Megan

by Linda Lael Miller

  Megan’s breath caught in her throat, fairly choking her. Everything in this woman’s tone and bearing implied that she’d known Granddaddy, but that was impossible, wasn’t it?

  “I was born and raised in Richmond,” Lil went on. “I met your grandfather only twice, and not under pleasant circumstances either time, but I could tell he was worth ten of that son of his, charming as my Thayer was. I adored him, even though he did me wrong more than once.”

  Megan could barely speak. The coattails of an idea flickered at the edge of her thoughts, but she couldn’t quite grasp them. “You knew—?”

  “Your granddaddy paid me to leave the state of Virginia forever after Christy was born, and I did. He’d come to claim Bridget when she was a week old, and I let her go, too. Thayer was long gone by the time Christy came along—I heard he’d gone to New Orleans, one jump ahead of somebody’s husband.” Lil paused, and her eyes were fixed on something in the invisible distance. “I knew I couldn’t give my babies the kind of life I wanted them to have, not the way I lived, but it was hard to let them go all the same.”

  Megan closed her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I’ve kept my secret for twenty-odd years. I reckon I’m just tired of carrying the load.”

  “Why did you come here—to Primrose Creek?”

  “I knew your granddaddy had a tract of land out here. He’d taken it as security for a debt, I believe. I worked my way west and decided to take a look at the place before heading on to San Francisco. I liked it here, saw the potential, and stayed instead.”

  “Bridget and Christy are—are you daughters.” Megan was still trying to absorb the fact.

  “Yes,” Lil said. She looked so weary, so beaten down, in that moment that Megan felt sorry for her. “Imagine my delight when the four of you showed up here.”

  “Didn’t you ever want to tell them? To see them?”

  “I do see them, all the time. Primrose Creek is a small town. As for telling them about myself, well, I couldn’t quite bring myself to look them in the face and say their mama was a saloon keeper and, once, a whore. Besides, that was what your granddaddy paid me for—to stay out of their lives. In spite of what most folks think of me, I’m not without honor.”

  Megan felt dizzy. “You’re the secret Caney’s been keeping all this time,” she said.

  Lil nodded. “She wasn’t pleased when she realized who I was, but she and I weren’t entirely in disagreement. She thought, as I did, that my daughters ought to be left to believe what they’d been told all their lives.”

  Megan rose shakily to her feet. “And now?”

  Lil spread her elegant, long-fingered hands. Close up, Megan could see things in her countenance and her appearance that reminded her of both Christy and Bridget—grace, for example, and courage and intelligence as well. “I guess that’s up to you,” she said.

  All too aware of the burden that had been laid on her shoulders, Megan rose shakily to her feet. “You’ve put me in a fine position,” she said. “Do you expect me to explain everything to Christy and Bridget, so you don’t have to do it?”

  Lil looked sad. “Think what you like,” she said.

  Megan had no answer for that, no answer for anything. She simply nodded in farewell, turned around, and walked out of the office and straight through the saloon without looking to either side.

  She’d been home less than half an hour, still moving in a daze, when Caney showed up, driving one of Jake Vigil’s rigs. If she hadn’t already been in a state of shock, seeing her dear friend would have done the job.

  “You came back!” she cried in relief and delight, standing in the doorway and gripping the framework with one hand. Caney would attend her wedding after all. Maybe she’d even changed her mind about leaving Primrose Creek to start over someplace else.

  Caney smiled as she set the wagon brake and climbed down. “Mr. Malcolm Hicks came to his senses, right enough,” she said, holding out her left hand to show a narrow gold band. “We got ourselves married. Been honeymoonin’ ever since.”

  Megan shouted for joy, and the two women embraced, but when they went inside, Caney’s aspect changed.

  “What was you doin’ in Diamond Lil’s this afternoon?” she demanded, taking Megan by the upper arms.

  “You know about that?” Megan asked, and gulped. “A-already?”

  “The whole town knows!” Caney snapped. Despite her flaring nostrils and narrowed eyes, Megan realized, Caney wasn’t so much angry as frightened. “Place is buzzin’ like a hive full of scalded bees. What in the world was you thinkin’ of?”

  Megan wouldn’t have explained herself to anyone else on earth, not even Webb. “I was going to be Lil’s partner.” At the look on Caney’s face, she hurried on. “She’s building a show house. Anyhow, I had to tell her I’d changed my mind.”

  “That’s all?” Caney asked. “That’s all that happened?”

  Megan couldn’t lie, especially not to this woman who had been a second mother to her. “No,” she said. “She told me about—about Bridget and Christy.”

  “Lord have mercy!” Caney gasped, and spread one hand over her heart in such a way that Megan was momentarily terrified for her. “I got to sit myself right down!”

  Megan took Caney’s arm and ushered her to a chair at the table. Then she brought her a cup of cold water and watched protectively while she sipped. When Caney looked up, her eyes were dark with pain.

  “I suppose you plan to tell them.”

  “I think they ought to know,” Megan said quietly. “But I’m not sure it’s my place to tell them, or yours, either.”

  “How you gonna keep a secret like this?” Caney asked anxiously. “It’ll chew you up inside.”

  Megan sat down in the chair next to Caney’s and took the other woman’s strong hands into her own. “What about you? This must have been a terrible burden for you to carry all these years.”

  “It wasn’t so hard at first. I believed it was best. But now you’re grown women, the four of you.” She let out a long, shaky sigh. “It’s my place to tell them the truth,” she said after a brief silence, during which a myriad of emotions crossed her face. “Christy and Bridget deserve to know. It’s goin’ to throw them some, though.”

  Megan nodded. “Yes,” she said. “But the truth is always better than a lie, isn’t it? And they have Trace and Zachary to lean on. Frankly, I think they’ll be glad to finally know, once they get over the initial shock.”

  Caney pulled free and covered her mouth with one hand, clearly fighting back sobs, maybe even hysteria. Her eyes were huge and round, and she looked ashen. “Glad?” she mocked, but not unkindly, when she’d gained some control. “To find out they have a whore for a mama?”

  Megan stiffened. “Lillian is a lot more than a—a woman of the evening, Caney. She’s strong, and she’s smart, too. Just look at all she’s accomplished.” She stopped, remembering the interview in Diamond Lil’s plain office, revelation by revelation. “She gave Christy and Bridget to Granddaddy because she wanted them to have a real family and a home.”

  Caney lowered her eyes, raised them again. They were filled with fire. “We’ve all had hard times,” she said. “And we didn’t take to whorin’ to put food on the table!”

  Megan stroked Caney’s cheek, so glad to have her back that she couldn’t begin to express what she felt. “Who knows what made her what she is? Maybe she thought Thayer was going to marry her, in the beginning. Maybe she loved him.”

  Caney laughed and sniffled at the same time. “You suppose they’ll forgive me, my Christy and Bridget?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything to forgive,” Megan said softly. “We all know you were merely trying to protect us.”

  Caney rallied significantly after that. “What kind of manners you got, girl? You ain’t even offered me a cup of tea, and here I am, back to stay.”

  Megan kissed her friend’s forehead. “Thank heaven,” she said. “I don’t know what any of us
would do without you.”

  “Stop your carryin’ on,” Caney commanded, bluffing, “and make that tea.”

  *

  Megan lay in her narrow bed in the small spare room downstairs, off the kitchen, staring at the ceiling and thinking of her wedding day. Her splendid dress, carefully pressed and hung on the wall, seemed to glow in the moonlight, like the garb of an angel.

  “I found him, Granddaddy,” she whispered. “I found the man I know you always wanted for me, and we’re going to make a family, right here at Primrose Creek.”

  There was no reply, of course, but Megan still felt a sense of Gideon McQuarry’s presence. He’d be there, the next afternoon, when she and Webb were married, she was sure of that.

  Smiling, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  *

  The new bed felt as if it was an acre across, Webb reflected, as he lay with his hands behind his head, smiling into the darkness. Come tomorrow night, Megan would be there with him, and that would make all the difference.

  He wanted her, there was no question of that, and he wanted her soon. But he knew she was going to bring a lot more to his life than pleasure; she already had. She’d brought laughter and hope and feelings Webb had never experienced. Before she came, his life had stretched before him, vast and empty. Now, it looked like the land of milk and honey.

  *

  Saturday morning arrived, right on schedule.

  At long, long last, Megan’s wedding day had come, and she had the dress and the bridegroom to prove it.

  Christy and Bridget and Skye fussed over her happily, upstairs in the room she would share with Webb after that night. Clearly, Caney had not yet told the two elder sisters about their mother; Megan would have been able to see signs of it if she had, and there would not have been this sense of merry chaos.

  “You are beautiful,” Christy said, and smiled. Her eyes glittered with joy and pride. “It just doesn’t seem possible—our little Megan, a bride.”

  Bridget assessed Megan proudly. She’d arranged her hair, weaving in baby’s breath and buttercups, and Skye’s contribution was the bouquet of daisies, bluebells, and wild tiger lilies she carried, gathered from the meadow above the stream bank only minutes before. “Lovely,” she agreed.

  A knock sounded at the bedroom door, and Skye hurried over to open it just a crack, peering out into the hallway. “Webb Stratton, you know perfectly well you aren’t allowed to see the bride!” she scolded, but there was a smile in her voice.

  “I just wanted to make sure she hadn’t climbed out the window and headed for the hills,” he replied. “Reverend Taylor’s here, by the way, and he keeps pulling out his pocket watch and saying he’s got a salvation sermon to give this afternoon.”

  Skye looked back at Megan, who nodded.

  “We’ll be right down,” she said.

  “Bring Megan,” Webb replied, and then Megan heard his boot heels on the wooden stairs just down the hall.

  “Are you ready?” Christy asked.

  Megan nodded. Each of her sisters embraced her, Christy first, then Bridget, then Skye, who threw in a kiss on the cheek for good measure.

  “Let’s go,” Megan said after drawing one more deep breath.

  Skye descended the stairs first, then Bridget, then Christy, who was to stand up for Megan as a witness. Megan followed slowly, relishing the moment, wanting this day to last forever. The house gleamed, and the people she loved best in the world were gathered in the parlor, including Caney. Her new husband, Malcolm, stood proudly at her side.

  Megan’s gaze ricocheted to Webb’s face. Standing with Zachary at his right side, he watched her with frank admiration and a sort of wonder that caused her heart to overflow. She loved him. She loved him! First chance she got, she’d say so, right out, too. Something that personal had to be said in private, that was all.

  Reverend Taylor cleared his throat, and Megan took her place shoulder-to-shoulder with Webb, there in front of the fireplace. The preacher began to read, and Megan answered when she was called upon, her voice whisper-soft. So did Webb, though he sounded gruff instead. He was, Megan suspected, as nervous as she was, and somehow that was comforting.

  Finally, the reverend pronounced them man and wife, and Megan was overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. It was a good thing Webb turned and took her into his arms then to kiss her, because she figured she would have swooned dead away if he hadn’t been holding on to her.

  The touch of his mouth on hers was as gentle as the brush of a feather and, at the same time, as hot as fire. When the kiss ended, she looked up at him, blinking and a little stunned, and everyone else in the wedding party laughed and applauded.

  Congratulations rained down on the bride and groom, and there were more hugs, more kisses, more tears and laughter. Megan set her wilting bouquet aside on a table, and Augustus, always one to observe any occasion to excess, snatched it and ran furiously around and around the parlor. Then he dropped the flowers in a colorful tumble at Megan’s feet and looked up at her with so much unreserved adoration that she couldn’t resist bending down to kiss the top of his furry head and ruffle his silly ears.

  When the cake—Bridget’s famous recipe with coconut frosting—was served, Megan made sure Augustus got a good-sized piece, like every other guest at the wedding.

  It was nearly sunset when the well-wishers left, tearing themselves away, family by family, until Webb and Megan were completely alone.

  Webb cupped her chin in one hand. “If it isn’t Mrs. Webb Stratton,” he said, and grinned. Then he took out his pocket watch, flipped open the case, and considered the time.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Calculating when our first child will be born. I put it at nine months and two hours.”

  Megan blushed. “That soon?”

  He lifted her up into his arms. “That soon,” he confirmed, and headed toward the stairs. Augustus padded after them and whimpered once, disconsolately, when the door of the master bedroom closed in his face.

  Chapter

  11

  “ There’s something I—I need to tell you,” Megan murmured, gazing up into her husband’s face as he gently removed the pins from her hair, one by one, and set them atop the bureau. “Before—”

  He let her hair fall around his fingers, his hands gently cupping her skull on either side, his callused thumbs tracing the prominent ridges of her cheekbones. There was a quiet, knowing expression in his eyes. “I’m listening,” he said, his voice gruff.

  She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “I love you.”

  He was silent for a few moments, apparently absorbing those words, weighing them in his heart and mind. “Now, that’s interesting,” he said. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

  She felt her eyes go wide. He was standing so close that she could feel the heat from his body, sense the strength in his arms and legs and chest. Unlike many men, he never wore oil or pomade in his hair, and he smelled deliciously of pipe smoke, summer winds, and a subtle, teasing scent that might have been store-bought soap or cologne or something entirely his own. “When did you know?” she asked when she could get her tongue to cooperate with the effort.

  “Oh, I reckon I’ve been in love with you right along. I only admitted as much to myself a few days ago, though.”

  She nodded, shaken and certain that if he weren’t resting his hands on her shoulders, she would surely have risen right off the floor, like a stage sprite harnessed to an invisible wire. “I don’t exactly know how to do this,” she confided, whispering, as though they were in the midst of a crowd instead of their own bedroom, on a ranch several miles from town.

  He arched an eyebrow and grinned slightly, gave her shoulders the lightest possible squeeze. “This?” he teased, pretending not to know what she meant.

  She swallowed. “Lovemaking,” she replied, even more quietly than before.

  His brow crumpled, but there was still a blue light dancing in his eyes. “Oh,
” he said. “I understood you to say you were a woman of experience.”

  He would find her wanting, she was sure he would, as soon as he discovered how little she knew about the act of love. She was utterly mortified and quite unable to speak.

  “Ah,” Webb said, as though enlightened by her silence.

  She felt her face ignite with embarrassment. “It—it only happened once, and I—well—it was terrible—”

  He was combing her hair with his fingers now, and she felt his breath on her forehead. “Did you feel the way you feel right now?”

  She paused, considered the question, and then shook her head. She couldn’t have spoken, though; her throat had drawn shut again, like a tobacco pouch with the strings pulled tight.

  He smiled, tilted her chin, and looked straight into her eyes. “Let me show you,” he said, “how a woman should be loved.”

  A sweet, hard shiver went through her, partly disquiet but mostly anticipation. She nodded, still stricken to silence, to let him know she wasn’t scared. She closed her eyes when she felt his hands slide down from her shoulders along her arms to her hands. He raised one to his mouth and brushed the knuckles with his lips, then did the same with the other, taking his time. The very slowness of the gestures stirred exquisite sensations in the most sensitive parts of her body.

  After a few delicious moments, he turned her around, so that her back was to him, and began unfastening the cloth buttons that held her wedding gown closed. When the dress was open to the waist, Webb slipped his hands inside, boldly caressing her breasts.

  Megan groaned and let her head fall back against Webb’s shoulder.

  He chuckled, as though amused by her response. It was a heavenly misery, and, to compound matters, he slipped his thumbs inside her camisole, brushing her nipples until they hardened like creek stones. She gasped, and he continued his teasing, bending to kiss her temple and then nibble at her earlobe. By the time he got to her neck, she was dizzy with wanting, but this, she soon discovered, was only the beginning.