Eppie had been afraid she’d find him a sobbing mess; instead he seemed calm and approachable. It knocked her a bit sideways and she wasn’t sure what to do, so she sat down on the cream-colored settee.
“And why didn’t you drink?”
Micah chuckled low in his throat and held up the bottle. “I never knew when to stop. You see, I started drinking to forget the memories that plagued me. Unfortunately I would drink too much and the I’d fall into nightmares of what I was trying to forget.”
She sorted through his confusing answer. “You mean, you wanted to forget, but you’d drink too much and end up having worse nightmares?”
He took a long tug from the bottle. She watched his throat work as he swallowed, as a drop trickled out the side of his mouth and down his chin. He obviously had a high tolerance for liquor, because half the bottle was gone and she had a feeling he’d been the one to open it.
“Exactly.” He finally turned to look at her. His smile was sexy and did funny things to her. A throb echoed through her lower body and whispers of her erotic dream floated through her mind. He was drunk and she was having sexual urges for him. What was wrong with her? It did not seem to be the right reaction, but as before, her body wasn’t listening to her head.
“So stop drinking.”
He held the bottle up to the light, the sun turning it to liquid gold. “If only it were that easy. You see, it becomes my mistress, my lover, my best friend.”
Eppie’s heart pinched at the thought, and she couldn’t explain why. “So what do you need me for? You can live your life and never need a wife.”
It sounded petulant to her ears, but it must’ve sounded very serious to him. He snapped his gaze to hers and all color drained from his handsome face.
“Don’t ever say that.” He jumped off the window seat and ran around to the settee, sliding on his knees until he reached her. Up close, the scent of whiskey was so strong it made her eyes water. Underneath the booze, however, was another smell, one that was familiar. “You and Miracle are the reason I wake up each day. Without you I wouldn’t be here.”
He took her hand in his, and she knew a moment of fear. She didn’t want to be the reason he woke up in the morning. It was too much responsibility for any one person to bear.
“Micah, that can’t be. I don’t even know you and I don’t think you know me.”
“Oh, I know you.” He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I memorized every square inch of you from your toes to your crooked left ear. I know the lines in your palm, the beautiful sweep of your hip, the curve of your collarbone, the softness of your mouth. I know you.”
He lowered his head as Eppie’s body grew heated and the air charged so much it made the small hairs on her body stand up. His silver eyes glittered with many emotions, from arousal to sadness to despair.
She didn’t know him a week ago. She didn’t know herself a week ago. Eppie knew she should pull away, tell him to stop, push against him, do something.
Yet she didn’t, wouldn’t, or couldn’t. She didn’t know which. All she knew was that she wanted to feel his lips against hers, to remember them or perhaps see if they were the same as the dream lover who had visited her.
His hovered over her as he gazed deep inside her, searching for something. Whatever it was, he must have seen what he was looking for, because he let loose a whiskey-soaked sigh and finally lowered his head to hers.
Soft and gentle, his lips skimmed over hers like a butterfly sipping on a flower. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, although her body leaned toward his, seeking his touch. She seemed to have no control over her reactions. Eppie wanted to turn and run, yet she knew deep down there was no way that would happen. It seemed her body remembered him, after all, judging by the way she reacted.
He kissed her again, from one end of her lips to the other, sweet nibbling kisses that left her wanting more. Micah’s tongue snuck out and lapped at her, making her gasp. The sensation shot straight down her skin and spread through her, raising goosebumps and her nipples. She hadn’t been as aroused during the erotic nocturnal meanderings of her mind as she was at that moment.
To her mortification, a moan bubbled up in her throat and escaped.
Micah swallowed her moan and responded with one of his own. The sound went straight to her cunt. It started to throb in tune with her galloping heart. Eppie felt herself falling into a deep chasm of heat, arousal and animal urges. That scared the hell out of her.
She pulled back, sucking in a shaky breath. He followed, chasing her lips, but she threw up her hand to stop him. The feel of his hot breath and wet mouth on her skin sent a pulse through her. She knew she was heading into unknown territory and had to stop right then or risk more than a few stolen kisses.
“Stop, Micah, stop.” Her voice was breathy and high.
“God, Eppie, please, I can’t.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his forehead. “You smell so wonderful.”
His reaction scared her almost as much as her own. Perhaps it was the liquor in his system because he hadn’t even remotely acted as if he couldn’t control himself around her. Yet she felt the heat in his skin, the rapid thump of his blood beneath, and the sweat trickling down his temple.
“Let go of my hand.” She pulled, half-expecting him to hang on to it, but he didn’t. After rising to her feet, she swayed, lightheaded and dizzy.
“Please don’t go yet.” He looked up at her, so much pain in his gaze, she sucked in a breath.
“I can’t be who you want me to be, Micah.” She turned to leave the room as fast as her shaky legs would move.
“I really do love you, Eppie,” he called after her.
Eppie didn’t stop. She couldn’t. When she emerged from the parlor, the stairs seemed twice as long as she gazed at them. She knew she wasn’t up to climbing them and probably wouldn’t be until she recovered from kissing Micah. The front door beckoned, fresh air and a bit of late-day sunshine.
When she opened the wide oak door, a whoosh of air caressed her face and she breathed deeply. Yes, that was what she needed. Not knowing where the house was situated or even what was out there made her hesitate a moment.
However, the lure of being outside the house beckoned and she stepped out onto a beautiful long porch. A swing hung in the middle, rocking gently in the breeze. The house itself was a bright blue color, which she knew was a unique color for any residence. It cheered her, though, and helped her feel a bit better.
She walked toward the front steps and stopped, amazed by what she saw. Beautiful flowers covered nearly every square inch: yellows, oranges, reds and even blues. The wind brought the scent of them and it infused her with a sense of life, of hope.
A small head popped up from the middle of the flowers and startled her. The yellow dog had floppy ears and big brown eyes. Eppie smiled, realizing it must be the puppy, Daisy. She disappeared back into the blossoms, leaving Eppie to wonder if she imagined the dog.
She settled on the top step of a very well-kept set of stairs. The paint wasn’t chipped and the boards were all in good shape. She looked around the yard, noting the big elm trees and the pines lining the side yard. In the near distance, she heard rushing water, like a river.
Birds sang merrily while squirrels chattered and the world looked amazingly peaceful and normal. These were two things Eppie hadn’t remotely experienced in the last week, which was for all purposes, the first week of her life. Like a newborn discovering everything around her, Eppie watched each bee as it landed on the flowers, the sun glinting on the surface of the rocks on the path, and the clouds drifting across the sky. Life surged around her.
For the first time, she felt alive, as if she had truly woken up the moment she walked outside. What happened inside the house wasn’t necessarily life, more the trials and tribulations of people. Mother Nature showed her what she’d been missing.
Eppie dismissed the melancholy and upset she’d brought with her out the door. She sat on the fron
t steps for quite a while, until the sun had nearly reached the horizon. Carriages, people and horses passed by about a hundred yards away at the end of the road, but no one came to the house. Maybe it had something to do with Micah, or maybe it had something to do with her. It didn’t really matter, either way.
It seemed to Eppie as if this enormous, fancy house lived in its own world. The town in the distance almost didn’t, or wouldn’t, see and acknowledge it. Granted, the three women had ventured into the realm of the house, but she figured it was more morbid curiosity that drove them to visit. None of them had been particularly friendly and they’d all been a bit snooty.
Sitting outside in the real world gave Eppie a helping of strength she needed. The situation was so intense inside, she couldn’t be happier being away from it, even if it were only for an hour. She made a promise to herself to find time each day to get a dose of fresh air and sunshine.
“So there you are.” Candice walked out the front door with a smile. “I was wondering if you’d run off.”
Eppie shook her head. “No, just hiding.” No need to pretend with the older woman; she seemed to understand quite a lot about what Eppie was feeling.
Candice sighed and sat down next to her. “He’s been in the whiskey.”
“I’m guessing this is not a good thing? He didn’t appear to be drunk, just sad and different.” Eppie tried to find another definition of what she felt and saw, but that seemed to be the most appropriate one.
“Micah can consume quite a bit of spirits and still appear normal. He unfortunately already had a high tolerance before he arrived in Plum Creek.” She glanced up at the branches of the big elm tree in the front yard. “It only got worse after your accident. I’m afraid he has trouble coping sometimes.”
Eppie nodded. “I can already see that. Do you know how his problem began?”
“No, and I’ve never asked. I’m not one to pry.” Candice scratched at the dried dough on her apron. “He’s got a lot of ghosts, though. You should know that.”
“I think I’ve already met a few of them,” Eppie said dryly, thinking of the many faces of Micah.
Candice laughed. “I’ll bet you have. Micah is, well, he’s one of the most selfless, giving men I’ve ever known, just like Madeline’s Teague.”
“Madeline’s Teague?” She had no idea there was a man in her best friend’s life. “Are they coming soon?”
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that. They live outside Denver now and with two little boys, their lives are so busy.” Candice’s eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
“What is it?” Eppie grew alarmed at her pale complexion.
“Good afternoon, ladies.”
Eppie whipped her head around to find an older white-haired man wearing a minister’s collar. His cool blue gaze was sharper than any knife and it was aimed directly at her.
“I see Matilda was correct and our sleeping daughter has arisen. I must send a quick prayer up to God for his mercy.” He inclined his head at Candice. “Miss Merriweather. Glad to see you are still helping Mr. Spalding.”
“Pleasure is all mine, Reverend. I’ve got bread to take out of the oven, if you’ll excuse me.” Candice rose and disappeared faster than Eppie thought she could move. She left Eppie with a stranger who by her estimation was not a soft-spoken man of the cloth.
He leaned against the side of the house and scrutinized Eppie, so she did the same to him. Probably close to sixty, the man had sagging jowls, a scary pair of eyebrows, and a paunch that had likely seen many free Sunday dinners. It was the disapproval in his gaze, however, that caught her attention. Obviously the good reverend did not like what he saw when he looked at her.
“Did you come by for a visit?” She might as well get the conversation moving. It might prompt him to be on his way sooner.
“Just wanted to check on you, Miss Eppie, and of course, Miracle. You two have been in my prayers for nigh on three years, since the stormy night she was born.” He shook his white head. “Shame you were sleeping for the last three years and missed seeing her grow.”
The comment stung as it was intended. Eppie wondered why he’d only started praying for her after Miracle had been born. Everyone in this town she’d met so far was not nearly what they appeared, except Candice.
“I’m sure God had a plan in mind when he allowed me to heal during those three years.” Eppie planned on keeping her memory loss a secret from everyone but those closest to her. “Micah has been telling me everything I need to know.”
A half-truth, or perhaps quarter-truth.
“You realize, of course, that God does not plan for a good Christian woman to have a child outside of the bonds of holy matrimony.” His frown grew deeper along with Eppie’s discomfort. “Perhaps your long illness was punishment for your sins.”
Eppie took a deep breath and absorbed the arrows he slung at her with each passing moment. This was Plum Creek’s spiritual leader? He was an ass and a bully, in her not-so-humble opinion. Was there anyone in town who wasn’t mean?
“I would hope that God recognizes the inherent good in all of us, even if we do make mistakes.”
“You sound different, Miss Eppie. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you use a word such as inherent.” He folded his hands in front of his belly, looking at her with suspicion. She hoped he wasn’t thinking she was a witch or possessed by the devil. Actually it wouldn’t surprise her.
“Perhaps Micah reading to me for three years helped with my education.” Truth was, Eppie didn’t know if Micah had read to her or not, but she suspected he had. Since she didn’t remember herself prior to last week, there’s no way of knowing how different or uneducated she’d actually sounded.
“Preposterous. You were in the land between the living and the dead. You couldn’t have heard a thing because God had shut you in there for a purpose.” He nodded as if he was agreeing with himself. “You were being punished, plain and simple. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Eppie resisted the urge to hug her knees and curl up in a ball. The reverend was a frightening man, one who obviously kept people on edge and uneasy. Bullies usually backed down when confronted, or at least that’s what her brain was telling her.
She rose to her feet and scowled back at the minister. “I refuse to believe God was punishing me for anything. I had an accident and needed to heal, plain as that. Good day, Reverend.”
When Eppie turned on her heel and left him standing there, she hoped he wasn’t going to start throwing more insults at her. Her nerves were popping like oil on a hot pan as she opened the door and stepped in.
“I’ll pray for you, Miss Eppie,” was the last thing she heard before she shut the door behind her.
God willing, the prayers would be good ones. Eppie had the energy after all to walk up the stairs. Her gaze wandered to the parlor door, but it was still closed and she wasn’t ready to open it again.
Chapter Five
The knock on the door startled him, and he fell off the settee, landing on his head. Fortunately the thick Persian carpet broke his fall, but stars exploded at the contact. He clutched his head and rolled onto his back.
“Jesus please us.” He pried his stinging eyes open and glanced around. It was dark in the room and no light burned. Through the gauzy white curtains he could see the gray light of what could be dawn. If it was, he’d lost a day somewhere. The last thing he remembered was the parlor and the whiskey. His mouth was dry as cotton and tasted as if he’d been eating dirt.
Somewhere buried deep in his memory was Eppie’s scent and the feel of her lips on his. Had he kissed her? Had she kissed him back? It was all fuzzy and grainy, and with the pounding in his head, there’s no way he’d remember clearly for a while.
The pounding continued and he realized it wasn’t in his head but at the front door. Micah got to all fours and used the coffee table to bring himself to a standing position. The room swam around him as if it had been dipped in a lake. He put out his arms to s
teady the movement when his stomach decided to join in the fun. A rather noxious burp traveled up his throat, leaving a burning path of bile in its wake.
He felt as if he’d been dragged behind a horse. Every muscle in his body ached, right along with his head. Hell, even his nose hurt, but that could have been from the tumble off the settee.
The pounding started again at the front door and Micah took a tentative step forward. It was slow going, but he made it across the room and out into the hallway without falling down or vomiting. A victory of sorts.
“Hold your horses, I’m coming.” His voice sounded as rusty as an old bell and clanged just as much in his poor skull.
By the time he made it to the front door, the banging had grown louder, sweat poured down his face, and he was afraid he would faint on the floor before he got there. Somehow, some way, he didn’t collapse.
His hand was slippery with sweat and it took three tries before he was able to grasp the knob and pull it open. Micah lost his balance and fell forward, only to be caught by a rather strong pair of arms.
“Good catch.” He slurred as unconsciousness beckoned.
“Oh Micah, not again.” Madeline’s voice permeated his pickled senses and he smiled.
“Madeline, oh my dear, I’ve missed you.” He smiled crookedly at the wooden planks on the floor.
“Pick him up, Teague, and bring him up to his room. Doctor, can you wait here a few moments?” Madeline, as always, took control of the situation, and Micah was glad for it.
He didn’t want control and giving it over to someone who would take it was his fondest desire. As he was flipped over a large shoulder he realized Teague, Madeline’s dark-haired giant of a husband, carried him as if he were a sack of flour. Micah was about to protest when the world went black just after he realized he’d vomited on Teague’s legs.
“He retched on me.” A loud male voice boomed outside Eppie’s door, making her jump.
She’d heard the pounding on the front door and at first thought it was part of a dream. When strangers entered the house, she realized she wasn’t sleeping and quickly pulled on her clothes. Cursing, stomping, and general shouting went on as she tried to determine who was there and what they were doing.
The Redemption of Micah Page 7