by Jill Barnett
“Good Lord! Did that mule-headed man tell you all this?”
“I heard him talking to Lee, in the study, just before the wedding.”
“Ah, the wedding fiasco. Now I understand,” Maddie murmured.
“Oh Maddie, I’m so miserable.”
“I can see that.” Maddie rubbed her hands over her eyes as if she were struggling with a decision. She took a deep breath. “I guess I’d better tell you the whole thing, as I know it.”
Hallie sniffed. “Is it a different story?”
“No,” Maddie replied. “But I think if I tell you the whole story, then maybe you’ll be able to understand him.”
She started with Kit’s childhood, telling Hallie of the competition that existed between the four brothers, and how Kit, being the youngest, fought so hard to keep up with his older brothers.
“Oh, they are a handsome lot, those boys, but somehow Kit has always had a special place in my heart. Maybe I was removed enough to see how hard he struggled to be like the older two. I think that was what sent him out on the whalers when he was only sixteen. The older two took their places—Ben, the eldest, ran the Howland fleet of whalers, and Tom handled the Meecham shipbuilding after his grandfather stepped down—but Kit found his own niche on the whale ships. He was determined to know every facet of whaling, and he loved the sea. You could see his face light up whenever he was near the wharves. His father saw it, too, so when Kit had a chance to go on his first voyage, the only one who tried to stop him was my sister. Kit finally convinced her himself, and it turned out to be the best thing for him. He’d come home from a voyage, and it wasn’t long before he’d get unsettled and off he’d go again. He loved the sea, so much so, he earned his master’s papers before his twenty-second birthday.”
That surprised Hallie, since twenty-two was an extremely young age to have earned the captaincy of a whaler. Usually, the crew needed someone older, stronger, and more experienced to earn their confidence and respect.
Maddie smiled. “Oh, if you could have seen him when he came home, he was a sight, so proud and self-assured. I couldn’t have been prouder if he’d been my own son. And his father, well, he about bust his buttons.”
Hallie saw Maddie’s eyes cloud with regret.
“It wasn’t too long after Kit’d earned his papers that his relationship with Josephine Taber changed. It went from childhood friendship to something . . . much stronger. The Tabers and the Howlands were almost like family. Jo and her brothers grew up with Tom, Ben, and Kit. Jo and Kit were forever shadowing the older ones. I think that’s why she and Kit were close. They were always left behind by the others. Jo used to come up with some wonderfully original ways to get even with the older boys, and she and Kit got into more scrapes.
“Whenever there was trouble, Jo was around. She was a wild little thing. Her father used to laugh about her antics. He’d say she did the first thing that flew into her head. I always thought she was overly reckless, but then I think her parents did, too, because they were quite relieved when she and Kit married.”
It was difficult for Hallie, listening to her husband’s past, especially the parts about Jo. But Hallie needed to know about this, as hard as it was, because while she listened, she could feel some obscure void within her being filled.
“I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Hallie,” Maddie told her. “Those first two years, they were inseparable, and very much in love.”
It did hurt—the thought of Kit’s loving marriage—but Hallie appreciated Maddie’s honesty, because she had to know, everything.
“I never could figure out what went wrong, none of us could.” Maddie’s face reflected the bewilderment of her words. “Jo had always gone with Kit on his voyages, and then, just before they were to leave on another one, she got a terrible case of influenza, and the doctor wouldn’t let her go. She didn’t like it much, but with the doctor, Kit, his parents and hers, all in agreement, well, she couldn’t fight them all. He was gone sixteen months, and I thought she was going to wither up and die without him. She was withdrawn, and quiet, and completely unlike her usual spunky self. We all wrote it off to loneliness and just plain lovesickness, but then Kit came home and all hell broke loose.” Maddie paused, shaking her head at the memory.
Then she continued. “Within a week, they were sparring like the worst of enemies. Jo was awful. She picked at him, she belittled him in front of everyone, and she left him for days on end with no explanation. It was almost as if she were punishing him for leaving her for so long; at least that’s what we all finally decided. Kit tried everything, and he put up with more than anyone should ever have to, but finally she broke him.”
Hallie’s stomach tightened with the pain-filled picture Maddie painted. Kit must have been so hurt.
“She went off on one of her jaunts, and Kit readied the ship and left. He cut the voyage short and came home three months later, but by then it was too late. She’d been killed in that carriage accident in Boston. When he found out about Jo’s lover, he told both families, together, and Jo’s father came unglued, calling Kit a liar. He said his daughter wouldn’t do that and that Kit must have driven her away. God, what a scene! Ben and Tom had to pull them apart before they killed each other. Her father was sorry later, but by then Kit was on his way out here and he’d changed. It was as if any love he had was sucked dry. The only emotion in him was an intense hurt and anger. No one could reach him. That boy erected a wall around him that was so hard, a cannon wouldn’t break it.”
Hallie’s fists were as tight as the knot in her stomach. She could only imagine Kit’s pain. While she had lost both parents and the loss hurt, at least she had known they died loving her and her brothers and sisters. But to lose someone you loved when you knew they hated you had to be a helpless feeling. Kit was a proud man, and as such, that sense of failure would haunt him.
“He needs someone to shatter that wall, Hallie. I think someone who loves him can do it.” Maddie sounded much more confident than Hallie felt.
“I don’t know how, Maddie.”
“It’s not going to be easy, Hallie, don’t think I’m saying it is. There’s going to have to be tons of giving on your part, and not a lot in return, at least at first.” Maddie grabbed her hand again. “You’ve got a few things in your favor. First of all, Kit cares about you.”
She groaned in disbelief.
“Stop that!” Maddie ordered. “He does care, I can see it. The seeds are there, but you’ll have to be the one to make them grow. You are married, and while I’m almost sorry I forced that, I still believe it was best for both of you. What has Kit said about the marriage? You must have talked some.”
“He said he was sorry he’d hurt me, and that he’d like to forget what’s happened and maybe we could reach some sort of compromise.” Hallie looked sheepish. “He said I could name the terms, and that’s when I told him he had to sleep in the chair.”
This time Maddie’s laughter wasn’t covered up. “Oh Hallie, you really are good for him. I wish I could have seen his face.”
By this time Hallie was smiling, too. She couldn’t help it when she remembered Kit’s stunned face. It had been almost comical. “He was . . . a little surprised.”
“I can imagine.” Maddie laughed harder, and it was contagious.
“He did look awfully silly with his long legs hanging over the arm of the chair.” Hallie grinned, and then her own laughter sang out.
Then Maddie grew serious. “If you love him, Hallie, you’ll try to help him forget the past. Use all that love of yours to help my nephew.” She squeezed Hallie’s hand. “Please.”
Hallie wanted to try again, even without Maddie’s plea. She just didn’t know if Kit could ever love her. It seemed so hopeless. Of course, if she didn’t give it one last try, she would probably always wonder whether she could have done it. The doubt would haunt her to
her grave.
“I’ll try,” she told Maddie. “After all, what have I got to lose?”
Hallie got up and left the room, under the pretext of checking on the children. She reached the hall and then mentally answered her own question. She could lose her self-respect, her happiness, her dignity, and her heart. But then, hadn’t she already lost her heart? Besides, she mentally argued, while the stakes were high, the prize was everything she could ever want; if Kit could learn to love her, it was worth any risk.
Chapter Twenty-one
Kit was late, much later than he’d expected when he sent the note home. But it was unavoidable, and what was one missed supper when he’d just made such a good deal? The papers were signed and the last of his burdens lifted. It was perfect timing. Now, if he could just keep Hallie from finding out.
Once home, Kit went directly to the study so he could hide the agreements in his desk. He lit the desk lamp and automatically reached down to open the bottom drawer. It was already open and still filled with cats. He put his papers in another drawer.
He spied his pipe sitting by a small tobacco holder. A smoke would be relaxing, and the smell of burning tobacco might help dispel the lingering essence of skunk that still in the room. As he puffed on his pipe, Kit thought about the radical changes in his life over the last six weeks. Despite the smell, his study was as immaculate as the rest of his home. While he had groused about Maddie, he had to admit that his life had taken a change for the better.
The kittens stirred, bringing the memory of the looks on the children’s faces when they hovered over the animals. The twins had been examining those cats with so much curiosity and awe that for once they were quiet. It was then that Kit suddenly saw the difference between the two boys; it was in their eyes—a look—and the minute he saw it, he knew he would never again confuse the two. And then there was Liv, whose pride-filled face caused him to smile even now. He would bet that at nine, Hallie had looked just like Liv. When she patted his shoulder and thanked him, any thoughts of his damaged contracts had disappeared as fast as the food on Lee’s plate.
The children had changed his life, given him a purpose, and really made him feel as if he had a home. He had always thought that kids were interesting little beings, but never knew how rich life could be until he saw it through the fascination of a child’s eyes. Marbles and kittens, even skunks, were no longer just toys and animals, but instead, each became a special wonder that colored the way he viewed things. Nothing seemed quite so urgent or so crucial, and it was a comfortable feeling.
However, there was one new aspect of his life that was not simpler. His marriage to Hallie. Kit Howland, who had vowed never to marry again, had done so under pressure, and to a girl who was thirteen years younger. Of course, he hadn’t wanted to marry Hallie, but he’d done enough fool things to make the marriage a just punishment. Then again, it would be a punishment only if he spent his entire marriage sleeping on a sofa or in a damn uncomfortable chair.
Until Hallie, he had forgotten what it was to want a woman—one certain woman—so badly that it haunted you, day in and day out. While he had fought that very desire, it hadn’t done a bit of good. He still wanted her.
When they made love, it had been the worst possible time. She was hurt and he was angry. She was a young virgin, and her hysterics afterward were probably milder than he deserved, considering his belligerent attitude. Now he was paying for it, and he wondered how long it would be before he could hold her without reading a glimmer of fear in those expressive eyes of hers, or before he could teach her how gently his body could love her.
Kit drew on the pipe, but it had burned out. He emptied it, laid it on its wooden stand, then stood up. After foolishly saying good night to the damn cats, he turned down the lamp and left the room. A clatter sounded from the kitchen, drawing his attention to the light spilling from beneath the door. Someone was still up.
He walked in, and there was Hallie in her nightclothes, and, God help him, her hair was down.
“Hello,” she said so quietly he wondered if he’d imagined it.
“It’s late.”
“I thought you’d be hungry, so I kept some things warm for you.” She walked over to the stove and grabbed one of the aprons hanging nearby. She tied it around her waist, and the ties tangled in her hair. “Can you help me, please? I’ve got this awful hair caught.”
Awful? Kit went to her aid, and touched the curtain of her hair. It caressed his fingertips. He parted it and tied the strings.
“I’m sorry about this,” Hallie said over her shoulder. “I should cut it off, but—”
“No!” he shouted so loud she jumped.
She looked at him like he was crazy.
“There, you’re all fixed up.” He was a fool. All it took was the whispering brush of her hair across his skin and he was burning up.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” Kit spun around in self-defense and got a mug from the shelf. Then he froze. It was a bad tactic. He had to go back over to the range to get the coffee.
“Go sit down and eat so it doesn’t get cold. I’ll bring the coffee and some bread and butter.” She dished up some stew and handed it to him, taking the empty mug out of his hand.
Kit sat down and stared at the food. He didn’t have any silverware.
Hallie brought the coffee and looked at his untouched plate. “Oh! How silly of me, I forgot the fork.”
She—and her hair—spun around.
He took a huge gulp of hot coffee, which burned his mouth and throat, and probably the inside of his stomach.
“Here,” she said, holding out a fork and napkin.
He took them and dug into the stew. Just as he had his mouth open over the fork, she walked across the kitchen, her hips swaying in the same rolling, undulant motion of her hair.
Damn, it was hot in here.
Her dressing gown was some pink thing that belted around her waist. Her waist was small for such a tall woman, and her hips were just wide enough to cradle his own.
Kit shoved the tasteless stew into his burned mouth and chewed. He was in bad shape tonight.
“There,” she said, setting a plate of bread and some butter on the table.
He shoveled more stew in his mouth.
She sat down, put her chin on her hands and smiled at him.
He stopped chewing and stared back. What the hell was she doing, watching him eat?
She picked up a slab of bread and spread butter on it. “Here, have some bread. Maddie just baked it this morning.”
She’s buttering my bread?
Kit forced his mouth into a grimace. It locked his jaw and kept his mouth from gaping open.
When he didn’t take the bread, she laid it on the rim of his plate.
“How is it?” she asked.
Hard. Very, very hard.
“The stew. It’s okay?” she repeated, still sweetly staring at him.
“Fine.” He stuffed the bread into his mouth and concentrated on chewing the hell out of it.
She eyed his half-empty mug. “I’ll get you some more coffee.”
Kit raised his hand, intending to stop her, but she was already at the range, coffeepot in hand. Why didn’t she leave? She was acting skittish enough, so he knew she was nervous. He could grab her and kiss her. That ought to send her running, except he knew if he touched her, he’d lose his finely held control and then never get near her again.
She refilled his mug and put the coffee back. “Well, I guess I’ll go upstairs.”
Thank God!
“Do you need anything else?”
Don’t say it, his conscience warned. Kit swallowed his first answer. “No, I’m fine.” His voice cracked, and he held his breath.
“Oh. Well, I’ll see you upstairs?”
He didn’t look at her. He just nodded, and when he heard the door close, expelled his breath and sagged against the chair. His food rolled around his belly like a cannonball. Kit tossed his fork on the table, knowing he couldn’t touch another bite. His consuming hunger had nothing to do with food.
A door closed in the room above him. Hallie was in their bedroom. He sat looking at the ceiling and listening to the sounds she made. She kicked off her slippers. He could hear them thud lightly on the wooden floor, and then she padded across the room. She stood in the middle of the room above, right next to where he knew the bed sat. The bed creaked softly, and Kit envisioned Hallie cloaked in a fine veil of hair and sitting on the edge of the bed, right where he wanted her. He closed his eyes and groaned.
He pacified himself with the knowledge that before long she’d be asleep, and then he could go up without worrying about this intense desire. If he gave in to it, the way he felt right now, he would probably scare her to death, and then he would never get near her. No, what he needed was patience and timing. He would wait.
It was quiet up there, and Kit took a deep, relaxing breath. Not long, he thought. He picked up his plate. The stew was cold and the meat juices were starting to congeal. He put the bread on top of the stew, covering it so he didn’t have to look at it.
Not much longer.
Picking up the coffee, Kit sipped it, and then he heard her. His gaze shot upward as the sound of her pacing seeped down from above. He groaned and waited. The pacing continued. What the hell was she doing? Maybe she couldn’t sleep; it was a possibility, even if the steps pattered with the beat of impatience.
He stood and carried the plate toward the waste barrel while the pacing continued. No, he thought, shaking his head in disbelief, she wouldn’t be waiting for him, would she?
Ah damn, she was. Kit changed directions and headed for the back door. He flung it open and heaved the plate into the backyard. It was a stupid and rash act that did nothing more than make him feel good, for about two seconds.