Endless Heart: Heart, Book 3

by Emma Lang

  After taking a deep breath, she put her hand on the knob, half-expecting it not to turn. However, it moved easily, and the door swung open.

  The bed was empty.

  Surprised couldn’t describe what she felt. The man couldn’t sit up fifteen minutes ago. Where was he? She swung around as though someone was standing behind her, but the hallway was empty, the rest of the bedroom doors open. A small sound came from the corner of the room.

  She peeked around the door, heart in her throat, bladder threatening to let loose. There sat Mr. Murphy, his naked back gleaming in the sun, curled into a ball, his arms around his head, knees up. The position was so achingly familiar her annoyance and fear vanished. She knew what it was to be flat-out terrified. For the first time in a very long time, Lettie was the one who could help.

  Normally the recipient of assistance, she hadn’t reached out to another human being to offer anything but a plate of food in at least six years. The stranger roused the sleeping conscience within her, the one beaten into submission by hard fists. She closed the door and got to her knees in front of him, trying not to startle him. He wore his drawers only, and a pitiful pair they were.

  “Mr. Murphy?” She kept her voice low.

  He made a sound deep in his throat, a part-growl, part-whimper, and tried to make himself smaller. Shane was a big man, and it seemed impossible he could be any tinier than he was, but he managed it. Lettie slid up beside him, as Angeline had done for her so many times, and lowered her arm until it touched his bare shoulders. His skin was cool and clammy. She told herself not to pull away—he needed her. Right now that was more important than following her no-touching rule.

  “I’m here now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  He shuddered at the contact, but he didn’t push her away or protest. She let her arm relax until it was across his back—his very wide back. She could barely reach his other shoulder. He trembled so hard it made her bones rattle. Lettie conjured Angeline’s strength and found herself talking in soothing tones, her body heat warming his chilled flesh.

  “I’m sorry, Violet. So sorry.”

  Her name, again, from his lips. Her stomach clenched, sending the taste of bile into her throat. She nearly ran from the room. There had to be a logical explanation. Obviously there had been someone named Violet in his life and he was apologizing to her. There was no chance he knew Lettie’s first name or the shortened version of it she used now.

  “It’s okay, Shane.” She rubbed his back. Being close to him and providing comfort made her feel awkward and unnerved. “I, uh, forgive you.”

  He turned his head and snuggled against her until her chin rested on his hair, which stank to high heaven. She couldn’t pull away now. The man needed her no matter how uneasy she was.

  “I ain’t never been the husband you needed. I’m sorry, so sorry,” he mumbled against her neck. It appeared Violet was his wife, and Shane suffered guilt over something he’d done.

  “Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Lettie repeated herself over and over in a singsong pattern. It wasn’t the words, it was the tone. She knew that firsthand.

  Ten minutes passed, and she realized he had calmed because of her ministrations. He’d relaxed so much he’d fallen asleep.

  Well, wasn’t this a predicament. Here she was all cozy with a stranger, who was bloody, reeked and only wearing his drawers. Lettie wanted to run from the room like her ass was on fire, yet she stayed, strangely gratified to be able to console him.

  Chapter Two

  Lettie walked home slowly, her mind and her gut awhirl. The sun had dropped low in the sky, painting the way for her in orange and pink. The day had taken a wrong turn somewhere, as though it had been part of a dream. Shane Murphy’s presence in her life had twisted everything sideways.

  Emotions and thoughts she hadn’t permitted now rolled through her. Heck, they rolled over her. She felt as though she’d been in a fight, exhausted and quivering. The memory of the unusual moment when she’d been in the corner with him made her heart flutter each time she thought of it.

  Nothing like that had happened to her before—nothing. Helping him, being the person to give comfort and soothe someone in need, well that was plumb loco. Lettie was the last one to expect it to happen. She barely spoke to anyone, for pity’s sake. And she didn’t like people in general, so why had she been compelled to do what she did?

  She had no explanation of course, which was why she couldn’t stop thinking about it. The fact she had also touched him, his bare body no less, weighed on her mind as well. His skin had been cool but smooth and taut as well. Although he had horribly rank body odor, it wasn’t repulsive to be close to him. She could still feel him, like the ghost of his form clung to her.

  Lettie shook her hand as though to fling away the sensation. She never expected anything good to happen. Life had taught her things were hard until they became harder. Shane Murphy obviously knew that rule too, judging by the condition of his life.

  With a start, she realized she was at the house she lived in, standing at the door like a fool. If she were lucky, no one witnessed her silly woolgathering. Bad enough she was spending time thinking about a stranger, a man.

  Lettie opened the door quickly and stepped inside. The interior soothed her. Something about the house made her feel safe. It served as both a home and the newspaper office. Due to the generosity of Angeline and her husband, Lettie had been lucky enough to be invited to live there and be responsible for printing the newspaper.

  Sometimes when she was with the young married couple, Lettie had to look away, unable to watch her friends be affectionate with each other. It hurt to see what they had, what she would never have, could never have. Angeline seemed to understand because she never made Lettie feel bad for the way she acted.

  Angeline was a true friend, someone genuine and pure of heart. Lettie knew she was beyond lucky to live in this house, but she also knew time was ticking away. While she loved Angeline as a sister of her heart, she could not live there forever. They came by the house often—considering Sam owned it and the newspaper, it was expected. Some days Lettie remained at the restaurant late so she didn’t have to see them together.

  The hourglass was slowly emptying of sand. Someday Lettie would need to move on. It wasn’t her house after all. For now, she stayed put, almost content to have a place to call her own, or at least a safe haven to live in.

  She walked into the room that held the printing press. This was her place, where she felt at peace. The machine, the ink, the paper, it all made sense to her. Human beings were confusing and unpredictable. This hulking press was a constant companion, whether it was working as intended or not. She could figure it out without involving emotion, except perhaps annoyance. Until arriving in Forestville, she hadn’t been around a machine like this one. She’d felt a connection right away, and to her secret delight, Sam had taught her how to use it.

  Tonight she didn’t need to print the paper, but just being there helped calm her. Strangely enough she found a sparrow feather lying right on top as though someone had left it for her. After brushing it to the floor, she went to work cleaning, intending the activity to take her mind off Shane Murphy. With a rag and some mineral oil, she worked at the ink that had splattered on the sides of the press. She didn’t know how much time passed before she sensed she wasn’t alone any longer.

  “Who was he?” Sam leaned against the doorway. His straight black hair, dark eyes and light copper skin made him stand out as half-Indian. What others saw as something to scorn, Angeline found special.

  “Who was who?” Lettie kept at her scrubbing, her fingers now stained with ink.

  “Don’t be coy, Lettie. That’s not your way.” His gaze bored into her back. “When a stranger appears in Forestville, it’s news.”

  She sighed and turned to look at him, propping a fist on her right hip. “He’s no one. A stranger who was in a bad way. Marta wanted to do him a kindness and docto
red him. End of the news.”

  Oh how she lied. There was so much more to what happened, but she didn’t want to share that with Sam, not because he was her friend’s husband but because he wrote the news. The last thing she needed was to have folks gossiping about her and the stranger who fell into the Blue Plate, or rather onto her feet.

  “The way Dennis Fox tells it, he was dead, and you brought him back to life.”

  Shock spread through her, turning her mouth dry and making her heart thump hard. “What?”

  Sam raised his brows. “A fantastic story, but it’s already spread. I heard talk of it at the mercantile.”

  “Damn.” She threw the rag at the machine, unsatisfied with the gentle thwack it made as it hit. “That little booger. I should’ve gagged him.”

  “He didn’t mean any harm. Besides, it gives people something to talk about besides your growl.” Sam’s mouth curved into a grin. “Sometimes you do try to be scary, you know.”

  Lettie didn’t want to smile back, but her lips twitched. Sam was one of the few people she would let tease her. It was done out of affection, not out of meanness. He seemed to understand her, perhaps because of Angeline, but she also knew he meant no harm.

  She wouldn’t expect the same from other folks in town. Dennis’s story would spread and only get worse the longer Shane was at the Blue Plate. She had to convince Marta to move the man to the doctor’s place as soon as possible.

  “He also said you patched him up and let him sleep in your bed.”

  “It ain’t my bed. Hasn’t been since I moved in here. That little bastard.” Lettie headed for the door. She would find the little shit and holler at him until he stopped spreading tales. Sam blocked her path. His broad shoulders nearly filled the door.

  “He’s eleven, Lettie. I talked to him, and he changed his mind about telling such stories. I explained how people would think badly of you, and he understood. In fact I think he was remorseful.” Sam held up his hands. “You can yell at him if you want, but I think he might be hiding from you already.”

  Lettie’s anger at the boy dissipated in a blink. She didn’t want to be the frightening old lady who made children hide from her. That wasn’t who she was.

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re scary anymore.” He smiled. “Of course you did try to scare me once, but I’m glad you didn’t.”

  Lettie had threatened him with bodily injury if he hurt Angeline, the one person she would kill for. Even then, he understood she was all bluster and no bite. Either that or he knew her anger was her defense and saw behind it. Sam was a good man, the best she’d met in her life. The only person she would trust Angeline with.

  “Thank you, I think.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, her gut churning. It was probably a good thing she hadn’t eaten, or she’d feel worse than she did.

  “Why don’t you come by for supper tomorrow? Angeline has had her eye on a hen for a few days. Thinking about making chicken and dumplings. All she thinks about is food these days.” This time his grin spread from ear to ear. As expectant parents, their happiness grew with each passing moment. Lettie was happy for them, truly she was, but she was too much of a mess on the inside to have children of her own.

  Yet another reason to keep away from her friends. It hurt too much to see what they had, knowing she would never have a taste of it in her life. One day she might not be selfish, but for now she did what she had to do.

  “I’m working tomorrow night. Alice has some shindig over in Benson she is going to with a beau, and Karen can’t serve the supper crowd alone. We’re still short-handed.” It was the truth, even if it made it convenient not to visit Angeline and Sam.

  His smile fell. “I need to help you find a replacement for Angeline. We’ll put an ad in the newspaper next week.”

  “There isn’t anyone in Forestville, so we’ll need to throw the papers into the west wind to find someone.”

  Sam’s brows went up. “Did you just make a joke?”

  Lettie shook her head. “Now why would I do that? I’m not funny.”

  He laughed. “I’ll have the first drafts ready for you by Monday night.” To her surprise, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Lettie.”

  She stood there for a few minutes after he left, overwhelmed by the strange and crazy day she’d had. Perhaps tomorrow would be more normal, and if she had her way, Shane Murphy wouldn’t be part of it for long.

  His hands were strong and callused as they ran up and down her legs. The smooth rasp of them on her bare skin raised goose bumps. She arched into his touch, eager for more, wanting to feel his hands all over. He chuckled softly as though he knew what she was thinking.

  “More,” she ordered.

  “Eager, are you?” His voice was like whiskey, smoky and deep. He kissed one knee then the other.

  She let her legs fall open, the cool night air bathing her heated core. There was no one who made her feel this way but him. He seemed to know where to put each lick, each kiss, each stroke to maximize her pleasure. There was no book, no conversation, to tell him how to accomplish these feats, only pure instinct. She never wanted another.

  His palms skimmed her hips, bypassing her pussy by inches. A small moan crept up her throat as tingles spread through her. Every small hair stood on end. His teasing was almost as pleasurable as the lovemaking. The anticipation made the actual act that much more intense.

  When he reached her breasts, he cupped them, circling round the nipples while he kissed his way up her belly. His cock brushed against her knee, then her inner thigh. She held her breath, waiting for more.

  His mouth closed around her nipple, and he sucked hard. She thrust her hips up, finding his staff inches away from her aching center. She looked into his smoky eyes.

  “My Violet.” He entered her in one thrust.

  Lettie woke up with her heart pounding and the blood rushing past her ears like a river. She was covered in sweat, her night rail rucked up around her hips, bare to the open air.

  It was a dream. A dream.

  Her entire body was on fire, burning for the touch of an unknown man in a dream. Oh but he wasn’t unknown. Lettie would be lying to herself if she called him that. For sure, it was Shane Murphy. The man’s gray eyes were unmistakable.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The night air was sticky and stagnant. She had left the window open in hopes of a breeze, but there wasn’t a whisper of one. She poured tepid water into the basin and splashed her face with shaking hands.

  Lettie had never found pleasure with a man. Hell, she’d never found pleasure with herself. That part of her was dead or had never worked at all. Or so she’d thought.

  Judging by the incredibly erotic dream she just had, that wasn’t true at all. What had brought it on? Touching his skin? She hadn’t thought anything of it, at least not in that way, when she’d been comforting him. It was the contact of one human being to another, nothing more. It must have awakened something inside her that reared its head while she slept.

  To her shame, her nipples were hard and her pussy ached a bit. Her dreams had affected her physically in a way she was at a loss to handle. Lettie never planned on being with a man again, ever. If she kept dreaming about Shane, something was going to happen, good or bad.

  She knew she wouldn’t sleep anymore, so she slipped off her damp night rail and hung it on the hook. A rustle in the bushes outside had her in a crouch, her arms crossed around her protectively. It was likely a bird, but it scared her. She crawled over and shut the window as quick as she could, then sat beneath the sash, shaking.

  She had to talk to Angeline.

  Shane smelled something good, really good. His stomach rumbled then howled as the scent permeated the air around him.

  Ham.

  He hadn’t had good ham in ages, and the memory of curing some in the smokehouse when he was young crowded his mind. Pa had taught him everything he needed to know about being a farmer, and he’d
smoked the best ham in the county. Their crops had been healthy, their animals well cared for and life had been good. Of course, war changed everything. The one thing his father couldn’t teach was how to be a soldier when there was no more war to fight.

  Shane shook off the memories of his father and opened his right eye, the left still stuck shut. The bedside table held a plate of ham, steaming scrambled eggs and biscuits. His stomach scratched at his backbone, begging to be fed.

  He glanced around. No one was in the room, but the door was open. The last thing he remembered was talking to Miss Brown, and then nothing.

  Wait, he had a sketchy memory of someone calling his name and being afraid. There was an angel, perhaps the granny angel again, saving him. It was a blur, a nightmare dream, hovering at the edge of his mind.

  “Good morning, sir.” The granny angel stood beside the bed, smiling at him, her words decorated by a German accent. “I make you a plate before the restaurant opens. Are you feeling better?”

  “I think so. Had strange dreams.” He vaguely remembered one where he’d been making love to a woman, but the details were hazy. She had long legs, which meant it wasn’t Vi, who was short as could be. The details of the dream wouldn’t come to him, just the feeling, which left him with a hard dick thankfully hidden by the blanket.

  If the granny angel tried to check his wounds, she would get an eyeful of something she didn’t want to see. He pulled up the blanket a little, embarrassment rushing through him.

  She tutted at him. “You must rest today, Mr. Murphy. I will send Lettie up when she gets here. In the meantime, I will feed you.”

  To his mortification, his stomach growled like a bear rising from hibernation. She grinned and sat on the chair beside the bed.

  “You don’t have to feed me, ma’am.”