A Reluctant Melody - Will she risk losing everything … including her heart?

by Ardoin, Sandra

A third step.

  For the dare in that smirk alone, Kit deserved whatever pain the cat caused him.

  Joanna marched forward, closing the space between them. She dug into the jar and then snatched his right hand. Warmth from his skin spread up her right arm like a flame. Several times, her fingers wanted to curl around his, and she forced them to straighten. She rubbed the oily salve into his wounds, pretending a calm that the tightening of her chest negated. The act of mercy took an eternity.

  Kit turned his attention to Annie, who trotted through the unkempt grass as she played with the kitten. With Liam gone, the yard was growing ever more neglected. The women hadn’t the time to care for both the inside and outside. The garden was the only area Joanna maintained.

  “Where will you and Annie go when you leave this house?”

  Unprepared for Kit’s question, she said the first thing that entered her mind. “As far from here as possible.” He tried to jerk his hand away, but she caught the tip of his finger in a vise-like grip.

  “You’re leaving Banesville?”

  “Yes.” She tugged the hand closer and continued her ministration.

  “What about Perry?”

  She stopped dabbing salve on the long scratch running the length of his index finger. “What about him?”

  His questions, his endeavor to be cordial and interested in her life, clanged like warning bells. At one time, he’d shown a similar interest, drawing her in and raising her hopes—only to destroy her through his desire to hurt his brother.

  She would pay into eternity for her lapse in judgment, for loving a man who used her and tossed her aside. Hadn’t her father said as much before he cast her out of his house? If Papa were here this minute, he would remind her again of the sin she’d committed, and the mercy she would never find from the almighty and judgment-prone Creator.

  “Given your relationship with him—”

  “Relationship? Are you implying there’s more than friendship between us?”

  “Have you forgotten I caught the two of you in an embrace?”

  “When?”

  Kit leaned forward, his gaze steady and none too gracious. “In his office. The day I arrived and you pretended to be ill.”

  If he were a man who held her in the least esteem, she would suspect jealousy in his tone. “You call that an embrace? You must be out of practice, Kit.”

  Finished with the right hand, she let go, and the warmth connecting them fled. In its place, she erected an emotional wall of ice. “Now that I’ve shown you how it’s done, I’m sure you can manage the other hand yourself.”

  After shoving the jar of ointment closer to Kit, she walked away with annoying tears welling in her eyes. She should have refused to tend his scratches. She should never have allowed him in the house last week, much less agreed to sell to him. She should have left Banesville long ago.

  If so, these emotions she’d locked in a tiny compartment of her heart would never have broken free. No matter her precautions, the frozen remnants of her love for Kit Barnes melted and flowed like black venom through Joanna’s veins.

  Forever and always.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Remember. You owe me.

  Joanna found Liam’s not-so-subtle reminder slipped under her kitchen door. She wadded the paper, threw it in the stove, and watched it shrivel and curl into black ashes. While the first message rattled her, this one infuriated her. He really thought she could forget that the entirety of Kit’s payment for her property would go to him?

  “Good morning.” Rose rushed into the house later than usual, hurried to the ice box, and pulled out the pitcher of milk. “I’m sorry I’m late. I see you’ve made coffee already.”

  Joanna poured them each a cup of the strong brew and set Rose’s on the stove, glad she’d destroyed Liam’s note. Mentioning it would only upset her friend. No matter what Rose claimed, Joanna recognized, in the lines and facial gauntness, the image of regret over a failed marriage and uncertainty over the future. Hadn’t her own mirror reflected the same worry numerous times during her union with Clayton?

  “Where’s Annie?”

  “In bed.” With her finger, Rose tested the heat on the iron surface of the stove and reached for more kindling from the wooden box on the floor. “She has a fever this morning.”

  Joanna froze with the coffee cup halfway to her mouth. “How high?”

  “Not bad.” Rose tossed kindling into the firebox and shut the door.

  “Why don’t I bring her here and put her in bed upstairs where we can keep a better eye on her?”

  “There’s nothing to be concerned about right now. I gave her tea with willow bark earlier, and she’s sleeping soundly. I’ll check on her in a bit.”

  Over the years, Joanna had lived through Annie’s teething, the coughs and sniffles from colds, a scare with measles. Children became sick, and there wasn’t anything one could do to prevent it. At these times when a mother’s care was needed, a part of her experienced the envy of a woman who must remain content with being called “Aunt Jo” rather than “Mama.”

  “Why do you think Kit Barnes brought Annie a present?”

  Rose’s question startled Joanna from her self-pity. “I wish I knew. I don’t trust him.”

  “Aren’t you being too skeptical?” Rose shut the icebox door after retrieving a bowl filled with eggs. “Maybe he’s trying to be a friend.”

  “After ruining my life? I’m sure there are plenty of other people in the world he’s damaged. Let him be their friend.”

  “I’m only saying that he seemed a nice enough man. If you give him a chance, you might find he’s changed.”

  Joanna stood with her hands on her hips, in awe of her friend’s naiveté. “Or I might be taken in by him again. I want to forget our history, not repeat it.”

  “Have you ever thought that it might take facing that history together for your wounds to heal?”

  “There’s nothing to heal.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  Was Rose suggesting that Joanna tell Kit what happened after he left her? “Kit gave up any right to learn the truth long ago. Even if he has changed, I won’t let him dredge up those days now so he can achieve a sort of self-serving penance.”

  Rose shook her head and cracked the eggs on the edge of a bowl. “I may not agree with your viewpoint, but I do understand it.”

  “Good.” Joanna paced across the kitchen floor. “He had a motive for giving Annie that kitten, and I don’t appreciate that he’s using her in whatever plan he’s concocted.”

  Rose cracked eggs in a bowl. “When it comes to using Annie, I’m afraid he’s not the only one.”

  Joanna stopped in the middle of the room. “Are you talking about Liam? Have you heard from him? Has he threatened Annie?”

  Rose beat the life from the eggs and said nothing more. Why would she want to protect her husband after all he’d done, the threats he’d made to each of them?

  Joanna marched to the back door. “Annie shouldn’t be alone in the cottage. I’ll carry her over here while you make breakfast.”

  She rushed outside, the slam of the cast iron skillet on the stove merely background noise.

  ***

  Joanna swept through the foyer, carrying another dose of the doctored tea to Annie, who rested in a bed upstairs. The door knocker sounded, and she frowned at the intrusion. With the cup and saucer balanced in her right hand, she opened the door with the left and forced herself to inhale a steadying breath.

  “Kit.” Again. Why couldn’t he leave her alone?

  “Good morning, Joanna.” His voice was smooth, but cool. He offered no smile today, genuine or taunting, but removed his hat and gestured to the towering beanstalk of a man beside him. “This is my friend and partner, Benton Greer.”

  The man whipped off his hat. “Just call me Ben, ma’am.”

  Joanna spied a third man standing behind them, inspecting the crack in a column supporting the portico. He held a pencil
and book, and his mouth puckered as if he sucked on a lemon.

  “This is Mr. Culbertson,” Kit said. “He’s the contractor we’ve hired to make necessary repairs.”

  Mr. Culbertson dipped his head. “Ma’am.”

  “Sir.”

  Perry had mentioned the possibility of Kit bringing a professional to evaluate the repairs to her house before the final papers were signed, but she didn’t welcome the arrival of these men without an appointment. Had she known in advance, she would have arranged to be elsewhere.

  Joanna turned her attention to Kit. “I’m afraid this isn’t a good time. Annie isn’t well today.” She held up the saucer. “In fact, I was just taking her something to ease her fever.”

  Concern marked Kit’s face as he eyed the staircase behind her. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothing serious.”

  “I’d like to look in on her, if I may.”

  At his request, Joanna narrowed her eyes. “And when did you receive your medical degree, Dr. Barnes?”

  Kit’s jaws twitched as if he ground his back teeth. “I won’t disturb her.”

  “She’s resting.”

  “I said I wouldn’t disturb her.”

  Mr. Culbertson’s curiosity shifted between the two of them. No doubt he memorized each word of their discussion, planning to return to town with quite a story. Her desire to argue flagged in the face of potential gossip and Kit’s determined and stony glare. “You may say hello from the doorway of her room.”

  Ben Greer rested a hand on the contractor’s shoulder. “Why don’t we take a stroll about the outside and let you get a better look at what needs to be done?”

  The two men walked away, leaving Joanna alone with a sour-faced Kit. The cup rattled on the saucer, so she steadied it with her free hand. Halfway up the stairs, his grunt halted her. She turned to find him shaking the banister. “Is there a problem?”

  He shook the top rail one more time as if she didn’t already know there were loose spindles. “I’ll bring this to Mr. Culbertson’s attention. It should be fixed right away, before anyone is hurt.”

  Joanna continued up the stairs. “I hope your contractor brought an adequate amount of writing paper to make notes.”

  She led the way toward a bedroom at the front of the house. That morning, she had opened the outer doors at each end of the hall to allow the scarce air that stirred to travel from the front to the rear of the house. It helped, but after climbing the stairs, she wanted to wipe the back of her hand across her forehead and upper lip to rid her skin of the beading moisture.

  Who was she trying to fool? She tramped up and down these steps numerous times a day without this result. But those trips weren’t made with Kit walking at her heels.

  Joanna stopped outside the door of Annie’s room. Kit bumped her back and grabbed her shoulders to keep her from tripping forward. The now lukewarm tea in the cup sloshed and spilled over into the saucer and splashed her hand.

  She squiggled from his hold and faced him. “Why are you so intent on seeing Annie?”

  Kit backed a step and lifted a shoulder. “I’m concerned. I’d like to pray for her health.”

  Pray? Kit? Joanna would have laughed if his expression didn’t gush with sincerity.

  “Aunt Jo?”

  Barely discerning Annie’s whimper, she hurried into the darkened bedroom, careful not to leave a trail of tea on the floorboards. She lowered the cup and saucer to a nearby table, next to the carved box from the attic, and eased onto the mattress. Curled at the foot of the bed, Jelly awakened and rose, then arched her back in a stretch that ended with her claws coiling into the chenille spread.

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Are you talking to the mister who gave me Jelly?”

  “Yes. His name is Mr. Barnes, and he’d like to say hello.” Joanna brushed strands of hair from Annie’s face and paused with her fingers on the child’s brow. Still warm. “You need more rest. I’ll ask him to leave.”

  Annie propped herself on one elbow and scooped Jelly up next to her. “Can’t I see him?”

  This child who feared most men asked to see Kit? Apparently, the going rate for her trust these days was the gift of a kitten.

  “All right.” Without glancing in his direction, she motioned Kit into the room.

  He crossed the floor and stopped next to her. To Joanna, the dimly lit and quiet room heightened the spicy scent of his hair oil, the heat from his body, and the sound of his breathing. As he crouched beside the bed, his arm brushed Joanna’s knee. She sprang to her feet and crept to the window.

  “What’s this I hear about you not feeling well, Annie?”

  Joanna peered through the glass. Attempting to ignore the wisps of their words and soft exchanges of humor, she concentrated on the antics of several robins as they pecked the dirt. Kit had a knack for befriending children. They flocked to him like those robins flocked to the sounds of insects underground.

  A flash of memory weakened Joanna, and she slumped against the windowsill.

  So long ago, she’d lain on a bed in a miserably hot and dreary room with her ears covered to block the continual roar of her father’s chastisement and her own screams. Pain had quaked through her and perspiration soaked her clothing. Rose wiped her face and whispered assurances of God’s care to counteract Papa’s claims of eternal destruction. All the while, Joanna held to a feeble hope of forgiveness. Before that day ended, her hope died.

  And why not? It never stood a chance against God’s judgment.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kit followed Joanna down the stairs. This time, he avoided running his hand along the wobbling rail. What other problems with the house posed a threat to Annie’s well-being?

  Once they reached the foyer, Joanna nodded to Ben and Mr. Culbertson, who waited near the door. She excused herself and rounded the back side of the staircase before Kit could thank her for letting him talk to the girl. Was she angry because he’d insisted upon seeing for himself that Annie wasn’t terribly ill?

  As they approached the bedroom earlier, he’d thought the child called for an aunt, but in light of Annie’s feeble voice, he must have heard wrong.

  Ben stepped away from Mr. Culbertson and leaned in close to whisper, “Is she all right?”

  “Annie? I’m sure it’s nothing. We had a pleasant conversation.” Kit could accuse Joanna of a number of unflattering things, but he’d never accuse her of raising a disagreeable child.

  “What about Mrs. Stewart? She was upset.”

  Kit stared down the hall toward the music room. “I believe that’s her natural state these days.”

  He eyed the inquisitive contractor who ran a plump hand over the papered walls of the family parlor. Mr. Culbertson made a notation in the book he carried. “How do things look, sir?”

  The man raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Got to check the upper floors.”

  Kit climbed the stairs once more and stopped to point out the loose spindles. “For the child’s safety, will you send a man to fix these immediately? I’m afraid she’ll be hurt.”

  Culbertson nodded and made another notation. Joanna had a point with her comment about the contractor needing plenty of paper.

  Each of them halted on the stairs when the piano chords encompassed them. On one side, they filtered up from the hallway next to the staircase. On the other, they drifted through the wall, tickling Kit’s ears with the rise and fall of the melody. Thanks to the piano lessons his grandmother foisted on him as a youth, he recognized, yet couldn’t recall the correct Mozart concerto.

  Ben grinned. “Heavenly music. You never mentioned Mrs. Stewart’s artistry on the piano.”

  Kit nodded, hesitant to destroy the beauty of the performance through the sound of his voice. He glanced at Mr. Culbertson. The man stood with his eyes closed, breathing in the music as if it came from Mozart himself. A smile tilted his lips, and his toe tapped the tread of the stair.

  The lively allegro tempo gave way
to a slower andante before the movement changed again. Kit imagined Joanna’s fingers floating over the keys with the precision of one who performed concertos for her livelihood, which sparked a memory, both ephemeral and electrifying. It was a memory of those same long, lithe fingers as they caressed his face from his temple to his jaw.

  Shame worked on him like Jelly’s claws. He closed his mind to the inappropriate thoughts and replaced them with Wednesday’s vision and the sound of feminine laughter. The glee had enticed him to the back of the house. There, he watched Joanna jump rope, unable to turn away from the pure, carefree enjoyment in her behavior. Once she spotted him, the merriment vanished.

  If given the chance, he’d intended to bring up the subject of Annie’s father that day. Not knowing was driving him to distraction. Then he learned Joanna intended to leave Banesville, and his purpose splintered like the wood on the outside of this house. If she confirmed his suspicion about Annie, what would he do? Until he could answer that question, he’d bide his time.

  “Let’s carry on with the upper floors, shall we?” Kit’s words spilled out in a razor-sharp command.

  After inspecting the second and third floors, the three of them entered the foyer again. The music swirled around them with the same intensity as before. Surely, she’d worn her fingers to a nub by now.

  Kit raised his voice to be heard over a crescendo. “Well, Mr. Culbertson?”

  The man jerked his head, imploring them to follow, and walked out the front door. He stopped under the porte-cochere. “As beautiful as Mrs. Stewart plays, I couldn’t hear myself think.”

  Mr. Culbertson opened the book he carried and ran his finger down the page. “I’ve made an extensive list of repairs. The worst involves the chimney on the southeast side of the house. I counted a number of bricks to be replaced. The roof needs patching. A number of the slate shingles are missing.”

  Mr. Culbertson pointed to a column supporting the portico. “See that crack? Runs vertical about ten feet. It’ll only get worse with time. Inside, I found walls with holes in the plaster, and water has leaked through the roof to stain a ceiling in a second-floor bedroom. Everything needs new paint.”