by Jacksons Way
Lindsay started forward to help her, but suddenly Agatha stepped into her path. She held out an open jewelry box, stamped her foot, and demanded that Lindsay fill it. Henry pushed their sister aside to wave a set of drawings in her face, yelling that she was going to see that he wasn't embarrassed to entertain in his own home. She stared at them, knowing that she should tell them to go away, but unable to make any words come out of her mouth.
And then, from out of nowhere, Jeb and Lucy walked between her and her siblings, clearly oblivious to all that was going on around them. They were speaking softly, alternately cooing down at their baby in Lucy's arms and looking at each other adoringly. The baby was wrapped in the blanket Lindsay had made for it; the shawl covered Lucy's shoulders. Lindsay watched them leave the room and started after them, wanting to ask them how she could be happy and oblivious, too.
It was Richard who stepped into her path this time. His body whole and sound, he thrust a packet of papers into her hands and told her that she had more important things to do than help a crippled woman with a tea tray or yearn for the mind-dulling slavery of wifery and motherhood. She had responsibilities to fulfill, a business to learn and ably run. There was correspondence that needed to be answered, decisions that had to be made right that minute. Ben stood at his elbow, clutching a ledger and an inkwell. A half-dozen quill pens were tucked behind his ears and he told her that he needed to go over the monthly summaries with her before he went home for the night. She nodded and looked around, searching the chaos for Otis Vanderhagen, knowing that he had to be there. She found him, finally, sitting on the floor under the desk and counting coins into big cloth sacks labeled TINY, LITTLE, BATES. His lips moved, but he made no sound. Neither did the coins as they fell from his fingers and into the bags. She watched him, puzzled as to how that could be. Richard's voice droned on, his litany of tasks unending.
And then the sound of her mother's derisive laughter came from a far corner, startling her into dropping the papers Richard had given her. She whirled around amidst the swirling sheets of white to find her mother standing beside a huge potted fern, a sherry glass in her hand, and dressed in a wedding gown of ivory lace. Her mother laughed again and told Richard that Lindsay couldn't do anything right and that he was wasting his time with trying to make something even halfway competent out of her. Lindsay was hopeless, she announced before tossing the sherry down her throat. Someone who knew what they were doing would have to marry Charles Martens and, since Lindsay had failed so miserably at seducing him, she'd have to sacrifice herself to see that the MacPhaull fortune was secured for their children.
At the edge of her vision, Lindsay saw a shadowy figure move in the doorway leading to the foyer. Dread filled her even as she turned to face the next assault on her mind and feelings. But it wasn't Charles Martens who stood there. It was Jackson Stennett, dressed as he'd been the day he'd walked into her life.
Relief washed over and she ran to him, throwing herself into his arms and thanking him for coming to save her from the insanity. He kissed her and then set her from him, his smile soft and sad.
“I have to go now, Lindsay.”
“Take me with you.”
“I can't. You know why.”
“But I love you, Jack.”
He shook his head and backed away. “You know you shouldn't have done that. Good-bye, Lindsay.”
And then he was gone.
LINDSAY AWAKENED WITH A START,her heart pounding furiously and tears pooling in her eyes. Afraid that her panic would awaken Jack and lead to questions she couldn't and didn't want to answer, she eased from his embrace and slipped out of bed. With trembling hands she snatched her wrapper from the floor and pulled it on, cinching the sash tightly about her waist. Only then did she stop to consider where she was going to go. Her knees weak, she managed to make her way to the upholstered chair in the corner of the room before the images of her dream returned and battered her anew.
She buried her face in her hands and struggled to shut away her emotions, to look at the dream logically and understand why it had so deeply disturbed her. Her life was chaotic, yes; it always had been. That part of her dream hadn't contained any insights that were especially novel or meaningful. And just as common to her existence were the expectations everyone had of her—those of Agatha, Henry, Richard, Ben, and those she had routinely failed to meet of her mother.
But Jeb and Lucy … Her heart twisted as she remembered going after them in her dream, wanting so badly to know their secret of being happy. Did it come from being married? Lindsay wondered now. Did it come from having a family of your own creation? Was she dreaming of things she couldn't have and for which she only thought she'd abandoned hope?
Lindsay sighed and shook her head. There wasn't any chance of marriage for her. There wasn't ever going to be any family of her own creation. She looked over at the bed, at Jack sleeping so soundly in it, and knew that if ever there was a man whose children she would want to bear, it would be his. Lindsay shook her head again. Jack had suffered too much loss in his life already and she wasn't willing to put his heart at risk again. She'd taken the precautions necessary to protect the freedom of them both. There would be no child from making love with Jackson Stennett.
Not now, not ever. Because there was no “ever” with Jack. He'd walled away his heart and she understood why he had. Any sane man would have done the same thing. She couldn't ask him to let her in; it would be cruel to make him so vulnerable. She'd known all along that he wasn't going to stay, that he would go home to Texas as soon as he could. Just as she'd always known that her place was here and her responsibilities inescapable.
So why, in her dream, had she asked to go with him? It was an impossibility for both of them and she knew it. She had, at one point in her life, harbored the hope of someday marrying and having a family, but she had never held any such romantic illusions about her relationship with Jackson Stennett.
As for her dreamy declaration of loving him … Lindsay quietly scoffed. He was handsome and strong and honorable and protective. She enjoyed his company and his intellect. And there was no denying that making love with him made her heart race and her soul sing. But that was all there was between them. She certainly didn't love him. As he'd reminded her in the dream just before he'd walked away, she knew better.
No, she'd been upset by his leaving her in the dream because it meant that she was going to have to face the disaster and chaos of her life and sort it out on her own. She wasn't going to be able to run away from it. Jackson wasn't her knight in shining armor. He hadn't come to save her from being Lindsay MacPhaull. Her fate was her fate and the only choice she had was to accept it.
“Lindsay?”
She looked over at him and saw that he was sitting up and searching the darkness of the room for her. “I'm over here,” she answered, rising from the chair and moving toward him.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she assured them both as she undid her sash. “I'm fine, Jack.”
“What are you doing up?”
She let the wrapper slide away as she climbed back into the bed, saying, “I had a bad dream. It didn't mean anything and I'm all right now.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, gathering her into his arms and easing them down into the softness of the mattress.
Her head cradled in the curve of his shoulder, her shoulders wrapped in the safe circle of his embrace, Lindsay draped her arm over his chest and nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LINDSAY STOOD BESIDE TINY and watched Jack start down the hopscotch pattern. The last two days had been the best of her entire life. The daylight hours had been filled with laughter and children's games—spinning tops and hopscotch and Cat's Cradle, the nights with making love with Jack. She almost hoped that the mail would never come and that she and Jack could exist forever in the simple world they'd found for themselves.
She watched Jack balance on one foot as he prepared to lean down to scoop up the pebble. He wa
s the most phenomenal man; intelligent and strong, kind and gentle, passionate and daring. Lindsay smiled. It was amazing to think of how deeply she'd resented him at first. Now … Her smile faltered. She was going to miss him terribly when he went back to Texas.
“You put your foot down! I saw it!” Tiny declared happily, hopping up and down and pointing.
Lindsay put away her sad thoughts and smiled. “You have to start over again.” Jack gave her a grin and a wink as he threw his arms up in the air and huffed as though greatly frustrated. Lindsay laughed and handed Tiny a bit of chalk, saying, “I think the numbers are getting blurry, don't you?”
“I'll make them again!” the young man announced, starting forward. “I can do that!”
Jack came to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and drawing her close against him. “You're a wonder, you know that?” he whispered as, together, they watched Tiny carefully trace the numbers.
“He wants to learn. It makes all the difference in the world,” she answered softly. “What's going to happen to him when the game ends, Jack?”
“We'll think of something,” he promised, kissing the top of her head. “He won't go without a roof or food or clothes.”
Such a good man. “Thank you.”
Tiny looked up from his task and his eyes twinkled with merriment. In a singsong, he said, “Jack has a girlfriend.”
“Yep. I'm a lucky man, Tiny.”
“Is Lindsay going to have your babies?”
She felt Jack's heart lurch, felt him check the impulse to let go of her and step away. Tears swelled her throat. Before they could overwhelm her, she hastily forced a chuckle and answered, “No, Tiny. I'm not. Jack and I aren't married.”
The young man tilted his head to study them. “Are you going to get married?”
“No,” she replied as Jack slowly released her. Tell the truth, Linds, she silently admonished. For Jack as well as Tiny. “Jack has to go back to Texas and I can't go with him.”
“That's sad.”
“Are you going to finish with those numbers, Tiny?” Jack asked, walking—ever so casually—away.
“Yes.” Tiny didn't move. “Why can't you go with him?”
So many reasons, Tiny. The roads we've both traveled to become who we are. “I have a job,” she answered, fighting to smile serenely as she gave him the simplest of the truths. “It's important, just like yours is. I can't leave it.”
“Oh.” He nodded and stared down at his feet for a moment. Looking up at her again, he added, “But it's still sad.”
Jack inserted himself into the conversation, saying with flinty coolness, “Sad things happen to people, Tiny. We survive and go on.”
Tiny's gaze went to him, puzzled. And then his attention shifted to the walkway and his face instantly brightened. “Look! It's Zachary!” He waved and called, “Hi, Zachary! Hi! Did you bring me my mail?”
Her knees suddenly weak and her heart heavy with dread, Lindsay eased down on the step and watched the letter carrier make his way down the walk.
“Who are your friends, Tiny?” the man asked, looking past the bouncing bulk of Tiny to eye the two of them suspiciously.
“This is Jack,” Tiny announced proudly, pointing. “And this is Lindsay. She's my friend, too. But not my girlfriend. She's Jack's girlfriend. She taught me to make hopscotch numbers.” With a flourish he indicated the game scratched on the walk. “See?”
To his everlasting credit, the carrier stepped closer and made an interested inspection of the game grid. “Very nicely done, Tiny. Maybe someday you can work at the post office.”
Tiny sucked a deep gasp of awed consideration. “Really? I would like that.”
Nodding, Zachary handed him two packets.
“Look, Jack! Look, Lindsay!” Tiny exclaimed, whirling around, the packets tightly gripped in both hands. “I got two mails!” He quickly dropped down beside Lindsay on the steps, saying with sudden solemnity, “Watch how I do this. It's important.”
“We're watching,” Jack drawled from his spot on the walk.
“No,” Tiny protested, looking up at him and shaking his head. “You got to sit down on the steps with me so you can see.”
With a shrug and a good-humored smile, Jack obeyed the command.
“Here, Jack. Hold this for me,” Tiny said, thrusting the smaller of the two packets into his hands. “And don't let anything happen to it, either. It's my rent money.”
“I'll guard it with my life.”
“Now, I open this letter and see,” Tiny said, leaning close to Lindsay so she could see him tearing the seal. “Inside there's another one.” He pulled it out and handed it to her as he looked and reached inside, adding, “And the two pennies.”
Lindsay looked at the packet he'd given her. It was addressed to herself at the MacPhaull Company offices.
Tiny took if from her hands, quickly showed it to Jack, and then rose to his feet saying, “Then I get up and I give the letter to Zachary. See?”
Jack nodded slowly. “Yep, we see.”
“Well done as always, Tiny,” Zachary said, giving him a sharp salute. He turned away, adding, “See you next week.”
“Wait, Zachary!” Tiny called after him, clearly panicked. “I have to give you the two pennies from the other letter.”
The carrier turned and walking backward, said, “Keep them for yourself. Go buy some peppermints or licorice.”
Again Tiny gasped in awe. Then he waved and yelled, “Thank you! 'Bye, Zachary! 'Bye!”
Lindsay smiled, finding comfort in the kindness Zachary displayed toward Tiny, and in the knowledge that the young man wasn't all alone in world, that there were people who would watch out for him. The touch on the shoulder came lightly and quick. She turned to find Jack holding out the packet Tiny claimed held his rent money. She didn't note the address; she couldn't see anything beyond the elegant and very familiar penmanship. Her heart twisted and her eyes filled with tears.
Jack watched the color drain out of her face and felt his stomach knot. As tears gathered in her eyes, Tiny turned and said, “Zachary's nice to me. He's my friend, too.”
“He is indeed,” Jack numbly agreed, his gaze never leaving Lindsay's grief-stricken face. “Here's your rent money,” he said, handing over the packet. “Better take it straight in to Mrs. O'Brien.”
“See, Lindsay?” he said, flashing the packet in her direction before dashing up the steps. “My rent money came just like I said it would. I'll be right back.”
The front door was slamming closed behind him when Jack softly asked, “Who's handwriting is it, Lindsay?”
She wrapped her arms tightly around her midsection. Tears spilled over her lashes as she rocked forward and back and sobbed out, “Abigail's.”
His chest tightened. “Oh, Jesus.” The one person in the world that Lindsay relied on, the one person she'd trusted all her life. Aching for her, he slid across the step and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Drawing her to him, he whispered, “Cry all you want, sweetheart. I understand.”
She fisted his lapels, burying her face in his chest, and in that instant he understood far more than the pain she felt at discovering Abigail Beechum's involvement. He'd chosen to be alone, had found his comfort in the isolation of his heart and his daily existence. Lindsay was alone, not because she wanted to be, but because everyone in the course of her life had either used, abused, or abandoned her. She deserved better. The unfairness of it made his throat burn and swell.
For Tiny's two cents, he'd pack her up and take her to Texas with him. She could live at Billy's place, and while their passion was likely to fade over time, at least she'd still have a friend she could trust, a friend she could talk to. It wasn't ideal, but it was a helluva lot better than what she had here. There'd be money for her, too. Half the ranch he owned had been her father's; it was only right that she take some of the profits. Besides, he wouldn't have any of it without her help in getting the money to pay the debts and clear the title.
But, now that he thought about it, it wasn't likely that she'd be a spinster living in her daddy's house for long. Just because he didn't want to complicate his life and risk his heart again didn't mean that there weren't men who were willing to do that. Hell, Texas was full of men who could appreciate an intelligent and beautiful woman. There'd be a line ten miles long to court her and it'd start forming the minute she put her dainty foot on the dock at Galveston. She could have her pick of the bunch and he'd make sure only the best got into the line. Lindsay could have a family of her own and she'd get the life she deserved. She'd be happy. He'd be happy. And her husband would be over the moon ecstatic with his good fortune and live every moment of his life only to see that Lindsay never wanted for anything. If he didn't, then he'd have to face Jackson Stennett's two-fisted wrath.
Of course, he had to figure out how to get Lindsay to leave New York in the first place. Just explaining his plan wouldn't do it. She'd claim that she needed to stay to take care of Henry and Agatha. She'd explain how she couldn't leave the business and how she couldn't just dismiss her household staff and—