“What I think is that you don’t care much for spiders,” he said drily.
She gave a little gurgling laugh at that. “You certainly believe in understatements, don’t you?”
“Actually, it reassures me to know that you’re not perfect.”
She did finally meet his gaze. “Perfect? Now you’re just being sarcastic.”
“Not at all. You, Mrs. Leggett, are dauntingly accomplished. You are a good mother, you ably assist your uncle in his medical practice, you lead the Sunday choir, you agree to form a children’s choir at the drop of a hat, and speaking of hats, on top of all the rest, you’re a talented milliner. You have to admit, that is quite an impressive list.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but there are a lot of folks whose list would be much more impressive.” She waved a hand in his direction. “Look at you. You can play the piano better than anyone I ever heard before, you’ve agreed to help with the children’s choir, you can craft beautiful leather goods, and, most impressive of all, you had the courage to pick up and move halfway across the country to start a new life.”
He’d been enjoying her praise—up until that last. Was that how she saw his transplanting himself to Turnabout? It made him feel more of a fraud than ever.
He turned back to the berries and for a while they worked in silence. Then he became aware that she was surreptitiously watching him with a touch of concern in her expression. So he plucked a berry and rather than tossing it in his pail turned to her. “I’m not sure of the etiquette surrounding picking dewberries. Are we allowed to eat as we go?”
She nodded solemnly. “Not only is it allowed, it is considered mandatory. One must taste the berries every so often, just to make certain they are worth harvesting.” Then she grinned. “I’ve already partaken, and at the pace you’re going, I can eat quite a few more and still fill my pail before you.”
“Is that so? Well, my dear Mrs. Leggett, we’ll just see about that.” And he popped the berry in his mouth.
She laughed, then her expression took on a shy cast as she nervously tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Actually, I was thinking it would be nice if you’d call me by my given name.”
He was deeply touched, especially knowing that had probably been difficult for her to say. He gave a slight bow. “I’m honored. And would be even more honored if you would return the favor.” Then, to lighten the mood, he gave her his best scowl. “But if you think that will make me go easy on you, Verity, you’re mistaken. I still plan to win this competition.”
She laughed and tossed a berry at him. With that, the mood lightened again. The friendly banter passed between them with the ease of longtime friends. He was called on a few times to slay spiders for her, though he noticed she had no trouble with the lizards, bees and various insects they encountered.
And if their hands and arms seemed to “accidentally” brush against each other with a remarkable frequency, well, she didn’t seem any more interested in complaining than he did.
It was the most perfect afternoon he’d experienced since well before he’d gone into prison.
It took a while to fill their pails, partly because they ate liberally as they picked. But finally, all too soon, she held up her pail triumphantly. “Mine is full. I do believe I win.”
He stroked his chin, keeping his expression solemn as he studied the contents of her pail. “Hmm, I suppose I shall have to concede.” He gave an exaggerated bow. “My slice of gingerbread is hereby awarded to you.”
She laughed. “Don’t feel too bad. I had experience on my side.” She peered at his pail. “And it looks like you were close. Perhaps if you’d eaten a few less...”
He grinned. “Guilty. But I didn’t notice you being particularly restrained in that area yourself.”
She raised a brow. “Remind me—who won this little contest?”
He laughed, then took her elbow again as they turned toward the buggy. This time it felt more natural and at the same time more special. Did she feel any of this? Or was it just him?
Suddenly she stopped beside a moss-covered log. “I think I have something lodged in my shoe. If you’ll carry my pail back to the buggy and fetch the basket, I think I’ll sit here and empty it.” She grinned up at him. “And I might just let you have a bite or two of my gingerbread.”
“With incentive like that, how can I refuse?” He took her pail and helped her sit, then straightened. “I’ll be right back.”
She waved him away. “No need to rush. This may take me a few minutes.”
He’d just stowed the berry-filled pails and grabbed the basket when he heard her yelp. Startled, he whirled around and saw her pop up and begin shaking one arm frantically. Nate dropped the basket back into the buggy and sprinted toward her. He’d seen some wasps earlier and was certain she’d been stung. “What is it? Hold still and let me see.”
But she wouldn’t stop her frantic movements and he had to forcibly take her arm to still her. She was trembling so much that his concern doubled. What in the world had turned her into this shaky, hysterical person? “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Her only response was a near-hysterical “Get it off of me. Please, get it off of me.”
Finally, understanding dawned. It took him a moment longer before he saw not one but two of the long-legged but perfectly harmless spiders clinging to her sleeve. He quickly brushed them away. “There, they’re gone now.” Apparently he’d been wrong to assume she’d exaggerated her fear of the things.
She finally stilled her frantic movements and buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Startled, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. He could feel the frantic beating of her heart and he gently rubbed her back, whispering soothing nothings until her heartbeat slowed to something close to normal and her hold on him relaxed. She didn’t pull away, though, just stood there in the circle of his arms, which was fine by him.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was low and embarrassed.
“I’m not.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he couldn’t regret them.
She pulled slightly back, just enough to look into his eyes. And what he saw there took his breath away. Vulnerability. Need. Longing.
With a shaky hand, he stroked the soft curve of her cheek. “Sweet Verity.” Her name felt so right on his lips.
She closed her eyes for just a moment and leaned into his palm. When she opened her eyes again there was a soft, shy invitation. Slowly he lowered his face to hers, holding her gaze, trying to attune himself to the least nuance of doubt or withdrawal.
Then their lips met and he was lost.
Chapter Fifteen
Verity was lost in a sea of emotions. Nate’s kiss made her feel such warring sensations—both safe and wild, vulnerable and empowered, cherished and cherishing. Never, not even during her five-year marriage, had she felt this way.
She could lose herself in this kiss, this embrace, forever.
Then, abruptly, he ended it and pulled back.
She blinked, momentarily disoriented by the brusqueness of his action. She searched his face for some clue as to what he was feeling right now, why he had suddenly turned cold. His guard was up again, his expression suddenly distant, unreadable. The only sign that he had been affected by that kiss was a slight change in the rhythm of his breathing.
The smile he gave her was almost perfunctory. “I think it’s probably time we head back to town.”
That was it? No acknowledgment of that kiss they’d just shared? What was wrong? It felt like a very clear and very definite rejection.
Trying to disguise the sick feeling in her stomach and hoping the warmth in her cheeks didn’t translate to heightened color, Verity nodded. Without waiting for him to take her arm, she turned toward the buggy. She didn’t want him to see her
face right now. Because she knew it would show how very flustered and confused and utterly miserable she felt.
She hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps, however, before she stumbled. He had a hand on her arm before she could truly fall, and he kept it there as they walked in silence the rest of the way to the buggy. He helped her up with all the care he’d show a stranger, then moved around to the other side. In a matter of minutes they were on the road and headed toward town, all without another word.
Verity tried to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong on this afternoon that had seemed to be going so well.
The teasing banter they’d exchanged during the berry picking had been exhilarating and he’d appeared to enjoy it, as well. And even when she’d made a fool of herself over the spiders, he had reacted with genuine concern for her, never once making her feel silly or annoying. In fact, the way he’d held her, had done his best to calm and soothe her, had seemed to convey something more than mere friendship. And she was almost certain she hadn’t imagined that tenderness she’d seen in his eyes when he’d caressed her cheek.
And, oh, how that caress had made her feel.
With her former husband, a man fifteen years her senior, she’d felt safe and comfortable. But there was nothing comfortable about the way Nate made her feel.
The sweet wonder in his gaze, the gentleness that came through the touch of those rough, work-callused fingers, had combined to make her feel as if she was safe, yes, but also cherished and desired, as if she was someone special, in his eyes at least. It had emboldened her to try to show him how she felt, as well.
But she’d obviously done something wrong. Had she misread his feelings? Or had her own unseemly boldness made him reconsider any affection he might have felt?
The ride back to town seemed to take forever. And for most of it she mentally berated herself. Why hadn’t she held herself in check, squelched this impulsive display the way she had so many others?
Had she irreparably ruined her friendship with Nate?
Finally she could stand it no longer. She had to do something, had to try to do what she could to cut through this stiff silence between them.
“Nate, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t.”
His sharp command, more growled than spoken, startled her into silence. Why was he so angry with her?
He clenched his jaw and raked his fingers through his hair with an angry, jerky thrust. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Was he just being polite, trying to spare her feelings? “I don’t understand.”
He took a deep, defeated-sounding breath. “You think I’m a hero. But I’m not.”
That again. “You’re being too modest. You—”
But he wouldn’t let her finish. “Verity, I don’t deserve hero worship. Not from you, not from anyone. You don’t know—”
It was her turn to interrupt. “Stop right there.” Relief flooded through her. That’s what was bothering him.
“First, you’re not the best judge of what you do and do not deserve in the area of hero worship. The fact that you won’t acknowledge what a courageous thing you did for Joy only proves that you are a genuine hero.” She held up a hand to halt the argument she saw forming on his lips. “And second, what I was very clumsily attempting to convey back there had nothing at all to do with hero worship.” If she’d left him with any doubts as to her feelings, surely she’d just settled the matter. Had she made the situation better or worse?
The muscles in his jaw worked for several heartbeats before he finally seemed to come to a decision. A decision he did not seem to be happy with. “That only makes it worse.”
There was her answer. “I see.” Everything inside her seemed to shrivel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable. Let’s speak no more of it.” Please let this ride be over soon. All she wanted was to lock herself in her bedroom and fall apart in private.
Abruptly, Nate steered the horses to the side of the road and pulled the wagon to a stop. The town was in sight but they still had a fair amount of privacy from here.
“What are you doing?”
He set the brake with a sharp, angry motion, then turned to face her. “I will not let you feel any guilt, or shame—” he waved a hand “—or whatever other negative feeling is rattling around in that mind of yours.” His expression was fierce. “And don’t try to deny it. I can see from the look on your face that you’re second-guessing every word you uttered or gesture you made since we set out this afternoon.”
She hadn’t even been aware that he was watching her, much less that he was able to read all of that.
“I’ll say again—you did nothing wrong. I treasure every moment of our time together this afternoon, more than you will ever know. But I realize now that you won’t believe that, not without an explanation. So now I’m going to give you that explanation.”
Seeing the dread in his expression, she wasn’t really sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. “If it’s something you’d rather not talk about, don’t feel you need to tell me.”
His smile had more grimace than humor to it. “Too late. I need to tell you this for myself as well as for you. There’s something you don’t know about me, about what I’ve done, where I’ve been.”
She saw the guilt and something darker cloud his eyes, turning that beautiful blue to a murky, storm-cloud gray. “Whatever all of that is, it can’t possibly be as bad as you’re making out.”
“Can’t it?” The words were so softly uttered that she barely heard them.
His expression had such a poignant, bittersweet edge to it that she touched his arm, hoping he would feel something of her support, her faith in him. “Then tell me so we can put it behind us.”
He reached up to cover her hand with his own and just stared at them for a moment. Then he gently disengaged and straightened. He turned so that he was facing her fully and met her gaze almost dispassionately. “Nine and a half years ago I robbed a bank. I’ve spent the majority of the time since then in federal prison.”
Verity froze. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this.
He was a bank robber.
Just like the man who’d shot and killed Arthur.
Just like the man who’d taken her little girl’s daddy from her.
* * *
Nate watched Verity’s instinctive recoil, the hand that shot to her mouth, the horror in her eyes. It was every bit as nightmarish as he’d imagined it would be.
Because back there, when he’d shared that kiss with her, he’d realized he loved her—deeply and completely. And that scared him as nothing had before.
Before he realized what he was doing, he reached a hand out. “Verity—”
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Perhaps we should go.” Her voice had a cold, lifeless quality to it.
Nate dropped his hand and gave a short nod. “Of course.” He faced forward and set the buggy in motion again. Verity had moved as far from him as she could on the seat of the buggy, and she was so stiff she looked to be in danger of snapping in two.
This is what he’d done to the woman he loved. Why had he thought he could play with fire and not get burned? Or worse, get someone else burned.
Rather than going directly to the livery, Nate stopped the buggy in front of her uncle’s home. “I’ll let you out here so we don’t have to walk from the livery with those full pails.” He planned to climb down to lend her a hand, but she had scrambled down before he could so much as set the brake. As she reached in the buggy to retrieve the pails, he cleared his throat. “I’ll be back to get Beans after I’ve tended to the buggy.”
She froze a moment, then shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. Wait here and I’ll get him for you now.”
&nbs
p; That stung. She obviously wanted him entirely gone from her life as soon as possible.
Without waiting for his answer, she turned and marched quickly up her front walk. A moment later she was back with Beans in her arms. She set the dog on the buggy floor then straightened. “I’ll give Uncle Grover and Aunt Betty your regards.”
What else could he say? He nodded, but she had already turned and headed back toward the house. He watched her until she disappeared inside, but she never once turned back around.
He set the buggy in motion again. Had he made a mistake telling her? Would she keep his secret? What did this mean for his work with the church choir and children’s choir?
And would she put the pieces together and figure out Adam’s secret, as well?
He raked his fingers through his hair. He’d made a grand mess of things.
Beans, as if aware of his mood, whined at his feet. He scooped the dog up with one hand and set him on the seat beside him. He gave the animal a scratch behind the ears, not sure which one of them drew more comfort from the contact.
“I hate to tell you this, boy, but that may be the last time you get to play with Joy. I’m afraid I’ve made a royal mess of everything.”
Because, if he wasn’t mistaken, he’d lost any chance at all he had with Verity.
* * *
Verity tried to go through the rest of the afternoon and evening as if nothing untoward had happened. And for the most part she just felt numb.
She helped her aunt wash and store the berries.
She read a book to Joy, though later she couldn’t remember what story she’d read.
She even organized the supplies in her tiny workroom.
When supper time finally rolled around, Verity did her best to keep up her end of the conversation, deflecting talk of the berry-picking expedition as much as possible.
Second Chance Hero Page 15