He was so near, Jo had to force herself not to fly up out of the seat. “I make it myself,” she explained inanely, trying not to look into his eyes for very long.
Adam was drawn by the shyness she sometimes showed. “Do you?”
She nodded like a horse. “Papa has a friend in Florida who owns orange orchards. He sends us a big crate every winter, and I use the oil from the rinds in my hair dressings.” Jo could hear herself babbling, but couldn’t stop. “I want to market it after the war. All my clients rave about it.”
Jo clamped her mouth shut. She was determined not to say anything further, lest he think her an absolute ninny.
Once again, Adam found himself wishing Jo was someone else. That way, he’d be free to explore the strange new feelings that being around her were creating. But she wasn’t; she was the sister of his best friend. A sister who as a child had been the bane of their boyish existence with her tattling, pesky ways. She was all grown up now, and the tattling pest had been transformed into an exquisite young woman he’d like to know better.
Jo didn’t know how to respond to his silent but intense scrutiny. “What are you thinking, Adam?”
“Truthfully?”
“Yes.”
“That I wished you were someone else.”
Jo was confused by the admission. “Why?”
“Because you’re Dani’s little sister.”
“And?”
“And I shouldn’t be starting something with you that I maybe can’t finish.”
Jo studied him. She understood.
Jo thought she heard the door pull. She sat up and listened hard. There, it sounded again. “I think someone’s at the door. I’ll be right back.”
Glad for the distraction, she hastened out and down the stairs. When she pulled open the door, there to her surprise stood George Brooks. “George? Hello!”
“Hello, Josephine. How are you?”
Jo was still trying to get over the shock of his visit. “I’m well. You?”
He nodded. “No complaints to speak of. May I come in?”
She looked up the steps to see if Adam had come to investigate. “My mama’s not at home. Neither is Belle.”
“I see. Well, then, how about we sit on the porch for a spell? Nothing improper in that.”
“Well—” She thought about Adam being upstairs alone, and then about George, who’d come all this way. Jo had no experience juggling suitors. “I—”
Adam called out, “Jo, who’s at the door?”
Jo looked up to see him on his crutches at the top of the stairs. “It’s George.”
“What’s he want?”
George spoke up for himself, “I came to call on Josephine.”
Adam said, “Well, call back some other time. She’s not available until her mama comes home.”
Jo told Adam, “Will you go back to your room, please? You’re not supposed to be up and around.”
“And you’re supposed to be keeping me company.”
George didn’t appear to like the sound of that. “Josephine, are you alone here with him?”
Jo sensed that Adam was being difficult on purpose. Turning away from Adam and back to George, she responded, “Yes. Why?”
“That’s not real proper, you know.”
“Adam is family, George. I’d trust him with my life.”
She glanced back up at Adam and found herself held prisoner by his eyes.
Adam said in turn, “And I’d trust her with mine, as well.”
She forced her eyes away from his and said to George, “I don’t see why we can’t spend a few moments on the porch, George.”
Adam broke in and declared, “I’ll have to come down and play chaperone, then.”
Jo’s hand went to her hip. “You will not.”
“Yes, I will. I’m family, remember, and as family, I’m the only one here able to chaperone. Your mother will have my hide if she finds out I let you sit on the porch without proper supervision.”
Jo could feel steam pouring out of her ears. “I don’t need a chaperone, Adam Morgan.”
“All right. Then Brooks can come back when your mama’s here.”
“Go back to your room,” she gritted out.
He stood silently, as if challenging her.
Jo didn’t like Adam’s high-handedness one bit, but she knew she was defeated. “It’s really up to you, George. We can include him, or you can come back another day.”
George scowled up at Adam. “I’m willing to put up with his presence if you are.”
Jo smiled at him. “Then let’s go out to the porch.”
She didn’t smile up at Adam when she said, “You win. Try not to break your neck coming down the steps.”
Then she stepped outside to join George on the porch.
eight
When Adam joined Jo and George on the porch, she did her best to ignore him. Even though he had the decency to choose a seat a bit away, he was still too close for her liking. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him set his crutches within easy reach and unfold the newspaper he’d brought along. The sheen of perspiration on his forehead and his very labored breathing were evidence that the trip had cost him much in the way of energy and strength, but she didn’t let her concern for his health override her irritation. If he keeled over it would be his own fault. She was perfectly capable of keeping company with a gentleman without Adam Morgan hovering over her like a disapproving maiden aunt. She had hoped he would be more understanding about her situation, given he was only a few years older than her, but no, Adam wanted to lord over her as if she were a child. She was not pleased.
George told her, “I’m thinking of settling around here someplace once the doctors discharge me.”
Jo set aside her pique and concentrated instead on George’s easygoing company. “Really? You aren’t returning to Jackson?”
“It depends.”
“On what, if you don’t mind my asking?”
His eyes twinkled. “Oh, maybe on how things go with a certain hairdresser that I know.”
Adam rustled his newspaper loud enough for the conversation to pause. Jo glared his way. He gave her an inscrutable look from over the top of the paper, then resumed reading.
Jo took a deep breath and prompted, “Go on with what you were saying, George.”
“Well, I thought I might be able to find work here.”
From behind his newspaper, Adam asked bluntly, “As what?”
Jo gritted out, “Adam Morgan, mind your own business.”
George placed a calming hand on her arm. “It’s all right, Josephine. I don’t mind answering.”
George directed his response at the raised newspaper. “I’m a farmer by birth, but I do odd jobs on the side. I’m real handy at fixing things.”
Adam lowered his paper. “Good.” The paper went back up.
Jo wanted to sock Adam in his nosy nose. There was no way she and George were going to have a pleasant visit with him around. “George? How about you come back when Mama’s here? This is not working out well.”
“I don’t mind him looking on.”
“I do.”
Adam rustled the paper again.
Jo sighed with frustration and impatience. “The next time I come to Mrs. Oswald’s we’ll set a date. Is that all right with you?”
“That sounds like a well-thought-out plan, Josephine,” Adam declared.
“Will you stay out of this?” she shot back.
Behind the paper, Adam grinned. Yes, she was still a pistol.
George stood, albeit reluctantly. “You’re right. This isn’t working. I’ll see you on your next visit to Mrs. Oswald’s.”
“Yes, you will.”
George looked over at the man behind the raised newspaper and said, “I’d be lying if I said, ‘Hope to see you again, Morgan.’”
Adam countered, “So would I. Have a safe drive back.”
A tight-lipped George nodded at Jo. “Goodbye, Josephine.”
&
nbsp; “I’ll see you soon, George. Thank you for the visit.”
“You’re welcome.” George gave Adam one last glare, then stepped off the porch. With the assistance of his wooden cane, he headed back to the buggy he’d rented to make the ride over. He waved at Jo. A smiling Jo waved goodbye.
Once George was out of sight, she wheeled on Adam. “I hope you’re satisfied.”
He put down the paper and folded it slowly. “I am. Your father and brother would be satisfied, as well.”
“I am not a child.”
“Precisely why I needed to be out here. George doesn’t think you’re a child, either.”
“George is a gentleman.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but Dani would have wanted me to be sure.”
“Dani has nothing to do with this and you know it.”
“No? Then what does it have to do with?”
Arms folded firmly across her chest, Jo replied, “I don’t know. You tell me.”
Adam knew he had no business becoming involved with this black-eyed firecracker, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “Suppose I said it has to do with me not wanting you keeping company with anyone but me?”
“Then I’d say I may have been born at night, but not last night, Adam Morgan.”
He chuckled. “You doubt my sincerity.”
“Yes, because I don’t believe you have a sincere bone in your body where young women are concerned,” Jo declared.
“Suppose you’re wrong.”
“I’m not.”
“Suppose you are?”
Jo had her hands on her hips. She had nothing more to say.
“You always were too stubborn for your own good,” he told her.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied fiercely.
He dropped his head in amusement. When he raised his head and met her gaze again, he said softly, “Look, Jo. There’s something growing here, I feel it and you do, too, but like I said earlier, I don’t want to start something I maybe can’t finish, at least not right now.”
“Because?”
Adam didn’t like being put on the spot. “I’m twenty-one, Jo. I’m young. I don’t know if I’m ready to stop picking flowers.”
“In order words, if something better and prettier comes along—”
“That’s not—”
“Yes, it is. Boys can be so selfish sometimes. If you want to pick flowers, then go and pick flowers, Adam Morgan. Just leave me alone while you do.”
That said, an angry and hurt Jo turned on her heel and marched back into the house.
Adam knew he’d injured her feelings and he wanted to kick himself. He’d not explained himself very well, or maybe he’d explained himself too well. Either way, Jo was mad and would probably stay that way for some time. A part of him was relieved because he had no business dallying with Dani’s sister in the first place, but another part of him was saddened by the knowledge of what would clearly never be.
Up in her room, Jo chastised herself for having any hurt feelings at all over Adam’s confession. She’d known all along that he’d meant nothing by his actions toward her; the Morgan brothers lived to turn the female head. Luckily, she’d made him tell her the truth early enough in the game not to be seriously affected, but for some reason, she didn’t feel lucky in the least.
Jo was subdued for the rest of the morning. Around noon, she ventured down the hall and knocked upon Adam’s door. “Do you want luncheon?” she asked him through the wood.
“Come on in, Jo.”
“I can’t, there’s no chaperone. Do you want something to eat or not?”
For a moment there was silence, then she heard, “Yes, I do.”
“I’ll be back then,” she told him. She turned away from the door and headed downstairs. Take that, she declared inwardly.
Adam was amused but not surprised by her attitude; Jo had always given as good as she got. He’d hurt her, and now she was punishing him. He had no recourse but to take his comeuppance like a man.
Jo made Adam a large sandwich out of some leftover roast beef and slices of Belle’s rye bread. She added a hearty wedge of last night’s apple pie, and a cup of coffee to round out the fare.
When she reached his room the door was open. He was seated outside on the porch. She called out, “I’m leaving your tray here on the dresser. If you need anything more, just yell. I’ll be downstairs.”
By the time Adam grabbed his crutches and hobbled in, she’d already gone.
Belle came home late that afternoon. Jo was in the kitchen putting the last touches on dinner. In reality, she’d done nothing but reheat last night’s leftovers, but leftovers were what her mama had instructed her to prepare, so that’s what Jo did. She gave Belle a smile of welcome. “Did Mama and Mrs. Firestone make the train?”
Belle took off her hat. “Yes, they did. How’s Adam?”
Jo snarled.
“That well, huh?”
Jo then explained how Adam had ruined George’s visit.
Belle couldn’t control her chuckle. “He actually sat on the porch with you two?”
“It wasn’t funny, Belle.”
Belle was instantly contrite. “Of course it wasn’t. I’m sorry, Jo.”
“He could have stayed upstairs. Nothing was going to happen. George is a gentleman.”
“He certainly appears to be. Adam was just being over-protective.”
“He was being nosy, that’s all.” Jo didn’t tell Belle about the flower-picking part of the conversation; she wasn’t ready to reveal that yet. “Nosy and meddlesome.”
“Well, how about I take over the care of the nosy and meddlesome Mr. Morgan for the rest of the day?”
Jo smiled happily. “The smartest thing my brother ever did was marry you.”
Belle said, “I love you, too.”
Jo said, “I’m going over to the shop to make sure I’m ready for business when I open up tomorrow.”
“All right. I’ll keep your dinner warm.”
Jo left with a wave.
Jo didn’t really have anything to do at the shop; she was always very organized. Her supplies were up to snuff, her irons and combs were clean and a stack of towels was waiting at the ready. She’d come over here to think more than anything else, so she took a seat on one of the stools. In a perfect world, everything and everyone would be just that—perfect. Trudy wouldn’t be contemplating breaking off her engagement, Jo and George would be getting to know each other better without outside interference, her menfolk wouldn’t be off at war and Adam Morgan would be gone wherever flower-pickers go. But the world was an imperfect one, one filled with war, and uncertainty, and a young woman’s inability to control anything in it. Being melancholy was uncharacteristic for Jo; she could usually ride out whatever life threw her way, but she didn’t feel like riding anything right now.
She supposed it had to do with Adam’s confession and how it made her feel. She didn’t deny she’d been hurt by it, but she should have known better. Girls like her had no business even contemplating someone like Adam; she had neither the experience nor the dash necessary not to be left flat as yesterday’s flapjacks when he moved on to another flower. She was going to have to buck up, though; there was no telling how long he would be staying with them, and if she spent the whole time moping, her mother would want an explanation. Jo was no longer twelve years old. She was a seventeen-year-old owner of her own business, and such women did not let themselves become distracted by light-skinned Canadian Lotharios.
Jo spent the entire next day doing the heads of her customers. By the time she got home late that evening she was so exhausted, even walking was a tremendous chore. She fell into one of the parlor chairs and moaned to Belle, “Tell me again why I want to be a hairdresser.”
Belle smiled. “I have some water heating on the stove if you’d like to take a long hot soak.”
“Oh, I love you more each day. That sounds perfect. How’s our guest faring?”
“Coming
along. He asked after you. He says he hasn’t seen you since yesterday.”
“Another few days won’t hurt him.”
Belle acted surprised. “Jo?”
Jo waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sorry, Belle. After I’m done with my bath I’ll stop in and say hello. I’m just tired now, is all.”
Belle nodded understandingly. “Well, I already pulled the tub into the room for you. The water should be hot enough shortly.”
The room Belle was referring to was a bathing room built off the kitchen. It was small but served its purpose well. Jo couldn’t wait to bask in the big, claw-foot tub.
After Jo had her bath and dinner, she put on an old skirt and blouse, then went down and knocked on Adam’s door.
He called out, “Come on in.”
When she entered, he nodded slightly. “Evenin’, Jo.”
Her reply was distant. “How are you, Adam?”
“Fine.”
Adam surveyed her and wondered what he’d have to do to restore the sparkle he’d become accustomed to seeing in her eyes. He asked in serious tones, “How long are you going to punish me?”
The question caught Jo off guard. “Who says that’s what I’m doing?”
“I do. You didn’t come to see me today.”
“I had appointments to honor. I’ve been home only an hour or so.”
“I want us to be friends again, Jo.”
“I don’t see why we can’t.”
Adam noted that in spite of her conciliatory words, her frosty manner could chill ice cream. “Then can I convince you to play checkers with me?”
“Sure,” she replied. “I’ll get the board.”
She turned to go. His voice stopped her. “Jojo?”
She faced him. She waited.
“I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. Truly. Please forgive me?”
Emotion swelled in Jo. The honesty in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice touched her deep inside. “I shouldn’t speak to you ever again, Adam Morgan, but you’re forgiven.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jo went downstairs to retrieve the checkerboard and pieces; she felt much better.
Jo won the first game, hands down.
Josephine Page 8