by Linda Ford
She stared at her rounded boot tips until they blurred. This was not a new revelation. Hadn’t she told herself the same all along? Way back when she was fifteen and he was twenty-two and in love with Megan, she’d accepted her chances were very slim. Guess the stubborn O’Malley streak ran deeper than she’d thought. A part of her refused to give up hope.
What will it take to finally purge it? Purge him?
As long as she stayed in Gatlinburg, and as long as he remained unwed, a part of her would cling to hope for the impossible. Better to leave than to prolong the agony. Perhaps Jessica had been right—her stay in Maryville might become a permanent one.
“Coffee’s ready.” Jessica emerged from the cabin bearing a tray, Lee following behind with the desserts. They set them both on a low table, careful not to topple the candles flickering there.
When everyone had been served, Lee and Jessica took the rocking chairs flanking the door. Tom and Jane sat on the top step, using the solid posts as supports.
Cradling her mug in her hands, Jane blew on the hot liquid.
Lee forked a bite of coffee cake. “This is delicious, as usual. You two shouldn’t waste your talent on the café. Have you ever thought of opening up a bakery?”
The clink of utensils against the dishes punctuated the silence. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted.
Jessica looked as surprised as Jane felt. “What would Mrs. Greene do?”
“Hire someone else. Of course, they wouldn’t be as talented as you. Her customers would become your customers. Now that they’ve tasted your fine baking, they’ll follow you anywhere.”
“I don’t know,” Jess said doubtfully.
“Don’t you want all the profit for yourselves?”
Jane sipped her coffee, troubled by his utter lack of empathy for Mrs. Greene. Not only had she lost her beloved husband of twenty-five years, but she’d struggled with health problems all last year. The café gave her purpose. Jane didn’t want to contemplate becoming her competitor.
Across from her, Tom’s attention was on the plate in his hand. The candlelight glinted in his dark hair. If he let it grow any longer, it would begin to curl.
“I haven’t thought about it before, but I’m not sure either of us is ready for such an undertaking. What’s your opinion, Jane?” Jessica said.
Tom’s watchful gaze lifted to hers. It frustrated her not to know what he was thinking.
“I’m content with our current arrangement.”
“Ambition isn’t a bad thing, ladies.” Lee polished off his slice and returned the empty plate to the table. “And neither is making money.” His teeth flashed in the low light.
“Spoken like a true businessman.” Balancing an arm on his bent knee, Tom shifted in order to see the other man better. “Have you ever managed your own business?”
Lee hesitated. Humor fading, he resumed his seat. “As a matter of fact, my family owns a general store back in Virginia. The largest in our town. It’s quite successful.”
Jessica lowered her cup to her lap. “You never told me that.”
“Not something I like to talk about. My father and I…well, we don’t exactly get along.”
“Is that why you left?”
“He didn’t think I was capable of running things.”
His frustration was understandable. The bitterness etched on his features gave Jane pause, however.
“He couldn’t be more wrong,” Jessica announced. “You’re the most enterprising man I know.”
He snapped his fingers. “See, I knew there was a reason I fancied you.”
Her soft laughter spoke of her affection.
“What brought you to Gatlinburg?” Tom gave voice to the questions pestering Jane. “And why farming and not business?”
“Friends of mine traveled through these parts and had only glowing reports about the landscape and people. I’m an adventurous man, and I was looking for an excuse to leave. Tennessee sounded like a good place to start fresh. As for farming, it’s a challenge for the current season. Will I make it a lifelong vocation?” He spread his hands. “I can’t answer that one.”
“You’re not planning on moving away, are you?” Jessica’s countenance clouded.
Lee shifted uncomfortably.
Tom abruptly gained his feet and extended his hand to Jane. “I’d like more coffee. Care to assist me?”
His grip was sure and careful as he helped her up. Once in the dimly lit kitchen, she glanced in his mug. “You’ve only drank half of that.”
“They deserved some privacy. Besides, I should fetch Clara from your aunt’s. It will soon be past her bedtime.”
“I’m glad you came.”
Draining the contents, he left his cup in the dry sink and came to stand before her. “Me, too.”
She sensed the resignation in him and wondered at it. So gently she almost didn’t register the touch, he trailed his fingers down the length of her bandage.
“How’s the pain this evening?”
His husky voice beckoned her nearer. Breath hitching, she braced herself against the pie safe ledge. “Not as bad as before.”
“Good.” Time seemed to slow, and Jane thought she glimpsed a surge of longing that matched her own. “I’ll change the gauze for you in the morning.”
Hardly believing her daring, she placed her hand against his chest. “What do I owe you for your doctoring services?”
Beneath smooth cotton, sleek muscle and bone, his heart pounded strong and steady. His woodsy scent swirled around her, and she inhaled deeply. He covered her hand with his, imprisoning it. “Since you’re an old friend, I work for free.”
The golden light from the lone lamp in the middle of the table highlighted the angles of his cheekbones and jawline. His mouth hovered just above hers. Memories of the water fight flooded her—the fun-filled abandon she’d experienced and later the joyous sensation of being in his arms. She desperately wished to relive those moments.
“Free, huh?” she murmured. “I’m a fortunate girl.”
Somehow, his other hand had found her back, and he was slowly drawing her into him. She didn’t resist. Although there was no question she’d pay dearly for this slip, she couldn’t find the strength to stop it.
“Jane…” His voice issued a warning and a promise.
From the living room, the sound of the main door opening jolted them apart. Lee and Jessica’s quiet conversation drifted in.
Tom’s expression shuttered. “Good night, Jane.”
He strode from the room, leaving her weak-kneed.
Chapter Sixteen
He was beginning to think Jane’s trip to visit her aunt would be a blessing. Not one he welcomed, but one he needed if he hoped to maintain their friendship.
Lowering the pruning shears, he surveyed the procession of peach trees he’d just released his frustration on. His shoulders and upper back testified to the handful of hours he’d spent cleaning up the orchard. Parched, he gathered his tools and headed for the shed.
Thunder rumbled in the near distance. Above him, thick clouds stretched across the sky like cotton batting, effectively blocking the sun. There was no activity around the cabin.
The girls had spent much of the day inside. He’d stayed outside. Except for lunch, an unavoidable and predictably stifled affair. Thankfully, Clara hadn’t noticed either adult’s unusual silence. That morning, shortly after Jane’s arrival and without his niece’s peppy chatter to distract them, he’d made good on his promise to tend to her wound—and she hadn’t uttered a single voluntary word as he applied a fresh layer of ointment to her cut and wrapped it in clean gauze.
He’d made absolutely no mention of last night. Hadn’t had to. Their almost kiss hung between them, a reminder of his foolishness.
What galled him was this weakness where Jane was concerned, his inability to hold tight to sound judgment. He was keenly aware of the consequences of such actions. That didn’t seem to matter when she was near, however.
If given
another opportunity, he didn’t trust himself not to take advantage.
Jane had to go. Soon. He cared too much to continue in this manner.
Half an hour later, he was still tinkering in the toolshed when thunder pealed directly overhead, rumbling through the ground beneath his soles. He went to the doorway and peered out. The wind had picked up, the sky darkened to pewter. Clara didn’t like storms. As much as he dreaded going in, he had no more cause to delay.
The clouds opened up as soon as he ducked beneath the porch’s overhang, the torrent drenching the yard and obscuring his vision. Lightning lit up the sky in a spectacular display. Jane wouldn’t be going home for a while. He had mixed feelings about that.
Letting himself in, he found them on the couch with a book. Jane looked past him to the view beyond the window glass.
“Come and read with us,” Clara said.
Clara’s short legs didn’t quite reach the floor. Her curls formed a shiny halo about her bright face. Seeing her relaxed and happy sent a trill of thankfulness through him. Having Jane around these first weeks in Gatlinburg had made the transition smoother than it might’ve been otherwise. He’d have to be very careful to choose the right woman to take her place.
Isn’t it about time you started searching for said woman?
Unable to deny his niece’s beseeching look, he hastily removed his boots and rid his hands of grit and grime before joining them. He motioned for Clara to scoot over. She was tucked against the far end, with Jane occupying the middle.
Shaking her head, she pointed to the empty spot on the other side of her caretaker. “Sit there, Uncle Tom. That way you can see the pictures while Miss Jane reads.”
A telltale blush climbed Jane’s slender throat and invaded her cheeks.
“Fine.”
This isn’t a big deal, he told himself as he sat beside her. The worn sofa had seen better days, and the springs inside weren’t all that supportive. Without meaning to, he began to shift closer to her.
Her fingers gripping the book tighter, she flicked her luminous green eyes to his, questions in the mossy depths.
“Sorry.” To halt his sideways slide, he braced his arm along the sofa back behind her. “Guess I should see about replacing this old relic.”
It wasn’t a perfect solution, because now he had to concentrate on not brushing against her neck or shoulders. A whiff of strawberries filled his nostrils. It clung to her hair, her skin, her clothes. He yearned to wrap his arm around her—something he wouldn’t have hesitated to do before—and pull her close. Tuck her head beneath his chin, stroke her silky hair and just enjoy being near her.
He closed his eyes and prayed for fortitude.
“Read this page again, Miss Jane.” Clara tapped the drawing. “Uncle Tom won’t know what happened to the princess if you don’t.”
Lifting his head from the sofa, Tom listened with his attention fixed on the pages.
“How did you like this one?” Jane asked Clara when she’d finished.
“I like princesses.” Hopping down, she scooted in front of him and put a hand on his knee. “Did my mama read to me?”
He nodded, his throat suddenly thick. “Almost every night before bed.”
Questions like this were to be expected. She deserved to know about Jenny. That didn’t make answering them any easier. Charles should be the one telling her about her mother, not him.
Big green eyes full of innocence, Clara blinked up at Jane. “Will you be my new mama?”
Surprise ricocheting through him, Tom couldn’t resist a glance at the woman beside him. A mixture of sadness and regret weighed down her features.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathed. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“You could marry my uncle. Then you wouldn’t have to go home every night.”
Tom bit back a groan. This wasn’t helping ease the awkwardness between him and Jane. He pushed to standing and paced to the window. The storm outside mirrored the one inside him.
His back to the room, he didn’t see Jane’s reaction.
“One day, your uncle is going to find a special lady whom he l-loves and wants to marry.” She seemed to have trouble voicing the solemn words. “She will be your new mother.”
He was having trouble picturing wooing a nameless, faceless woman.
“But I like you.”
Another intense rumble of thunder punctuated the silence. Tom twisted around to see Jane hugging Clara. “I like you, too,” Jane whispered. “Very much.”
Over Clara’s shoulder, Jane was looking at him. Her gaze was not only pained, but a turbulent mass of longing. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that longing was directed at him. Marriage and family had been within her grasp before they were cruelly and publicly snatched away. All of the O’Malley cousins had married and were starting families, save for the twins. And from what he’d seen, Jessica wasn’t far from that state, which left Jane.
Clara’s naive request had stirred those dreams to life.
Unable to handle her anguish, he knew he needed to lighten the mood.
*
Jane instantly recognized Tom’s determination. It reminded her of the time Caroline had accused her of going to the boy she liked, Larry Winston, and telling him of her infatuation. Jane hadn’t, of course, but Caroline had refused to believe her. Hurt, she’d confessed the entire story to him. He’d ignored her protests and went directly to her friend’s home to sort things out.
She hadn’t thanked him then for his interference. Right now, though, she desperately needed to not think about her problems. “The storm isn’t letting up, is it?”
On the other side of the window, the rain was coming down in sheets. A mixture of water and mud splattered onto the steps. The road would be a muddy morass by the time it was over.
He clapped his hands together. “I have an idea to pass the time. Let’s play charades.”
“Yay!” Clara jumped up and down. “Me first!”
Seeing her excitement, bittersweet emotion swept over Jane. One innocent question was all it had taken to demolish the barrier she’d erected the day they met. Will you be my new mama?
She’d been so careful not to give in to fruitless imaginings. How easy it would’ve been to pretend she could have a permanent role in Clara’s life. All those afternoons baking together, teaching her to write, untangling her curls, washing the smudges from her sweet face, comforting her when Jenny’s absence became too much…everyday moments that added up to motherhood.
The dream of becoming Tom’s wife was joined by another, futile desire—to be a mother to Clara.
Tom sat on one end of the sofa. Leaning into the cushions, long legs extended and hooked at the ankles, he gestured to the opposite end. “You have to play, too, Jane. Won’t work with just two players.”
Father God, all I want is to disappear with my journal and pencil and put my feelings to paper. But I’m stuck here for the duration. Help me, please.
Fingers closing over the cross pendant in the dip of her collarbone, she crossed the room and assumed her seat. Clara was an expressive child. Watching her move and wriggle and make funny faces in an attempt to get her point across served to distract Jane from her darker thoughts. Then it was Tom’s turn. Clever and funny, he wasn’t afraid to look foolish. Bit by bit, the rigidity in her body seeped away, and she found herself able to smile. When she took her place before the stone fireplace, her self-consciousness faded in the face of Clara’s enthusiasm. Her giggles, and the absence of sadness in her big eyes, made the effort worthwhile.
Jane chose not to dwell on Tom’s frank admiration.
When they’d finished, he insisted on frying up the ham and potatoes she’d sliced earlier, leaving her and Clara to set the table. The lingering rain gave her no choice but to join them. Thanks to Tom’s concerted efforts, the experience was nowhere near as trying as the noon meal had been.
His sensitivity and kindness only made her love him more. Her past feelings, she was quickl
y recognizing, had been those of an immature young girl. Sure, she’d witnessed the goodness in him and responded to that, had thought him dashing, like some storybook hero. Dealing with him on an adult level, she saw so much more, beyond the obvious to his generous, selfless nature.
He would be a loving, attentive husband. A fine father, too. All she had to do was observe him with his niece to be convinced of that.
The rain finally abated around the time they finished cleaning up the kitchen. Jane eagerly took her leave, grateful for the solitude, even if she did have to concentrate extra hard to navigate the mucky lanes.
Jessica was relieved to see her.
“I don’t suppose you heard the news,” she said over her shoulder as Jane followed her to the kitchen.
“I didn’t leave Tom’s all day. What happened?”
“I went to the post office this morning, hoping to find a letter from Ma, and Main Street was abuzz with the news that Mr. Huffaker discovered a dead body on his property.”
Jane froze. The Huffakers’ farm was situated about a mile east of Lee’s. “That’s horrible. Who was it?”
She shrugged. “No one local. Sheriff Timmons seems to think he was a drifter.”
“Do they think it was an accident?”
“He was shot to death, Jane. Four bullet holes to the chest.”
She shuddered at the graphic mental image. “Isn’t that near Lee’s place?” Her casual tone belied the rapid pounding of her heart.
“I hadn’t thought about it. I mean, I haven’t been there, but it sounds like the general vicinity.”
“Why haven’t you?”
Jessica’s eyes widened at her abrupt manner.
“You said yourself things are getting serious,” Jane said. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange he hasn’t invited you to see his home at least once?”
“Since when did you become Miss Sally Sleuth?” Her hands fisted. “I’ve never known you to be the suspicious type, Jane. The fact of the matter is, you don’t like him. You’re searching for reasons not to.”
“Hold on—”
“You’re being so unfair. When I think how I supported you through the Roy fiasco—”