Perry glanced around the sparse sitting room, his lips pinched in disapproval. “Honestly, Jo, how are you living like this? I happen to know Kit stored your unused furniture in the attic. Tomorrow, I’ll send Carter to retrieve various pieces. You should enjoy more appropriate furnishings than an apple crate for a table. Or is it supposed to be a chair?”
Her comfort wasn’t something Kit Barnes had thought of in the past several days—another indication of his lack of consideration toward her and the difference between the two men. “Now, Perry—”
“I’m putting my foot down and will brook no argument about the matter. You say this is temporary.” He exhaled a soft snort. “I certainly hope you mean living in this house.”
When Perry made up his mind to have his way, nothing stopped him. Over the years, Joanna had succeeded in slowing his pursuit of her, but furniture wasn’t an issue worth arguing over. At any rate, she and Darcy would be more comfortable.
“I mean it, Jo, I won’t have you living like a pauper.”
Perry must have developed a skewed vision of how she lived until recently. “Very well. I’m sure Darcy will appreciate sleeping in a bed for a change.”
“That’s another thing. As inadvisable as it is to take in strays of any sort, whatever possessed you to choose a woman like that?”
Joanna stiffened. “A woman like what?”
“One in her condition, of course.”
“Darcy is no stray, as you put it.” She voiced the words in a contralto growl.
“Then where is her husband? Why isn’t he providing for her?” Perry folded his arms across his chest. Her expression no doubt matched his—heated and inflexible. At that moment, he displayed too much of his father to her liking. It reinforced Joanna’s determination never to disclose her own shameful history to him. “She’s an unmarried woman, isn’t she? She’ll give birth to a—”
“Do not say it.” Joanna forced a gentler note into her voice. “Darcy is a young woman who made a mistake. Now she has nowhere to go.”
“At least you didn’t invite her to join us today.”
“Actually, I left the decision to her, and she chose to stay here.”
“No wonder, given the circumstances.” He entrapped her within the circle of his arms. “While I question your wisdom, Jo, your kindness is a commendable virtue, so let’s not bicker. I’m just happy to have you to myself.”
Perry’s gaze burned into hers as he leaned forward. When he raised his hands and cradled her face, time and motion stopped for Joanna. She had never allowed him to go this far. A kiss to her forehead or cheek, yes, but the intention reflected in his eyes left no room for guesswork on her part. Her breath caught as a whirlwind of reasons she should let him kiss her swept up and carried away all the reasons she shouldn’t.
Yet the storm raging inside her missed one.
She twisted sideways, away from his hold. “Perry, don’t waste any more of your time with me. I can’t give you the kind of love you want.”
His nostrils flared and his jaw hardened. Then his features relaxed, and with words soft as his kiss of greeting, he said, “I’m sure you’ll change your mind, Joanna. One day.”
Would she? Perry sounded positive. Would he get his way when it came to marrying her?
Not while Kit Barnes still occupied that space in her heart reserved for the ever-after kind of love poets praised.
***
Joanna wrapped her arm around Perry’s. As they strolled through the grass toward the crowds surrounding the lake, her grip tightened. Over and over, she glanced around her, seeking familiar faces among the scattered multitude. Contrary to her better judgment, she sought one face in particular, a handsome face with pale blue eyes.
Despite the gray sky and recent rains, throngs turned out to commemorate the birth of the nation. Patriotic ribbons bedecked every costume from dresses to top hats.
The organized games would occur later. In the meantime, toward one end of the lake, town officials had set up lawn tennis nets, croquet wickets, and horseshoe pits. At the other end, a group of men played baseball while onlookers cheered. Couples rented rowboats that skimmed the water, and children ran to and fro, playing games of tag and hide and seek. Red, white, and blue bunting draped a stage and decorated several carriages. A brass band on the stage filled the park with the lively strains of John Philip Sousa’s The Washington Post.
Choosing a relatively private spot a sufficient distance from the band, Perry set the picnic basket he carried on the ground and spread a blanket on the grass. He helped Joanna into a sitting position and held her hand a bit longer than necessary. She pulled free, and his mouth turned down. “Are you still upset with my remarks regarding Darcy?”
“You know I can’t stay angry with you, no matter how vehemently we disagree.” Joanna added a smile to emphasize her remark.
“Good. As to the other subject we discussed,” Perry grinned, and handed her a plate with a fried chicken leg and potato salad, “I’ll never give up on us, Jo.”
She picked at the breading on the meat. “Why can’t we enjoy ourselves today and leave the future for another time?”
His gaze held hers. “Because there are only two things in this world I care about—you and my business.”
“Then I’m glad your father didn’t sell the broom factory.”
Perry stilled, his focus on the plate in his lap. “What makes you think he wanted to sell the factory?”
“Annie drew me a picture on a sheet of paper she found in an old wooden box belonging to Clayton. On the other side of the paper is a letter he wrote the day before he died. He was arranging to meet with someone to talk about an agreement for a purchase of the company. He never told you?”
“No.” Perry frowned, then dug into the picnic basket and pulled out a jar of tea. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
How it must hurt him to think his father sought to sell the business he labored to build. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“He’s long gone, Jo, and I’ve proven my ability to run the company. Let’s forget it.”
They ate the cold chicken and potato salad, entertained by the activity around them. Just as Joanna was beginning to enjoy the outing, a teen employed at the factory coaxed Perry to be his partner in the three-legged race near the ball field.
Perry jumped to his feet. “Do you mind, Jo?”
“Not at all. Go ahead.”
“Why don’t you join the others and watch?”
Joanna glanced around and found a tree on a knoll not far from where the competition would take place, but away from the crowd. She pointed it out. “I’ll watch from over there.”
She stood next to the tree while Perry and the boy prepared for the race. Both laughed as they tied their legs together and stumbled toward the starting line.
Grass rustled behind her.
“Afternoon, Miz Stewart.”
Joanna refused to turn around. The momentary sense of peace abandoned her. “What do you want, Liam?”
“Now is that any way to speak to the loving husband of your best friend?”
“Go away.”
His breath, overwhelming with the scent of mint, blew across the back of her neck. Somewhere, he had gotten hold of liquor and tried to cover up the odor. It had been one of Kit’s favorite tricks in the past but hadn’t quite worked for Liam. “You owe me.”
“You failed to keep your end of our agreement. I owe you nothing.” The tremble running through her negated the bravado of her speech.
Liam ran his blunt forefinger along the back of her ear and down the side of her neck in a seductive, yet covert, fashion. She shivered with disgust. He leaned over her shoulder and whispered, “I’m thinking you wouldn’t want me to tell Kit why you left your papa’s house, would you?”
Joanna took a step forward and whipped around so fast she shut her eyes to allow her vision a moment to catch up. When she opened them, she lashed out with her left hand, striking
Liam’s cheek with such force her palm stung from the impact. He jerked away and rubbed the side of his face.
“What’s going on?” Kit sprinted to her side and barged in between them. He eyed the reddened skin where her hand imprinted a mark on the right side of Liam’s face. “Are you all right, Joanna?”
A pistol shot rang out. She turned toward the three-legged race as the entrants, a blur of men and children, hopped and shuffled across the grass. “Get him away from me.”
Liam chuckled. “She misunderstood is all.”
Joanna whirled to refute Liam’s statement, but nothing in Kit’s fiery expression said he believed the lout.
“You heard Mrs. Stewart. Ben is near the bandstand. I’m sure he’ll be happy for you to join him.”
Joanna stood her ground when everything in her wanted to flee from the low, rolling thunder in Kit’s voice.
Liam glared from one to the other of them, muttered under his breath, and walked away.
Kit looked her over. “He didn’t hurt you?”
“No.” Joanna’s ear and the skin along her neck still prickled from the trace of Liam’s finger. Repulsed over the man’s touch, she let Kit believe there was nothing more to Liam’s purpose than an unwelcome overture.
He glanced around. “I wish I knew where he got the liquor.”
“I’m sure any number of men here are willing to share.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.” Kit’s gaze changed from inquisitive to cold. “What did he say to upset you?”
Liam wouldn’t tell Kit anything if he still hoped to extort money from her, so why should she? “He has no need to say much. We don’t get along. Forget this incident happened, because I will.”
Kit opened his mouth as if to argue, but she intervened. “Please.”
“All right, but if he ever gives you a problem again, I want to hear about it.” Kit reached out. She stepped back, and he dropped his arm to his side.
Shed of his third leg, Perry approached them, panting and wiping perspiration from his face. “I discovered I’m not in the proper physical condition for strenuous competition. I suppose I should start doing more calisthenics.” He frowned. “Joanna?”
She quelled the inner bedlam and assumed a relaxed expression. “I’m sorry, Perry. I’m afraid my attention drifted. Did you win?”
“We were a close second … from last.” He hesitated, then stuck a hand out. “Welcome to Banesville’s Fourth celebration, Kit.”
Indecision passed over Kit’s face. Would he tell Perry what transpired before he arrived? Joanna waited. Finally, he shook Perry’s hand and said, “Quite a gathering.”
She released her curbed breath.
Kit removed his hat and smiled as though he spoke to her for the first time that day. “It’s good to see you taking part in the festivities, Jo.”
Her stomach tumbled each time the nickname rolled off his tongue with such ease. Did he use it because the turmoil it caused showed on her face? Or was he indicating a desire for peace between them, despite the fact that, two days earlier, she’d poured her resentment over him like hot grease from a skillet?
Feeling Perry’s watchful gaze, she pretended to search the park. “Have you seen Rose and Annie?”
“Ever the entrepreneur, Mr. Medford brought an ice cream maker.” Kit spun the hat in his hands. “Annie and I have visited his shop on occasion. She’s developed a taste for the treat, especially the chocolate flavor.”
First a cat, then ice cream and teaching her to paint a house. Kit was becoming the type of father Annie had never known. He gave the impression of being fit for the role.
Kit pointed to a spot not far from a gazebo. “I’m not sure how Medford will keep up with the demand. Right now, the two of them are standing in line with at least a dozen other children and their parents.”
Joanna craned her neck to glimpse the girl laughing with a boy around her age. Poor Annie. Between Joanna’s fear and Rose’s busyness, she rarely left the house and had made no good friends in her short lifetime.
“I’ll find Ben”—Kit tipped his head in the direction Liam had gone—“before another of our men discovers a temptation.”
“One of them is drunk? Why did you allow them to attend?” Perry followed Kit’s stare though Liam was nowhere to be seen. “You’ve risked your hard work for no reason.”
“They’re not prisoners. It’s their choice to change their lives or continue in their old ways.”
When Kit turned to her, Joanna retreated a step under his piercing stare, and her back brushed the trunk of the tree. His indulgent smile held a hint of sadness. “We all make poor choices at times, choices that hurt others. I know I have, and I’m more sorry than I can ever express in words.”
Was that supposed to be an apology aimed at her, or had she read a more personal message into the statement than he meant to imply? And what was he apologizing for—Liam’s behavior today or his own years ago?
Joanna struggled to retain her skepticism toward Kit, but that hang-dog look threatened to thaw the ice encasing her resolve until it puddled at his feet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kit rode beside Donovan in one of the wagons he’d rented from a livery. He should have driven and kept his mind occupied. Instead, he sat on the hard bench with nothing to do but think, and those thoughts invariably turned to Joanna.
Why did she slap Liam yesterday? What occurred between them that neither wanted to talk about? Once they returned to the house, Liam retired to the cottage, and Kit didn’t see him again until breakfast this morning.
He’d looked for Joanna yesterday, intending to apologize, but the incident with Liam and Perry’s arrival forced him to couch the message in vague words. Had she understood his veiled request for forgiveness, and would she see a sign of his regret in this delivery? Words and deeds—both were important.
Donovan pulled up the horses in front of a neatly kept house. The man had recovered from the worst symptoms of withdrawal from alcohol, though his fight against inebriation was far from over. His spiritual progress was another matter. Donovan’s dry mouth attacked him with each mention of God.
He set the brake on the wagon and glanced at Kit. “According to Mrs. McCall, this is the one.”
Kit jumped to the ground and walked to the second wagon driven by Howard Cox. Both beds were loaded with bits and pieces of Joanna’s old furniture. “I’ll tell Mrs. Stewart we’re here.”
“You’re too late.” Cox nodded toward the house and then spit a wad of tobacco into the street.
Kit glanced over his shoulder. Joanna stood at the porch rail with her arm wrapped around a post and her expression a study in confusion. “Good morning, Jo. We brought your things.”
She descended the steps and strolled across the yard wearing a day dress of a light gray material that highlighted the gray in her eyes. Those eyes darted from one wagon to the other. “Where is Carter?”
“Carter who?”
“Didn’t Perry send you?”
His enthusiasm fell with the mention of Perry Stewart. Her dependence on the man was beginning to get his goat. “No. This was my idea.”
Her eyes ballooned and her lips parted. “Your idea?”
Was it so unbelievable that he might show her some consideration?
Joanna repeated the curious glance from one wagon to the other but said nothing. Would she reject his attempt to make up for a portion of the harm he’d done her and send everything back out of spite?
Donovan walked around the horses, impatience displayed in the set of his jaw. “Do we have your permission to unload, ma’am?”
More moments of hesitation passed, before she said, “Yes. Thank you, Mr. O’Connor.”
As they unloaded the furniture, Joanna directed them where to put it. It was clear she had expected this delivery and, in her mind, had arranged each piece beforehand.
***
Joanna instructed the men in the placement of the furniture, all the while striving
to avoid focusing on Kit.
How was she to dismiss him if he continued to come to her aid? An inward groan sapped her breath. When had she been able to keep him from her thoughts? Even during times of despising his very name, it was still lashed to her memories.
“I can’t believe we’ll actually have furniture.” Darcy ran her fingers over the worn damask material of the settee Donovan and Kit had carried into the sitting room. A sheepish grin flickered, and she rubbed her stomach in the familiar sign of nervousness. “Of course, I’m simply thankful for a roof over my head.”
“The place did appear bigger when it was empty.” Stationed in the middle of the crowded room with her arms crossed, Joanna grinned. “Mind you, I’m not complaining. A roof is good, but comfort is better.”
“The men must be thirsty after working in the heat. I think we have a lemon or two left. I’ll make a pitcher of lemonade for them.” Darcy waddled off to the kitchen.
Joanna dodged the furniture to peek out the front window. The beds of both wagons were now empty of the large pieces, and the three men each carried a box or crate toward the house.
Kit had abandoned his coat and hat upon his arrival and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The muscles in his arms and between his shoulders swelled with the weight of the contents he held, and sweat dampened his hairline.
No matter how hard she fought it, warmth oozed through her at the sight. He could have sent his men to deliver everything, like Perry had planned, but he had come himself and worked as hard as the others to see to her comfort.
Boots clumped up the porch steps. She rushed to the front door to open it. Working on the house had provided Kit with sun-golden skin, but his face was flushed from the exertion of unloading the wagons. “Rose sent you kitchen items … dishes, pans … whatever she could spare. I think you’ll also find various frills.”
Joanna dug through the box, pleased with Rose’s choices. She pulled out a feather duster. “Darcy has made do with what I’ve purchased, but the lack of what you call frills hampers her work.”
Kit led the way to the kitchen and set the box on the table he’d brought from the veranda of her old home. “If you want, we can help you unpack.”
A Reluctant Melody - Will she risk losing everything … including her heart? Page 18