Gifts of Love

by Raine Cantrell

  “You like Erin, don’t you?”

  “Lots, Papa,” Becky answered. “She’s funny when she tells us stories, and she can sing so pretty. And she never yells at us. Not even when Jake broke a jar of jelly and she had to wash the floor again.”

  “Made me a new shirt,” Jake added.

  “And she promised to make me a new dress,” Becky said, not to be outdone.

  “Seems I married myself a real paragon.”

  “What’s that?” Becky asked. “Is it someone nice as Erin?”

  “Yeah, Becky,” Mace answered, trying to rid himself of a hard core of resentment. “Tell you what, I’ll go look for Erin and you two finish the dishes.”

  But Mace never had a chance to move, for Erin walked in and saw him seated with Jake on his lap and one arm holding Becky at his side.

  He could see for himself that she had been crying, but the words of apology stuck in his throat.

  Jake saved the awkward moment. “Erin, Papa’s gettin’ me a puppy.”

  “Not just for you,” Becky was quick to say. “We’ll share it just like in the story.”

  “No. Mine.”

  “Hold it, you two,” Mace said, stopping Jake from pushing his sister away. “I didn’t say I would get—”

  “Yes. Yes, please,” Jake begged, then turned to where Erin still stood near the door. “Tell him yes, Erin.”

  “I can’t, Jake. Your father will make his own decision about getting you a puppy.” She had seen the men ride out and hoped that Mace was gone, too. Unwilling to look at him, Erin busied herself with clearing the table. Becky came to help her.

  But when she saw the remains of smashed pancakes and broken crockery in the dry sink, Erin realized she wasn’t strong. Tears sprang to her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.

  “Papa,” Becky whispered, jerking her head toward Erin’s back.

  He saw her shoulders shake, her head bowed over the sink and for a moment thought she was sick, but Becky was drawing one of her fingers from the corner of her eye down her cheek, miming tears. He set Jake on his feet, and posing his finger to his lips motioned them to go outside.

  As silently as his children had left, Mace rose and went to stand behind her. “Erin, I…“

  Wildly she shook her head, brushing frantically at the tears that wouldn’t stop. Without touching her, he placed a hand on either side of the edge of the sink so she could not move.

  “Look, I had a few drinks last night and wasn’t in the best of moods this morning.”

  “You never are,” she blurted, stricken once the words were out.

  “Guess not,” he admitted, clamping his hands tight so he wouldn’t touch her. “But all this crying of yours is upsetting Becky.”

  “I can’t help it.” His accusing tone forced the admission, but Erin realized it was true. She did seem to cry over the slightest thing.

  The memory of Sky’s voice making the same admission when she carried Becky hit Mace. Sky never cried, not so that he would see her. Likely that’s what was bothering Erin.

  “Listen to me, Erin. You can’t let every little thing upset you. It’s not good for…it’s just not good,” he finished lamely, unable to mention her child.

  Her head came up and, between sniffles, she answered him. “You are by no means a little thing, Mr. Dalton. But you sure can pick on little things—”

  “Dropping my damn breakfast—”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose! If you hadn’t reached for the coffeepot just when I turned I wouldn’t have dropped the platter. But you couldn’t ask for it, could you? Oh, no. And if I wanted to drop the platter on purpose, I would have used your lap not the floor!”

  “And if you put the coffeepot on the table by my place where it belongs, just like Sky did, I wouldn’t have had to reach out for the damn pot!”

  “Don’t yell at me. I’m not Sky!” she screamed. “I can’t be Sky. I don’t want to be Sky.” Poking her finger into his chest, she shook with anger finally free. “I can’t be Sky. I’m me. Erin. And that’s all I want to be, Mr. Dalton, just myself.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are, yelling and poking me?”

  “I’m your wife! I’m alive, not dead. I resent your not caring, not being given any respect, never having a kind word from you. I’m not an animal. I’m a woman. I made a mistake and paid for it. But you’ll never let me forget, will you?” Erin couldn’t see. She was blinded by the tears in her eyes. The fight seeped out of her. She hated being compared to Sky. But it would always be Sky who held first place in his heart and mind. First place, and only place. “Stand aside,” she demanded, “I need to blow my nose.”

  “Your nose can wait. This can’t. I told you all this crying isn’t good. You can’t want to keep Becky upset, can you?”

  The mention of Becky distracted her. Shaking her head, Erin admitted, “I didn’t think she heard me.”

  “Well, now you know she did.” Wrapping his arms around her, Mace leaned his cheek against her hair, ignoring her struggle, his chest pressed to her back.

  Erin tilted her head to the side, unable to bear his touching her like this. All the gentleness she longed for was here, now, but Erin braved his wrath again.

  “You must realize this is a mistake. You don’t know me, and what’s more,” she added, still sniffing, “you don’t want to. You should have left me in Walla Walla when I asked you to do so.”

  “No!” Mace spun her around, grabbing her by the shoulders. He hated the way she flinched at his touch. Ignoring her hands as they futilely tried to push him away, he cupped one cheek and lifted her face to him. “Don’t close your eyes and hide from me, Erin. Things can’t go on as they are. I meant what I said. This isn’t good for you, my children or me.”

  “I d-don’t know what you want from me. I’m not as perfect as Sky was. I can’t be her. You snap at me all you want and dare me to answer you. Then you dare to…” Kiss me till my insides melt. Erin’s eyes flew open, one hand covering her mouth. Had she said those words aloud?

  Mace’s eyes darkened, meeting her startled gaze, and she saw that the sensual line of his mouth seemed softer below the dark brush of his mustache. Spoken aloud or not, she was sure he knew the words. She was simply too vulnerable to him

  “Do you know,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her cheek to wipe up the still-flowing tears, “that this is the first time you’ve fought back?”

  His touch, filled with gentleness she longed for, made her tremble. Erin had to lean over the edge of the sink. She couldn’t take a breath that wasn’t filled with his scent. And she didn’t trust him. She had to remind herself of that, but no sooner was the warning silently sounded than it seemed to disappear.

  “Is that all you want from me, Mr. Dalton? You want me to fight?”

  “Stop calling me Mr. Dalton.”

  “Yes, Mr. Dalton. I’ll remember that.”

  “Such a sassy little mouth, Erin. Say my name.” There it was, happening all over again. He got close to her and raw need dictated his words and actions, making him forget her deceit. His fingers traced the delicate arch of her brows, watching as her green eyes darkened. He felt the uneven lift and fall of her breasts against his chest as he bent over her. The small sound she made, the way her fingers dug into his shoulders made him ease his big, hard hands beneath her, arching her up to his hungry mouth.

  But Erin covered his descending lips with her hand to stop him. She denied her own desire for his kiss, refusing to forget as easily as he did the harsh words so recently said.

  His lips opened on her palm, his breath hot, the tip of his tongue making tiny circles on the only bit of her flesh she allowed him access to. She closed her eyes, fighting not to give in to the seductive coaxing, and felt the baby stir. Quickly she worked her other hand down between their bodies, trying to prevent him from feeling the same.

  But it was too late. Mace did feel the child move, pressed as he was against her. He pulled back, releasing her, fighting to still t
he heat of his blood.

  Erin followed his gaze to where her hand curved protectively over the slight swell of her belly. “You’ll never forget. Never let me forget.” She looked up at him, once again fighting tears. “Please, if you won’t let me go, then stay away from me. You don’t want me as a wife, Mace. You don’t even like wanting me at all.”

  This time Mace was the one who left, for he couldn’t deny the truth she spoke.

  Chapter Thirteen

  An uneasy truce developed between Mace and Erin from that morning. The following week, the children got their wished-for puppy.

  Jake, flushed with excitement, carried the squirming pup into the kitchen to be presented to Erin. The cream and brown marked dog was the runt of the neighbor’s litter.

  “I don’t care that he’s tiny,” Jake told Erin. “He licked me first and let me pick him up.”

  “He’s a pretty little thing,” Erin murmured, petting what she could reach of the dog still held tight in Jake’s arms.

  “He’s a boy. Boys can’t be pretty.”

  “Handsome, then. I’m sure you made a good choice, Jake.”

  “Becky said no. She said he’s too small, but I like him.”

  Erin knelt on the floor as Jake set the puppy down between them. She laughed with the boy as the puppy scrambled for purchase on chubby legs, darted around the kitchen chairs, jumped up to lick Jake’s chin, yipped and then ran off to repeat the cycle again.

  “You should’ve come. The mama didn’t bark or try to bite us when we went near her babies. So many, Erin.” Jake presented his small fingers for her to see, frowning and then tucked his thumbs into his palms. “That many of them.”

  Erin tousled his hair, wishing that she could have gone with them. It would have been nice to visit with the other woman, but she was, to her eyes, beginning to show. Mace never tried to discuss what she would say about her child and she was uncertain how to approach him about it. There was an uneasy truce between them, and she was loath to break it. She made the decision that the less anyone saw of her, the less chance she had to cause him embarrassment.

  “Perhaps another time, I can, Jake.”

  “Can what?” Mace asked, coming in with Becky. He pushed his hat back, watching Jake play with the pup, but his gaze targeted Erin’s flushed face. The lingering smile on her lips did not reach her eyes to dispel the sadness he saw there.

  “Told Erin she should’ve come,” the boy answered.

  “All she had to do was ask. Why didn’t you come, Erin?”

  “Yeah.” Becky echoed her father. “Why didn’t you come? The puppies were so cute. They were all bigger than this one. Can’t understand why Jake had to have that little thing.”

  “Becky, that’s unkind,” Erin chided gently, stroking the pup’s belly as he flopped over on his back by her side. “And the puppy is for both of you to share.”

  “I’m gonna call him Scrap ’cause he’s so little,” Jake announced.

  “That’s a dumb name,” Becky countered.

  Scooping up the puppy between her hands, Erin studied the small face. “Scrap seems to fit him.” She was rewarded with several chin licks before she placed him in her lap. The little dog circled several times before he curled into a ball and nestled his head on tiny paws.

  “He likes you!” Shyly, Jake smiled at Erin. “I like you lots, too.”

  Mace stood there, watching as Erin’s head angled closer to that of his son’s, a smile curving her lips before she pressed a kiss to his forehead. He couldn’t hear what she whispered to Jake, but his son was giggling as he took the pup from her lap. The moment seemed to freeze inside him. The warmth of the kitchen, the scent of spices, Erin glowing with a softer beauty, his son, the smiles…Mace shook his head.

  He wanted to help Erin stand up, but remembered his promise to keep away from her. He could see the telltale thickening of her waist along with the darker line along the seams of her faded gown that showed she had let them out. There were lengths of calico and other dress goods stored in the blanket chest, material that Sky would have used. He knew Erin wouldn’t ask him to buy any for her, but surely she would not refuse the goods if he gave them to her.

  Conscious of Mace watching her, Erin ignored the twinge in her back as she stood. “We’ll need to find a bed for him, Jake, and make a place in the pantry for his food and water.”

  Cuddling the pup, Jake turned his head and looked up at his father. “He’s gonna sleep with me.”

  “No! I don’t want that silly little dog in my room. Tell him no, Papa. He’ll chew up everything.”

  “Will not, Becky!”

  “Will too!” Becky yelled back.

  “Stop it, both of you,” Erin scolded, forgetting Mace. But it was only for a second. With her fingers pressed to her lips, she glanced at him, waiting for him to tell her not to interfere with his children. But he merely nodded, his expression unreadable, and she turned to Becky. “If we find him a bone or a rag to chew on, he won’t ruin any of your things. And to make sure of it, you’ll need to keep your room picked up. No more leaving socks or shoes on the floor. Jake promised to take care of the dog and as long as he does, the pup can sleep in your room.”

  “He’ll smell.”

  “He’ll be scared outside,” Jake countered, pressing close to Erin. “Tell her how he’s too little to be alone.”

  But Erin didn’t have to, she met the understanding in Becky’s eyes and nodded. “You remember the story, don’t you?”

  “Well, it’s not fair. The puppy was for both of us. Now Jake thinks he’s all his.”

  Erin hid her smile at Becky’s stubbornness. She tried to find a way to placate the girl and suddenly had an idea. “But you treat the pony as if he was all yours, don’t you, Becky? When Jake wants to ride by himself, he must ask you first. If Jake has the dog to care for—”

  “I know, Erin,” Becky said with a sigh. “He’ll be like the boy in the story you told us and learn how to be responsible for someone ’sides himself.”

  Erin didn’t bother to correct her mispronunciation of responsible. It was enough that Becky remembered the lesson in the story.

  “Now that this is settled, will you help Jake find a basket and some rags to make Scrap here a bed?” Holding out her hand to Becky, she waited for the child to make her own decision. Pouting, Becky walked over to them. “If you hurry and get Scrap settled, there’ll be time for oatmeal cookies for both of you.”

  “I’ll have five ’cause I’m bigger,” Becky declared.

  “Me, too, ’cause I’m a boy.”

  “Three each and no arguing,” Erin said.

  “Three now and three after supper.”

  Throwing up her hands, Erin laughed. “I give, Becky. All right, three now and three after supper, but only if all chores are done without being asked.”

  “Come on, squirt,” Becky said to her brother, “I’ll get the cookies for both of us and we’ll go to the barn to find him a bed.”

  While Jake battled his puppy for possession of the cookie he insisted on having, Becky led the way outside.

  And Erin realized that Mace was still there. She pleated the sides of her apron nervously. “Did you want something?” she asked, uncertain of his mood.

  “This go on all the time?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Becky and Jake. They fight like this all the time?”

  “Oh, they’re not fighting, not really. It’s natural for children to test themselves and each other over who will be leader. But Jake,” she added with a smile to herself, “is learning to hold his own with her.”

  “And where did you learn to be so tolerant of children’s squabbling?”

  Erin raised a stricken gaze to his face. She felt as if she were on trial, judged and found wanting. But she answered him. “In the orphanage where I grew up, Mr. Dalton. The older children had to look after the little ones. There wasn’t anyone else to do it.”

  The moment she replied, he regretted asking. Her ey
es instantly took on a distant look, her smile disappeared and she seemed to become smaller, less sure of herself than she had been a minute ago with the children.

  Realizing that she was still standing there, idle as could be, Erin searched the kitchen for some chore to do. But it was too early to start supper, her baking was done, wash and ironing complete, and everywhere she looked all was neatly in its place.

  Mace took off his hat and jacket, hanging them on the hooks near the door. It appeared as if he had every intention of staying inside. Erin turned to leave. She could not stay in the kitchen with him.

  “I wouldn’t mind having some of those oatmeal cookies myself.”

  Erin almost tripped over her skirt hem in her hurry to get the crock from the sideboard. “Please, help yourself.”

  He did, to a large handful, watching her start to retreat from the room, from him. “Coffee would be nice, too. That is, if you’re not in the middle of something that needs doing.”

  Erin stared at him. What was he saying? Asking her polite as could be, as if he hadn’t stated time and again that this was his home and she was merely there on sufferance. As if she would refuse to make him coffee even if she was in the middle of something!

  “It’s no trouble to make a fresh pot,” she said. But Erin felt his eyes watching her every move, so she was extra careful not to spill the coffee grounds once she filled the pot. What was he up to, sitting in the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon?

  “You handled that business about the pup real well. Did you have a dog at the…the place you grew up?” He couldn’t say orphanage. He didn’t want to scare her off.

  Erin, standing with her back toward him at the stove, merely shook her head. A dog? She was lucky to have enough hot porridge to eat.

  “Didn’t you ever hear that a watched pot will never boil?” Mace asked, determined to have her turn around.

  Was that truly a note of teasing in his voice? Erin was curious, and glanced over her shoulder to where he sat. He was grinning at her.

  “It’s true, Erin. Sit down until the coffee’s done.”