by Jillian Hart
Maureen and Winston McPhee had plans for their daughter, to marry well enough to bring money into their lives, or for her not to marry at all.
What must it be like to be loved so little?
“I got the idea they don’t approve of me,” he quipped. Maybe he could try humor to reach her.
“I’m so sorry.” Her face crumpled. “Really, I am. I know how they can be. I can’t believe you’d even want to look at me after that.”
“The way your mother chose to behave is not your fault.” He wanted her to be clear on that. “My feelings haven’t changed.”
“They haven’t?” Her head came up. Disbelief lined her dear face. “I don’t understand. How could you want me?”
Thin and tremulous her voice, as genuine as could be. She couldn’t understand what lived in his heart, and that’s when he knew the truth about Aumaleigh McPhee. She may have grown up in the finest house he’d ever seen, but she’d never had the one thing that mattered most—the only thing that mattered at all.
And he was going to give it to her. He was going to love her all the way, every day for the rest of his life.
No matter what.
Gabriel blinked, leaving the memory behind. He stood in silence, watching the light blink on and off as the trees swayed and then suddenly there was only darkness, only the sound of the lonely night, but the hope in his heart burned.
It burned bright.
“Go on,” Josslyn whispered. “Your mother is asleep. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“What if she asks for me? You know how she gets.” Aumaleigh wrung her hands, torn between what she wanted and what she knew was her duty. “If they find out, I’ll be sent to live with my great aunt. She’s scary, Joss. You’ve never met her, but trust me. She makes my mother look like a sweet little kitten.”
“I believe you.” Joss crossed the sunroom, glancing over her shoulder to check for any maids that might be lurking around, loyal to Mother. “It’s one of her migraines. She won’t be getting up for days, not to mention I dosed her tea with extra laudanum. She’ll sleep until tomorrow. Go now, while you can. I’ll tell everyone you are upstairs. No one will know. I’ll guard the door and your mother with my life. Now, hurry. Gabriel is waiting.”
Gabriel. Her heart soared at the name. “Thanks, Joss. I owe you.”
“No you don’t. I can’t wait until the day you’re my sister.” Joss gave her a hug, opened the window and waited for Aumaleigh to climb through.
She hit the ground with both feet. It wasn’t a far drop. She slipped out from between the lilac bushes and made a beeline straight for her brother’s cottage.
“He’s inside.” Laura, her brother’s wife, met her on the porch. She scanned the grounds as if checking to make sure no one had spotted Aumaleigh and was dashing up from the manor house after her. “Gabriel is such a sweetheart, Aumaleigh. And so handsome. I can see why you like him.”
“Thanks for doing this.” She gave her sister-in-law a hug. Laura and Ely had only just married, and she glowed in her sweet, pretty way, so happy as a newlywed.
“He’s in the kitchen,” Laura told her. “I’ll just stay out here on the porch and crochet. That way I’ll be able to keep an eye out to make sure you two aren’t discovered.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Aumaleigh pulled open the screen door, feeling as incandescent as the flawless summer day. “I mean, if Mother knew, it would ruin your relationship with her.”
“Don’t you worry about that. You deserve to find your own happiness, Aumaleigh. This is your chance.”
Thankful, she waltzed into the little vestibule, listening to the sounds of Laura settling into the porch swing.
Her footsteps echoed in the front room, and her pulse thrummed crazily as she threaded her way to the back of the house. The moment she set eyes on him, she came alive. Her heart opened. Her soul brightened. She’d never been more herself than she was when Gabriel came toward her with love on his face and took her hand in his.
Aumaleigh blinked, waking up from the dream. It had been so real, the warmth of that hot summer day seemed to touch her skin. The scent of the chicken Gabriel had smoked for the meal he’d brought remained, slowly dissipating as she sat up in bed. The cool spring early morning air had her shivering. The sound of a hard rain on the roof overhead reminded her it had only been a memory, nothing more.
She would be wise to ignore the warm sweetness in her heart that the memory had brought to life.
Determined to make the most of the day ahead of her, she quickly washed and dressed and headed downstairs. Her to-do list today was quite long. She had to get the wedding dress back from Rose, for Iris wanted to wear it for her upcoming ceremony. She wanted to go through her things and see what she had to spare for Dottie, who was moving into the old rooms in town she’d just vacated. Not to mention the long day of work she had ahead of her at the ranch.
The instant her foot left the bottom step and touched the parlor floor, she knew she had trouble.
There was a splash, and before her brain could register what was wrong, her foot lost contact with the wood floor and she was falling backward. Her hands shot out, she grabbed the railing and stopped most of her momentum before she landed on her behind on the wooden lip of one of the stairs.
Pain charged through her tailbone. She sat there, breathing through the pain and looked in shock at the puddle of water on the floor.
Her roof was leaking. Drip, drip, drip. Leaking, when it hadn’t bothered to do it before. This wasn’t the way she wanted to start her day. Was that her trunk sitting in a pool of water?
Up she went, more carefully this time and padded delicately across the wet floor. She heaved and pulled the heavy hope chest out of the puddle. Defeat hit her like a falling tree. She stared at the damage to her trunk. Inside were all the things she’d once made with such love, the things she hadn’t been able to let go of all these years.
She hung her head. No, this wasn’t a good way to start the day.
Afraid of what she would find, she opened the lid and drew it back. She caught sight of the folded fabric on top, safe and dry. She carefully lifted out the quilt she’d made for her wedding bed, the one the girls had found. As she carried it across the room to the sofa, sweetness tugged at her. The memory of making every stitch, of being that young lady so crazy in love and blissfully imagining her life to come made her smile. It made her sad.
It was definitely time to get rid of these things. Maybe the leaky roof was a sign.
She returned to dig out an armful of stuff—pillows, embroidered pillow cases and sheets, a length of lace, a lace tablecloth she’d tatted. She left her armload on the sofa cushion and returned to the trunk. She didn’t let herself look or feel as she scooped up a water-logged armload and padded across the room. Not having the emotional energy to deal with it now, she left everything on the hearth.
Drip, drip, drip. First she’d better see to the roof.
The good thing about being a homeowner was that she had the power to do something about it. She grabbed a mop bucket from the kitchen, put it below the drip and went in search of her coat.
There was a lot in her life she couldn’t do anything about. Gabriel, who was living next door. The rumors that everyone was going to repeat about him. The fact that she felt ready to leave the ranch. But her roof, now that was going to be trouble easily solved. She’d climb up there and fix it. It’ll be as simple as pie.
“Pa, there’s a lady up on the roof on the house next door.” Leigh took the stairs two at a time and landed at the bottom of the staircase, skirts belling around her like a princess. “I could see her from my room. I think it’s Miss Aumaleigh.”
“On the roof?” He frowned. Some things apparently hadn’t changed. Apparently time could only do so much work on an individual. He set down his coffee cup and gaged the force of the storm through the window. It looked cold and wet, but he wasn’t one to let a little rain keep him from this opportunity.
“That’s true.” He didn’t miss the secret smile as Leigh turned on her charm.
“I think you must rush right over there to help her. Pa, she could slip and fall. She’s such a nice lady, I’d hate for her to get hurt. Since she’s my namesake and all.”
“Sure, you had to get that in.” He rolled his eyes, snatching his duster from the wall peg by the kitchen door. “And no, I see that look. I’m not going to tell you any stories about Aumaleigh. It’s private.”
“Hmm. I have gotten a little out of Seth. I suppose I’ll just have to get much, much more.”
“Good luck with that. The boy only knows so much.” He winked at his girl. “Do I want to know every detail about you and your beau?”
“As if I would tell you!”
“There, now we understand each other.” He stepped out into the cool spring rain. The rancher in him missed being out in the dirt and planting. The man firmly entrenched in middle age was glad he could spend the rest of the day reading by the fire. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t hurry! You clearly need to spend enough time with Miss Aumaleigh to make sure you get everything fixed.”
“You’re talking about the roof, right?”
“Among other things.” Leigh swept across the kitchen in her rose-colored dress, dark curls bouncing with her gait. “Maybe you and Miss Aumaleigh have a second chance.”
He rolled his eyes and closed the door. The last thing he wanted was Leigh involved. She would get her hopes up for his sake, and he didn’t want her disappointed if this didn’t work out.
His own disappointment would be enough to handle.
He knew better than to take the time to saddle up Barney. Aumaleigh was a fast worker. If he wanted to get there and save the day, then he’d better hurry. Which is why he rode through the fields, jumping fences and a bubbling creek.
“I saw you coming.” Aumaleigh was still on the roof, her drenched coat and skirts clinging to her. Her hat was waterlogged, right along with her dark hair. “You can do us both a favor, turn right around and go back the way you came.”
“We called a truce, remember?” He halted Barney at the porch and tied him to the rail. “Or aren’t you a woman of your word?”
“Don’t even try using that on me. I’m in no mood this morning.”
“So I see.” A ladder leaned against the side of the house, so he climbed it. “Then just think of me as a neighbor, some fellow you don’t know who just stopped by to help you with your roof. It’s the kind of thing neighbors do.”
“Is there any way to get rid of you?”
“Not until the roof is fixed.” With a grin, he set foot on the wet roof. A shingle crumbled beneath his boot. “You had someone look at this roof before you bought, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but a tree limb came down in the night. I rolled it off—” She gestured toward the edge of the roof.
He glanced over to see a rather large bough on the ground. That had to have done some damage when it hit, and it was big enough that she had to have really worked to get it off the roof.
His ribs constricted with a suffocating sadness. The impact of her life hit him hard. As Josslyn had told him, she’d been alone ever since, with no one to take care of her and no one to love her.
All the things he’d wished for her had never happened. Not one.
With a mix of sympathy, maybe some pity, and definitely some love, he held out his hand. “Give me the hammer. I’ll take care of this.”
“If I do, will you go away?”
“Eventually.” He watched the hint of a smile play along the corners of her mouth. That sweet, soft mouth he’d spent more hours than he could count kissing tenderly.
And he wanted to again.
“All right, if it will get rid of you. But that’s the only reason. I want to make it perfectly clear.” She held out the hammer, handle first, as if she didn’t want to get too close to him.
But he saw everything she didn’t say, perhaps the things she never could. His soul came to life as she left him standing in the rain.
Chapter Nine
Aumaleigh listened to the pound of the hammer overhead, wishing she hadn’t given in. But he did want a truce between them, and he was her neighbor now. Not to mention Rose’s uncle by marriage. That meant Gabriel would be at certain family functions and events.
She would have to figure out a way to get along with him. Might as well try now.
Not that she liked it. She added cream and sugar to her coffee cup and took a sip, keeping an eye on the bacon sizzling in the pan. Thump, thump, thump went his footsteps high over her head. At least the hammering had stopped. Was he done? More importantly, would he leave?
She could have predicted he’d show up at her back door. Rain dripped off his black Stetson and sluiced down his black duster. The spark of that old caring flared to life within her, a ghost of what had once been.
She set down her cup and crossed the room, aware of that faint brightness within that remembered, that would always remember the man who’d gone to such trouble to court her. The man who’d made her feel special and valued like a new and improved Aumaleigh McPhee, not like her mother’s daughter at all.
“I’m done.” He opened the door and propped one brawny shoulder against the frame. “You’re going to need some new shingles up there, but the patch job should hold for a while.”
“Yes, the dripping has stopped.” She tried not to care that he looked cold and wet. She wanted to have no sympathy at all for him. “The least I can do is send you home with a hot cup of coffee. I’ll fetch you one.”
“I’d appreciate that.” His baritone moved over her like a caress.
She shivered, and the little hairs on her arms stood on end.
Do not let yourself be attracted to him, not again.
She whirled around and paced to the cook stove, but her hand shook as she reached a cup off the shelf.
“Here, let me.” His large hand settled over hers, male-hot and familiar.
He stood behind her, his big body just a breath away. Heat radiated off him, and she went rigid, fighting an attraction she had to deny.
“I don’t remember inviting you into my kitchen.” She tried to be bold and self-confident, a woman utterly unaffected by him, but her voice wobbled. She couldn’t pull it off. Not even when she sidestepped away from him, just to escape the magnetic pull of his closeness.
He knew it too. The corners of his mouth tipped up. The storm gray of his eyes gentled. He had to know how hard this was for her, and that upset her most of all. He knew this was upsetting her and yet he was here anyway, wanting—well, she didn’t know what he wanted. Certainly he didn’t want to try again. It was impossible. They were no longer young. He was no longer the man of her dreams.
“The c-coffee in on the trivet.” She gestured toward the stove. No way was she stepping around him to get to the coffeepot. “Help yourself.”
“All right.” Good-natured, he left her standing at the counter. His gait was slow and relaxed. “Your bacon is starting to burn. Let me flip it.”
The bacon! She silently groaned. How had she forgotten the bacon? See what the man did to her? He turned everything topsy-turvy, especially her common sense. There was only one solution. She had to get him out of her house as quickly as possible.
“Stop that.” Really, it infuriated her to see him casually turning the bacon as if he belonged in her kitchen and in her life. “You can’t come in here and make yourself at home.”
“I’m just trying to help, that’s all.” The low tones booming in his voice were different from the Gabriel she’d once known. That Gabriel had been like a note in a song, steady and true. Now he was harmony—a multifaceted sound, one of depth and light.
She remembered the letter he’d written to her she’d foun
d in her mother’s things, a letter that had never reached her back in the day. Leave it to Mother to steal her daughter’s mail. Gabriel had written about being a solider in the war, fighting for the Union. He’d talked about being happy with a wife and children. She remembered that now, that he’d been to war, and he’d also buried a wife. Those honors and hardships, sorrows and strengths had changed him.
“Leigh would be shooing me out of her kitchen, maybe beating me with the business end of a dishtowel if I refused to leave.” Deep crinkles cut in around his eyes, showing his age.
They were attractive, and she hated that she noticed.
Honestly, why did the man have to be more handsome in his fifties than he’d been as a young man? It wasn’t fair.
And here she was, looking like a mess. Her hand went to her hair, which was hanging in wet shanks. Her dress was soaked, her petticoats dripping on the floor. She was an eyesore.
And exactly why was her appearance bothering her?
She lifted her chin. Time to take charge of the situation. “I like Leigh. Especially since you said she beats you.”
“I’ve got to be honest. I deserve it.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be done soon.” He forked the strips onto the awaiting plate.
“You’re pretty good with a fry pan.”
“When Victoria was ill, I did a lot of the cooking.”
“Victoria.” She repeated the name, not liking the catch she heard in her voice. “Your wife.”
The woman who’d been smart enough to say yes to him.
“Yes. Leigh looks a lot like her.”
“She must have been beautiful.”
“Very.” Gabriel stole an egg from the bowl on the counter and cracked it on the edge of the fry pan. “She fell sick when Leigh was still so little. It was especially hard on our daughter. She was close to her mother.”