Читать книгу Familiar Stranger In Clear Springs - Kathryn Albright - Страница 12
ОглавлениеPastor Warner’s sermons usually held her attention, but this morning Elizabeth couldn’t concentrate one wit on his words. She found herself checking the pews behind her, scanning for Tom’s presence. When she didn’t see him, she wondered why she even hoped he might attend services. The thought exasperated her. Her brother would call her naive and foolish, and in this instance, she would agree with him. When Tom was posted here, he would attend services with the others from the fort. It was a way for them to mingle with those in the community and also a way to escape the daily sameness at Fort Rosecrans. But now he was no longer in the military and he certainly didn’t have a stake in anything in La Playa.
As the pastor droned on, Elizabeth’s thoughts drifted back to when Tom had been posted here in town. The memories of him came back as vivid as though it were yesterday. Especially the last time she’d seen him.
It had been near the end of the workday, that day in late July. The daylight lingered long after the last customer had left the store. She had yanked a bolt of fabric out from under the stack of other bolts and spread it on the table, thinking that the creamy white cotton would be perfect for pillow cases. It was for her trousseau and it was one thing she knew would be appreciated if only by her. Preston had stopped by earlier and listened with a disinterested expression at her idea for crocheting edging out of the same color thread and adding pink rose florets for further decoration. “Feminine nonsense,” he called it. Her brother had chuckled condescendingly and the two of them had left for a drink at the saloon. Those two, she had come to realize, were cut from the same cloth. She remembered that the thought had bothered her.
Earlier that morning, Terrance had accepted his birthday present—a deep reddish-brown shirt she’d sewn with embroidered initials on the pocket. She’d known by his expression he didn’t care for it. When had he become so difficult to please? Seemed all he liked were personally tailored suits from that Marston’s store in San Diego. How could her sewing hope to compete with that?
It was a relief that he had chosen to spend the evening with his lady friend in the city. After the shirt fiasco, she wouldn’t have known what to do to celebrate his birthday. He had even set aside the cake she’d baked, saying he’d taste it later. And then he’d left for San Diego! A day-old cake was preferable to a few more moments with his sister!
A knock sounded at the doorpost. She should have closed the door after the last customer but the summer day had been so warm that even her thick braid had felt like a heavy blanket lying down her back.
“Miss Morley?”
At the sound of Corporal Barrington’s deep voice, delight had spread through her. This was a surprise! He’d said he had duty. Smiling inwardly, she smoothed the fabric once more and then turned to the door.
“Permission to enter requested, miss.”
He looked gallant standing there in his blue uniform, his yellow bandanna fluttering at his neck from the light evening breeze. The uniform set off the blue in his eyes so perfectly. She remembered wondering if there was a special event at the fort that day. Earlier a few gunshots had gone off, equally spaced such as would happen in a ceremony. She grinned at his use of formal address. “Hello...Corporal. You are quite late. I don’t know if I shall give permission or not. I was just closing up.”
He glanced into the store, ducking his head as he swiped off his blue cap and stepped just inside the entrance. “It’s quiet in here. Where is your brother?”
“He’s celebrating his birthday in the city.”
He raised a brow and said in a conspiring manner, “So you are...a woman...alone?”
She nodded, a giggle bubbling up. “That doesn’t mean you have permission to enter. I don’t allow miscreants in my store.”
“Miscreants?” He teased her with a wounded look and then pointed at her feet where Patches rubbed against her skirt. “You allow that cat in... I’d say I rate better than a cat.”
She picked up Patches. “He’s not just any cat. He’s my expert mouser.” She rubbed her cheek against the smooth orange hair on her pet’s head. “What is your specialty?”
“Why I can shoot a flea off a rabbit at fifty paces.”
She laughed softly. “There is no way you can prove that claim, Corporal.”
He grinned. “No way to disprove it, either.” Then he straightened, all amusement evaporating from his countenance and a tender expression entering his gaze. “I can’t believe how much those brown eyes of yours sparkle when you laugh.”
It was the first time he’d ever said anything so personal...and been serious about it. Although sometimes she’d catch him looking at her and she would wonder if, maybe, he was thinking those kinds of thoughts. But then, they never spoke to each other about it. This was a bit unusual. “What is it, Tom?”
“Something came up today. I want you to celebrate with me. Are you free?”
She lowered Patches to the floor. “Certainly.” Picking up her light pink shawl, something to keep her arms covered properly in public, she slipped it over her shoulders and then stepped through the doorway, pulling the door shut.
He waited on the steps. “I have something special planned. No questions, all right?”
“I thought you were on duty this evening.”
“I got permission to take a few hours off.”
He took her arm and led her to the pier where the water lapped at the pilings and the half-submerged boulders. He was quiet during the short walk.
“What’s going on?”
His blue eyes twinkled in a devilish grin. “No questions. Remember?”
A medium-size rowboat bobbed at the pier. He started down a short ladder, stepped into it and steadied her as she followed in her long skirt. She sat down in the bow, tucking her skirt around her ankles, while he settled on the wide wooden board in the middle of the boat. Behind him, he had stored a large basket that he’d covered with a thick blanket. From it the tantalizing aroma of fried chicken wafted over to her. Beside the basket, an armload of kindling and wood had been piled on the floorboards.
“A picnic?” She was charmed. Then she realized she’d never seen him in a boat. “Do you know how to row this thing?”
“I’ve had a trial voyage. Practiced a good five minutes.”
“And I can trust that we won’t capsize?” she said.
“With my life, miss. I won’t let you go under.”
“Well, that is encouraging, Corporal.” He was a good swimmer. She’d spied him once with a few other soldiers in a race across to North Island.
“No whitecaps. The water is smooth this evening.” He frowned at her then as if remembering himself. “Didn’t I say no questions?”
She smiled, enjoying the teasing. “And I’ll be back at a respectable hour?”
“Absolutely. Your reputation is my main concern.”
“Imagine that.”
She was quiet after that and leaned back against the boat, enjoying the tug and glide of the boat that hinted at Tom’s strong muscles as he pulled on the oars. The evening breeze cooled her skin—now so much cooler than it had been all day. She sighed, contented with how the day was ending after the unpleasant start with her brother and Preston.
“So, we are celebrating something. Hmm. Is it your birthday?”
He shook his head.
“That’s a relief. If it was, that would mean you shared it with my brother.”
“At the sour look on your face, I’m suspecting that that would not be good.”
“Definitely not good.”
“And you are asking questions again.”
“Well, you are always so quiet about yourself. For instance, besides not knowing your birthday, I know nothing about your family. Do you have sisters or brothers? What about your parents?”
He stopped rowing and let the boat glide. “I did. They’re gone now. My father was a sheriff in Tucson. My mother ran the house and painted landscapes, but mostly took care of her two men. No siblings.” He pulled on the oars again. “And that is all you are going to get for now. We have a celebration happening.”
In his short, clipped response she’d noticed his use of past tense. She had the distinct feeling that she would only dampen the mood by pursuing more information about them.
They reached the shore of North Island and Tom jumped out into the shallow wash. He tugged at the boat, scraping it up on the sand until she could alight without getting herself wet. He assisted her first and then grabbed the wood.
They didn’t really need a fire considering the day’s warmth, but it did make the picnic more special. A jackrabbit raised its head and stared at the flames for a second and then hopped away. She spread out the blanket on the beach and sat down. From here she could see a few whitewashed buildings in Old Town and also in La Playa. The strong smell of kelp that had washed up on the sand traveled on the breeze and mixed with the scent of burning wood from their fire.
Tom retrieved the picnic basket from the boat and plopped it onto the blanket. He sat down beside her and a spare grin slanted across his face. The small fire crackled and sparked, warming her face and hands, the light flickering and dancing in his gaze.
Her heart fluttered nervously. This was the most alone she had ever been with him. She felt safe, of course, but she also felt an intimacy unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Before, they’d been surrounded by other soldiers or her friends from church. This was different. His slightest shift of position, his gentle tug on her shawl to pull it back into place on her shoulders, all seemed so much more special alone like this. She placed her hands in her lap and waited.
“I was promoted today,” he finally said. “I am to be Corporal First Class under Lieutenant Cranston. We are going to be honed into a special team.”
A glow of happiness for him filled her. “But this is wonderful! It’s what you’ve always wanted! You’ve been waiting for this to happen.”
He beamed self-consciously. “It was taking them so long to notice that I thought they had passed over me. They said they liked my sharpshooting and the fact I can tell the good guys from the bad guys.” He tilted the basket her way, offering her first pick of the chicken pieces.
“I imagine it is a wonderful opportunity.” She hesitated a moment, thinking about what it might entail. “And perhaps dangerous?”
“Just about any other assignment is dangerous compared to this quiet post.”
“Your father would be proud,” she said tentatively, hoping for a little more insight into who Tom Barrington was.
“I hope so.” He seemed to contemplate her for a moment, then looked back at the fire, concentrating on the glowing flames. “I’m not the lawyer he wanted. Once he was gone, we couldn’t afford school. But I’m doing something that will make a difference. Something that will bring justice.”
When he said the word justice, the look on his face made her pause in taking another bite of food. He looked determined—and in a way almost vengeful. Her eyes burned with the quick welling up of tears. She reached over to squeeze his arm. “He would like that,” she said softly.
A soft orange sunset fanned across the sky and colored his skin with a deep tan. He swallowed hard, staring at her hand. “The minute I heard, all I could think about was telling you. That’s all that mattered. You look... You take my breath away, Elizabeth. Every time I see you...from that first day in the store.”
She blushed, aware of a similar feeling every time she looked at him. Handsome, broad-shouldered and tall—the sight of him did fascinating things to her insides.
“Are you still seeing Preston?”
Dismayed at the change of subject, she let go of Tom’s arm. For some reason, she couldn’t meet his gaze. “He comes by. Lately it seems that Terrance monopolizes his time more than I do. My brother hangs on his every word. I heard them scheming up a new business venture just this morning.”
Tom’s brow furrowed. “Instead of paying attention to you? He’s a fool.”
“No,” she said with a tolerant smile. “He’s a nice man, but sometimes I wonder what drew me to him in the first place.”
“Money. Prestige. Those can be powerful.”
“At times I feel that I am just a proper decoration on his arm,” she blurted out, and then stopped talking. Whatever was going on was between her and Preston? She wasn’t engaged, but she had the feeling he was heading in that direction. It was just his way to be methodical and sure. Unfortunately, that made her feel as if she were one of his business acquisitions.
“But you love him.”
She stopped short, surprised Tom would say such a thing.
At her hesitation, a slow, warm smile broke across his handsome face. He tilted his head slightly to the side, studying her. “Good. I wanted to be clear about that.”
Her heart began to pound. She was unable to look away, captured easily by his gaze. She gripped tight to the ends of her shawl and wrapped them closer. “Wh...why?” She felt as if she were slipping down a deep chasm.
He shifted his hips and moved closer. “Because I don’t like competition.” He splayed his fingers on her upper back, drawing her toward him. Firelight flickered in his eyes and suddenly she was much warmer. He had never kissed her before, although sometimes he had looked at her and she knew he wanted to by the way he studied her mouth. That look made her pulse race, but this...this was so much headier. His lips touched her skin beneath her ear in a soft, warm kiss. Slowly he trailed his lips to her neck under her jaw. He paused for a second—which to her seemed like an eternity—and then with purposeful intent, his gaze still on hers, he pressed his mouth against hers.
The horizon seemed to tilt on its edge and for a moment her breath ceased movement in her lungs. She flushed all over—and then, as she exhaled, a sigh of contentment followed.
“I want to be first in your life, Elizabeth,” he murmured against her lips. “I need to be first.”
“You are,” she breathed, albeit a bit shakily. First kiss, first...
Apparently that was all the encouragement he needed. Tom deepened the kiss. The sparks and crackles from the fire blended into the touch of his mouth as light exploded through her. He teased the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened her mouth.
Now a new sensation careened through her. Her pulse raced and she melted into a puddle of fire and feeling. She’d never experienced anything so all-consuming. Her bones turned to butter, soft and pliable. She gripped the brass buttons on his uniform, drawing him nearer, reveling in his strength. She feathered her fingers through his hair at the base of his neck, cupping her palm on his warm skin. She wanted him closer.
“Ah, Elizabeth. Had I known...” he murmured into her ear, sending delightful shivers throughout her body. He circled her with his arms and pressed her gently to the blanket.
The first shards of impropriety pricked her conscience.
She froze, tense.
He stopped kissing her immediately. “What is it?”
“We need to stop.” She pushed against his chest. When he moved away, she wiggled away from him. Sitting up, she dragged in a big breath and adjusted her shirtwaist and skirt. Her skin felt hot and tingly—and she knew it was not from the picnic fire.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
Shaken, she wanted to say. Shaken beyond anything she’d ever felt—at him, at herself. “I’m fine. Perhaps, though, we had best start back.”
He sat up, took a deep breath and raked his hand through his hair. For a moment it seemed he wanted to say more but he only nodded and then began returning the napkins and dishes to the wicker basket. He popped up to his feet and carried the basket to the boat.
When he came back, they shook out the sand from the blanket.
“The wind has come up,” he said. “You’d better wrap this around you.”
He helped her into the boat, tucked the blanket around her gently and shoved off, rowing back across the channel as the purple twilight faded away into night. Stars sprinkled the sky with pinpoints of light all the way to the horizon at the sea. He was so quiet. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Her own thoughts were in turmoil. Was it the same for him?
“Tom... I...”
“It’s all right,” he reassured her. “I should get back to my barracks, too.”
In town, the road was a gray ribbon in the twilight, leading out of town. Shadows darkened the boardwalk in front of the store. Across the way, Mrs. Flynn turned up the wick on the lantern in her parlor, letting the light shine out through her front window and onto the road.
At the mercantile’s door, Elizabeth turned to him before going inside.
He pushed aside a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. Something new shone in his eyes...a tenderness she hadn’t noticed before. She wondered if he could see the same thing in her. She raised up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Congratulations on your promotion. I’m so proud of you.”
He stopped her from pulling away with his hands on her shoulders and drew her back to him, wrapping his arms around her once more. “I don’t want to let you go.”
She huffed out a breath. “You have to. They’ve already played taps.”
“I know,” he breathed into the crook of her neck.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He looked at her and the intensity she saw in his eyes overwhelmed her. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” she whispered. Over the summer her feelings had grown stronger with every innocent moment they’d shared. And now all pretenses to deny her true emotions evaporated. She loved him—and wanted him to know it. “I love you, Tom Barrington.”
At her confession, he hesitated a moment, and then bent down to kiss her long and thorough. She closed her eyes, absorbing the warmth of his lips, enjoying his soft touch.
“I’m on duty tomorrow, but I’ll come afterward.”
She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. It was a promise. “Tomorrow.”
That had been the last time she saw Tom...until now.
It was painful to ponder what had happened all those years ago. She had blurted out her feelings and the thought of it embarrassed her now. Tom had gone to seek his future and never wrote, never tried to contact her. He’d obviously enjoyed the summer on the water and then moved on. It was futile to wish things had been different. He hadn’t cared enough to stay—or ask her to go with him.
She tightened her jaw. It may have taken a while, but she had learned her lesson well. She would not be making a fool of herself again. Not ever.
With surprise, she realized that people in the pews surrounding her had risen and were singing the ending hymn. Quickly she rose and joined in, hoping no one had noticed her lack of interest in the sermon.
* * *
After the service, Elizabeth descended the whitewashed steps of the church, while at the same time tying her straw bonnet ribbons under her chin. The day was sunny but cool, so she tugged her heavy ecru shawl about her shoulders and then glanced toward the hotel. On the wide porch stood her brother, nose to nose with Sam Furst in what appeared to be a very heated discussion by the way Terrance was using his hands and leaning into the conversation.
Tall and thin, with dark brown hair and eyes the same as hers, it was nonetheless curious how different Terrance was from her. They might look similar and both have ambitious natures but that is where it ended. Her brother’s personality veered vastly different from hers. Even his sense of humor was nothing like hers. Where she preferred witty anecdotes and puns, his tended to the coarse and at times rather banal. She certainly didn’t understand him. He glanced over just then and noticed her approach. Straightening, he waved impatiently for her to hurry up.
She eyed the disgruntled expression on his face. Whatever the topic between him and Sam, he certainly wasn’t happy with what he was hearing. It looked as though he was more than ready for her to join him.
In the hotel’s restaurant, her brother chose a favorite table in the center of the room. She had asked him once why that particular table and he answered that Preston had once recommended it. It was so that he could see and greet people all around him at nearby tables. Sitting near the wall would give him only half the area. She suspected an opposite motive—he wanted people to notice he was there. Plus, a few times she’d been aware of him eavesdropping on conversations at nearby tables. She’d thought to caution him on it, but then held her tongue. It wouldn’t do any good to say something. He wouldn’t listen to her, anyway.
As she settled into the chair, smoothing her midnight-blue dress over her knees, a man with a thatch of dark brown hair at the table just beyond Terrance caught her eye. She inhaled sharply. Tom sat not ten feet away—alone with an empty plate and full cup of coffee in front of him. He tipped his chin up, acknowledging her, his gaze steady and unnerving as always.
She realized, suddenly, what was different about the way he looked from last night. He had shaved and put on a fresh shirt, so that now without the scruffy beard she could clearly see the contours of his face. He had definitely matured—not an ounce of boyish flesh that she remembered remained. Everything about him signaled strength and manliness. Tiny lines fanned out near each eye—the kind that happened from laughing a lot or perhaps squinting in the sun. She rather thought it was the latter. It wasn’t fair that he had grown even more handsome since the last time he’d been here.
When Terrance eyed her with a curious expression, she smiled a bit too brightly, distracted as she was by Tom’s presence. One moment she wished he would just disappear and the next she hoped he would come join her. How could he sit there so casually oblivious to all that they had been to each other? Of course, it no longer bothered her. It happened too long ago and she had learned...oh, yes...she had learned from it. The others in the restaurant would not be getting an eyeful today.
Apparently her brother hadn’t noticed Tom. Considering how things had gone in the past between the two, it was probably a good thing. And as it was none of her business why Tom was in town, and he obviously wasn’t here to visit her, she had best ignore his close proximity other than to be pleasant should the need arise. With concerted effort, she turned her attention to her brother, who, she realized, was dressed particularly sharp. In the next second, she realized why.
“A new suit?” she asked. “From Marston’s? Does this mean you have decided to run for the city commerce board?”
“I thought about what you said a few weeks ago. You were right. If changes are to be made that will affect my business, I want to be in on the decision-making.”
She had encouraged it only to keep him from pressing her about moving to the city with him and helping him with his business—a discussion that surfaced more and more often now that his business was up and running. She hoped instead that he would marry and start a family. If she wasn’t going to have a family of her own, at least she would be able to dote on nieces and nephews.
A serving waitress stopped by their table and took their orders. Dinner consisted of yellowtail fish and boiled parsley potatoes—a staple and one well-liked by the Sunday crowd. She pushed her food about her plate, taking a bite now and then while Terrance droned on about the Chinese abalone and shrimp fishing going on in the area. She could barely concentrate on what he was saying. Each time she looked up, she couldn’t keep from glancing beyond Terrance, and each time Tom was watching her. She lowered her gaze immediately, but still felt a flush of warmth rise on her cheeks. He simply filled the room with his presence.
“The supplies you ordered have arrived,” Terrance said. “They’ll be on the Wells Fargo Stage for the Tuesday run.”
Her brother’s words registered after a moment. “The supplies?” She had ordered them months ago. “That’s wonderful. I received word from Gemma just this week. The schoolhouse is nearly finished.”
She toyed with her china cup, smoothing her finger around the rim, hoping Terrance would go along with her plan to visit Gemma. She could just imagine the delight on her friend’s face when she first opened the crates of supplies and she wanted to be there to see it. Terrance didn’t like change—especially change that he didn’t instigate and might affect his income in any way. He would shove a laundry list of reasons at her why she shouldn’t go, and since half of the store was his, he did have a right to be a part of the decision. “As a matter of fact,” she said, “I would like to visit her...and take her the supplies myself.”
Terrance paused from stuffing a forkful of slaw into his mouth. Slowly he put his fork down. “I don’t see that that is necessary.”
She leaned forward. “I’d like to be there when she first sees everything. I want to see the expression on her face.”
“Just who do you expect to watch the mercantile? I certainly can’t.”
She pressed her lips together. Of course that would be Terrance’s first concern. Always practical. Always economical. But he had a valid point. Who would watch the store? And there was her cat to consider. Left on her own, Patches would be easy game for coyotes.
She tapped her fingers on the tabletop, considering her limited options. “Otis Ferriday? Mrs. Flynn?”
With a wave of his hand, Terrance dismissed those two suggestions as unsuitable.
“Why not? What wrong with one of them? Mrs. Flynn has even availed herself of the order sheets and dusting once or twice when I wasn’t feeling well.”
He ticked them off on his fingers. “Otis Ferriday is older than dirt and just as rumpled. He doesn’t instill trust. Mrs. Flynn will gossip with everyone who stops in. We’d lose business because of her overactive tongue.”
She sat back in her chair, stunned to hear him speak so harshly right out in the open where anybody could hear. She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I cannot believe you said that here in front of everybody! These are my neighbors! Besides hurting business...it is rude!” They were his former neighbors, too.
His expression of disdain let her know that her shock didn’t faze him. “Is Miss Starling even expecting you?”
“Well...no. But that’s part of the fun. I...”
“Then it won’t matter if you delay until things are better planned,” he said, interrupting her. “You can’t travel alone, and as you know I am too busy to accompany you, especially for such a frivolous trip.”
Elizabeth frowned. Here she was just barely warming up to the idea and her brother was dashing cold water on it. She wouldn’t want him along, anyway, with such an attitude.
“I will be perfectly safe on the stagecoach. It is only one long day’s travel. I would stay for a week at most. I’ve not had a holiday since...” She stopped short. She hadn’t had a holiday—not a real one—since taking on the mercantile full-time after their father died.
Terrance pressed his lips into a thin line. “Elizabeth. You haven’t thought this through. You do realize my appointment to the city council will occur in four weeks. I could use you in the city, helping run things at my store there. Besides, a trip is just too expensive right now.”
“This from the man who just bought a new suit,” she hissed. But perhaps he was right. They would have to pay someone to watch the store and it sounded like Terrance had been counting on her help. She sighed. She hated to let him down. Maybe it was poor timing. It began to feel that way now.
“Why is it even necessary? A note, along with the crates, will suffice.”
“I was the one who rallied the community and gathered the money for the school supplies. I was the one who ordered them. I want to be the one surprising Gemma.” Maybe it was selfish, but that was how she felt. As the sinking realization that she really shouldn’t go settled over her, she pushed away from the table, no longer interested in finishing her meal.
Her mother’s dying wish was that they do their best to keep the family together. She and Terrance had both held Mother’s hand and promised, but lately Terrance made it so difficult to keep that promise, especially when he stubbornly refused to budge on certain issues.
The excitement of only a moment ago evaporated as quickly as it had occurred. She placed her napkin beside her plate. “Thank you for the dinner...and for seeing to the supplies. I suppose whether I’m there or not, Gemma will still be happy to get them.”
Terrance pulled his money clip from his inside vest pocket, preparing to pay the bill. Behind him, Tom moved his head slightly, drawing her attention until she met his eyes. Wonderful. He probably overheard the entire conversation. Wouldn’t that be just perfect?
Without preamble, he pushed his chair back, making a loud scraping noise, and stood, unfolding until he towered over the both of them. He took a minute to meet Terrance’s gaze before settling on hers. “I don’t mean to interrupt your meal, but seeing as how you are done, I’ll say hello.” The corner of his mouth came up in a spare lopsided smile that did funny things to her inside. “Didn’t get that far yesterday.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington,” she said, feeling her brother’s scrutiny as she spoke.
“Well, well,” Terrance said in his smoothly oiled voice. “This is a surprise. What brings you to town, Barrington?”
Tom broke eye contact with her and faced her brother, the half-smile dissolving into a thin, straight line. “A job.”
Then his gaze slid right back to her. Heat flared in her cheeks. She was sure every set of eyes in the restaurant must be concentrated on them. What in the world did he want?
“Then you won’t be in town long?” Terrance asked.
She felt the press of her brother’s hand against the small of her back, signaling it was time to go. Curious how Tom would answer him, she planted her feet firmly in place.
“I haven’t decided. It depends on a few things.”
“Sorry we can’t stay and join you,” Terrance said, pushing her more insistently.
“That’s all right. I actually prefer to eat with friends.”
She drew in a sharp breath. Why was Tom deliberately taunting her brother?
“Well. Good luck on that.”
The tension running beneath their words puzzled her, like a taut cord of leather made stronger by a soaking. Where was all this animosity coming from?
“Perhaps Miss Morley would like dessert? It is ‘Miss,’ correct?”
He knew she wasn’t married. What was he getting at?
“I’ll walk her home afterward.”
All civility dropped from her brother’s aspect. “I can walk her home myself. She doesn’t need anything from the likes of you. Understand?”
Tom stepped into the space between the tables, successfully barring the path with his body. He narrowed his eyes to slits, his jaw tense. “Understand? As a matter of fact—yes. I’m beginning to understand a heck of a lot. I don’t believe you gave the lady a chance to answer.”
So much for not making a scene in front of everyone in the restaurant! She was sure that all eyes were staring at the three of them. Mutely she shook her head.
“Another time, perhaps.” He took his time stepping out of the way.
She remembered to breathe, and then somehow made herself move forward toward the door. Her cheeks had to be cherry red they were so hot.
Terrance hung back. She couldn’t hear what he said to Tom, but she knew that tone of voice. It wasn’t pleasant being on the receiving end of it.
Yet it seemed that Tom’s words and attitude had done everything to antagonize Terrance when all her brother had been was polite. Well—perhaps until that last bit that she couldn’t hear.
She stepped onto the porch and clung tightly to the wooden railing. For a moment she let the ocean breeze cool the heat emanating from her face. This was a different Tom than the one she remembered. Before, he’d been fun and forgiving of the differences between himself and her brother. This Tom was in all ways a self-possessed man, not taking any aggravation or intimidation from another and able to hand it out if necessary. Had he been like that before and she simply hadn’t noticed? She didn’t think so. What had changed him?
Terrance took hold of her arm and accompanied her down the steps and toward the mercantile. She stumbled, trying to keep up with his long, brisk stride. Her satin hat ribbons whipped across her face and her skirt tangled around her. She wanted so badly to look back to see if Tom remained on the hotel’s porch. She turned her head ever so slightly...
Terrance tugged her around with a firmness that bordered on pain. “He’s there. No need to look.”
They stepped up onto the boardwalk in front of the mercantile and Terrance unlocked the door. “Well, sister. It’s time you and I had a little talk.”
* * *
Inside the mercantile, Elizabeth jerked from Terrance’s grasp and rubbed her arm. Her heart pounded from seeing Tom and then being half dragged down the street by her brother.
“What, may I ask, was that all about?” she demanded.
Terrance scowled as he removed his coat and hat. In one swift motion he threw them with such momentum over the straight-backed chair that they continued on to the floor. “Well, that was unexpected. And by the way Barrington spoke, apparently you knew he was in town. How long has he been here?”
Elizabeth stopped rubbing her arm. Was he accusing her of something? She walked over to pick up his hat and coat, smoothing the latter carefully over the chair’s back. “He stopped in last evening.”
“No wonder he was so casual with you. What did he want?”
She stiffened. What business was that of Terrance’s? “He didn’t want anything. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. We barely spoke past acknowledgment of each other before Mrs. Flynn interrupted us.”
He paced the length of the store, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling. “Great. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
“What do you mean?” It wasn’t like him to be so agitated. She moved to the counter and removed her gloves and her bonnet and waited for an answer.
He barely acknowledged her words. “Last I heard, the military released him. I didn’t think he would have the nerve to show his face around here again.”
“Why ever not?”
He met her gaze. “It was a dishonorable discharge.”
That caught her attention. She immediately stiffened. “Dishonorable! No. I can’t believe that. He would never...”
Terrance snorted lightly. “It’s been a long time since he lived here. Circumstances, good or bad, change a man.”
“No. Not that much. Not Tom.”
He dismissed her words with an irritated wave of his hand. “You are quick to come to his defense, considering how he treated you in the past.”
“I’m not coming to his defense... I just cannot fathom that he would do anything deemed dishonorable.” Everything about Tom in the military had screamed justice.
“Like I said, a man can change.”
She realized suddenly that her brother had not shared any of this with her at the time. “You knew they let him go and didn’t tell me?”
Terrance did not seem to hear her. “I wonder who he is working for now.” He stopped pacing and looked at her as if she could supply the answer.
Slowly she removed her shawl and hung it back on the peg. She didn’t know anything about Tom’s job here, and whatever she revealed her brother would try to twist and turn to his fortune. He’d always been that way. It didn’t seem her place to say anything. If he wanted to know more, he should ask Tom. “Why are you upset, Terrance? I’m the one he left. I’m the one who had to face things before. Not you.”
He swallowed, his expression a curious mixture of speculation and worry. Then his shoulders relaxed. “I don’t want to see you hurt. That’s all. What he did before took you years to put behind you.”
He had always blamed Tom...and she was tired of it. “That was as much due to what Preston did as it was due to Tom. Preston nearly ruined this town when he pulled out his backing. That wasn’t Tom’s fault at all.”
“No. It was yours.”
She refused to feel any guilt, although Terrance tried his best to blame her. In her heart she knew that she’d made the right decision. With Tom, she had realized what love was for the first time and she couldn’t go back to the watered-down affection she felt for Preston even if it did mean giving up the man’s fortune—something her brother couldn’t seem to understand. She felt that way even though in the end nothing had worked out as she had hoped. She had learned to adjust, learned to live with her choice. She had moved on. Terrance was the one who wouldn’t let it go. “It wasn’t my fault and I wish you would stop saying that. I made the right decision for me. It’s in the past and it’s over.”
“That’s just it. You are different whenever Barrington is around. I don’t like it and I don’t trust him around you. He’s not good enough for you.”
She knew what he meant about being different. She felt it inside herself. It seemed that Tom was the only one who kicked up emotions and nerves that ran shallow beneath her surface. In the intervening years she’d had opportunities to be courted, but had always rebuffed her would-be suitors—finding gentle excuses as to why she wasn’t interested. Tom overshadowed everyone and everything for her—he always had. And now even the thought of him back in town caused a reaction, a tightening in her gut. She hated the sharp, anxious sensation that had taken up residence inside. It would not control her. She would not let it. And yet she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Tom since he rode into town.
“I don’t know why you are worried. He’s not in town to renew anything with me. If that were the case he would have contacted me years ago after I wrote to him. Like he said, he’s here about a job.”
Terrance eyed her as if he wasn’t sure he believed her.
“In my limited experience, any job he takes has precedence over any other part of his life. He’ll be gone in no time and without a second thought toward me, I assure you. You have no need of concern.”
“Like before.”
She pressed her lips together, the thought painful despite the passage of years. “Just like before.” She couldn’t afford to let down her defenses. Not for a moment. Tom was the wind and she could no more tie him down than she could a cloud.
“Good. Then we understand each other on this because I don’t want him around you.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. He pulled out a chair from the table and sat. “Now, let’s get down to business.”
A leaden weight sat like a jagged rock in her stomach as she walked to the counter to get the store ledger. Every Sunday after their dinner, just as it had been with Father and Mother, they went over the past week’s receipts. She remembered Mother saying once that Sunday was supposed to be a day of church and rest, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. Father kept right on checking the books. And now with Terrance managing his store in San Diego, Sunday was his one chance to go over the records together. In the past year, Terrance had become even more diligent at double-checking her figures, as if he were looking for ways to squeeze more money out of the little store.
He opened the ledger to the start of the month, scanning the neatly recorded figures. He made notes on a separate piece of paper where she had already listed a few items to reorder.
While he assessed what needed replacing, she stood by the counter and studied him. He used to tease her. When she wore her hair in pigtails, he used to tug them to irritate her. All that was long ago. Over the years they’d grown apart—his ambition for social standing and wealth such a different approach than the things she cared for. Anymore, they seldom saw eye to eye. He was her brother, and she cared about him, and she wanted to keep her promise to her mother. Yet she wondered, at low times, if he really cared much for her at all.
In some ways, once he moved to the city, things became better. They weren’t with each other day in and day out. He could no longer criticize and judge her and she no longer had to worry about measuring up to his standards—at least not daily. Now only on Sundays.
And today, well, he must be concerned for her considering the way he spoke of her not getting hurt by Tom again. Inwardly she sighed. There was no need for worry on that account. What happened between Tom and her had occurred too far in the past to revisit.
“How are the small coffee grinders selling?”
“Must we talk about business today?”
He raised his gaze from the ledger in front of him, using his finger to keep his place in the book. “We do this every Sunday. I need to know what’s going on here to make good decisions for both stores.”
She thought that interesting on one level because she was the one who managed this store; he just double-checked her figuring. “Is it enough for you? Running the store in San Diego?”
“I’m working on plans to expand. And, as I mentioned, running for a seat on the commerce board. Never hurts to be the first to know about new property.”
“No. I suppose that’s a good idea.” However, it wasn’t what she meant at all. She tried to explain herself more clearly. “I’m not talking about business. I mean... You never talk about having a wife or family. Don’t you ever feel lonely at times?”
He huffed and leaned back in his chair, obviously amused by her question. “A wife? Children?” His smirk held an ugly condescension. “Tethers? No. At least, not while I’m building my business. Later on?” He shrugged. “Maybe. A son would be nice to pass the business on to.”
His words sliced through her. Children weren’t tethers. A family wasn’t something that pulled you down. And yet even before she’d asked she had the premonition he would feel differently than she did.
“Now, if you don’t mind, let’s get back to the coffee grinders.”
She did mind actually. He didn’t seem to understand the concept of an afternoon off. “Three out of the five are sold. Mr. Cornwall wants one. They were an excellent idea.”
He hunkered down again over the book for the next ten minutes, his muddy-brown hair falling forward over his forehead.
Finally, he folded his notes and tucked them in his pocket. He stood, shoved his arms into his new coat and plopped his derby on his head. “Do you have last year’s ledger?”
The request was an odd one. “In the back room.”
“Will you get it for me?”
She nodded and turned to do his bidding. What was going on?
In the storage room, she opened an old trunk against the wall and removed the top ledger. There was one for every year her family had owned the mercantile, twenty in all. She returned to Terrance and handed him the book.
“Will you be back before you leave town? I’ll put the kettle on for tea.”
“Not today. I want to return to the city before dark.” He tucked the ledger under his arm.
Always busy. Always in a hurry.
“Elizabeth...since I’m campaigning for office, I’ll expect your support.”
“Of course.” She agreed quickly, delighted that he had asked. Then she realized he hadn’t asked—he’d told her. “What would you have me do?”
“I’m not talking about signs and flyers, although I do want your help there, too. It is important to keep up appearances. To do that, I really need you to move into San Diego and run my store there.”
She lowered her shoulders. “Terrance, we’ve gone over this territory before.”
He quickly held up his hand. “I realize you prefer this town. Why? I don’t know. But you’ve done a fair job here of turning this store around from the brink of loss. It’s sustaining itself now, often with a growing margin of profit. It’s time to sell and get it off our hands for good.”
“You are pushing this again? Why?”
“I told you. I need help with my store. And...I need the money from this place for my campaign.”
“But, Terrance! You’ve taken fifty percent of the profits from here for the past three years! Don’t you have enough to campaign on your own or hire someone for your store?”
“I put all that money back into my place. It’s not available for a campaign.”
She folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t want to sell.”
“You’re being sentimental. This place is just wood and nails.”
“It is more than that, and you know it.” This was the family store. Her legacy from her mother and father...and her livelihood.
Exasperation filled his countenance. “Granted, you’ve had a good run here but things happen. And—” he hesitated slightly before continuing “—you may not have a choice.”
A chill went through her. This was new. She rubbed her upper arms and moved closer to the woodstove. “What do you mean—‘things happen’? What has happened?”
“Things are a bit tight with the bank right now.”
Why was the bank even involved? Unless... “Terrance. What have you done?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“This is my store, my responsibility, my...livelihood.”
“It’s not your mercantile.” The look in his eyes was flat, unemotional.
“Oh, Terrance. What have you done?” She suddenly felt ill and slowly lowered herself into the chair. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? He’d bought a new suit, after all. Still, he’d done things before without consulting her. She took a deep breath. “I think I have a right to know. How tight is it?”
“They want the store.”
Shock gripped her. “What!”
His brown eyes hardened. “They want the building to cover the loan I took out four years ago.”
She couldn’t believe it! After all her hard work to save the store. Sleepless nights and doing without, long hours and loneliness over the past four years. She’d saved it only to have her brother plunge them into debt?
“So that’s why Sam stopped by two days ago.” At the time, Sam had been so pleasant. The snake! All the time he’d been planning to sweep the rug right out from under her. How could he do this? How could Terrance have let this happen?
Yet even now her brother had tried to make her believe that she would be helping him, that it would be her decision to move, all in an attempt to save face. Apparently he hadn’t counted on her digging in her heels.
“That’s why you need last year’s ledger. That’s why you and Sam were arguing this morning. You weren’t going to tell me, were you? If I hadn’t refused, you would have made me believe I was doing it for your career.”
Terrance shrugged. “I’d hoped you would see things my way and move to the city. It would have been less...emotional...that way. You wouldn’t have needed to know any of this.”
She no longer wanted to hear him. This was her store! She was the one who cared about it and the people she served. Yet, from what he said, it was futile to argue. Numbness started at her feet and crept up and over her. She rubbed her forehead. “If what you say is true, then how much time do I have?”
“A month.” He took hold of the door handle again, preparing to leave. “So you see, your desire to travel comes at a poor time as well as Barrington’s unwelcome appearance. I’ll talk to you more about all this next week when I have figures from the bank. Oh...and Sam may contact you to sign papers.”
“That’s the real reason you didn’t want me to leave town—so I’d be around to manage the sale, around to sign papers and start packing,” she said dully.
His brown eyes held no compassion, only a slight irritation that this had to be talked about at all. He really didn’t care that he’d upended her entire life...that he’d hurt her. “No need to start packing yet. There will be time for that later. Sell as many items as possible—but only lower prices fifteen percent at most. It will make the final inventory go faster.”
“I see you have it all figured out.” She was proud of her composure. On the inside she felt overwhelmed. It must be the numbness helping. All her worries that had revolved around Tom Barrington suddenly seemed shadowy and vague compared to the very real loss of her livelihood.
