by Laura Drewry
“Say it.” He kissed her jaw, then her collar bone. “Say it was more than fine.”
“And if I don’t?” Lucy squirmed beneath him. “What then?”
Jed’s fingers trailed a line from one breast to the other. “Then we’re going to have to keep going until you do.”
She wound her fingers through his hair and finally found enough breath to answer him.
“Oh, but it was fine, Jed. Most certainly fine.”
His hands were already touching her everywhere, stoking the fire deep inside her and making her reach for him again. As she closed her hand around him, squeezing gently, he pressed his face into her neck and sighed.
“Anything more than fine is gonna kill me,” he moaned.
o0o
Morning sun peeked in beneath the door and through the cracks in the lean-to when Jed woke up the next morning – alone.
Damn – he’d rather hoped for a little ‘fine-ness’ to get him started. The horses nickered on the other side of the barn.
“Yeah, okay,” he muttered. “Gimme a minute.”
He could have spent the whole night loving Lucy and it wouldn’t have been nearly enough. For a girl who had such limited experience, it didn’t take her long to figure things out.
Jed grunted and pushed himself to his feet. He’d only drive himself crazy lying there thinking about her. Besides, he had the rest of his life to get his fill of her, if that was even possible.
He dressed quickly, threw some oats to the horses, then grabbed the buckets and headed outside. The animals would have to wait for water – he needed to kiss his wife first.
Low, harsh voices whispered near the house. What the. . .
“I have to do this,” Lucy was saying.
“No you don’t,” came Berta’s furious response. “And I’m not about to let you--”
Jed stormed toward them. “Let her what?”
Both women started, their faces red with anger. Lucy was the first to recover. Her smile was big, but not real.
“Good morning.” She kissed his cheek and indicated a nearby chair. “Berta made coffee.”
Jed didn’t move. “Let you what?” he repeated.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Lucy tried to wave it away.
“Lucy.” He held her arm until she looked up at him. “It’s not nothing.”
Her mouth opened, but Berta’s voice came first.
“She thinks she’s ready to make a pie all by herself.” She cleared her throat, then lifted her chin, as if daring him to argue. “And I was just saying that I wasn’t about to let her ruin perfectly good pastry.”
Jed’s blood began to simmer. “Lucy doesn’t ruin things. And you’ll watch how you speak to her.”
Berta looked crushed, and Lucy couldn’t have looked guiltier. Something wasn’t right – and it had nothing to do with pastry.
He looked down at Lucy, who seemed less agitated than she’d been a minute ago.
“Really,” she said. “It’s just silliness. Nothing to worry about.”
He didn’t believe that for a second, but he didn’t want to accuse Lucy of lying in front of her mother. He hesitated, then spoke pointedly, first to Lucy. “I’ll be back for the coffee and a proper good morning.” Then to Berta, “Let her make whatever the hell she wants.”
Berta nodded stiffly but kept silent. Women. Maybe it was a good thing she spent most of her time in the house with Maggie. Seemed no one in Lucy’s family treated her right.
He walked to the creek, filled the buckets and went back to tend the horses. When they’d been fed and watered, he let them loose in the corral. They wouldn’t be needed today. As he closed the gate, the creaking of a wagon started toward the house.
“Good to see you up and dressed, Caine.” Dwight grinned.
“’Mornin’, Dwight.” Jed stood by the first pile of lumber until Dwight had set the brake on the wagon. “Just gonna go grab us some coffee. Be right back.”
“Want it stacked in the same place?” Dwight asked, nodding toward the far corner of the yard.
“Yup.” Jed left the other man to start unloading while he hurried back toward the fire, and the tension between mother and daughter.
The two women had dragged the table out of the cabin and were now stooped over it, both up to their elbows in a bowl of dough.
“Lucy.”
She whirled to face him, sending pieces of dough flying. Flour dusted her nose and chin, and her apron was covered in splotches of gooey pastry.
“A quick word please?” He pointed toward the barn, letting her scurry off ahead of him, and leaving Berta to look after them with a troubled expression.
Once inside, Lucy turned to face him.
“What is--”
Jed swallowed her last words with the kiss he’d been aching to give her since he opened his eyes. He held her face in his hands and dragged the kiss on until she melted against him, her doughy hands fisted in his shirt.
“That’s how you should say good morning to me,” he breathed against her flushed cheek.
“But--”
“No buts.” He kissed her again, nipped at her lip, and brushed the flour from her face.
“No buts,” she repeated, her voice soft and whispery.
“Good.” He held her an arm’s length away and grinned. “Now get back over there and make that damned pie. Hell, make beans again if that’s what you want.”
Her smile warmed him through.
“Just promise me one thing,” he added, taking a large step back.
“What’s that?”
“As long as Berta’s here, let her make the coffee.”
Lucy lunged at him, but he ducked out the door.
“Berta won’t be here forever,” she called after him. “If you think my coffee’s been bad up ‘til now. . .”
Jed laughed as he filled mugs for himself and Dwight. He hated to tell her he was almost getting used to the swill she called coffee.
Almost.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lucy leaned back against the cabin door and exhaled slowly. Berta sat slumped in a chair, her face buried in her hands.
“You can’t do this,” she said, her voice a mixture of anger and anguish.
Maggie murmured in her sleep, but didn’t wake.
“I have to.” Lucy walked to the window and stood staring out after Jed. “There’s no other way.”
“Yes, there is.” Berta lifted her reddened face. “Finish this. That man loves you, and he’ll do anything for you.”
“I know.” It was what she had planned. It was what she needed. And now she had to walk away from her dream.
Berta watched her for long minutes. “You can always fall in love again. . .after. . .with someone else.” Her voice cracked and shook. “There are plenty of men out there who’d be happy. . .”
Lucy whirled on her. “I don’t want plenty of other men. I want Jed.”
“And you can still have him,” Berta pleaded. “At least the most important part of him.”
Lucy pulled out the other chair and sat next to her. “I don’t want part of Jed. I want all of him.”
“But you can’t have all of him. It’s impossible.” Berta’s voice broke on a sob. “Please, Lucy, don’t do this.”
“I have to.” She had to stay strong. If she started crying again, she might never stop, and she might never have the strength to do this. “You said it yourself – Jed doesn’t deserve to go to Hell.”
“I don’t care what I said,” Berta cried. “I can’t lose you again. Not now.”
Lucy cast a quick glance at the sleeping Maggie, then took her mother’s hands in hers. “You want me to be happy, isn’t that what you said?”
Berta nodded miserably.
“I’ve been happy.” The warmth in Lucy’s heart spread through her veins until her whole body basked in it. “For the first time in my life, I’ve learned what it’s like to be happy, to love someone and to be loved. And it’s. . .it’s. . .”
; There were no words to describe it.
“I want you to stay here and keep being happy,” Berta mumbled. “Is that so wrong?”
“It’s not wrong, Berta,” Lucy smiled. “It’s just not possible.”
“Of course it’s possible.” She yanked her hands away from Lucy and swiped them across her eyes. “All you have to do is finish this – take his soul, Lucy. Please. Take Maggie’s. Take the baby’s.”
“I can’t.”
“But--”
“No.” No buts. Lucy swallowed the fear creeping up her throat. “I won’t do it.”
“Lucy.” Berta’s sobs became increasingly louder. If she didn’t hush, she’d wake up Maggie and then the wailing would really begin.
“Berta.” When the other woman didn’t respond, Lucy took her hands. “Mother. Remember how you felt when you gave me to him.”
A harsh snort.
“Can you really do that to another mother? Can you put Maggie through that kind of pain?”
Berta hesitated a long time. Finally, she shook her head slowly.
A sense of urgency crept through Lucy. This was right. This was good.
“I need you to do something for me.”
The other woman grunted and sniffed.
“I want you to take Maggie into town. Take her straight to the church and leave her with Reverend Conroy. He’s her only hope.”
Lucy’s gaze bore into Berta, until she finally looked up. “You can’t be here when I tell Jed.”
“And what are you going to tell him?” Berta choked on another sniff. “That you were born from the Devil’s seed and you came here to claim his soul? Or that you came to steal the soul of an innocent newborn? No man in his right mind is going to believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter if he believes it or not. All that matters is he’ll be safe.”
Lucy frowned. Regardless of what happened, Jed was going to hate Lucy by the time this was over. Her only hope was that if she told him the truth – every ugly detail – he might not hate her as much as he would if he heard it from someone else; someone like Deacon.
“There is no good answer for any of this,” she muttered. “All I know for certain is I have to do this before Deacon comes back.”
“Deacon is no threat to you.” Berta sniffed, her voice stronger. “He doesn’t know what it means to love another soul. You do. That’s a strength no son of Satan can ever imagine.”
A lone tear slipped down Lucy’s face. “Deacon will do anything to please Father, especially if it means bringing me down again.”
“But he’s your brother.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She stared blankly at the table. “My fear is that he’ll go after Jed’s soul, too, unless I can find a way to protect him somehow.” Her voice lowered. “The only way we can protect Maggie and the baby is to get her to the church. If this goes the way I hope, Deacon will be so focused on me, he’ll forget about Jed long enough for him to get away, too.”
Hope? Is that what Lucy was left with? She’d seen enough in her life to know hope meant nothing.
“We should all go to the church,” Berta said. “We’ll all be safe there.”
Lucy shook her head. “The preacher will never let me inside. And Jed will never leave me without an explanation, and even then. . .” She sighed. “We need to protect that baby first and foremost.”
Berta’s chin fell to her chest again. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“I know,” Lucy said. “It’s impossible to understand because there are no rules. My father will do whatever he must to get what – or who – he wants. I can only hope Jed’s strong enough to get through this.”
“There must be some way to stop him.”
Lucy shook her head slowly, blinking back more tears. “Nothing that will work here.” There was only one thing her father feared, only one thing that might stop him: love.
He recoiled at the mere idea of love, and if anyone dared show the slightest hint of it near him, his wrath was unbearable.
But Lucy didn’t have to worry about that. Once Jed knew the truth, he’d feel nothing but anger and hatred toward her. He’d been mad enough when she’d lied about being able to cook, but this – this couldn’t even compare.
If he could forgive her, if he could hold on to his love for her, then maybe. . .
No. No human could forgive a betrayal like this. It was too much to ask. She knew it, Berta knew it, and pretty soon, Jed would know it, too. All Lucy could do was hope her love would be enough to save him.
As the minutes ticked by, the pain in Lucy’s heart sliced deeper. Sitting with Berta, she’d been able to focus on what needed to be done without giving in to her anguish. But now, as the time to tell Jed grew nearer, she was overcome by surges of fear, helplessness and nausea. She no longer feared Hell, no longer feared the wrath of her father when she returned.
Her greatest fear was the way Jed would look at her when he learned the truth.
He’d be furious, repulsed, and maybe a little frightened. She’d never again see those deep, dark eyes full of love turned her way. He’d never send tingles over her skin with the simple touch of his finger. And he’d never love her as he did last night.
She would never actually hear him say he loved her.
An eternity seemed to pass in each second, and yet suddenly, it was time.
o0o
They finished stacking the lumber, and Dwight was ready to head back to town. All they needed to do was get Maggie into the wagon.
“Jedidiah,” she cried, clutching her stomach. “They’re going to take your soul! Don’t make me go!”
“Maggie,” Jed said soothingly. “Miss Blake is taking you in to see the doctor. We just want to make sure the baby is okay, and then you’ll come right back.”
“No,” she pleaded, groping for his hands, but Berta continued moving her forward, toward Dwight and the waiting wagon. “They’re after your soul! If you make me leave, they’ll kill all of us!”
“Maggie--” Lucy stepped forward, but Maggie screeched and jumped behind Dwight.
“Stay back,” she warned. “Devil woman.”
“Come now, Mrs. Caine.” Dwight took her arm gently and steered her toward the wagon. “It ain’t good for you or that baby to get all worked up like this.”
“No.” She continued to sob, but her strength was visibly draining.
“Are you sure she’ll be okay?” Jed asked Berta. “It’s a long ride into town, and in her condition. . .”
Berta glanced at Lucy before answering. “Let me get her into town and she’ll be fine.”
Jed took Maggie’s other arm as he and Dwight helped the distraught woman up to the bench.
“It’s fine, Maggie,” he said, trying his best to offer even a little bit of comfort. She wouldn’t look at him, but sat in her spot, shoulders sagging, as she continued to sob.
He considered giving in and letting her stay; what could the doctor do for her at this point that Berta wasn’t already doing?
As Lucy’s hand slid into his, he knew he had to let Maggie go. She was working herself up into a lather, and getting worse by the moment. Maybe the doctor could get her to calm down a bit.
“If Doc decides to keep you in town,” he said, “we’ll drive in every day to check on you. I promise.”
Lucy kept looking at Berta with a strange, strained plea, but the other woman seemed to be avoiding her. Jed scratched his head. Women were too confusing.
“Thank you.” Lucy pulled Berta into a tight hug and whispered something too low for Jed to hear.
Berta sobbed against her shoulder, but whatever she was trying to say kept getting stuck on sobs and sniffles.
Enough already – if Jed didn’t get Berta and her sobs loaded into the wagon, she’d flood the whole damn place with all those tears.
“It’ll be fine.” Lucy smoothed her hand over Berta’s hair and forced a smile. “Don’t worry.”
She caught Jed’s eye and motioned for him
to help. He eased the women apart and helped Berta up into the wagon beside Maggie.
“We sure appreciate all your help, Berta.” He draped his arm casually around Lucy’s shoulders. Instead of snuggling into his embrace as he’d grown used to, Lucy seemed to stiffen.
He was going to enjoy making her relax.
What the hell was taking Dwight so long to leave? All he had to do was take hold of the reins and turn the horses around. He fussed with his hat, took his sweet damn time putting his gloves on, then he sat there for what felt like four days just smiling down at Jed and Lucy.
Didn’t he know Jed had work to do? He had a barn to build for cryin’ out loud. ‘Course he also had a wife who needed tending, and that would have to come first.
With a final salute, Dwight clicked to the horses and turned toward the road. As they pulled away, Berta twisted around in her seat and waved.
“Good-bye, Lucy,” she called out. It looked as though she had more to say but didn’t. The wagon bumped and rocked, knocking Berta sideways. She righted herself, waved and yelled even louder. “She loves you, Jedidiah. Believe in that!”
Lucy stiffened. So did Jed. The way Berta carried on, you’d think she wasn’t coming back in a few short hours, hours Jed would much rather spend exploring his wife than wondering about his mother-in-law.
“So my wife loves me.” He turned Lucy in his arms and gazed down into her amazing green eyes. “That’s good because I l--”
“Don’t say it.” Lucy slapped her hand over his mouth.
Her hand was warm. Her hands were never warm. Even when the sun pounded down as it did then, she’d never been warm.
“Okay.” Jed murmured against her palm. After a long moment, he eased her hand away and bent to nuzzle her neck. Lucy released a slow sigh as she tipped her head to the side, giving him better access to that soft sensitive spot behind her ear.
“I reckon the new barn can wait a while longer, don’t you?”
“The barn?” She tried to pull away, but he held her fast.
“Oh, no you don’t.” He slid his fingers through her hair, then down its length. “I’ve finally got you alone for a few hours and we’re going to make good use of it.”