After the Storm (15 page)

“I could say the same about you. I know it's bothering the children.”

“That's obvious. I never saw them as quiet as they were last night at supper.”

She sighed. “We both care about what happens to them.”

“That's very true.”

“So we should stop making them miserable by snapping at each other every time we say a word.”

“Not every time we speak.” He leaned toward her. “Maybe we're both afraid if we're nice to each other, we'll end up in each other's arms.”

Warmth erupted through her, just as it had when he had freed her from being caught on the picture frame, and when he had held her after her bath, and when she had talked to him after coming back from Haven. Each time his face had been close to her, and she had dared to believe he was as wonderful as the children claimed. Since the conversation by the woodpile, she had not been sure if he was avoiding her, but
she
had been avoiding him.

It might be easier to continue doing so, yet it was silly to try. They were living together in this house. He was providing for her children while she took care of the housework. They had to find a way to make this seem normal, or the children would become even more withdrawn.

Dragging her gaze away from his, Cailin ordered, “Eat your lunch.” She kept her tone as light as when she spoke with the children. “If you don't, I'll have to give the chicken to the cat.”

“Cat?” His eyes widened. “What cat?”

“Lottie was carrying a cat around this morning. She told me it was hers.”

“A cat?”

“A calico cat. I assumed it was living in the barn.”

“We're going to have a complete menagerie here if the children keep finding animals that need a home.”

Although she was not sure what the word
menagerie
meant, she guessed its meaning from the rest of his words. “I'll speak to her and try to discover where she found it. Maybe it can go back there.”

“Let me talk to all of them, if you don't mind, before this is known as the Nanny Goat Hill Road Zoo.” He took another bite and chewed pensively before saying, “Brendan has his cow and Megan has laid claim to the rabbit, so I guess Lottie wants a pet of her own.”

“She tries to keep up with them.” She laughed, standing and going to pour another glass of milk for herself. “One of these days, she'll surprise them.”

“I think they're used to surprises by now.”

She was startled to hear his voice from right behind her. She faced him as he rested his hand on the wall by her cheek. Her heart seemed to be thudding like a drum. Could he hear it? She shifted, and his fingers brushed her cheek so lightly, it could have been the caress of heat from the stove. Yet this warmth was more powerful.

She pulled back and bumped into his arm. Something flashed through his eyes, but he looked away before she could see what it was. Not that she needed to see, because she already knew. It was the same sensation that blazed through her at every touch, even the most unintentional.

“It's my turn,” he said quietly, “to say I'm sorry. What I said to you last week about not missing your late husband was cruel.”

“You were angry.”

“How you choose to mourn your husband is your decision and your decision alone.”

“I'm trying to make things easier for the children.”

“And what about you?”

“I've made my peace with the situation.”

His brows lowered, and she knew she had said the wrong thing … again. He murmured, “That's an odd way of putting it.”

“It's the truth.” She looked down to avoid his gaze, and she saw that his shirt was misbuttoned. He had not been wearing it when he worked, yet he had made sure it was buttoned when he came in for lunch. It was a small kindness, but it touched her heart.

That longing to be in his arms with his lips on hers burst forth again. His kindness was not the only thing that had touched her heart.

“Thank you, Samuel,” she said softly.

“Thank you? For what?”

“For trying to make this a good home for the children.” She found smiling easier than she had suspected. “For all of us.”

“It'd be a lot easier if you weren't so damn beguiling,” he said. “That tattered Cinderella look is guaranteed to catch a man's eyes.”

“Are you out of your mind?” she asked, looking down at her dress. She had put a new patch at the waist just this morning. When it tore again, she would not be able to repair it, because that had been her last piece of matching fabric. She should put a halt to this conversation, which was rapidly wandering away from the safe subjects of the farm and the house and the children, but she had missed his gentle teasing. She needed to tell him that she was sorry for overreacting when she spoke to him when he was splitting wood.

When she opened her mouth to apologize, he put his finger to her lips and shook his head. “Don't say it.”

“Say what?”

“Don't say you're sorry again.”

“How did you know what I was going to say?”

He smiled. “A good attorney learns to read faces well. He has to know when someone is lying and when someone is being honest. When someone is ready to make a stand and when someone is ready to apologize. We've both said ‘I'm sorry' too often, because we've needed to. Isn't it time to stop?”

“Yes.”

“I think so, too.” He took her hand again and curved her fingers over his. Raising them to his lips, he kissed them with a light touch that contradicted the craving in his voice. “Like I said, this would all be so much easier if you didn't look as if your dress might fall apart at any time. It keeps taking my attention from what I need to think about, because I'd be a fool not to watch to see when the tatters win.”

With a laugh, she shook her head. “Such words are sure to turn any woman's head.”

His fingers tightened on hers. “The way you look is sure to turn any man's. You've got a softness about you, Cailin, that belies the steel within you. Your eyes are filled with a sensuality that's hard to ignore.”

“Can you?”

“I don't know.” He released her hand and sighed. “I honestly don't know.”

“The children—”

“Forget the children.” He pulled her into his arms and claimed her mouth with a feverish kiss.

She surrendered to the pleasure of his lips on hers, his arms sweeping up her back, his strong legs hard against her skirt. Yet, even as she ran her fingers along his shoulders and up into his hair, she knew they had simply traded one lie for another. Neither of them could ever forget—not even in the midst of a kiss—the children neither of them wanted to lose.

Eight

Samuel expected the looks when he arrived at the next meeting of the library committee and walked into the schoolhouse with the children … and Cailin. Why wouldn't everyone be curious about the woman who had followed her children and the orphan train to Haven?

Maybe he had been wrong to invite her here tonight. He wanted her to see Haven was a good place for her kids. Bringing her to the school would be a reminder of what her children had not had in Ireland.

Beside him, she was silent while she surveyed the room and the people gawking at her. He felt her hand brush his leg when she tugged carefully at her dress to twist the skirt enough to hide the line of patches down the left side. That was his other reason for asking her to come here tonight. He had hoped she would realize she needed to set aside her pride.

She had held tightly to that blasted pride when he had taken her with him to Emma's store two days earlier and picked a bolt of emerald green fabric off a shelf. He had asked, “Do you like the color?”

“I like any color as long as it isn't black,” she had answered as they stood near the back of the store, where a woodstove was flanked by two rocking chairs.

He laughed. “Or pink?”

“Pink isn't one of my favorite colors either.”

Looking past her, he said, “All right, Emma, we'll take the bolt, too.”

Cailin gasped, “What?” She tugged on Samuel's sleeve and whispered, “I don't have the money to pay for that.”

“I didn't say you were going to have to pay for it.”

“I can't take it as a gift.”

“Then consider it an advance on your earnings.”

She hesitated, and he thought she would be sensible. Then she shook her head. “No, I can't agree to that either.”

“Because you're saving every penny to take the children back to Ireland?”

“Why are you making it a question? You know that's why I'm working in your house.”

He exchanged a long look with Emma, then said, “We won't be taking it.”

“Are you sure?” Emma's face was lined with dismay. “I can't promise how long it will be here. It's such a lovely fabric.”

“It is, but no thank you.” Cailin picked up the newspaper and handed it to Samuel. “Good afternoon, Emma.”

Bidding Emma a good day, Samuel followed Cailin out onto the porch and helped her onto the wagon seat. He was not sure if she would be furious or chilly, but he had not guessed she would be quiet with sorrow.

It might have been easier to insist she be sensible if he were not so uneasy about asking the questions that had been banging around in his head since she had fallen into his arms at the door. One thing he knew for certain—it would be a whole lot simpler if Cailin Rafferty was not so easy to look at. A man could get lost in her eyes, which were the brown of plowed earth on a rainy day. When they were sad, as they were now, he found himself longing to bring a smile back to her face.

A knife seemed to slice into him when, as they left the village, she said softly, “I thought you'd understand.”

“I understand you're too proud to accept what you see as charity. It's not charity. I wanted you to have something decent to wear.” He plucked at her skirt. “This is going to fall apart one of these days.”

She turned slightly on the seat so he could see her profile. “So this was just a way to persuade me to stay longer by having me work to repay you for the cost of the fabric?”

“If you'll recall, I told you that I intended to buy the fabric for you as a gift, but you were too stubborn to accept.”

“It's not that I'm stubborn. I … I just can't.”

“Now I don't understand.” His eyes narrowed. “Or do I? You think I'm only pretending to be nice to you. Why?”

“You're wrong.”

Samuel had not been able to get her to explain further. So he had brought her to this meeting, where she would have to look the facts in the face. Just as the others in the crowded room were looking at her.

“Samuel! Glad to see you here.”

He smiled when he saw Noah Sawyer walking toward him. Noah's hair was several shades browner than Cailin's, and sawdust clung to one leg of his trousers. He must have come directly from working in his wood lot to this meeting.

“Noah, good to see you.” He shook his friend's hand. Like Samuel, Noah was a relative newcomer to Haven, another who had been welcomed and made to feel so much at home that he cared deeply about what happened in the small town. “Noah, this is Cailin Rafferty. Cailin, Noah Sawyer.”

“How do you do, Mr. Sawyer?” Cailin asked quietly.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rafferty. Sean has told me how pleased these youngsters are to have you back with them.” He ruffled Brendan's hair and smiled at the girls.

All three children giggled.

“Just a warning,” Noah said, looking back at Samuel. “Some folks are already hot under the collar. Tonight might be the night to say what you told me when we last talked. It's no night for you to stay mum. I know you don't like adding fire to an argument, but the library's future may depend on some common sense, and you've got that, along with the respect of some of these hotheads.”

Samuel did not need to glance at Cailin, for her shock pierced him. He never withheld his opinions from her or avoided any exchange of heated words. Later he would have to explain how sometimes his words carried
too
much weight, because nobody forgot he had practiced the law before he came to Haven.

“I'll say what I have to say when the time's right,” he replied. “I suspect tonight will be the night, Noah.”

“If you don't speak up, there may not be another night to discuss a library for a very long time.”

Nodding, Samuel steered Cailin toward the front of the room. All the seats at the back were taken. No one tried to hide their stares as they walked toward empty desks. He could hear Cailin's unspoken questions as if she shouted them, but now was not the time to explain her misconceptions.

She was not what he had imagined from the few comments the children had made. But, then, he could not expect a child to notice how all her curves were in the right places and the right proportions. For a moment, he enjoyed the gentle sway of her skirt while she listened to Brendan and Megan pointing out aspects of the classroom to her. Her skirt's motion complemented her reddish hair bouncing down her back, where it was tied with a bright green ribbon.

Megan tugged on her mother's hand and said, “This is where I sit, Mama!” She slid quickly onto the middle of the bench behind the long, low desk. “Brendan is on the other side and back a row. Come and sit with me, Mama.”

“Me, too?” asked Lottie.

Before Megan's pout could be put into words, Cailin said, “I think there's room for everyone. Brendan, I hope you don't mind having to sit in this seat as well.” She smiled. “Unless, of course, you'd rather go back outside and play with your friends.”

Brendan nodded eagerly, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and ran out, with Megan close at his heels.

Taking Lottie's hand, she sat where Megan had been. “Lottie, let's sit where you'll be sitting when you go to school in a year.”