric and hair ribbons to replenishing their chicken flock and luxuries such as store-bought chocolates.

Alice’s lined face pinched. “I wish you could’ve been spared all this.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Jane rushed in. “Roy’s a relative newcomer to the area. No one was aware of his history.”

“He could’ve mentioned having a wife before he proposed.” Her twin rolled her eyes. “While I hate that you had to suffer public humiliation, I’m glad you didn’t wind up with him.”

Jane fell silent. Her sister had made her feelings plain from the moment of their engagement. While Jessica had been all for her getting over Tom, she hadn’t approved of Jane’s choice. That her instincts had been right didn’t help Jane’s flagging self-confidence and made her question herself. What was it about her that had prompted Roy to keep his past hidden? Was she not the type to inspire confidences? Trust?

“Speaking of being busy, I have a favor to ask.” Alice retrieved a second basket from the shelf. “As you are both aware, the Leighton farm is in a terrible state. Tom will have his hands full the coming weeks trying to clean it up and won’t have time to see to meals. I’ve baked some bread and gathered jars of apple butter, jam and vegetables. There’s a wheel of cheese, as well. Would you mind delivering it for me?”

Jane lent extra attention to drying the pot, tummy doing a somersault at the prospect of seeing Tom again. She’d made up her mind to steer clear. Resuming their friendship wasn’t sensible or safe.

“I’m meeting Lee for an afternoon ride in an hour. I’d be happy to accompany Jane over, though.”

Missing the glare Jane shot her twin, Alice patted her shoulder. “Thank you, dear. If I’m going to leave at dawn, I must finish this packing.”

When Jane had gathered her satchel and the journal she kept on hand—one never knew when inspiration might strike—she met Jessica at the wagon. Several crates lined the bed.

She plopped onto the high seat. “This is a bad idea.”

Jessica snapped the reins, and they rumbled out of the yard. “Look, it’s just a simple errand. We’ll drop off the supplies, stay long enough to be polite and then you can return home with the team. I’m meeting Lee in town, and it’s a nice day. I’ll walk home.”

“I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he came back. And with Charles’s daughter, no less. Where are her parents, do you think?”

“I didn’t ask.” Though she’d fretted over it since their run-in yesterday.

She’d mentally reviewed their encounter more than once, the distance of time and ebbing of her initial shock allowing her to recall his slightly haggard expression, the weariness that had clung to him. Whether it was due to their long journey or the events that had prompted him to leave Kansas, she couldn’t be sure.

When they rode onto Tom’s property fifteen minutes later, Jane experienced a surge of dismay. This was far worse than she’d imagined, too much for one man to tackle.

Jess let loose a low whistle. “Ma wasn’t exaggerating.”

On the porch, Tom hacked away at the profusion of vines.

Jess chose a shady spot in which to leave the horses. “Are you ready?”

Her younger sister—by four whole minutes—might not be a sensitive soul, but she understood how difficult seeing him again would be.

“We say hello. Drop off the food. And go.” Sounded straightforward. “I’m ready.”

They each grabbed a crate and waded through the path of trampled weeds to reach him. Grasshoppers jumped out of their way. A fat beetle crunched under Jane’s shoe.

Grimacing, she eyed the chimney and wondered what creatures had lodged inside.

Engrossed in his task, Tom hadn’t noticed their approach until they were almost upon him. His eyes widened. “Jane. Jessica.”

Brushing his shirtsleeve across his damp forehead, he rushed to take Jane’s crate and, setting it down, relieved Jessica of hers. He was out of breath and his blue-gray shirt clung to him in places. Caramel-hued trousers hung low on his lean hips, encasing solid, muscular legs that seemed to extend for miles.

He was healthy and virile and too handsome for her peace of mind.

“Welcome home, Tom.” As his hands were full, Jessica gave him a quick side hug. “I could hardly believe it when Jane told me she’d run into you. How have you been?”

“Not bad.” His answering smile slipped a bit when his gaze connected with Jane’s. Concern flickered.

“Ma thought you could use some supplies.” Jessica seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of tension as yesterday’s encounter hung between them.

“That was thoughtful of her. Thanks for bringing it by.”

“How’s Clara?” Jane said.

“Not impressed with her new home. Can’t say as I blame her.” Shifting his burden, he cocked his head. “Come on in and say hello, if you’d like. She’s supposed to be resting, but I’m certain she’s playing with her doll instead.”

He was right. Wearing the same pink dress that she’d had on yesterday, she danced a worn corn husk doll across the kitchen table’s grimy surface. She stopped what she was doing to stare openmouthed at the women. The reaction wasn’t an unusual one. Children—and sometimes even adults—rarely encountered identical twins, much less redheaded ones.

“Clara, say hello to Miss Jane and Miss Jessica.” Sidestepping the bedrolls laid out on the floor, where they’d obviously slept instead of on the musty beds, he deposited the foodstuffs on the table. Red slashed his cheekbones. “Sorry about the mess.”

Jane couldn’t halt the sympathy welling up on his behalf. He’d always been a tidy person, had kept his barbershop and tools of the trade as clean as a whistle. Of course the cabin would cause him embarrassment. Cobwebs hung from the rafters. The mantel sported an inch-thick coating of dust. And while the floor had recently seen a broom, it would benefit from a good scrubbing.

In its current condition, his family home wasn’t fit for a child. Tom, either.

How would he manage with his niece underfoot?

Not my problem. She tried to harden her heart. I can’t afford to care. Can’t fall into that dark, desperate place again.

Clara came up to Jane and touched her wrist. “Princess.”

She shot Tom an incredulous look. “How can she tell us apart?”

“I don’t know.” He scraped a hand along his unshaven jaw.

“We do tend to wear our hair differently,” Jessica mused, finger combing her long ponytail. While Jess didn’t give much thought to her hairstyle, Jane tended to wear hers up in twists or tidy buns.

“Jane’s hair was loose yesterday,” he said.

She must be mistaking the admiring light in his eyes. He’d made a habit of teasing her about the color. And of course, he preferred blondes, like Megan.

Bending down, she indicated the doll. “What’s your baby’s name?”

“Jenny.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“That was my mama’s name.”

“Oh.” Unaware of the child’s situation and the whereabouts of her parents, Jane refrained from further comment. She straightened and risked a glance at Tom. Deep grooves appeared on either side of his mouth. In him, she glimpsed a curious mix of regret and anger.

The news was likely not good. Why else would he have guardianship?

“I hate to ask, but would you mind keeping Clara company long enough for me to take a quick inventory of the property? I need to determine the most pressing tasks.”

Jessica turned to her, unwritten apology in eyes that matched her own. “I’d stay if I could, but Lee will be waiting for me.”

So much for making this a brief visit. Refusing Tom this simple request wasn’t something she could find it in her heart to do. “It’s all right. I don’t mind staying.”

Slapping his battered black Stetson on his head, he cupped her upper arm and ran his hand down the length of it, setting her nerve endings on fire. “Thank you, Jane.”

To his niece, he said, “Mind your manners, birdie.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jessica waited until he’d gone. “I’m sorry, sis.”

“I’ll be fine.” She’d continue to say the words until they rang true.

“I know. It’s just that you don’t need this on top of everything else.”

Clutching her doll against her, Clara watched them with too-serious scrutiny. What troubles had befallen this precious child?

Jane ushered her twin toward the open door. “I’ll see you at home later.”

Turning back, she lifted her satchel off her shoulder and, hanging it on a peg near the door, pasted on a bright smile. “How would you like to help me clean up this kitchen for your uncle Tom?”