Endless Heart: Heart, Book 3

by Emma Lang

  Sam made a face like a five-year-old told to eat his spinach. “Aw, Angel, why me?”

  “Because I need help, and you’re my partner in everything, right?”

  “Dirty tactics, Mrs. Carver.” He sauntered over, his lean-hipped swagger and devilish grin sending a shiver up her spine. “If I’m to help, I might need motivation.”

  She giggled and waited for him. “I think I can do that.”

  He pulled her against him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. After being married less than a year, she still shivered when he came near, melted when his calloused hands touched her skin. She wanted Lettie to find that perfect mate. It was what her friend deserved.

  “What’s your plan, general?” he asked as he nibbled Angeline’s ear.

  “We’re going to play matchmaker.”

  Sam groaned and buried his face in her neck. Angeline laughed and hugged her husband tight. If she had any say in the matter, Lettie would be doing the same thing very soon.

  Shane told himself he wasn’t disappointed when a different brown-haired woman brought him dinner. She was nice enough and said her name was Karen. She chatted about her son Dennis, the floppy-haired boy who had taken care of the tub and water for him. The company was welcome, if not the woman he wanted to see.

  Lettie seemed to have disappeared entirely.

  With each meal that passed, he hoped to see Lettie, but someone else always brought him his food. There was a young pretty thing named Alice who gave him the evil eye as though he’d already harmed her, Karen, the granny angel and an older man named Pieter who sported blond hair liberally sprinkled with gray. Everyone who worked at the restaurant brought him meals, except Miss Lettie Brown.

  Shane hadn’t allowed himself to feel emotions for so long that finding someone who evoked a response from him was a pure miracle. His heart and soul had been blackened, burned in the fire of his shame and guilt. With Lettie, he’d transformed into a phoenix, rising from the ashes, whether he wanted to or not. Her straightforward ways, brassy and outspoken, called to whatever was left of him deep inside.

  She had no idea what kind of sleeping monster she’d awakened. His belly was full, his wounds healing, and the doctor had been impressed by Lettie’s doctoring. Hell, Shane had a clean bed for free, strangers fed him, emptied the chamber pot and made sure his bandages were changed. What more could he ask for?

  Lettie.

  Three long days went by without seeing her. By then, Shane was itchy, grumpy and annoyed. By his count, it was Friday and he’d been at the restaurant nearly a week. He hadn’t felt physically good in at least ten years, since before the war when life had been perfect and his soul unstained.

  When the door opened, he turned to look, expecting Alice, who had been bringing breakfast each day, but it was Lettie. She held a plate of breakfast and a mug of coffee. Her expression was blank, but her jaw twitched as though she was clenching it.

  “Where have you been?” he blurted.

  She scowled. “I do have to work, Mr. Murphy. Not all of us get by on the kindness of strangers.”

  Oh that one hurt. He winced inwardly. “I’m thankful for everything you folks have done for me. I would appreciate it if you didn’t throw your kindness in my face.”

  “I didn’t mean… That is, I don’t always say things right.” She seemed flustered, and her cheeks flushed a light pink. It made some freckles on her nose appear, ones he hadn’t noticed were there.

  As she set the plate down on the table beside the bed, he reached for her, and she flinched. Shane’s stomach dropped to his feet. He had thought their kisses had been mutual. They sure as hell felt that way, especially by the second one. Now he realized she was afraid of him. That wasn’t what he wanted. The very idea made him sick.

  “I’m sorry for what I done, Lettie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t scare me,” she scoffed, but he saw a flash of something behind her eyes, a hint of what she truly felt. She had been scared.

  “I haven’t kissed anyone in seven years.” He hadn’t meant to share that piece of information. With anyone. Ever. What kind of idiot was he becoming?

  Cocking her head, she finally looked at him, really looked at him. “I think you’re being honest.”

  “I am. I don’t know what happened, but I like your company, Lettie.” That was safe enough, he hoped.

  “That makes one person who does.” She put her hands on her hips. “Do you need help sitting up?”

  “I don’t understand. Do you mean people don’t like you?” Shane recognized she was rough around the edges, but she was a good person. Surely people could see that, beneath the gruff ways she showed the world.

  “I ain’t here to talk about my social status in town. The food’s getting cold, so you might want to eat it before it does.” She pointed at the pillow. “Do you need help sitting up?”

  He pushed himself into a sitting position, pleased to see a bit of surprise on her face. “Nope.”

  She glanced at his bandaged hands. “I suppose I need to feed you then.” The possibility did not sound like fun apparently.

  “I can do it.” He would do it himself even if he rebroke his fingers to feed himself. Damn woman. She made him act like a foolish man.

  Lettie handed him the plate and fork, leaving the coffee on the table. She crossed her arms and waited by the bed, towering over him. It was more like having a schoolmarm beside him than someone he considered a friend, or close to it anyway.

  “Are you going to watch me eat?” He managed to pick up a forkful of eggs and take a bite. His annoyance fled when he tasted the salty goodness on his tongue.

  She shrugged. “Marta yelled at me enough today I don’t want to go back to the kitchen too soon.”

  He truly wanted to tell her to leave, but he was glad enough to have her company again, even if she didn’t want to be there. Shane ate the rest of the eggs and ham awkwardly, but he got it in his mouth, for the most part. Lettie sighed whenever food landed on his chest, as though he were a child to be chastised for making a mess.

  “You could have brought a napkin or towel.” He frowned up at her.

  “You could have eaten slower instead of shoveling it in like you haven’t eaten in a month.” Her sharp tone made him pause, the piece of bread halfway to his mouth. She must have seen something in his gaze because she closed her eyes and leaned her chin down toward her chest. “I don’t try to be mean, I swear I don’t.”

  Shane didn’t know how to respond to that so he didn’t. When he took a bite of the bread, which was heavier than he’d expected, he paused in mid-chew. It was awful, the worst food he’d had the entire time he’d been at the restaurant.

  “It’s bad isn’t it?” Her tone was unsure, hesitant, a first for her, at least around him.

  “Um, yeah, it’s bad. Hell I could make better bread than this.” He set it back on the plate. “Is there a slop bucket this can be hidden in?”

  She flinched. “Are you saying it’s fit for pigs?”

  “Maybe, if they’re not too picky.” He had broken his leg as a child, spent six months recovering at home with his mother. She’d taught him how to bake to keep him from nagging her to pieces. Shane wasn’t joking when he said he could make better bread—he was an excellent bread maker. It was something he didn’t share with most folks since men weren’t supposed to be skilled at women’s work.

  She pinched her lips together and grabbed the plate, heading for the door. Lettie was leaving him alone. Again.

  Not if he could help it.

  Lettie was quaking in her shoes, scared to do anything but run. She was definitely not the fighter like Angeline. Nope, Lettie ran from battles, like a yellow coward afraid of her own shadow. Her stomach quivered as she turned the knob.

  “Why do you hate me so much?”

  Taken aback by the question, she turned to look at him. His face, which she could now see clearly without the swelling, was handsome as sin even with a rainbow of healin
g bruises. More handsome than she’d expected. His expression and his question reflected confusion and, to her surprise, hurt.

  “I don’t hate you.” Her voice came out in a whisper. “I hate myself.”

  The shock of the statement rippled through her, making her heart flip once, then twice. She hadn’t meant to say that, certainly didn’t mean it. Did she?

  He tried to climb out of the bed but fumbled with the bedclothes since his hands were still bandaged. She turned back to the door to flee. Lettie had to get out of the room or she might explode. Panic clawed at her when Shane’s arm landed on her shoulder. She reached back and hit until he dropped his hand. The hiss of pain told her she had hurt him, but she couldn’t worry about that now.

  “Lettie, please.”

  “Let me go.” Her voice came out as a sob, one full of desperation.

  “No.” He pulled her into his arms, but she resisted. Surprised to find he was at least half a head taller than her, a hysterical laugh flew from her mouth. He was so tall, so big. How had she bathed him without noticing? As she fought against his grip, he held on firmly but without squeezing her.

  “Please.” The word she swore she would never use with a man again. Yet she’d said it, desperate to escape, shaking with fear.

  “I can’t.” He tucked her head into the crook of his neck, the scent of man, of Shane, filling her nose. It was a familiar, comfortable scent, but his touch was not.

  She needed to get away from him, to find the peace she’d lost a week prior when he fell into her life. Perhaps if she stayed away from him this time, as she had been unable to do, life would be normal once more. Although normal for Lettie was not what others had. Her dark existence wasn’t really a life, it simply was.

  “I don’t know what brought me here, Lettie. Maybe something thought we might need each other.” His voice was thick with some unnamed emotion. “I got nothing but this.”

  “I’m scared.” She wasn’t scared of his touch, or of him—she was scared of how she felt around him, and how he made her feel. His arms wrapped around her as though God had made them the perfect length to hold Lettie. Stupid thoughts from a stupid woman.

  He held her, both of them shaking from emotion or exhaustion—probably a combination of both. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, pull away, not yet. Lettie didn’t want to lose the experience of being held. It was the first time in her life anyone had touched her so tenderly. She’d never been hugged, except by Angeline. Being in Shane’s embrace was an exquisite moment of pureness she’d not known existed.

  She didn’t realize she was crying until his shirt, the one borrowed from Pieter, grew wet beneath her cheek. Still she held back, unwilling to lose herself in a man again. Even Shane. Tears were supposed to be over for good.

  This time when he kissed her, she didn’t run. She learned what it meant to kiss someone. His lips were soft as flower petals, moving gently over hers, back and forth across her mouth. He kissed her full on the mouth, then her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead, and finally the top of her head. It wasn’t sexual at all, it was affection, or at least she assumed that was what it was. The entire experience was like a dream, one she hadn’t yet had until now.

  “Lettie.” His voice was ragged, full of the same ancient pain that pervaded her soul. His breath was hot on her hair, his heart thumping steadily against hers. His scent was intense, filling her. He was so alive, so much so she became overwhelmed by him, by this.

  This little bit of what she could never have was over. It had to be, because Lettie was too damaged inside and out for anything else. She managed to find her voice. “I can’t be who you need.”

  His chuckle was rusty. “I don’t know what I need, honey, but I’m sure I can’t be who you need either.”

  Honey.

  It was a simple word, one she heard all the time from one person to another. No one in her life had ever called her honey, or darling, or sweetheart, or anything other than her name, or something worse. In his voice, she heard affection, the one thing that could be so dangerous to both of them.

  Up close, she saw his eyes were not simply the color of ashes. They were a swirling mix of grays, full of an aching loneliness she recognized too well.

  He kissed her once more, so lightly she almost didn’t feel it. “You make me want to be a man again.”

  Lettie didn’t want that responsibility, and she wasn’t woman enough for any man, that was for sure. Yet his words touched her heart, like he’d reached in and plucked a string that vibrated through her. She made him want to be better. She did that. Lettie Brown, a woman who didn’t know the first thing about being female.

  “You are a foolish man.” She couldn’t help but be honest, seeing as how they were touching chest to thighs, closer than ticks on a dog’s ass.

  “You won’t meet another man more foolish than me.” He cupped her face, his thumbs wiping away traces of tears. “Don’t cry, Lettie.”

  The reminder was like a bucket of cold water. She pulled back and wiped her eyes as though she could rub away the emotion that accompanied them. “Ain’t nothing can happen, Shane. Ever.”

  “I know.” His sigh came from somewhere near his toes, deep and long. “I was planning on packing up my things tomorrow and heading out.”

  “What things?” She managed to get a few inches between them. The air felt cooler, and she could breathe again. Think again. “Your clothes were worse than rags, and your boots had more holes than sole.”

  He glanced down at the shirt and drawers. “These are Pieter’s.”

  “Yep, they are.”

  “I can’t take them.”

  “You can’t walk around town buck naked either. Although it would get you a bed in the jail for a spell.” She was starting to babble, pushing away the thought of Shane leaving for good. It had to happen, it had to, but she didn’t have to like it. There was no doubt in her mind that her dreams would be filled with memories of the last five minutes. She would have to find a way to forget how she felt and forget him.

  He smiled, and she caught her breath at the way it made his eyes crinkle and his handsome face devastating. Shane Murphy was a brown-haired distraction who had to leave Forestville. She couldn’t stand seeing him, knowing how good he smelled, felt and kissed. No sirree, she would leave town if he didn’t. Either that or go completely loco.

  “That might be worth it if you came to visit me.” He reached for her again, and she backed up until she hit the door. His smile faded, replaced by that sad expression once more.

  One of them had to remember what a terrible idea it was to steal more than a kiss or two. Therein lay additional pain and heartache. Neither one of them was prepared for that.

  “I can’t. You can’t stay.” She found the knob with the hand behind her back. “I’ll make sure you have supplies to take with you.”

  As Lettie turned to leave, he sighed again, this time one so fierce, it hit her full force. It was one of sorrow, of loneliness, of an ache so deep it would never be filled. It echoed through her, making her throat tight and her damn eyes sting.

  “I’ll miss you, Lettie.” His words were soft enough she barely heard them.

  And her heart wept silent tears for what she could never have.

  Angeline came in through the back door of the restaurant. Marta was bent over the stove, peering into a stew as though she could see the future in its bubbling depths. She glanced up, and surprise lit her face.

  “Ah, liebchen, so good to see you.” She set the wooden spoon down and pulled Angeline into her arms.

  They hugged for a moment then separated. Angeline had found the mother she’d never known in the German woman and the father she loved more than her own in her husband Pieter. They had been amazingly generous, loving and kind to her and Lettie. She treasured the older couple as gifts she’d never expected to receive.

  When she’d arrived in Forestville with Lettie a year earlier, Angeline had been scared and running from a husband who was more monster than man. The
Gundersons had been more than generous, providing a job, a place to sleep and a place to belong. The Blue Plate had become a haven, safe and comfortable. A home.

  “It’s good to see you too.” Her smile was so wide it made her cheeks hurt.

  Marta gestured to her belly. “The baby is good? You are good?”

  “Yes, we’re both fine. I didn’t have much morning sickness, and I’m starting to have much more energy.” She took Marta’s floury hand. “I didn’t come by to talk about me though. I want to talk to you about Lettie. And Mr. Murphy.”

  Marta’s brows went up. “You are seeing what I see then, ya? There is something, but both are too stubborn to see it.”

  “Yes, I see it in Lettie even though I’ve never met him.” She sat at the table with Marta. “Lettie is afraid, scared to take a chance on anything that might hurt her. I want to help her find the happiness she deserves.”

  “Yes, yes, this is good.” Marta nodded, her blue eyes bright. “What do we do?”

  “We need to keep Mr. Murphy here in Forestville as long as possible. He came in on the freight wagon, from what I hear, but I don’t think he has a job.” Angeline lowered her voice. “We need to find him one.”

  Marta clapped her hands together. “This is marvelous! I think I have the perfect job for Mr. Murphy.”

  Angeline leaned forward and conspired with Marta. Together they would help their friend and the man she could love.

  The room was filled with a warm glow from half a dozen candles on a table in the corner and on the chest of drawers. She wore a diaphanous nightdress, far fancier than anything she’d ever seen, much less touched or worn. It felt deliciously naughty against her skin. Her nipples peaked as soon as the fabric slid on.

  She eagerly waited for him to arrive, the room prepared for seduction. The small knock at the door had her pulse thumping. She turned the knob with damp palms. When she saw his beloved face, her nervousness blew away like a puff on the wind.