mended areas. The material surrounding the rips had a faint,
dingy stain that only showed when the light hit it at a certain
angle. The spots were nothing more than could be expected for
clothes more than a century and a half old.
Becci glanced at her watch. Caleb would meet her at the
foot of the stairs in fifteen minutes, and they would inspect
each other’s attire. She eased the dress on and slipped the tiny
loops over each button. She pinned the cameo she’d found with
the dress in place and glanced at her reflection.
She ran her palm over the soft, silk skirt, then traced the
mottled image in the cracked mirror. Somehow she knew
Rebecca would approve. According to the journal, this had
been Rebecca’s favorite dress—the one Caleb liked best. Becci
brushed her fingers over the lace then lowered her hand to the
dresser’s carved initial handles, feeling a close kinship with
the long ago Rebecca. Rebecca had never seen the dresser Caleb
had made for her, but Becci knew she would have loved it.
A shimmer in the mirror caused Becci to look up, and her
heart echoed in her ears. There was another woman’s reflection
in the glass instead of her own. She felt the woman’s anguish,
and Becci’s throat tightened over a sob.
I only wanted him to find happiness. He has, but now he
must return to the sorrows of my life—not for me, but for Luke.
It was a woman’s voice echoing in her mind. The wavering
image in the mirror was oddly like Becci’s own image, yet
different. Was it Rebecca? Was the voice also hers?
He needs you, Becci, and if it were not for Luke I would
relinquish Caleb to you. But I can’t. Please do not hate me.
Becci drew in a shaky breath. How could she let Caleb
go? Didn’t Rebecca know that she loved him and needed him,
too?
“Caleb will be there for Luke,” she told the reflection. “He
feels strongly about his promise, and not even I can make him
break his word. My love is not enough to hold him.”
Becci covered her eyes to block out the other woman’s
image. “This is crazy.” She lowered her hands and faced the
mirror again. Her own image stared back at her and reflected
the tears that pooled in her eyes. She was sure she’d been
hallucinating, that she’d dreamed up the other Rebecca’s image
as well as her words. It was her subconscious’ way of making
her face the truth.
Caleb would never be hers.
Feeling as if her heart would break in two, she repaired
her makeup, slipped her watch from her wrist and laid it on the
dresser. She wanted everything from the top of her head to her
toes to look perfect, even if life with Caleb could never became
a reality. At least the memories he took back of her would be
good ones.
The clock struck seven. With one last glance in the mirror,
Becci headed for the stairs. She stood at the top and drew in
several deep breaths as she heard the door to Aunt Lilly’s room,
where Caleb had chosen to dress, open and close. The sound
echoed through the silent house. Then Caleb’s shadow fell
across the polished, wooden floor. Becci descended the stairs
one step at a time. Her foot hit the last step just as Caleb rounded
the corner.
They stopped, several feet still separating them. The sight
of him took her breath away. The stirrup pants molded to his
thighs like a second skin and outlined every masculine detail.
With a flourish, he flipped off his top hat and bowed. From top
hat to tails and down to his sharp-toed dress boots, he created
a picture of elegance. Even the cravat looked right on him.
He wore that cocky grin that she loved, and excitement
sparkled in his eyes as his gaze drifted from her toes upward.
His grin assured her that he was equally approving of her.
Suddenly his grin disappeared. With deliberately slow
steps, he closed the distance between them. A mixture of
disbelief and pain flickered in his eyes.
What had she done to hurt him so badly?
Fifteen
Becci held her breath as Caleb raised his hand to the cameo
and traced the ivory border.
“I gave this to Rebecca to celebrate Luke’s birth. She had
it on the last time I saw her. In fact, she...she was dressed exactly
as you are now.”
Shock rifled through Becci. Slowly she placed her hand
on the cameo nestled on the dress’ ruffled neck. She touched
each button lining the bodice front. As she let her hand fall to
her waist, she lifted her eyes to Caleb’s.
Pain swam in the depths of his blue eyes. It made her
wonder if his relationship with Rebecca had really been one of
friendship and nothing more.
“Rebecca wore the cameo the day she died.” Becci spoke
the thought aloud, a chill shaking her.
Her hand went to the stitched slit. If Rebecca wore this
dress on that day, then the mended area and the faded marks
weren’t just incidental rips and watermarks. They were grim
reminders of Rebecca’s death, and a crude attempt to remove
the blood that had once soaked the dress. Becci felt weak. With
her free hand, she clutched the stairs’ newel cap to steady
herself.
“Don’t you mean, the day I killed her for her gold?” Caleb
asked softly.
He closed his eyes to block out the accusation that he
instinctively knew would be evident in her eyes. She really did
think he’d killed Rebecca. She’d found him guilty without
asking him one question. It usually didn’t matter to him what
others thought, but in this case he felt like a knife had been
thrust into his chest and twisted.
When she didn’t respond to his question, he opened his
eyes and nervously rolled the brim of the top hat between his
hands while he studied her. She’d gone pale.
“Are you sure Rebecca was wearing this dress?”
Caleb nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Becci swayed and reached out for support. Caleb placed
his hand on her elbow to steady her, then quickly released her.
She looked vulnerable, and he wanted to protect her.
“I have many dark secrets in my life, Becci, but murdering
Rebecca isn’t one of them.”
Her lips parted in protest, and he touched the tip of his
finger to them to stop her reply. It was a mistake. Just the feel
of their softness against his skin made him want to haul her
into his arms.
So inviting. So tempting.
Caleb had to swallow hard before he could force out the
words. “Lilly showed me the last page of Rebecca’s diary. The
one where Obadiah wrote that he believed I killed Rebecca
and stole her gold. I know you’ve read it, too.”
Becci nodded. The motion created a tantalizing sensation
where his finger still rested on her lower lip. She should tell
him that she knew he didn’t kill Rebecca—tell him of Rebecca’s
appearance in the mirror and her plea for Becci to send him
back. But
she couldn’t. If she confessed to having contact with
Rebecca, he would leave. And she didn’t want to lose him. Not
yet.
Caleb’s gaze rose to hers and then dropped back to her
mouth. Slowly, he lowered his hand. His words were barely a
whisper in the quiet entry hall.
“Rebecca and Saul befriended me when others turned their
backs. When Saul died, I promised to look after Luke and
Rebecca. I love Luke as if he were my own, and I…I have
promised to wed Rebecca. As for the gold, I believe there may
be some here, but I’m not sure where it is. Rebecca did give
me a medallion—the one that I drew the picture of and showed
you. I’m sure the medallion is still in the house, and you know
that once I have it I’ll be leaving.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he again lifted his
hand to her mouth and brushed his thumb across her lips. The
friction had her trembling like a girl waiting for her first kiss.
Not sure she could stand up a moment longer, she caught the
long skirt, lowered herself to the bottom step and patted the
vacant space beside her.
Caleb settled the top hat on his head and ran his palms
over the upturned brim. He glanced at the door then back at
Becci. He should leave. Run like he’d done before. Something
told him that if he sat down beside her, it would only make it
harder for both of them when he had to leave her.
But instead of running, he joined her.
She kept her gaze straight ahead. Her tongue flicked over
the area his finger had just rested. He glided his knuckles down
her cheek and then captured her chin and turned her face to
his. Her eyes were brimming with curiosity, fear and...desire.
As he stared at her, her lips parted, inviting him to taste
them. Covering her hand, he threaded his fingers through hers
and tried to ignore her entreaty. He had to tell her his story. She
had to know the truth.
“The day the journals claim Rebecca died, I delivered the
dresser which is upstairs in your bedroom. I planned to ask her
to be my wife that day. I wasn’t sure she would accept, my past
being what it is.” He pulled his hand from hers and leaned
forward, his elbows on his thighs.
“Jacobs came with me that day. He was the last person to
see Rebecca alive. What happened next is as much a mystery
to me as it is to you. One minute I was pushing the dresser into
Rebecca’s bedroom, and the next minute I was in yours. But I
swear to you, Becci, I didn’t kill Rebecca. I’m not a violent
man.”
Becci inched over until their thighs touched. Then she rested
her hand on his and squeezed lightly. Slowly, he let his gaze
meet hers again. A jolt of heat surged through him at the
understanding reflected in her eyes.
He bent forward to claim her lips, but she turned away. He
closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face. He’d misread
her expression. She didn’t want his kiss—didn’t want him. But
he couldn’t move away.
Becci groaned inwardly when she glanced back at Caleb.
His defeated express told her he thought she was rejecting his
kiss because she thought he’d killed Rebecca.
“Caleb, to use a phrase you’re so fond of, it’s not what you
think,” she assured him. “I don’t think you killed Rebecca. I
know you wouldn’t kill without just cause, but you did tell me
several days ago that you’d killed someone. I can’t believe the
Caleb Harrison I knew would do such a thing. I…I have to
know what happened about the man you claim to have killed.”
As much as she needed to know his story, she had trouble
concentrating. A fraction of an inch separated them. If she
leaned forward at all, their lips would touch.
“I did kill a man, Becci,” he said, his words a feathery
breeze against her lips.
He was so close his features were blurred, and Becci could
detect his unique masculine scent, combined with the soap he’d
used.
“Was it Elizabeth’s lover?” she whispered, leaning toward
him.
He turned and braced his back against the wall. Lifting the
top hat, he raked his hand through his dark hair and then
replaced the hat. His blue eyes flared with anger, and then filled
with a bleak sadness that tugged at her heart. He angled his
head to one side and stared at her. The grandfather clock in the
parlor counted the seconds with a loud, pulsing beat.
Neither of them spoke, and the silence lengthened, creating
a tension that sent a wave of awareness bouncing between them.
Would he explain his fiancé’s death? Could she believe what
he said?
Yes. One thing she’d learned over the past few weeks was
that Caleb Harrison didn’t hide from the truth.
“How did you find out about Elizabeth?”
“I…I read about her in your Bible.”
“You accused me of snooping. Is what you did any
different? What’s written in there is private, as is what is written
in my journal. Did you read that, too?”
Becci shook her head. “No, I didn’t. The Bible was in my
things when you arrived. You brought the journal with you
when you came.”
The image of the tattered book lying beside the Bible came
to mind. She’d known it held Caleb’s innermost thoughts, but
she hadn’t even considered reading it.
He didn’t respond for several minutes, and she thought
he’d decided not to tell her the story. Then he stated bluntly,
“Elizabeth was a working woman. She sold herself to live. I
mistook her desire for me as love. Being a bastard, I believed
that we were well suited for each other.”
He paused and drew in a deep breath, then said, “She
promised she would stop selling herself once we were betrothed,
but I caught her...working. Stripped down to her frilly
pantaloons and rocking above another man with more fierceness
than she’d ever shown me. She was my woman, and she brought
another man to my tent. Yes, in a fit of anger, I could have
killed her, but I didn’t. I did kill him, but not intentionally.”
Caleb closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the
wall. The vision of Elizabeth, her dress discarded and her lithe
body thrusting against a stranger, wouldn’t leave him.
Wearily, he opened his eyes. “The man heard me cock my
rifle. He shoved Elizabeth at me, and I dropped my rifle when
I grabbed for Elizabeth. The rifle hit the ground and fired at
the same time as the man’s gun. My bullet killed him. His killed
Elizabeth. She...she died in my arms.”
“You loved her.”
He didn’t think Becci wanted an answer, yet he needed to
give her one. “I thought I did. But in an instant that love turned
to hate. What counts most is what’s in here.” Caleb tapped his
chest with one finger. “I thought Elizabeth only sold herself to
survive, that she was a good woman. She wasn’t. She’d
promised to stop selling herself th
e day we became betrothed.
I learned later that she never stopped.”
His voice was emotionless as he continued. “I swore I
would never trust another person, man or woman.” Caleb shifted
on the step, rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his
hands beneath his chin. “Until I met Saul and Rebecca, I kept
that promise.”
Becci rested her hand on his shoulder. She had sensed from
the very beginning that something kept him from trusting
anyone. Now she understood why.
“Saul and Rebecca? You trusted them?”
“Yes, and they trusted me. But I failed them. I came here,
Rebecca died, and I have no idea what happened to Luke.”
Becci wished she could soothe away his hurt. “You didn’t
fail Rebecca, Caleb. What happened was beyond your control.
You didn’t purposely break your promise, and there’s a chance
you can right what happened. Go back and...and save Rebecca
and become Luke’s father. I know that’s what you want to do.”
Becci could see the pain in his blue eyes, and the crooked
grin he flashed at her didn’t have its usual spark. “Is that what
you want me to do?”
She brushed a stray curl off her forehead and took a
fortifying breath.
“I guess it’s time to tell you my reasons for selling the
manor,” she said ignoring his question.
“This wasn’t a trade off, Becci. I know you need the money
to pay bills.” His cheeks flushed. “I found all the past due
notices in the trash last week. I wasn’t snooping.”
“Sure. You always go through people’s trash,” she stated
dryly, but she couldn’t summon up any anger. She been curious
about him, and it only made sense that he’d be just as curious
about her. “But you’re right. I need to sell to pay my bills and
my college tuition. I’ve wanted to go to college since my
freshmen year of high school.”
Caleb knew she was lost in thought when she paused and
caught her long braid, twisting it around her finger. “I even set
up a college savings account with my baby-sitting money. What
I didn’t know was that as fast as I put the money in, my dad
was taking it out. Later he told me he’d done it for my own
good, that he’d used the money to put food on the table. You
know,” she said turning to look at him, “I believed my father.
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