by Verna Clay
"Jenny, would you mind if we cancelled our lesson today?"
"No, Ryder. Of course not."
Chapter Seven: Whispered Words
After a week of not hearing from Ryder, Jenny sent a letter assuring him his confidences were safe with her and expressing sorrow for his losses. A week later he had not responded and she decided to pay him an unannounced visit. After ringing the bell for the gate steward, instead of the usual servant appearing, Clayton approached.
"He doesn't want to see you, Miss Samson. He told me to send you away." Although Clayton spoke solemnly, concern shadowed his eyes.
"Is he all right?"
Clayton hesitated. "No, Ma'am." He's been drinking for days and refuses to leave his room."
"Please let me see him. Perhaps I can help," Jenny pleaded, not knowing how she could help. "He can't go on like this. He'll destroy his health."
Clayton blew a breath, mumbled something, and then unlocked the gate. "I'll probably lose my job for this, but you're right, he can't continue doing this. For a time, after you started coming, I thought maybe things would change, and they did for awhile, but now he's worse than before."
Jenny started to follow Clayton up the porch steps, but paused. She made a decision. "Tell Ryder that I'm in the studio and I don't intend to leave until he meets me there."
Clayton nodded. "Very well, ma'am."
Jenny followed the path to the studio and stepped inside. Drawn to the unfinished portrait of herself, she pulled the drape off and stared at her own visage. The painting was simply stunning in its creativity. Because Ryder was painting with his left hand, there was no crispness to the strokes. Muted colors blended and formed an ethereal goddess as if viewed through a dream. Perfection to detail would have destroyed the impact of the painting.
Speaking into the empty room, she said, "You are a genius, Ryder. You have not lost your ability, you have transformed it. I have to make you understand that you must finish this portrait." Angling the painting, she made sure it was the first thing Ryder would see upon entering the room.
Without hesitation, she stepped behind the curtain and removed her dress and bonnet. Sitting on the settee, she pulled the pins from her hair and settled the mass over her shoulders and waited. An hour later, Ryder had not entered the studio and her eyes grew heavy. I will wait as long as needed, Ryder. Lying down, she placed her hands under her cheek and closed her eyes.
* * *
Ryder gulped down the dregs of his coffee and splashed water over his face and chest. Per his instructions, Clayton had been updating him hourly as to whether Jenny had left his estate. It had been over two hours and she was still in the studio. Cursing, he dried himself and slipped into a linen shirt, only half tucking it into his slacks. Shaking his head to remove more cobwebs after his morning's whiskey binge, he ground his teeth. After today, I will be rid of you, Jenny. When I'm finished scolding, you will never return. You will hate even the mention of my name.
Running his fingers through his hair, not caring that its length had not been bound back with a tie, he stormed from his room and passed Clayton. He said, "Clayton, I will deal with you later for disregarding my instructions that Miss Samson not be allowed on the estate!"
His faithful butler made a reply that was unintelligible to Ryder because of the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears. By the time he reached his studio, he could not remember being this mad since the amputation of his arm. Pausing, he gulped some deep breaths because of what he must do. Forcing himself to enter the room calmly, he made no sound as he stepped beyond the threshold. Directly in his line of sight stood the painting of Jenny, the linen cover tossed aside.
For a long moment, all he could do was stare at the muted colors making up her face and body before moving his eyes to the settee. His heart jumped into his throat. Jenny lay on her back sleeping; her hair a glorious mahogany mane fanning out onto the red velvet settee on one side of her, and falling over her shoulder and breast on the other. A tiny smile tilted one corner of her mouth. She was more seductive in sleep than any of the beautiful women he had paid handsomely for their expertise in the art of seduction. Silently stepping forward, he craved to touch her, but forced his hand to his side. He would memorize her innocence before cruelly sending her away. Kneeling beside her, he allowed his gaze to travel from her eyes to her pink lips, to the graceful line of her neck, and then down the length of her slender body. When he returned his gaze to her face, her eyes were open and filled with such tenderness he moaned. He wanted to verbally lash out and say such cruel things as to make her run from him. Instead, he lifted a finger and traced the bow of her lip. His only sound was to voice her name while bending to touch his mouth to hers. "Sweet Jenny."
* * *
Ryder's whisper of her name above her lips became more intoxicating to Jenny than the wine they had shared in the countryside. Her response was to place her hands on either side of his face and lift her head a few inches from the settee, raising her mouth to meet his. He said her name again, wrapping his one arm around her and drawing her against his thudding heart. When he touched his tongue to her lips, at first she didn't realize what he wanted. Then he said, "Open for me, Jenny." And she did. From that moment, she was lost to anything but Ryder's touch, Ryder's smell, Ryder's taste. After a time, all she could do was moan with pleasure as he gave attention to every inch of her body. When he pulled her onto the thick rug in front of the settee, she did not resist. When he removed her clothing, she did not resist. When his mouth suckled various parts of her body, she did not resist. When he entered her body, she did not resist. She could not. Her love for Ryder had been sealed long before their joining. At her cry of pleasure, he whispered things in her ear she could not understand because he spoke in another language. When she whispered words in return, words in English, he cried out in his own fulfillment and showered her face with passionate kisses, fierce and possessive. Finally, he pulled a coverlet off the settee, blanketing them both before lying back and drawing her head against his chest, stroking her hair. Closing her eyes, Jenny's happiness was complete.
* * *
Ryder sat in a chair across from the settee and watched Jenny sleep. She still lay on the rug, her naked body covered except for a shapely leg that rode over the top of the blanket. He wanted to paint her exactly as she was now. His frustration mounted, along with self loathing. He was the lowest of the low. He had taken what belonged to her future husband—her virginity. Closing his eyes, he relived the wonder of her body. He had whispered to her in the Blackfoot language because there were no English words to convey the depth of his passion. Her response had ignited his desire beyond comprehension. He hadn't felt so alive since making love with Perfect Feather. For a moment, he envisioned a life with Jenny. Was it possible for someone as jaded and selfish as himself to find happiness with a woman as pure as Jenny? His groan of misery answered his question. Perhaps he would be happy, but not Jenny. She deserved so much more than he could offer.
A sound brought his eyes back to her face and the glow on her countenance tormented him. He could not allow her to make him into her hero. Clearing his throat, he said, "I'm sorry, Jenny. That should not have happened. I want you to know I will never tell anyone. I…" he didn't finish because he didn't know what else to say.
Jenny's eyes turned stormy. "You're sorry? Didn't you enjoy our…our…joining?"
Ryder cursed what he must do, but never waivered in his stare. "No. I did not enjoy it. You have no expertise with men and I never bed virgins."
"Then why did you do it?" she asked, her every word radiating hurt.
"Because I'm a bastard with no moral convictions and you made yourself available. I seldom turn down a…" When he said the coarse word, he watched her cringe, and then went in for the kill. "Jenny, I'm leaving now and I want you to dress and remove yourself from my home—once and for all. I'll send a carriage to the gate to take you home. Please do not return, for I will not entertain your company. You will rot befor
e I see you again."
Jenny gasped at his cruel words and he stood, roaming her body with his eyes, wanting to memorize the essence of this glorious woman that he would never see again. Finally, he turned away.
Before he reached the door, she yelled, "Wait! I will have the final say!" He paused, and slowly turned around. He would allow her that. She was standing now with the coverlet wrapped haphazardly around her. One shoulder and almost her entire breast were uncovered and a slit in the blanket rose to the top of her thigh. Her azure eyes pierced him like a sword and his gut contracted. He had to clench every muscle in his body to keep from running and pulling her against him to love her again.
She said, "I feel sorry for you, Jake Ryder. You use your past to stay your future. You have lived in darkness so long it has consumed you. You cannot see what is in front of your face." Her voice had risen in volume, but now she whispered a command, "Look at the painting!"
Ryder obeyed.
"What do you see?"
"I see a once gifted artist's pathetic attempt to regain what has been forever lost." He turned tormented eyes back to hers.
"Now I will tell you what I see. I see a masterpiece, one of the greatest paintings I have ever laid eyes on. Your artistry emanates not from your psyche, but from your spirit. That painting is not me; it is every man's desire. It is the ethereal woman, the dream of perfection, the Eve of humanity's seeking. You, as Adam, have created Eve."
Ryder stood mute at her words, unable to move or breathe, and for just a moment, he saw what she saw. Blinking, he looked again and saw amateurish brush strokes. Grinding his jaw, he said forcefully, "Rubbish!" and stalked from the room.
Chapter Eight: Adoption
Jenny smiled at her sister-in-law and then reached to relieve her of Evangeline. It had only been five months since her return to New York after visiting with her family, but it seemed like five years. Now she was home again and fall was in full color. The weather was chilly, but Luke's new carriage kept the occupants inside comfortable. Pulling the blanket snuggly around the baby, Jenny held her close and cooed at her. She kept her attention on Eva because she wasn't ready to face Angel.
To her family's shock, she had written of her plans to leave school and return home, giving the arrival of her stagecoach. She was grateful Luke was driving the carriage because his worried looks had twisted her heart. She hadn't wanted to worry her family, but neither did she want to explain anything; at least not yet. She would do that later.
Angel patted Jenny's knee. "Honey, I can see you're hurting and we won't press you to tell us anything."
"Thank you," Jenny replied, and brushed a tear aside.
The rest of the ride was traveled mostly in silence while Jenny played with Eva.
Angel said, "We're almost to Pa and Ma's place. Do you want me to take the baby?"
Jenny kissed Eva and handed her back to her mother, and then turned her attention to watching her beloved home come into view. Over the years it had changed with the planting of flowers and shrubs and the addition of a kitchen, but the spirit of love remained constant. It was a haven in a world of sorrow.
Luke reined the horses in at the porch and jumped from his perch, opening the carriage door. First, he accepted the baby from Angel and handed her to his stepmother who had rushed outside. Then he helped his wife down. When he turned to assist Jenny, she refrained from making eye contact. She did not want him to see the shame in her eyes. When her feet touched ground, she was lifted into a hug by her pa. Holding him tight, she said, "Oh, Pa, I'm so happy to be home."
He said in her ear, "Honey, we don't know why you didn't finish your studies, but whatever the reason, we're here for you."
"Thank you, Pa."
Abby handed Eva to Angel and stepped to hug Jenny when Brant released her. "Oh, my baby girl, I've missed you so much."
Jenny couldn't stop her eyes from misting when she clung to her ma. She glanced over Abby's shoulder and saw Rusty and James standing in the doorway. Rusty said, "C'mon inside it's gettin' cold."
James agreed, "Yeah, let's hug in the house."
Jenny wiped her eyes and rushed to enfold both of her brothers, pushing them backwards into the cabin. The rest of the family followed and quickly shut the door. A blazing fire created the homey atmosphere Jenny had craved during her entire stay in New York. Removing her bonnet and gloves, she rubbed her hands to warm them.
Ma Abby said, "Angel and I have cooked up a feast for your homecoming, honey. You must be exhausted. Why don't you sit by the fire and I'll have James bring you a hot chocolate while we prepare the table."
"Ma, that sounds wonderful," Jenny sighed.
After drinking her hot chocolate she leaned back in her Pa's rocker and felt herself dozing. As always, dreams of whispered words and kisses, sometimes passionate, sometimes heartrendingly sweet, and heavy lidded smoky gray eyes perusing her face and body with blatant passion, teased her with false genuineness. She didn't want to wake. She wanted to live her dreams as long as possible.
"Jenny, sweetheart, supper's on the table." Abby's gentle touch woke her. Staring into her mother's eyes, Jenny wanted to throw her arms around her and tell her everything, but now was not the time. That would come soon enough.
Throughout the meal, nothing was mentioned of New York or Jenny's unexpected return. Mostly, the family talked about happenings at the two ranches, her brother's and father's. Jenny inquired about neighbors and local happenings and learned that the diner at the Mayflower Hotel continued to have customers lined out the door to savor the meals cooked by the Smythes and the desserts created by Angel. Luke proudly bragged about his wife's culinary skills and despite her misery, Jenny found herself chuckling at his palpable adoration. If only Ryder could have felt even a fraction of that much love for me. Quickly, she changed the direction of her thoughts to keep herself from crying in front of her family.
While Abby and Angel served coffee to everyone, and Rusty and James squirmed in their seats, Jenny said, "I brought the paperwork from the orphanage for the adoption of Nate. He's a wonderful boy and you won't be sorry."
Jenny's words caught her younger brothers' attention and they stopped poking each other. Rusty grinned, "I think having another brother is great! When's he gonna get here?"
Jenny responded, "Well, the paperwork has to be finalized, but the nuns said they'd do everything in their power to make the governing board see the wisdom in allowing Pa and Ma to adopt him." Jenny looked at her pa and mouthed, "Thank you."
Abby said, "Your pa and I just knew it was the right thing to do when we read your letter asking us to consider it."
Jenny explained, "Of course, Nate still needs to graduate from the academy and finish his lessons with the famous sculptor, Michael Santos—it's the opportunity of a lifetime—but if everything goes according to plan, he should be here by the end of spring."
Jenny's heart hurt whenever she thought about the kindness Ryder had shown Nate, but the cruel words he had inflicted on her after the glorious sharing of their bodies.
That night, after Jenny bid goodnight to her family, Abby came into her room and sat on the side of her bed like she had done so many times during her childhood. "Sweetheart, we've missed you dearly, and I know your homecoming was unplanned. Something has happened that you haven't told us." She smiled kindly, "Your pa wanted to barge in here and demand you tell us what's wrong, but I explained that would be the worst thing possible."
Abby patted Jenny's hand laying on top of the old, worn quilt her birthmother had made when Jenny was very young. "I know you'll tell us when you're ready. So don't feel pressured to speak your mind until you want to."
Smiling, Abby bent to kiss Jenny's cheek. At the gentle touch, Jenny sobbed and hugged her stepmother. "Oh, Ma. I don't know how to say this without shocking you, but I'm going to have a baby."
Chapter Nine: Serendipity
Ryder exited his carriage, straightened his vest and pocket-watch chain, and cursed. After three years away f
rom the States, with an extended stay in India and travels to Europe, he was still plagued by images of Jenny popping into his mind. The least little thing would trigger his memories—cobalt eyes; a woman wearing a bonnet; a young woman's laughter; a glorious day.
Forcing himself back to the present, he told his driver to wait and then proceeded to the grand doorway of the residence of Charles VanHardwig. His arrival was expected and he was immediately ushered into the house of the prominent businessman and entrepreneur. Ryder had been in the company of Mr. VanHardwig several times in the past; at dinner parties or the opera or their club. He had been at the club when Charles invited him to lunch. The affluent man had said he had a business opportunity to discuss that had to do with railway expansion, a venture that could make his investors rich. Because Ryder knew Charles to be an astute, forward thinking gentleman, he had agreed to join him for lunch at his home the following day.
Charles met him in the library and then escorted him to the dining room. "Come, my friend. My chef has prepared a glorious meal of venison and red potatoes. I killed the deer only two days ago with my new Winchester repeater."
Ryder had a momentary vision of his Blackfoot wife and the tribe he had lived with all those years ago. This man hunted for sport, his people had hunted to survive. Ryder was glad when Charles turned his attention to speaking with his butler because he knew his eyes reflected an intense homesickness for his dead family and the life he had once known with them.
For the next two hours, Ryder listened to Charles esteem the virtues of railway expansion for the purpose of transporting goods, and espouse his belief that anyone investing in transportation would experience an incredible return of their investment.