“Lucie’s right, Alex. You have me and papa and Grandma Martha now.” She patted her little hand on the small of his back. “I’m your sister now, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Lucie closed her eyes, as both pain and happiness swamped her. Taking a deep breath, she blew it out slowly. Stella’s innocent words flooded her heart and her own fear disappeared. “Okay, let’s get my arm bandaged and see if we can salvage any of the supper.”
Chapter Twelve
Sebastian walked into the house and immediately smelled the acrid odor of burned grease. “Lucie!” He hurried through the living room and almost skidded around the corner to see her pouring the potato chunks into a large bowl. There was a hole in the sleeve of her blouse, the material curled and blackened. “What happened?”
Before she could answer, Stella’s small voice announced, “She almost burned the house down, papa! You should have seen how high the fire was!” She giggled, racing across the room to him. He stared, dumbfounded, at her as she ran toward him. His daughter was wearing a clean dress, and her blonde hair had been pulled back in a ponytail and curled.
She stood in front of him and twirled around, stopping with a huge smile on her face. “Look at me, papa! Don’t I look pretty?”
He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her up against his chest.
“I smell like a field of flowers too.”
He sniffed in the tender area where her neck met her shoulders and she jerked away, laughing. “You smell like Lucie.”
“She let me use her special soap.”
He met Lucie’s tender gaze over his daughter’s head. He didn’t know what to say. In one day, his new wife had managed to turn his daughter into a little girl. When he’d left this morning, he’d imagined the worst. That he would come home to a furious six-year-old. Instead, he was greeted by a very happy little girl.
He set her down and patted her behind. “Go wash your hands for supper while I talk to Lucie.” Stella skipped toward the bathroom.
Before Lucie could lift the bowl to carry it to the table, he reached for her arm and stopped her, gently removing the bandage she’d wrapped around the burn. The skin underneath was bright pink and raw. In several places, the flesh had raised into blisters.
“I managed to save most of the chicken,” she said in a whisper. “But it’s a little black. And I can’t promise the vegetables are soft enough. The peach cobbler, though, is perfect.”
He nodded, trying to contain the painful squeezing in his chest. He carefully rewrapped her arm, his stomach replaced by a large stone. “Dinner will have to wait, I’m afraid. Doc Brown needs to take a look at your arm.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine, really.”
“We can eat at the hotel and afterward, come back here for your delicious cobbler.” He turned her around and walked with his hands on her shoulders, pushing her through the house. “Stella! Alex! Grab your jackets! We need to take Lucie to see Doc Brown.”
He didn’t want her wound to worsen any more than it already had, so he hitched up the horses to the carriage, but as she walked by him, he pulled her to him, holding her as tight as he dared. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the fresh scent of her hair. He forced himself to let her go and helped her up into the carriage and drove as fast as he dared to Doc Brown’s small house. His insides felt as slippery as a fish and his heart rate was too fast. He had to touch her, reassure himself she was really okay, and covered her small hand with his. He gently squeezed her fingers. He had to wonder, though, if he did it for her reassurance or his…
“We’ll be there soon,” he told her, not liking the quietness surrounding them. Not even the children were talking like they usually did. He lifted the hand holding the horse’s reins and pointed to a small white house at the end of the street. “That’s Doc Brown’s place. His office is off to one side of the house while he and his wife live in the other part.”
“That’s convenient. I bet Mrs. Brown doesn’t have to wonder when her husband will get home.”
The churning in his stomach stilled as her words sunk in then the faithless organ ramped up its activity. “About that…I’m sorry I’ve been so absent. It hasn’t been fair to you, and I would like to offer you my sincerest apologies.” He stared at her surprised face, his eyes drawn to her moist lips.
Forcing his attention away, he glanced back at the children, sitting side by side in the back seat of the carriage. Sebastian smiled at Alex, his arm wrapped protectively around Stella, and some of the worry faded from the boy’s eyes. “Your sister’s going to be okay, I just don’t want to take a chance with infection.” He gave the twelve-year-old a sharp nod and winked at Stella.
“You’re not foolin’ us, are you papa? Lucie’s really going to be okay?” she asked in a small voice.
“I’m not fooling. Promise. After the doc takes a quick look at her, we’ll go to the hotel for dinner.”
Stella bounced up and stood, gripping the back of their seat with her hands. “Can Grandma—”
“Sit down, please.”
She dutifully plopped back onto the seat, this time with some space between her and Alex. “Can Grandma Martha eat with us too?”
“Of course she can. You can even go get her.”
She clapped her hands together several times and giggled. “Now she’s gonna see how pretty I look too!”
He stopped in front of the doc’s house and helped Lucie down from the carriage. Pulling her to his side, protecting her bad arm with his body, he led her to the side door and knocked. He waited impatiently for the door to open.
“Maybe he had to go take care of someone?” Lucie asked, her soft voice soothing some of his agitation.
“Usually his wife will answer.” He knocked again, hard enough that the door bounced underneath the force of his heavy fist.
Lucie chuckled. “Well, if they didn’t hear that, the neighbors probably did.”
The door opened and a soft yellow light spilled out over them, illuminating the large silhouette of Doc Brown. “Sorry about the wait, McCord, but the wife had just served dessert.” He winked at Lucie and the children standing beside her. “Chocolate chip cookies and a tall glass of milk.” He opened the door and ushered them in. “So, what can I do for you?”
Sebastian placed his hand in the small of Lucie’s back and moved her toward the doctor, his other hand holding her injured arm. “She burned herself cooking chicken, and I thought you should probably look at it. Infection, you know.”
Doc Brown nodded. “Nothin’ to sniff at, especially with grease. Keeps cookin’ the skin.” He cradled Lucie’s arm in his large hand and carefully unwrapped the bandage. The blistered areas had indeed gotten bigger, and the skin was inflamed and weeping. “Mmm-hmm.”
He adjusted his spectacles on his nose and led her to the lamp on his desk. “Mmm-hmm. Yes, my dear, you burned it but good.” He walked over to a short white cabinet and pulled out a narrow glass bottle with a thick, dark brown substance.
He jerked the glass stopper from the bottle’s neck, the rubber seal sliding out with a loud pop, and poured small amounts over the worst of the blistered areas. He replaced the stopper and handed the bottle to Sebastian, who dropped it into his coat pocket.
Lucie raised her arm and sniffed the substance. She glanced at Sebastian then Alex and Stella, all looking at her with curious expressions on their faces. She narrowed her gaze at the doctor. “Honey?”
Doc Brown nodded, his mouth turning up on one side. “Now, this is going to seem a mite strange, but I want you to keep the injured skin covered with honey for several days. On the evening of the third day, gently wash it all off and any dead skin and place a piece of moldy bread over the burn, keeping it bandaged of course. When the wound starts scabbing over, you can take the gauze off.”
Lucie took a step back and walked into Sebastian, whose hands wrapped around her hips. “You want me to wrap moldy bread on an open wound? I’m going to lose my arm that
way!”
Doc Brown shook his head. “Those Egyptian doctors more than a thousand years ago knew a thing or two about healing. Smart men. In my opinion, they were much smarter than we are today. I can’t tell you why it works, it just does.”
Sebastian lowered his head, breathing in the faint hint of lavender from Lucie’s hair. Even when he wasn’t around her, he could still smell her fresh scent, as if it had soaked into his very skin. His fingers pressed against her hipbones as he held her close. He liked the way she felt against him.
He met the doc’s knowing gaze. Ignoring his friend, and knowing there would be many questions the next time they met for a drink, he asked, “What do I owe you?”
Doc Brown waved the suggestion away with a flick of his meaty hand. “A nice dinner at that restaurant of yours one of these days would be payment enough for me and the missus.” He walked to his desk and held out a candy-filled jar to the children and wiggled the stick candy against the clear glass. “I have lemon, butterscotch, and honey. Take your pick.”
With eyes wide, they glanced first at Lucie then Sebastian who gave them a single nod. Almost reverently, they leaned their small faces over the jar and stared at the treats. Alex reached in and pulled out the rich, yellow butterscotch and immediately stuck it in his back pocket.
Stella chose the honey. Tightly clasped in her hand, she pressed her fist against her chest. Tilting her head at an angle, she grinned up at Lucie. “Now I have honey like you do.”
Lucie returned the smile, and Sebastian’s heart stuttered then roared back to life as he stared at his wife. Her face was relaxed, without any of the fear and stress he was so used to seeing. Her large green eyes sparkled, her happiness transforming her from pretty to beautiful.
He dropped his hands and stepped back, pulling in a shaky breath. He didn’t like how his body was reacting to her, almost convincing himself that this was simply a minor complication. He didn’t like how his heart ached at the thought of losing her.
He couldn’t afford to think about how it felt to kiss her lips or the feel of her silky hair against his skin. He wasn’t going to go all soft every time she smiled…or made his daughter’s eyes light up.
* * *
Lucie had never felt so confused and overwhelmed in her entire life. She wanted Sebastian to touch her again and at the same time, she didn’t. She wanted him to look at her again and see the way his dark brown eyes softened into melted chocolate. She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her hips, her skin burning from the heat of his palms.
She knew she couldn’t fool herself anymore. She’d already been halfway in love with Sebastian when she married him. The way he’d been so attentive and conscientious of her arm…well, his reaction was the last thing she’d expected. Annoyance and anger maybe, but she’d seen a softer side of him. She wanted to see that side of him again.
At the hotel, Sebastian pulled out her chair and as soon as she sat, scooted her closer to the table. She met her brother’s smirk with a quick frown. Raising the cool glass to her lips, she hoped no one noticed the slight trembling of her hand as she drank the water.
“What’s this about Lucie being hurt again?” Martha’s said in a breathy voice as she hurried around the table toward her.
Lucie chuckled. “It’s nothing. Just a little burn.”
Stella giggled. “She almost burned the house down!”
Alex scowled at her. “No she didn’t.” He snickered. “Just the kitchen.”
She let out a frustrated groan. “I did no such thing. It was only a small grease fire—”
“That burned your arm,” Sebastian growled. “It had already worsened by the time I got you to Doc Brown’s. There was nothing small or inconsequential about it. A fire like that could have been a lot worse.”
Martha stepped back staring at them, her nostrils flaring a tiny bit as her gaze moved from her son to Lucie then back to Sebastian. “Well then,” She sat between Alex and Stella. “If Doc Brown is taking care of her, then she’s in good hands.” She smiled at Stella and tickled the little girl’s ribs. “And don’t you look pretty!”
Stella’s little face beamed at the compliment. “Lucie told me I could dress like this for school! And she’s going to help me make my hair pretty like hers.” Stella’s gaze jumped to Lucie’s. “Didn’t you?”
“I most certainly did.” She met Martha’s shimmering gaze.
“Thank you,” Martha mouthed to her.
It didn’t take any of them long to finish their meals, and she couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had even tasted their food. She knew she hadn’t. Staring down at her empty plate, she couldn’t remember what she’d even eaten.
Several times during dinner, Sebastian’s arm or hand had touched hers, causing her insides to jitter. He made her feel warm. Safe. And she hadn’t felt safe since her father had died.
“I have a wonderful solution for your meal dilemmas, Lucie,” Martha said. “I know a woman who needs a bit of rescuing herself. Her husband recently died and her son moved to Texas, so she’s been all alone.” She glanced at Sebastian. “You know the small house that burned last week? The Smith’s place close to Lookout Mountain? ” She didn’t wait for his response. “Well, that was her home. She wasn’t hurt but lost all of her possessions and simply doesn’t have the money to find a new place.”
He sighed, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and tucked it under his dinner plate. “Mother, what does this have to do with our supposed meal dilemmas, which I don’t believe we even have?”
Lucie cautiously laid her hand on his arm, her cheeks warming under his intent gaze. “I’m sorry, Sebastian, but Martha’s right. I can’t cook—at least dishes other than porridge and desserts.” She quickly pulled her hand away when his brows bunched together. She lowered her head and, for a moment, closed her eyes. “My mother and stepmother died before they could teach me.”
He reached underneath the table and squeezed her hand in his, the weight of his hand heavy on her thigh. She sucked in a shaky breath at his caring gesture. A tiny frisson of fear settled over her heart that he’d pull away. For the first time in so long, she didn’t feel so lost and alone—that she had someone to rely on and help her get through the trials that seemed to plague her and Alex.
“That’s what I was about to say. Sally is an excellent cook. She used to work in the Read House’s kitchen before they brought in that highfalutin Eastern chef. In my opinion, Sally’s meals were much better. She can live in your house-barn.”
Lucie frowned. “House-barn?” She glanced from mother to son. “What’s a house-barn?”
“What else do you call a barn with a house in it?” Martha laughed.
Sebastian gave her hand a small squeeze. “I’ll explain later.” He turned his body, almost facing her. “Would you like someone to help you with the meals?”
The pounding in her chest quieted and the knot that was her stomach unfurled. She hadn’t realized how worked up she’d gotten about preparing a simple meal. “Yes, please. I would very much like that.” She turned her hand around and linked her fingers through his. “I promise I’ll learn how to cook. Good meals too, so you won’t have to keep providing for Sally as well.”
“Don’t worry about that. I want you to be comfortable, and you certainly can’t be when you’re worried about preparing meals.” He held her chin between his finger and thumb and gently kissed her, his full lips soft against hers.
His handsome face was so close, his delicious woodsy scent surrounding her. She wanted to reach out and caress his cheek, run her fingers through his wavy hair. Instead, she tucked the memory of his sweet kiss away, to be brought out later and treasured. When she could pull her gaze away from his, she was met with three wide-eyed stares. A quick burn flushed across her face.
Sebastian didn’t seem to realize what he’d just done, and without missing a beat, he continued. “Talk to Sally Smith, Mother, and see if she can start tomorrow.” He smiled at the children, who still hadn’t
quite recovered from witnessing the tender moment that had passed between the two adults. “Are you two ready for the delicious peach cobbler Lucie made for us?”
They glanced at each other, still wide-eyed, but nodded.
“Very good.” He rose, helping her to her feet, and motioned them toward the door with a toothy grin and a wide sweep of his arm. “Then let’s go home.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you ready to try the fried chicken again?” Sally Smith asked, her happy voice carrying through the house. Almost as short as Martha, Lucie’s new helper was even more intimidating. Her salt-and-pepper hair was braided then rolled into a tight bun on the top of her head, and her skin was a warm, tawny brown. Lucie liked the tiny crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she smiled, which was most of the time. Sally loved to cook, which explained why she was almost as round as she was tall.
It had been seven days since Lucie had burned her arm. She was scared, but she also knew she had to try again. “All right, chicken it is.” She folded her arms across her chest. “But we have to make the hush puppies and your delicious bourbon bread pudding.”
Sally’s head bobbed up and down. “Why that’s a good idea, Miss Lucie. You best get started mixing the ingredients for the puddin’ if you want it done by suppertime.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Once everything was cooking, Sally handed Lucie a tall glass of mint tea then sat down across from her at the table. “Now, Miss Lucie, you tell me somethin’. What’s between you and that fine husband of yours?”
Lucie choked on the tea, sputtering and coughing as she pounded her chest with the palm of her hand. “Ex-excuse me?”
Heidi Vanlandingham - Lucie_Bride of Tennessee Page 10