Leslie LaFoy (42 page)

“But it's clearly not Richard who's involved in this.”

His gaze came to hers, somber and considering. “I'm not ready to apologize just yet, sweetheart. I haven't heard Vanderhagen's explanation and I can't quite believe that Richard Patterson didn't know what was going on.”

“If I didn't, how could you expect Richard to have known?” she pressed gently.

“I just think he did. I can feel it in my gut.” He put his hands on her waist, lifted his head to give her a consoling kiss, and then dropped his head back into the bedding to add, “Speaking of which, mine's real empty. Let's go downstairs and see if they know anything about beef in Boston. I'll shave and find a fresh shirt while you get dressed. What do you say?”

She didn't say anything. Instead, she slid her leg across his and pushed herself up so that she straddled his hips. His smile quirked and his hands came up to cup her breasts.

“Then again, maybe the food can wait for a while,” he suggested, his eyes bright, his thumbs teasing her as she leaned down to kiss him.

L
INDSAY KNEW IT WAS ONLY A DREAM.
She serenely watched herself cross the foyer of MacPhaull House and enter the study. Everyone was there, waiting for her. Proctor had torn out the hearthstones and was planting peonies in the hole in the flooring, muttering all the while about the poor condition of the soil. Primrose and Emile were plucking squawking chickens over by the sideboard, while heatedly arguing over whether there should be apricots or chestnuts in the stuffing. A huge tabby cat perched atop the bookshelves, his tail flicking furiously, his attention fixed on the chickens. Mrs. Kowalski stood below him waving a fish and shouting at him in Polish. Or maybe it was German. Lindsay couldn't tell. Havers sat in a corner wearing a paisley turban, selecting chocolates from a box and pushing his finger into the bottoms of them before either putting them back or popping them into his mouth. John, his arm in a sling and useless, was trying to put a horse into its harness, but the animal kept ducking its head away and trying to back out
the door that led into the dining room. Abigail Beechum was, with her one arm, trying to come through the same doorway while carrying a giant tray laden with a dozen teapots and cups and saucers stacked fifteen high.

Lindsay started forward to help her, but suddenly Agatha stepped into her path. She held out an open jewelry box, stamped her foot, and demanded that Lindsay fill it. Henry pushed their sister aside to wave a set of drawings in her face, yelling that she was going to see that he wasn't embarrassed to entertain in his own home. She stared at them, knowing that she should tell them to go away, but unable to make any words come out of her mouth.

And then, from out of nowhere, Jeb and Lucy walked between her and her siblings, clearly oblivious to all that was going on around them. They were speaking softly, alternately cooing down at their baby in Lucy's arms and looking at each other adoringly. The baby was wrapped in the blanket Lindsay had made for it; the shawl covered Lucy's shoulders. Lindsay watched them leave the room and started after them, wanting to ask them how she could be happy and oblivious, too.

It was Richard who stepped into her path this time. His body whole and sound, he thrust a packet of papers into her hands and told her that she had more important things to do than help a crippled woman with a tea tray or yearn for the mind-dulling slavery of wifery and motherhood. She had responsibilities to fulfill, a business to learn and ably run. There was correspondence that needed to be answered, decisions that had to be made right that minute. Ben stood at his elbow, clutching a ledger and an inkwell. A half-dozen quill pens were tucked behind his ears and he told her that he needed to go over the monthly summaries with her before he went home for the night. She nodded and looked around, searching the chaos for Otis Vanderhagen, knowing that he had to be there. She found him, finally, sitting on the floor under the desk and counting coins into big cloth sacks labeled T
INY,
L
ITTLE,
B
ATES.
His lips moved, but he made no sound. Neither did the coins as they fell from his fingers and into the bags. She watched him, puzzled as
to how that could be. Richard's voice droned on, his litany of tasks unending.

And then the sound of her mother's derisive laughter came from a far corner, startling her into dropping the papers Richard had given her. She whirled around amidst the swirling sheets of white to find her mother standing beside a huge potted fern, a sherry glass in her hand, and dressed in a wedding gown of ivory lace. Her mother laughed again and told Richard that Lindsay couldn't do anything right and that he was wasting his time with trying to make something even halfway competent out of her. Lindsay was hopeless, she announced before tossing the sherry down her throat. Someone who knew what they were doing would have to marry Charles Martens and, since Lindsay had failed so miserably at seducing him, she'd have to sacrifice herself to see that the MacPhaull fortune was secured for their children.

At the edge of her vision, Lindsay saw a shadowy figure move in the doorway leading to the foyer. Dread filled her even as she turned to face the next assault on her mind and feelings. But it wasn't Charles Martens who stood there. It was Jackson Stennett, dressed as he'd been the day he'd walked into her life.

Relief washed over and she ran to him, throwing herself into his arms and thanking him for coming to save her from the insanity. He kissed her and then set her from him, his smile soft and sad.

“I have to go now, Lindsay.”

“Take me with you.”

“I can't. You know why.”

“But I love you, Jack.”

He shook his head and backed away. “You know you shouldn't have done that. Good-bye, Lindsay.”

And then he was gone.

L
INDSAY AWAKENED WITH A START
,her heart pounding furiously and tears pooling in her eyes. Afraid that her panic would awaken Jack and lead to questions she couldn't and
didn't want to answer, she eased from his embrace and slipped out of bed. With trembling hands she snatched her wrapper from the floor and pulled it on, cinching the sash tightly about her waist. Only then did she stop to consider where she was going to go. Her knees weak, she managed to make her way to the upholstered chair in the corner of the room before the images of her dream returned and battered her anew.

She buried her face in her hands and struggled to shut away her emotions, to look at the dream logically and understand why it had so deeply disturbed her. Her life was chaotic, yes; it always had been. That part of her dream hadn't contained any insights that were especially novel or meaningful. And just as common to her existence were the expectations everyone had of her—those of Agatha, Henry, Richard, Ben, and those she had routinely failed to meet of her mother.

But Jeb and Lucy … Her heart twisted as she remembered going after them in her dream, wanting so badly to know their secret of being happy. Did it come from being married? Lindsay wondered now. Did it come from having a family of your own creation? Was she dreaming of things she couldn't have and for which she only thought she'd abandoned hope?

Lindsay sighed and shook her head. There wasn't any chance of marriage for her. There wasn't ever going to be any family of her own creation. She looked over at the bed, at Jack sleeping so soundly in it, and knew that if ever there was a man whose children she would want to bear, it would be his. Lindsay shook her head again. Jack had suffered too much loss in his life already and she wasn't willing to put his heart at risk again. She'd taken the precautions necessary to protect the freedom of them both. There would be no child from making love with Jackson Stennett.

Not now, not ever. Because there was no “ever” with Jack. He'd walled away his heart and she understood why he had. Any sane man would have done the same thing. She couldn't ask him to let her in; it would be cruel to make him so vulnerable. She'd known all along that he wasn't going to stay, that he would go home to Texas as soon as he
could. Just as she'd always known that her place was here and her responsibilities inescapable.

So why, in her dream, had she asked to go with him? It was an impossibility for both of them and she knew it. She had, at one point in her life, harbored the hope of someday marrying and having a family, but she had never held any such romantic illusions about her relationship with Jackson Stennett.

As for her dreamy declaration of loving him … Lindsay quietly scoffed. He was handsome and strong and honorable and protective. She enjoyed his company and his intellect. And there was no denying that making love with him made her heart race and her soul sing. But that was all there was between them. She certainly didn't love him. As he'd reminded her in the dream just before he'd walked away, she knew better.

No, she'd been upset by his leaving her in the dream because it meant that she was going to have to face the disaster and chaos of her life and sort it out on her own. She wasn't going to be able to run away from it. Jackson wasn't her knight in shining armor. He hadn't come to save her from being Lindsay MacPhaull. Her fate was her fate and the only choice she had was to accept it.

“Lindsay?”

She looked over at him and saw that he was sitting up and searching the darkness of the room for her. “I'm over here,” she answered, rising from the chair and moving toward him.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she assured them both as she undid her sash. “I'm fine, Jack.”

“What are you doing up?”

She let the wrapper slide away as she climbed back into the bed, saying, “I had a bad dream. It didn't mean anything and I'm all right now.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, gathering her into his arms and easing them down into the softness of the mattress.

Her head cradled in the curve of his shoulder, her shoulders wrapped in the safe circle of his embrace, Lindsay draped her arm over his chest and nodded.

L
INDSAY STOOD BESIDE
T
INY
and watched Jack start down the hopscotch pattern. The last two days had been the best of her entire life. The daylight hours had been filled with laughter and children's games—spinning tops and hopscotch and Cat's Cradle, the nights with making love with Jack. She almost hoped that the mail would never come and that she and Jack could exist forever in the simple world they'd found for themselves.

She watched Jack balance on one foot as he prepared to lean down to scoop up the pebble. He was the most phenomenal man; intelligent and strong, kind and gentle, passionate and daring. Lindsay smiled. It was amazing to think of how deeply she'd resented him at first. Now … Her smile faltered. She was going to miss him terribly when he went back to Texas.

“You put your foot down! I saw it!” Tiny declared happily, hopping up and down and pointing.

Lindsay put away her sad thoughts and smiled. “You have to start over again.” Jack gave her a grin and a wink as he threw his arms up in the air and huffed as though
greatly frustrated. Lindsay laughed and handed Tiny a bit of chalk, saying, “I think the numbers are getting blurry, don't you?”

“I'll make them again!” the young man announced, starting forward. “I can do that!”

Jack came to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and drawing her close against him. “You're a wonder, you know that?” he whispered as, together, they watched Tiny carefully trace the numbers.

“He wants to learn. It makes all the difference in the world,” she answered softly. “What's going to happen to him when the game ends, Jack?”

“We'll think of something,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “He won't go without a roof or food or clothes.”

Such a good man.
“Thank you.”

Tiny looked up from his task and his eyes twinkled with merriment. In a singsong, he said, “Jack has a girlfriend.”

“Yep. I'm a lucky man, Tiny.”

“Is Lindsay going to have your babies?”

She felt Jack's heart lurch, felt him check the impulse to let go of her and step away. Tears swelled her throat. Before they could overwhelm her, she hastily forced a chuckle and answered, “No, Tiny. I'm not. Jack and I aren't married.”

The young man tilted his head to study them. “Are you going to get married?”

“No,” she replied as Jack slowly released her.
Tell the truth, Linds
, she silently admonished.
For Jack as well as Tiny.
“Jack has to go back to Texas and I can't go with him.”

“That's sad.”

“Are you going to finish with those numbers, Tiny?” Jack asked, walking—ever so casually—away.

“Yes.” Tiny didn't move. “Why can't you go with him?”

So many reasons, Tiny. The roads we've both traveled to become who we are.
“I have a job,” she answered, fighting to smile serenely as she gave him the simplest of the truths. “It's important, just like yours is. I can't leave it.”

“Oh.” He nodded and stared down at his feet for a
moment. Looking up at her again, he added, “But it's still sad.”

Jack inserted himself into the conversation, saying with flinty coolness, “Sad things happen to people, Tiny. We survive and go on.”

Tiny's gaze went to him, puzzled. And then his attention shifted to the walkway and his face instantly brightened. “Look! It's Zachary!” He waved and called, “Hi, Zachary! Hi! Did you bring me my mail?”

Her knees suddenly weak and her heart heavy with dread, Lindsay eased down on the step and watched the letter carrier make his way down the walk.

“Who are your friends, Tiny?” the man asked, looking past the bouncing bulk of Tiny to eye the two of them suspiciously.

“This is Jack,” Tiny announced proudly, pointing. “And this is Lindsay. She's my friend, too. But not my girlfriend. She's Jack's girlfriend. She taught me to make hopscotch numbers.” With a flourish he indicated the game scratched on the walk. “See?”