Mimi forced another smile. “Here he is.”
“Hold on, then. I’ve got something for you.”
“You’ve done enough.”
“Just a minute.”
Evie went back inside the house and came out with another satchel. “I hope you don’t mind, but I collected some clothes for the children, too.”
“I bought some material.”
“I know you did, but sewing takes time. And you need every spare minute to get that first order delivered.”
The fact that Evie was right or that Mimi was grateful didn’t diminish the sting of charity. She waved her hand at the bags. “I’m sure there are others in town more deserving.”
Evie sighed. “I was afraid you were going to feel that way.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because you need help.” She dropped the satchel at Mimi’s feet. “And because I like you.”
It would be foolish to reject the gift. “I like you, too. And thank you.”
Evie gave her a quick hug. “And stop being so darn standoffish and invite me out to visit soon.”
Hugging her back, Mimi promised, “I will.”
The creaking grew louder as the flatbed drew closer. Jackson sat in the front seat, his hat pulled low over his eyes, his hair pulled back at the base of his neck. His mouth was set in a straight line. If his expression left her in any doubt of his mood, the stiff set of his shoulders dispelled it. He was annoyed. As he had been for the last two days. She had no idea why.
Calling the children, Mimi forced another smile. “As soon as we get settled, I’ll arrange for you to come out.”
It was a lie, but by the time Evie figured that out, Mimi would be gone. That was the other thing that this visit had taught her. Staying in one place was not an option. People got too curious. Asked too many questions. Gossiped too much. With the money from the lingerie sale she could buy train tickets. It wouldn’t get them far, but it would be a start on disappearing.
“Good.” Evie smiled and waved to Jackson. “Hey there, Jackson.”
Jackson gave Evie a smile that sparked a kernel of pure jealousy in Mimi’s heart. She missed his warm smiles.
“Hello yourself.”
Jackson pulled the wagon up. “Whoa there.”
The mule, acting like this was all happening far too early in the day, plodded to a stop. Lady, on the contrary, danced in irritated impatience at the back. The kids came running around the corner. Melinda Sue, looking adorable in a new pink dress with ruffles and matching ribbons in her hair, skipped up to the mule. Kevin, never one to be left out of anything, was right behind her.
“Don’t get too close, Mellie,” Mimi warned, hurrying down the steps.
As usual, by the time she got the warning out it was too late for caution. Melinda Sue was already within chomping range. The mule cocked an ear at the excited child and then stood placidly and let her scratch his nose. When she stopped scratching, he dipped his head down for more.
“I’m going to name him Samantha,” Melinda Sue announced.
“You can’t name a boy Samantha,” Kevin scoffed, scratching behind the mule’s ear.
Melinda Sue stuck out her lip. “Can too.”
“All the other mules will make fun of him. Samantha’s a girl’s name.”
Evie chuckled and shook her head at the exchange, taking it in stride. Mimi wanted to have the same nonchalance as Evie and the same carefree attitude as the children, but that wasn’t possible. She was their parent now. They were her responsibility.
“I don’t think we need to be fighting about the mule’s name right now.” Catching Melinda Sue’s hand, she drew her away from the mule. “We need to get the wagon loaded so we can go home.”
Melinda Sue dug in her heels. “But—”
Jackson cut the protest short. “Go get your things, Melinda Sue.”
As always, when Jackson spoke, Melinda Sue listened. Mimi wished she could bottle that tone he had that made resistance disappear. Flouncing up the steps, Melinda Sue disappeared into the house. She came back carrying her doll and her parasol. Behind her came Tony lugging her satchel.
“Where’s my stuff?” Kevin asked.
“Inside,” Tony retorted, “where you left it.”
Kevin said something Mimi was glad she couldn’t hear before he went in after it.
Jackson hopped down off the wagon. As was his habit lately, all he spared Mimi was a glance. Evie, watching the interaction, frowned. With a shake of her head, Mimi deflected the silent inquiry.
“Hand me the bags, son,” Jackson said. With that easy grace with which he did everything, Jackson tossed them up onto the loaded wagon, before fetching Mimi’s. The glance he cut her as he passed was as inscrutable as his behavior.
Tony looked at the pile. “We sure are going home with a lot more than we came with.”
“It’s going to take you days to unpack, that’s for sure,” Evie agreed, clearly trying to ease the tension.
Jackson grunted an agreement as he heaved Mimi’s heavy bag onto the wagon. “We’re losing daylight here. Do you have everything?” he asked Mimi.
“I’ve got what matters.”
Jackson’s head snapped around. Mimi didn’t bother to elaborate. She could play this game as well as he did.
“Then climb on up here and let’s get going.”
Kevin climbed in first and settled himself on the bag of oats.
“You’re next, sprout,” Jackson said, holding out his arms.
Giggling, Melinda Sue jumped. Jackson caught her and swung her up into the buckboard. Watching her, Mimi wondered if she’d ever been that young. There were days when she just felt ninety. After Tony scrambled up, there was nothing left for Mimi to do but take the hand that Jackson held out.
“Thank you.” As he helped her into the wagon with the touch of a stranger, she couldn’t help but remember that night on the stoop and how his fingers had learned the texture of her skin, his lips the shape of her mouth, his kiss the taste of her soul. Biting the inside of her cheek, she kept the tears at bay.
“Don’t forget to plant that basil as soon as you get home. It’ll die if the roots dry out,” Evie said, shading her eyes from the sun.
“I won’t.”
“And, Jackson?” Evie added.
“Yeah?”
“Try not to be any bigger of a horse’s butt than you have to be. Not everyone can see the world the way you do.”
* * *
• • •
It wasn’t until much later that Mimi had a chance to confront Jackson. First there was the trip home to endure. Then there was the wagon to unpack. After that, supper had to be made, the animals needed to be tended. And finally, the children to be bathed and the usual arguments about going to bed to be had.
But at last, when the moon was high, Mimi was able to turn down the oil lamp to a soft glow, tiptoe out of her bedroom, and step out onto the porch. Jackson was there, as she knew he would be. Sitting on the same step as before. Sharpening his knife as before. Everything was as it had been before, except for his attitude. She had the crazy notion that he thought by doing it over, he could erase what was.
Standing at the top of the stairs, Mimi folded her arms across her chest. “When are you leaving?”
Not by a twitch did he reveal any surprise at the question, but she was learning to read him, and the rotation of the knife over the whetstone was just a little bit slower. A little more controlled.
“What makes you think I’m leaving?”
“Well, if the last few days have been your way of making me want you around, I’ve got to tell you, you’re failing abysmally.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and I’m sick of it.”
She could tell from the angle of his hat that he was looking at her, but
the details of his expression were lost in shadow. “So am I.”
Digging her fingernails into her arms, she held on to her even tone by sheer force of will. “You could have fooled me.”
He set the whetstone beside him. Just as deliberately he placed the knife across it. “I’ve been wrestling with some questions for the last couple days.”
“I noticed, but I’m not going to be treated like this anymore.”
“Just out of curiosity, how exactly do you intend to prevent it?”
“That new shovel needs to be broken in.”
The sound he made might’ve been a chuckle. It also could’ve been exasperation.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand you anymore.”
“But you’re not blaming me.”
She did recognize sarcasm. “No. I know my flaws.”
She expected him to say something. Anything. The silly part of her even hoped he’d say she didn’t have any. Look at her the way Clint looked at Jenna. The way the Rev looked at Evie. The way Cougar looked at Mara.
Instead, he patted the stair beside him. “Come here.”
She sighed internally and dropped her hands. “I don’t want to.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
He used that steel-wrapped-in-velvet drawl. It was amazingly effective. She plunked down on the steps beside him. Not because she was intimidated but because she couldn’t stop hoping.
He didn’t say anything immediately. Just sat there a few scant inches away. So close she could smell him. He always smelled so good. Like man and leather and heaven. Her own personal archangel, who’d lost his taste for saving her.
“When were you going to tell me you were married?” he asked.
Her heart sank. Of all the questions she didn’t want to answer, that was number one. She licked her lips. “What makes you think I am?”
The glance he cut her out of the corners of his eyes sliced clean through her bluff. “Are you?”
She tried a different angle. “Why does it matter?”
“I don’t pursue married women. And why haven’t you answered my question?”
Because it was complicated. And she had too much to lose.
“So?” he prodded. “When were you going to tell me you were married?”
He sat all outwardly calm, but beneath the surface she could see the tension coiled within him, waiting to explode. “I don’t know. Hopefully never?”
He was so close. All she had to do was move her hand an inch and she could be touching him. She wanted to touch him to remind him of how good it felt the last time they were out here. The kisses. The passion. What stopped her was the knowledge that he might not kiss her back.
He wasn’t buying her prevarication. He shifted to face her, his gaze as sharp as his tone. “You don’t know? How could you not know? At some point, it was going to become relevant.”
His skepticism cut to the bone. “Do you want to know the truth?”
A muscle in his jaw bunched. “There’s no point in adding any more lies to the mix.”
No, there wasn’t. The answer came out on a sigh. “The truth is, I hadn’t thought of it at all. One minute I’m down a well preparing to die, worried about how the children are going to survive without me, thinking, ‘Oh, my God, what have I done?’ And then when I’m just about to give up, there you are, looking like some angel descended from heaven. When you kissed me as we flew out of that well, you expected me to remember a man who I may or may not be married to?”
“Hold it right there.” His hand came under her chin, turning her face to his, holding her immobile. She couldn’t even tell if it was fear or desire that made her heart race. It probably didn’t even matter. “Say that last part again.”
“How do you expect me to remember anything when you’re whispering sweet things in my ear? I’ve never met a man like you.”
A faint glimmer revealed his smile. “That part you can repeat later. I want to hear about this man who may or may not be your husband. Are you married or not?”
“I don’t know.”
“Again, how do you not know?”
“My mother said this man approached her in regard to courting me. Older. Established. He was quite a catch for someone like me.”
“Explain ‘someone like me.’”
“I was born out of wedlock.”
“I see.” His thumb rubbed ever so lightly under her chin.
She doubted he did. Things were different for men. They had options not available to women.
“Continue.”
She shrugged. “He started courting me. I was flattered. At first Mother insisted on chaperoning, but then he asked for permission to take me to dinner. Alone.” This was so embarrassing. She struggled to catch her breath. Swallowing hard, she fought for her voice. His thumb caressed the tight muscles of her throat. Her voice came out thready. No amount of clearing strengthened it.
“I was very excited. I’d never eaten in a restaurant before. I practiced my manners for hours before he came. I didn’t want to embarrass him.”
“Mimi . . .”
She hated the pity she heard in his voice. She didn’t want his pity. Anger gave her back the strength she’d lost.
“Dinner was delicious. I had wine. I didn’t really like it, but I liked how sophisticated I felt with that glass in my hand.”
“Christ. How old were you?”
“Fourteen.” And dumb. So dumb.
“How old are you now?”
“Nineteen.”
“How old was he?”
“Forty-two.”
“Damn.”
She was betrayed by a tear, seeping past her pride, spilling down her cheek. She didn’t need his pity. With a lift of her chin, she dared him to say something.
It wasn’t the tear that got to Jackson. No, he could handle a woman crying. It was the pride with which she bore the breach in her defenses. The shame she suppressed for something over which she’d had no control. Shit, she’d been only fourteen. What chance did a fourteen-year-old have against a grown man? Jackson sighed and turned, pulling Mimi into his arms. She struggled. He didn’t care. He was done being an ass.
“Don’t.”
The whisper cut at his heart.
There was no way in hell he was respecting that “Don’t.” Not when Mimi’s pain stretched so palpably between them. Not when he knew how the story was going to end. Not when she needed him.
“Come here, honey.”
“No.”
He settled the dispute by picking her up and sitting her on his lap. She didn’t relax. He didn’t care. He had his arms around her. For now, he could be satisfied with that.
“Do you want to hear the rest?” she asked without any detectable inflection.
“Yes. I don’t want any more secrets between us.”
“It’s pretty simple and you’ve probably already guessed it.”
“Tell me anyway.”
She licked her lips. “One glass of wine led to two. Maybe three. I don’t know. The next morning I woke up in his bed. I was sore. There was blood on the sheets. And he had a piece of paper saying we were married.”
Cold anger settled in his gut. “He raped you.”
“A husband can’t rape his wife. I know, I checked.”
He wasn’t surprised. Mimi might be young, but she was determined and resourceful. “Which brings us to how you don’t know whether you’re married or not.”
Another sigh. “Last year he told me I was too old and he was getting married to someone else. When I asked how that was possible since I was his wife, he told me not to be a fool. There was no way a man of his station would have married someone like me.”
“Did you kill him?” He already knew the answer.
“No.”
Tangling his fi
ngers in her hair, he tilted her head back. The faint moonlight highlighted the fragility of her features, the pain in her eyes. The shame. “Would you like me to kill him?”
There was the slightest of hesitations. “I don’t want you anywhere near him. He’s a very dangerous man.”
“So am I.”
She didn’t believe him. He couldn’t blame her for that. Her husband had had years to convince her of his invulnerability, whereas she’d only known Jackson less than two weeks.
“He won’t hurt you or the children again.”
Her “thank you” was clearly a sop to his pride. He rolled his eyes.
“I just want to stay as far away from him as I can.”
He thought of the flyer in his pocket. “I’m all for that.”
Her fingers opened over his heart. “You need to stay away from him, too. If he comes looking for us, promise me you’ll stay away.”
“Honey, I intend to be the first person to welcome him to town.”
She leaned back. “Don’t say that!”
“I can take care of myself, Mimi. I’m—”
She actually put her hand over his mouth.
“Not against Mac. He’s big and ruthless and he knows so many people. He’s like a snake in the grass. Always sneaking up when you least expect it.”
Removing her hand, he kissed her palm before placing it over his shoulder. “I’m not afraid of Mac, Mimi.”
Her nails dug into his neck. “You need to be.”
“Why?”
“He’ll come after me.”
Those nails dug deeper. “You said he’d moved on. Selected another wife.”
There was a pause.
He tipped her chin up. Her eyes were huge, shadowed by more than moonlight. “Why, Mimi?”
“I stole some things from him.”
“What?”
“The kids. Some cash. A necklace. And a book.”
At least now he knew why none of them looked alike. “Interesting collection.”
“You don’t sound shocked.”
Sliding his fingers up her arm, he curled them around hers and eased her nails out of his skin. “I would have killed him. Seems to me like he got off lightly with some petty theft.”
“He doesn’t think so.”
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