Married by Christmas

by Karen Kirst

  “I thought...” Old hurts resurfaced.

  Caleb blinked. Had she been disappointed by his supposed absence?

  “I tried to stay away,” he said quietly, “but I couldn’t.”

  Jerking a nod, she bent to retrieve the spoon and placed it in the dry sink, then continued clearing off the work space as the stew simmered on the stove top. Her stiff movements shouted her wish to drop the conversation.

  Caleb closed his eyes, transported to those awful, frustrating weeks afterward. He’d postponed his trip, wanting to be nearby on the off chance she might decide she needed him. Of course, she hadn’t. What would she do if she found out he’d resorted to spying on her and Amy by way of his brother? Probably strangle him. Nathan had agreed to Caleb’s plea to visit them and report back. After the fourth visit, Nathan had informed him that he was finished. People were starting to get the wrong impression.

  The air stirred nearby, alerting him to her presence. He opened his eyes to see her clutching a porcelain mug.

  “I remember how you preferred to be clean-shaven. Do you feel up to shaving yourself?”

  She motioned to the mirror propped up on the table behind her, the brush, straight razor and box of Colgate shaving soap laid out. Struck by her thoughtfulness, Caleb didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  “I can help you to the table,” she added.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he murmured, tired of being weak in front of her. “If you’ll just pull the chair out for me, I can make it on my own steam.”

  “I’ll be right here in case you need me.”

  “I believe I can make it a couple of feet,” he muttered drily, but by the time he finally sank into the hard-backed chair, he was winded and dizzy and his entire leg throbbed.

  One look at his face and she huffed a sigh. Picking up the shaving brush, she moved in front of him and dipped up a dollop of shaving soap.

  “What are you doing?”

  The cool cream swiped along his jawline. “I’m saving you from further injury, that’s what.”

  Her knees brushed against his. The accidental contact incited awareness he could ill afford. He clenched his fists. “You are not going to shave me.”

  Becca straightened, brush held midair. As if reasoning with a child, she stated calmly, “Hold up your hand.”

  When he just stared at her, she took hold of his right hand and lifted it. “Hold it out flat.”

  With a scowl, he did as she instructed. There was no disguising the slight trembling. She arched an I-told-you-so brow. He curled his fingers into a tight fist and lowered it to his lap.

  “I refuse to tend any more wounds, Caleb O’Malley, so cease being stubborn and let me do this.”

  He cocked his head. “When did you get to be so bossy?”

  “I grew up.”

  Right. His actions had had something to do with that. As had Adam’s leaving town and her parents’ deaths. Life’s hard knocks had forged a strength of iron within her. The Becca he’d known had changed, and he was far too curious to discover the new facets of her personality for his own good.

  The soft crackling of the fire permeated the silence that fell between them. He kept still as she applied the cream. The sight of the shining blade in her hand gave him pause.

  “Have you done this before?”

  Not meeting his eyes, she said, “After the accident, whenever Doc was busy and Mrs. Tierney wasn’t around, I would shave Adam.”

  As she bent to scrape off the first layer of bristles, his thoughts turned to his best friend. Caleb had tried to see him on several occasions, but Adam’s parents had refused to allow him anywhere near their son. Couldn’t blame them. Still, not being able to see him, to apologize to his face, had stung. To this day, Caleb hadn’t delivered the apology his friend so rightly deserved.

  Becca had stayed by Adam’s side day and night. Throughout the long recovery, not once had she abandoned him. Devotion like that was rare. And Adam had turned his back on it as if it meant nothing.

  “Why did he leave?” he asked.

  The blade lifted from his skin. Jade eyes penetrated his. There need be no explanation as to who he was. “He said he’d changed too much to be the husband I needed him to be.”

  “You tried to convince him otherwise.”

  Betrayal flared deep in her eyes. “He didn’t believe me.”

  “Becca, I—”

  “No more questions.” Her lips firmed. And seeing as how she wielded a sharp weapon in her hand and he was her least favorite person in the world, he complied.

  She was just finishing up when boots sounded on the porch, followed by a sharp rap.

  Caleb tensed.

  “Relax.” She laid aside the razor. “It’s probably Louis and the others.”

  But it wasn’t Louis or the sheriff or even Doc. It was Reverend Monroe. The sight of him troubled Caleb, though why it should he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

  “Reverend,” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  * * *

  Rebecca clamped her lips together. That sounded incredibly rude. And a touch guilty? “I—I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  While she liked and respected him, he would surely share Louis’s opinion about their situation. A lot of folks in Gatlinburg knew her and Caleb well enough not to suspect them of wrongdoing, but there were those who made it their business to judge and condemn. Knowing that appearances were everything in their society, would he try to convince them it was in their best interest to marry?

  Shrewd eyes set in a kind face slipped past her to where Caleb sat wiping the remaining bits of shaving cream from his lean cheeks. It didn’t take Reverend Monroe long to assess the cozy, domestic scene. Her stomach clenched. What unfortunate timing.

  “I was at Doc’s office when Louis stopped by and explained what happened. I wanted to check on young Caleb here, as well as you and Amy.”

  Through the open doorway, Rebecca saw the sheriff dismounting his horse and Doc descending the squat, black buggy, medical bag in hand.

  “That was considerate of you,” she forced the words out. “Please, come in.” She pulled the door wider, masking her upset with what she hoped was a casual expression. “Can I take your hat?”

  Handing it to her with a nod of thanks, he smoothed his short silver hair and proceeded to slip the buttons of his bulky coat free. This was to be a long visit, then.

  “How are you holding up, Rebecca?” he asked quietly.

  “Fine. Just fine.” She pressed clammy hands to her midsection. “Would you like coffee?”

  “That would certainly chase the chill away.”

  She ignored the questioning look Caleb shot her as she swept past. Going through the motions of heating water and setting out mugs, her hands shook. There’s no reason to be nervous. I’ve done nothing wrong. Even if the subject of marriage comes up, no one can force me into it. Besides, Caleb would never agree.

  Soon her tiny cabin was overrun with virile males. Doc Owens was extracting bottles and instruments from his battered leather bag. The reverend had taken up residence on the settee, petting a blissful-looking Storm while speaking with Amy, who’d come to investigate the commotion. The aloof and ruggedly handsome Sheriff Shane Timmons held himself apart, sharp gaze missing nothing. There was no sign of Louis.

  The middle-aged physician took Caleb’s wrist in hand to check his pulse. “I’ll need to take a look at that wound, son.”

  Color etched Caleb’s chiseled cheekbones. He was clearly unhappy being the center of attention. No doubt his current state of helplessness grated, too. He’d never been patient with his own limitations, pushing himself to the edge and beyond. She used to think he did it for the thrills. Now she wondered if there wasn’t some deeper, hidden reason.

 
Rebecca approached the wingback chair where her sister sat. “Amy, let’s wait in the bedroom while Doc examines Caleb.”

  Once inside the bedroom, the minutes stretched into a long, torturous hour. Rebecca nodded and grunted in all the right places during Amy’s conversation, but her mind was out there with Caleb and the others. She hadn’t heard the front door open and close, which meant no one had left. She’d hoped against hope the reverend would say a prayer and take his leave. His continued presence bothered her.

  I’m not that naive girl anymore, going along with others’ suggestions simply to please them. I’m a strong woman with my own opinions. No matter what’s happening out there, they can’t force me to wed Caleb.

  * * *

  Throughout Doc’s exam and Shane’s interrogation, Caleb’s attention kept drifting to the reverend, who sat quietly listening. The hint of discomfort in Monroe’s posture, the telltale weight of apprehension in his astute gaze, set Caleb’s nerves on edge. Something was up. He just didn’t know what.

  The sheriff tucked the small pad of paper into his pocket. “You’ve given me plenty to go on. I’ll round up a search party when I leave and share this information with the men.”

  “You’ll keep me posted?”

  With a nod, Shane retreated to the fireplace, propping an elbow on the mantel as Monroe finally pushed to his feet and approached the bed. Doc’s bulky form was sprawled in one of the dining table chairs. His unreadable gaze tracked Monroe’s progress.

  The hairs on the back of Caleb’s neck stood to attention. Suddenly he could identify with the animals he hunted, could feel how it was to be prey. The air grew heavy with foreboding.

  Monroe took up residence at the foot of his bed, fleshy hands folded neatly at his waist. “There’s something we need to discuss with you, son.”

  Son? Caleb’s body went rigid, exhaustion chased away by surging adrenaline.

  “Rebecca took you in and cared for you...nursed you back to health, you might say, which is a blessing from God. If she hadn’t found you in time—” He cleared his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes looked a little sad. “The problem is your isolation here in this cabin. You and Rebecca have spent many days and nights alone together without supervision. And while we—” he gestured to Shane and Doc Owens “—are confident nothing untoward occurred, the same might not be said of everyone in town.”

  Monroe’s words rattled around in Caleb’s brain, refusing to connect into anything sensible. His gaze probed Doc’s face first, then Shane’s. The young sheriff looked slightly annoyed, as if he found the entire conversation ridiculous.

  “Of course nothing occurred,” Caleb snapped. “Even if I hadn’t been wounded, I would never have compromised Becca in any way.”

  Had they all conveniently forgotten how much she detested him?

  “Of course you wouldn’t. You’ve both been raised to follow God’s principles. You are aware, however, that all it takes to ruin a reputation is the suggestion of impropriety. Rebecca will be subjected to ill-treatment if you do not marry her.”

  “Marry her?” He half snorted, half laughed.

  Doc shifted in his chair. “This is hardly a matter to take lightly.”

  “You have lost your minds if you think Becca would ever agree to marry me.” The momentary spark of humor fizzled. “She would willingly suffer gossip and public slights and much more, I’m sure, if that meant avoiding getting tangled up with me.”

  “And what of Amy?” Monroe said. “Would Rebecca place her in a position to be ridiculed and ignored, especially after everything she’s endured with her parents passing at such a young age?”

  No need to respond to that. Everyone in this room already knew the answer.

  The headboard bit into Caleb’s back as he sank farther into the mattress. Rebecca would do anything to protect Amy. Even sacrifice herself.

  Monroe came around and perched on the bed’s edge, his somber manner turning intense. “You’re a good man, Caleb. I know this isn’t easy. Sometimes God brings difficult things into our lives in order to make us stronger. Sometimes it’s to increase our faith and other times He simply wants us to acknowledge we can’t do everything in our own strength. I don’t know why this happened, but I trust you will do everything in your power to safeguard your friend and her sister.”

  Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. “I need time to think.”

  “There isn’t much time, I’m afraid. The longer we postpone putting this situation to rights, the worse the repercussions.”

  “You’re gonna have to be patient.” He tried not to glare at the reverend. “And understand this—even if I do decide to heed your warning, no one can force Becca into doing something she doesn’t wanna do.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Rebecca?”

  Jumping up from the bed, she smoothed her skirts and opened the door. Shane Timmons stood on the other side. Brushing longish blond locks off his forehead, he wore an air of impatience. “Doc’s getting ready to leave. He’d like a word.”

  “Right.”

  “I want to thank you for everything you did to save Caleb’s life. Without his testimony, Tate’s murderers would’ve gone free.” Twin flames of determination burned in his hard blue eyes.

  “I hope you find them soon.”

  “Until I do, don’t let your guard down.” He slapped his Stetson on his head and, with a nod to the others, took his leave.

  Her gaze sought out Caleb. Propped up once more in the bed, his lower half wrapped in the quilt, his shuttered expression gave nothing away. She joined Doc at the door. He didn’t appear particularly worried. Then again, he didn’t look upbeat. He was hard to read at times.

  “You did a fine job, Rebecca.” Already clothed in his outer garments, he grasped the bag’s handle with both hands. “We’ll need to watch for signs the infection has returned, but he’s young and strong. I’m hopeful the worst has passed. He’ll need lots of rest.” Indicating the handmade crutches in the corner, he said, “Make sure he doesn’t put any weight on that leg. I’ll come back in a couple of days to check his progress.”

  The relief that washed over her receded when it registered that preparations weren’t being made for Caleb’s departure. “I had assumed you’d want to move him to your office.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, now, I think that’s something you should discuss with Reverend Monroe.”

  “I d-don’t understand,” she stuttered, fighting rising panic. “You’re the doctor. Caleb is your patient. You should be the one to make decisions regarding his care.”

  Dear Lord, please, please don’t let this head where I think it’s headed.

  Movement behind her had her whirling to face the reverend. “Rebecca, this is a sensitive situation. I’m sure you can appreciate that fact.”

  “No, actually, I can’t. We haven’t done anything wrong. I—I discovered a man dying in the snow. Am I to be punished for helping him?”

  “Becca.”

  The command in Caleb’s voice snapped her attention to him. He’d moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and what she saw in his eyes frightened her. Resignation. That’s what had taken so long. Not Doc’s examination or Shane’s interrogation. They’d been discussing her reputation and how a hasty marriage could smooth away speculation and gossip.

  “We’ll figure this out,” he said. Tension tightened his clean-shaven jaw, but there was no denying he’d fallen for their appeals to his honor. She could hear them now. You’ve cast doubts upon her virtue. Folks will talk. It won’t be pretty. Marry her and make it right.

  She felt like a cornered animal, and anger welled inside. “There’s nothing to figure out.”

  “I believe the lady and I need some privacy, gentlemen.” While his pallor and the pain etched in his features declared he was unwell, his demeanor brooked
no argument.

  “There’s no need for privacy,” she shot back, “because I won’t marry you, Caleb O’Malley. Not now, not ever.”

  * * *

  “You’re making my head spin,” Caleb complained, shifting the pillows so that the headboard didn’t dig into his back. “Sit down so we can figure a way outta this mess.”

  Mess was putting it mildly. Disaster was more like it. Her frantic pacing wasn’t really what was causing this sensation of being suspended from the rafters by his boots; it was the unwelcome surprise Monroe and Doc had dropped on him. He’d had absolutely no warning, no preparation. No words to combat their insinuations.

  Marry Rebecca or she and Amy would suffer the consequences.

  Him? The man she despised most in this world? Marry Becca? She would never agree. On the off chance she did succumb to their coercion, he couldn’t in good conscience bind her to him, not when he knew how she felt about him, knew that every day for the rest of their lives his mutilated face would remind her afresh of the grief and turmoil he’d caused her.

  Marrying her or any other woman was not something he was prepared to do. The night of the accident, he’d come to the realization that he was a danger to others. His very nature put those he cared about at risk. Look what happened to his mother last fall—a storm had come up and, because of his careless handling of the team, the wagon tipped, and she’d suffered a badly broken leg. His father had been covered with bruises. In spite of his efforts to stay away, he’d brought trouble to Becca’s door. His very presence was putting two innocent lives in danger.

  “I can’t sit.” Stormy green eyes shot daggers at the closed door through which the men had disappeared not five minutes ago. “I’m too wound up to sit.” She threw her hands up.

  “Becca, please.” He pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the ache building behind his eyes.

  With a huff, she plopped into the chair and cast him a baleful glare. One knee bounced with impatience. “Do tell me, Caleb, how do you propose we handle this?”