by Jane Shoup
“That’s a nice way to put it,” she said as she stepped inside. Right away, she saw the home was neat and pretty with wallpaper and nice furnishings. “I caught you going out, didn’t I?”
“Just to keep an eye on the sheep,” Em replied. “Let me take your coat.”
Fiona shrugged it off and handed it over.
“It’s a new experience,” Em added. “I’m trying to learn them.”
“Learn them?”
Em walked over to the coatrack and hung it up. “Learn who they are, name them—”
“Name them?” Fiona burst. “You’re going to eat them, aren’t you?”
Em grinned as she took off her own coat. “Tommy laughs at me, too.”
“Tommy? Lord, do tell. Come to think of it, you look all aglow. Have you gone and fallen in love or something?”
Em walked over to put the kettle on to boil. “Don’t be silly. Have a seat.”
“I’ll stand a bit. It was a long ride. So, who’s Tommy?”
“Tommy Medlin.”
“The one they call pretty boy?”
Em turned back around. “He hates being called that,” she said earnestly.
“Yeah, but he is, though. He’s got to be the handsomest man I ever saw. But he’s not quite right in the head, is he?”
Em frowned. “He’s just shy.”
Em’s blushing and her frown said a lot more than that. “So, what else you got going with Mr. Tommy Medlin?” Fiona asked mischievously.
“Sheep and goats,” Em replied, giving Fiona a look. “And in the spring, tobacco, corn and wheat. We’re partners. Business partners. He provided the money to get the farm working again. He’s already hired a few men to help and we’ll probably hire even more.”
“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Fiona said playfully.
“How are you feeling?” Em asked, pointedly changing the subject.
“Fat and cranky. And my back hurts something awful. So, don’t you think he’s the handsomest man you ever saw?”
Em gave her a pained look. “Fiona.”
“C’mon, now. Don’t you? Just betweenst us girls.”
Em turned and busied herself with the tea. “That has nothing to do with anything.”
“Sure it don’t. Hey, speaking of things that got nothin’ to do with nothin’—” Em turned back around as Fiona pulled out a chair and sat, holding on to her swollen belly with one hand. “You know how my Aunt Doll and mama are always going at one another?”
“I heard them that one morning,” Em replied carefully.
“Lord’a mercy, girl, it’s all the blame time. Anyway, Doll’s fed up. Swears she’s leaving. You know what she said the other day? She said, ‘Dalene,’ that’s my mama, she said, ‘Dalene, I love you enough that I don’t want to kill you with my bare hands, so I’m leavin’ and that’s that.’ And that is a quote, I’m sad to say. Then, I thought about you and wondered if you could use some company out here. That’s what I come to ask you. ’Course, knowing what I know now, this is even better because it sounds like ya’ll need a cook. And that is perfect because Doll needs people around her. She drives me batty sometimes, but I love her dearly and she is a great cook. Mama’s a real good cook, too, but two cooks in the same kitchen?” She shook her head. “You don’t even want to know.”
Em looked apologetic. “It’s possible we could use her in the spring when we have more hands to feed, but we can’t afford to pay her now.”
“Oh, she don’t need to be hired. She just needs a place to be and some fixings to work with. And look at this stove, will you? That is one nice stove. No telling what she could cook up on this thing. Will you think about it?”
Em blinked. “I don’t have to think about it. If that’s really the case, we’d love to have her.”
“Really?” Fiona clapped her hands together. “Yippee! This just feels right. You know what I mean?”
“I do, but let’s make sure it’s what she wants. Because there is really no money to pay her right now.”
“I’m telling you, she needs a place to be and people to be around. Room and board . . . and maybe the chance to kind of be in charge. Give her that and she’s happy as a pig in slop.”
“That really would be perfect,” Em said, beginning to get excited by the notion.
“Will be perfect,” Fiona corrected. “Yes, ma’am. So, on to more interesting matters. Like where exactly is Mr. Tommy Medlin?”
“He’s in town getting supplies.”
“Too bad. Don’t you just want to stare at him?” she asked, dreamily. “Actually, you’re both so pretty, you probably just sit and stare at each other all day long. It’s a wonder any work gets done.”
“Fiona!”
Fiona laughed. “Okay, I’ll stop. Hey, I brung you some apple butter, so don’t let me forget it when I leave.”
Emmett had never considered that being handsome could be a burden, but the way the waitresses were ogling Tommy was downright disconcerting. No wonder Tommy had balked about having lunch here. The worst offender, a pretty, fair-haired gal named Colleen, was coming back their way. “Are you ready to order?” she asked, looking right at Tommy.
“I’ll take the special,” Tommy replied, avoiding her gaze.
“Make it two,” Emmett put in.
Colleen flicked a tolerant smile in his direction. “You want corn muffins or biscuits?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tommy replied.
“Bring them both,” Emmett said.
“Alrighty, then.” She glanced toward the kitchen and then looked at Tommy. “We don’t see you in here much, Tommy.”
He shook his head. “Don’t get to town much.”
Emmett cleared his throat. “I guess that’s all,” he said, hoping to spur the girl on. It worked, but she backed up into another waitress and turned beet-red, bless her heart. The poor girl had it bad for Tommy. “So, I got a few responses from that advertisement we placed,” he said to Tommy, who was nearly as embarrassed as Colleen. He reached into his jacket pocket for some papers he’d folded and handed them over. “The one on top looks good. He’s got a candor I like.”
Tommy opened them and scanned the one on top from a man named Shaw. On Emmett’s advice, they’d placed ads in nearby city newspapers for the sort of help they needed. They’d asked for experience at farming and a willingness to work for room, board and a set amount of pay at harvest time. “I didn’t expect anyone to write,” Tommy admitted.
“To be honest, neither did I,” Emmett agreed. “Not anybody worth their salt, but”—he paused and shrugged—“I have to say a few of those look more than decent, and that Woodson Shaw fella looks ideal. He’s not a perfect man. He used to drink too much and he got into some trouble and did time for it. Theft. He tells the whole story right there. He got fired from a job, felt he was owed some pay, so he broke into the place and took what wasn’t his. He admits it. Sounds sorry for it. Did his time.”
Tommy nodded slowly.
“I already wrote them all back,” Emmett continued, “explaining the situation in more detail. Told them to send word if they want to come meet you and see the place.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. How are things going?” Emmett asked, momentarily distracted by the waitresses clumped together discussing Tommy. They weren’t even trying to be discreet about it. He wondered what their mothers would have to say if they could see them now.
“Good.”
“How’s our girl?”
Tommy grinned. “She’s good. She named the sheep, though.”
Emmett snorted a laugh. “In that case, I don’t know that I’d be counting on eating lamb chops any time soon.”
“I know it.”
“Now, you haven’t gone and memorized their names, have you?”
“Not that I’d admit.”
Emmett laughed heartily as Colleen appeared with the tray of food.
“Here we go,” she said sweetly as she slid plates in front of them.
“Thank you, miss,” Emmett replied. “That was fast.”
“We sell a bunch of specials,” she replied. “So, they keep ’em coming.”
“Well, it’s hot. It’s all I care about.”
“Are you getting ready for Christmas, Tommy?” Colleen asked as she pulled the tray back.
“I haven’t thought about it much,” he replied.
“I hear there’s going to be a big gala,” she said nervously. “Did you hear about that?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Howerton’s throwing it,” Emmett said to Tommy. “By invite only.”
Colleen looked confused. “Don’t the people who work for him get to go?”
“Colleen,” one of the other waitresses whispered urgently behind her. “Simpson wants you.”
Emmett glanced over and saw the manager of the establishment scowling at Colleen from the kitchen door. Mrs. Simpson didn’t allow flirting from her girls.
“I don’t work there anymore,” Tommy said to clear up the matter, since she was obviously angling for an invitation.
Colleen’s face fell. “Oh.” There was a brief, awkward silence and then she walked off.
Emmett pursed his lips and tried to think of a way to lighten the moment and Tommy’s discomfiture.
“I never thought about Christmas much,” Tommy said as he picked up his fork.
“I figure we’ll keep it simple this year,” Emmett said. “A small family get-together. You, me, Em.”
The smile that lit Tommy’s face was real and instant. He nodded fervently. “That sounds good.”
“And you don’t need to get me a thing,” Emmett added. “Now, next year, when you’ve made a big profit—”
The feed and grain store was Tommy’s last stop in town. He was loading the last of the forty-pound bags when he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could even turn to see who it was, someone asked, “How’s married life?” Of course, he knew Mitchell’s voice. He turned to see Mitchell and Blue standing there smirking. “How’s the little wife?” Blue asked.
“Hey, you know what everyone calls you two?” Mitchell asked. “Wright and Wrong. Get it? Wright, her name. And wrong, meaning you, of course.” Tommy gave Mitchell a hard look, and Mitchell’s expression went from amused to icy. “You really think you’re something, don’t you, brother?”
Tommy stepped around them and climbed into the seat.
“One of these days, someone’s going to pull you both off your high horses,” Mitchell called. “Wright and Wrong.”
Tommy slapped the reins, putting the wagon in motion.
“Wright and Wrong,” Blue sang out.
“Shut up,” Mitchell retorted. “You don’t need to repeat every goddamn thing I say.”
“I don’t repeat every goddamn thing you say.”
“What’d you just go and do? Shut the hell up.”
Chapter Nineteen
Em whimpered with fear as she hung on to the rope. The rope was hurting her hands, burning them; she couldn’t hang on much longer. “Emmy,” a deep voice playfully said over her head. She looked up as Briar leaned over the edge of the loft above. He smiled as if he had her just where he wanted her. “Go on, give it to her,” he called to someone on the ground. Em craned her neck to see whom he was talking to and she experienced a painful chill to see Sonny standing directly below with a whip in hand.
“You’re not stupid,” Sonny mocked. “You knew I’d come. You knew I’d do this.” The whip made a terrifying whoosh as he drew it back, prepared to strike, and she let go of the rope and began a dizzying descent.
“Em, wake up,” a voice said. Tommy’s voice.
She drew in a shaky breath as she woke. It was a struggle to sit because her muscles were so tight.
“It was just a bad dream,” he said soothingly.
It was so dark, she could barely make out his form. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I woke you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Em, I don’t care. I’ll go right back to sleep.”
She reached out and made contact with his arm. A moment later, he took hold of her hand and then sat on the edge of the bed.
“You okay now?” he asked.
She didn’t reply, because she didn’t know what to say. Okay? She was anything but okay.
“What was it about?” he asked.
“I was hanging on a rope and then . . . I fell.”
He squeezed her hand. “Listen to me,” he said tenderly as he leaned in. “Briar Lindley is never going to hurt you again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Her face tingled as tears threatened. “Oh, Tommy.”
“What? Why are you crying?”
What could she say? She loved him. He was the most wonderful man and she loved and needed him so completely, but she couldn’t say that. She could not and would not jeopardize their friendship and partnership, because she’d be lost without it. “Will you stay with me a little while?” she asked in a thick voice.
“Yeah, of course, I will. For as long as you want.”
She withdrew her hand and scooted over, but he didn’t move.
“You want me to get in?”
His voice was filled with such self-doubt, it made her ache. “Unless it would . . . make you uncomfortable.”
He hesitated and then stood. He pulled back the covers and got into bed beside her, sitting very upright against the headboard.
“Will you just lie with me a little while?” There was a beat of silence before he moved down and lay flat on his back. She reached over and pulled the cover over him, then settled on her side facing him. Having him close made her feel so much safer.
It was quiet for several moments before he asked, “Would it be alright if I came closer?”
Rather than reply, she snuggled to his side, her hand on his chest.
He listened as her breathing evened out, and then he put his hand on her arm and stroked it gently. Then he stopped himself.
“It feels good,” she murmured sleepily.
He lifted his left arm, the one she was lying against, and put it around her, and she snuggled even closer to him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She reached up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek and it sent a jolt through his body. Blood pulsed, his breathing became shallow. He was wondering how he could keep her from knowing when he noticed her breathing had also changed. She wasn’t going to sleep anymore. “Em?” he breathed.
It was quiet, just the sound of their breathing. Then, “Yes?”
“You . . . don’t want me to go?”
“No.”
Slowly, he shifted toward her. She didn’t stop him, so he pressed his lips to hers. Her breath was warm, her lips so soft. He pulled away and then kissed her again and again, loving the feel of them. Because she was responding. Kissing him back. He parted her lips with his tongue and then explored the depths of her mouth, anxious to taste her, to suck in her breath. Moaning softly, she wrapped her arms around him and ran her hands over the contours of his back, and it was the best thing he’d ever felt. Her tongue sought his, and her hips strained toward him.
He stood it for as long as he could, and then he got up and pulled off his long johns, knowing she’d stop him if he was wrong. But he wasn’t wrong, because she sat and maneuvered her gown up and over her head, confirmation that she wanted him, too. He climbed on top of her, and, bracing himself on elbows and knees, bent to kiss her again. His lips grazed the soft skin of her cheek and jawline and ear and then he nuzzled her neck. He lowered himself to her erect nipples and ran his tongue around one before drawing it into his mouth, the way he’d imagined so many times.
Her breathing was fast and labored. It was a good sound. He separated her knees and positioned himself between them, wondering if she’d truly allow a consummation. He was hard enough to enter her without guidance from his hand if she was willing. He heard her breath catch as he pushed at her opening, but she didn�
��t say to stop. Her fingers tightened on his arms as he began filling her, but she still didn’t say to stop.
She gasped and pushed against his chest, but, in that second, he pushed inside her. She cried out, but there were so many angels singing in his head, her voice was hard to distinguish. It was done, they’d become one. He was already withdrawing and reentering her, knowing that it was the best moment of his life. It was the moment that made everything else he’d ever been through worth it. They had become one and they would stay one—if only in his mind and heart.
He wanted to stay inside her and keep going forever, but it was too good and he wasn’t accustomed to ecstasy. He didn’t mean to cry out, he’d never done so before, but there it was. A deep, primal sound that split the night. Breathing hard, he moved over and stretched out beside her again. He was shaking, but so was she. He pulled her close and held her tightly, half afraid she’d disappear.
It took several minutes to start breathing normally and it took a while more to begin growing sleepy. They’d never said a word, he realized just before he dropped off, but they had made love. Made love. It was an interesting phrase. They’d started with love and made more, just as it was supposed to be. November thirtieth, eighteen eighty-one. It was the best night of his life.
Chapter Twenty
Em woke feeling the warmth of the sun on her bare shoulder. She blinked in dull surprise at the hour its brightness suggested, and then at her nakedness. She remembered what had transpired in the night, and sat up abruptly. What had she been thinking? It had been all her doing, or mostly her doing, and it might have changed everything. Things had been so easy between them before last night. And now? What would they be like now?
She dressed quickly and went downstairs, tying her hair back as she went. From the front window, she saw Tommy speaking with Emmett and another man. She hesitated a moment, wondering how guilty she looked, then grabbed her shawl and stepped outside.
“Emmy, come meet Mr. Shaw,” Emmett called.
“I go by Wood,” the man said when she got close. He extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure.”